The Lost Royal

Prologue

The sea whispered secrets, but only to those who knew how to listen.

To most, it was nothing more than the slosh and hiss of waves against a ship's hull. But to G, even as a boy, the murmur of water and wood told a different story—a dark, hidden tale that haunted the midnight waves. On those nights, as he lay beneath a tattered sail for warmth, he would catch glimpses of shadows moving on the deck, hear whispers echoing over the water, and wonder if perhaps the sea held memories of its own.

Life aboard the Dark Tide was fierce and demanding, where survival was earned, and trust was scarce. Captain Mirelle, his stepmother, ruled the crew with a voice as sharp as her blade and eyes that cut through any illusion. She told G she was his family, though she rarely spoke of the past, and he never asked. Some memories were best left submerged.

One memory, however, was sharp and clear. It was the day a girl was brought aboard, her hands bound with thick rope and her head held high despite the cuts on her cheek. She was young, maybe nine or ten, with hair wild as sea kelp and eyes that blazed with defiance. Even then, she wore a trace of cherry red lipstick, smeared and faded, that she must have stolen from some woman's belongings.

Her name was Rin, and she had survived alone on the remnants of a shipwreck, surrounded by debris and bodies. She met Mirelle's gaze without fear, and that alone earned her a place on the crew.

G watched as she carved out her place with a ferocity that left no room for mercy. She trained with swords nearly her own size, her fingers blistered and raw from practice. She had a beauty that seemed misplaced among pirates, a beauty that every woman envied and every man respected. But it was her resolve that left the deepest impression on G and Ice, who, despite being older, struggled to match her fierce intensity. In time, they became the three shadows of the Dark Tide.

Ice was quick to accept her, perhaps because he recognized something kindred in her wildness. They bickered as only children could, trading insults and laughter in equal measure, yet he often watched her with a look G couldn't quite read. Rin, for her part, tolerated Ice's antics but was known to send him sprawling with a single well-placed punch whenever his teasing went too far.

And then there was G, observing from the edges, carrying the medallion Mirelle had entrusted to him. He didn't fully understand why Mirelle had brought the girl aboard, but he felt a strange kinship with her. She was like them—a soul adrift in the vast, empty spaces of the sea, fighting to claim her place.

One night, under a full, cold moon, Mirelle called G to her cabin. Ice and Rin, as usual, trailed after him, lingering just outside the door, listening intently. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of rum and salted wood. Maps and relics lay strewn across her desk, but it was the small, weathered medallion in her hand that caught his eye. Silver, etched with an unfamiliar symbol, its surface dulled by age, it seemed oddly out of place among her treasures.

"This," Mirelle said, her voice a low murmur, "is worth more than gold, more than any treasure you've seen. It is a key." She met his gaze, her eyes hard and cold. "Keep it close. It will guide you when you need it most."

G took the medallion, feeling its strange, comforting weight in his hand. When he looked up, Mirelle's gaze had softened, just for a heartbeat. She opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something more. Her hand hovered over the medallion, almost protectively, as if she feared what it might bring him. But then she turned away, dismissing him with a wave.

As G left the cabin, Ice and Rin fell into step beside him, the three moving as one shadow across the deck. Ice's gaze lingered on the medallion, his eyes bright with curiosity, but he kept his questions to himself. Rin, however, shot G a sidelong glance, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Another one of her secrets?" she asked, her voice soft but edged with amusement.

G shrugged. "Maybe."

But he sensed there was more to it. The medallion pulsed with a strange warmth, and as he glanced down at its dull surface, he thought he saw it shimmer for a fraction of a second. It was only a flicker, but it was enough to set his heart racing. A faint thought lingered at the back of his mind—a sense that this was no ordinary relic. This was something far older, far more powerful, tied to a history that wasn't his.

For years, the three of them sailed under Mirelle's command, two boys and a girl bound by secrets and silent loyalty. They learned to fight, to steal, to survive in the brutal world of pirates. G's instincts grew keener, Ice's aim sharper, and Rin's swordplay became legendary. The crew called her the Crimson Blade, a name she wore as fiercely as her trademark red lipstick. Together, they were formidable—a trio as inseparable as the sea and sky.

Sometimes, late at night, G would catch glimpses of shadows around Ice—figures that seemed to hover just beyond the edge of his vision, gone the moment he tried to focus. Ice would laugh it off, call it "ghosts of the past," but G sensed there was more. Ice had secrets, even from himself.

Then, one year later, the Dark Tide went down in a storm.

The ship was swallowed whole, taken by the deep, and with it, G's last link to his past. He and Ice clung to a piece of wreckage as waves battered them. G held the medallion tight in his grip, its surface cold against his skin, while Rin drifted beside them, battered but unbroken. Together, they survived the wreckage, a trio of shadows cast adrift.

As they floated in silence, a thought struck G—a haunting, chilling feeling that the medallion had played some part in the storm, as if it had drawn them into something larger than themselves, a force that defied explanation.

In the years that followed, the medallion remained—a ghostly relic of a life that wasn't quite his, a mystery tied to the deep. G carried it with him, feeling the weight of its secrets, its ties to the unknown. And with Ice and Rin at his side, he couldn't shake the feeling that their journey had only just begun, a journey that would lead them to powers and destinies they could hardly imagine.

Somewhere, across the distant waves, a throne waited, guarded by shadows and promises of revenge, bound to bloodlines and curses older than any of them could comprehend.