The Heart of the Sea

One

The sea whispered my name again.

It came on the wind, faint and almost indistinguishable from the creaking of the ship, but it was unmistakable. My hands clenched tighter around the worn wood of the rail as if holding on could keep me from being swept into its call. The night was a deep, endless black, the horizon swallowed by the vastness of the sky and sea merging into one. But I could feel something out there, just beyond the reach of my vision—something watching, waiting.

Eryx.

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my pulse. The voice was getting clearer. It had started as a mere murmur, something I could easily brush off as my imagination, as the sea playing tricks on my tired mind. But the further we sailed from Vendar, the more insistent it became as if the ocean itself had learned my name and wanted something from me.

I'd been on the Iron Heart long enough to know better than to believe in ghost stories, yet every night it came. That whisper, slithering through the wind, curling into my thoughts. It was becoming harder to ignore. And harder still to deny.

I needed to get away.

My eyes shifted toward the horizon again. Kaldur was still a week away, but its promise was the only thing keeping me tethered to sanity. An oasis in the desert, a city built on trade, greed, and secrets—a place where a man could disappear and never be found. I had plans for Kaldur. Plans that didn't involve Captain Blackhart or the Iron Heart or the endless whispering of the sea.

I would vanish as soon as we docked. Slip into the crowds, lose myself in the labyrinth of streets, and be gone before anyone even noticed. He wouldn't care. There were always more crew members to replace the ones who fell overboard or slipped away in the night. No one stayed with Blackhart longer than they needed to. Not if they had any sense.

But I didn't just want to disappear from the Iron Heart. I wanted to get away from the sea itself.

"You're out late again, lad," a voice rumbled behind me, interrupting my thoughts. "A man could start to think you don't sleep."

I turned to see Baxian approaching, his heavy boots thudding against the deck. His bulk seemed to swallow up the dim light of his lantern, a hulking figure with a wild beard and tattooed arms. He leaned casually on the rail beside me, looking out into the same black void. There was something comforting in his presence, even when the rest of the crew had chosen to keep their distance from me.

Baxian had been with the Iron Heart longer than anyone. He was a man of the sea through and through, like he'd been born of the salt and wind. Yet there was always a glimmer of something in his eyes—an unspoken understanding, perhaps—that made him different from the rest. And I had no idea why he bothered to look out for me.

"I sleep," I muttered, forcing a weak smile. "Just not enough, I suppose."

"Not enough for this place, anyway," he replied, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the wind. "There's something about these waters, isn't there? Keeps a man awake at night."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The sea kept more than just my body awake; it pried into my mind and twisted around my very bones. But how could I tell him that?

"Been hearing things again?" Baxian asked after a pause, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. How did he know?

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully, trying to keep my voice steady.

Baxian's lips curled into a faint smile. "You're not the first to hear strange things out here. The ocean has a voice of its own, lad. Whispers and murmurs that can drive a man mad if he listens too closely."