Legacies and Lies

The Seed

As the rowboat glided silently over the calm waters, the looming silhouette of the Jolly Roger became more distinct. The ship's massive sails, taut and ready to catch the first winds of morning, towered over us like a slumbering beast. Lanterns flickered along the deck, casting faint glows that reflected in the dark waters below, giving the ship an almost ethereal presence. The closer we got, the more tangible the weight of what was to come settled in my chest. It was always this way before a voyage, but this time it felt different.

Cillian remained silent in front of me, his emerald eyes fixed on the ship. I could sense the apprehension in him, though he masked it well. The Jolly Roger had that effect on newcomers—it exuded both awe and fear, a perfect reflection of my father's presence. As we neared the side of the ship, Smee cleared his throat nervously, nodding toward me as if seeking permission to speak. I raised an eyebrow, giving him a slight nod.

"Miss, uh... your father's expectin' ya," Smee muttered, his words tumbling over themselves as he glanced up at the ship with more anxiety than usual.

"I'm aware, Smee," I replied, my tone calm. "Tell him I've brought someone with potential."

Smee's eyes flicked briefly toward Cillian, then quickly darted back to me. He nodded, eager to comply, and once we were close enough, he signaled for the crew above to lower a rope ladder. The sounds of the night—lapping water, the creak of wood—seemed to hold their breath as we climbed. I went first, scaling the ladder with practiced ease. Cillian followed, more hesitant but steady. As I climbed, I became more resolute with my decision. Cillian would be a fine addition to the crew, although I had to admit it may have been my longing for someone of around the same age to converse with; But no matter. Defeating Pan was my one goal, which my Father greatly approved of.

As soon as my boots touched the deck, I felt the familiar sensation of the ship beneath my feet. The air was colder up here, with a salty bite carried by the breeze. Home. The crew moved about with purpose, preparing for our departure, and the sight of it gave me a strange comfort. This was where I belonged. Yet even now, with Cillian at my side, I felt that I belonged even moreso with this group.

Cillian stepped onto the deck, his gaze sweeping over the ship, and I saw the flicker of awe in his expression. Despite his earlier uncertainty, there was a quiet curiosity in his eyes now, a readiness that hadn't been there before. Straightening out my skirts, a thought came to my head: What was Cillian's true reasoning for joining the crew? I had to wonder.

"Well," came a deep, familiar voice from behind me, "what have we here?"

I turned to see my father standing at the helm, his imposing figure framed by the night sky. Captain Hook's dark red coat billowed slightly in the wind, his hooked hand gleaming faintly in the low light. He descended the stairs slowly, his eyes locking onto Cillian with an appraising look. There was an undeniable power in the way he carried himself, a quiet menace that made men tremble in his presence.

"Captain," I greeted, inclining my head slightly, a formality he always expected. "This is Cillian. I believe he could be of use to us."

Hook's gaze shifted to me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I feared he might disapprove of my choice, that he'd see something in Cillian that I hadn't. But after a long pause, he nodded, his voice low and calculating.

"We'll see if he's worth his salt." Hook's eyes flicked back to Cillian, the scrutiny in his stare unnerving but measured. "Do you know what you're stepping into, boy?"

Cillian straightened, his hands at his sides, meeting my father's gaze with a steady resolve. "I do, Captain. I'm ready."

Hook studied him a moment longer, then finally gave a short, satisfied nod. "We set sail at dawn. If you're still here by then, you'll be part of the crew. My daughter will show you 'round the vessel until then."