Two days had passed since the vicious attack on the Sea Raven by the vampire sentry vessel, and though the boat was mostly cleaned of the chaos and carnage left behind, the scars of that night still lingered. The blood that had stained the deck had been scrubbed away, but the memories of the twelve crew members who had perished haunted the survivors. Their bodies, carefully wrapped in tattered linen, now rested in one of the free rooms below deck, waiting for the proper burial that had yet to come. The faint smell of saltwater and death still clung to the air, heavy and oppressive.
Herald stood on the upper deck, leaning against the worn wooden railing, his eyes gazing out over the calm sea. His white undershirt, stained with the remnants of battle and sea spray, clung to his muscular frame, and his face, weathered by years at sea, was etched with exhaustion. Beside him, Mason stood silently, his expression hardened but distant. The past few days had weighed heavily on him, more than anyone else. The guilt of Alec's capture gnawed at him like a constant, aching wound.
"You still blame yourself," Herald said quietly, breaking the silence. His voice was rough, as if the salty wind had scraped it raw. He turned to look at Mason, who hadn't said much since the attack.
Mason clenched his jaw, gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. "Alec was taken because of me," he replied, his voice strained with guilt. "It should've been me, not him. That enchantment—" He paused, exhaling a sharp breath. "I created it, Herald. I never should've let him use it."
Herald remained quiet for a moment, the sound of the sea lapping against the ship filling the air between them. He let out a heavy sigh, his gaze turning to the horizon. "I know the burden you carry, Mason. But we'll get Alec back. We're not abandoning him."
Mason nodded, though the tension in his shoulders didn't ease. The guilt was suffocating.
On the lower deck, the surviving crew members gathered around the galley, nursing mugs of ale, their voices low and sombre. A few tried to muster up laughter, telling half-hearted jokes in an attempt to forget the horrors of the past days. The ale helped dull the pain, if only for a little while, but there was a grim undercurrent to their words. They had lost too much in too short a time.
Vivi, seated near the edge of the deck, wasn't partaking in the crew's attempts at camaraderie. She sat with Clover, who was still recovering from the brutal battle. Clover had bandages wrapped around her midsection, where the Soul Eater's tongue had pierced her during the chaotic fight. Though her werewolf healing had done much of the work, she was still weak, her pale skin a shade paler than usual, and her movements slow.
Vivi leaned back against a crate, her red and black clothing contrasting with the grey sky above. She glanced at Clover, who was resting her head on her knees, her torn and repaired clothing hanging loosely around her. "How are you holding up?" Vivi asked, her voice soft but carrying an underlying edge of concern.
Clover lifted her head, her brown eyes dull but alert. She gave a faint, tired smile. "I'll live," she replied, her voice raspy. "Not my first time healing from a wound like this."
Vivi nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't stop thinking about Daire—the vampire commander who had taken Alec. The look in his eyes, the way he had spoken to her, calling her "slave" with such arrogance and familiarity. It stirred something dark inside her, memories she had tried to bury. But they clawed their way back, refusing to be silenced.
Clover's eyes flicked over to Vivi, sensing her unease. "You've been quiet since the attack," she said, her voice breaking the silence between them. "That's not like you."
Vivi sighed, running a hand through her blonde hair, which fell loosely around her shoulders. "I've had a lot on my mind," she admitted, staring at the horizon. "That night... it brought back things I thought I'd left behind. The vampires. The memories of... Nolgarad."
