𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ━━ 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

23 We make a stand

The journey from the Bermuda Triangle to Madripoor was harrowing, stretching over weeks as Mera and Jiao Long carved a quiet path through the vast and volatile sea. They had left under cover of darkness, fleeing Medusa's reach in a small but sturdy boat stocked with just enough provisions to sustain them. Each mile was a risk, a bet against the odds, but they hadn't looked back—not once. Still, the danger was palpable; fear lingered with them in the tight quarters of the boat. And with every wave that rocked the vessel, Mera felt a knot of anxiety twist in her gut, growing with each passing day.

She was pregnant. Only a few weeks along, but the weight of that truth pressed on her shoulders as much as the thought of Medusa's fury. Jiao Long watched her closely, his normally sharp eyes softening whenever her face turned pale or she drifted off into an exhausted sleep. He didn't voice his worry, but his every action showed his dedication: from the extra blankets he kept wrapped around her to the small portions of food he saved for her as their supplies grew thin.

They navigated by the stars when the clouds permitted it, charting their course through vast stretches of open water. The boat was battered by relentless waves, which only heightened Mera's anxiety. As they drew further from Adalynne and closer to Madripoor, they both understood the unspoken risk: their destination wasn't just any city—it was one of the most dangerous places in the world, a haven for criminals and mercenaries, a place of lawlessness and intrigue. But Madripoor also offered anonymity. With luck, Medusa's gaze would falter there, and Edda would remain safe. At least, that's what they hoped.

As the days bled into one another, Mera's body began to ache from the constant strain. The nausea that came with her pregnancy mingled with seasickness, and some days she could hardly keep her head up. She hid her discomfort as best as she could, trying to be brave for herself, for the baby, and for Jiao Long. But he noticed everything.

One gray, rainy morning, she clutched her stomach, a wave of nausea hitting her hard. Jiao Long, who had been watching the skies for any sign of a break in the weather, caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye.

"Mera," he said gently, his voice low as he approached her, his hand steadying her on the side of the boat. "You need to rest. Let me take the watch."

She shook her head, gritting her teeth. "I'm fine, Jiao. I can't just sit around... we're so close, aren't we?"

"We are," he agreed softly, not adding that their journey still stretched for days, even in the best conditions. "But you're not doing this alone. We'll make it."

Mera allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability, nodding silently and accepting his arm as he guided her back to the makeshift bedding he'd set up. She leaned back, eyes closed, her mind drifting in and out of restless sleep. Her thoughts flickered between fears of what lay ahead and the stirring determination to survive—for her, for their unborn child, and for the chance to live beyond the shadows of Medusa's control.

The days continued, each a trial. Provisions grew scarce; their last stores of food were rationed carefully, every meal smaller than the last. Jiao Long caught fish where he could, using makeshift lines and hooks, though he often gave his share to Mera, insisting that she needed the strength. Some nights, he'd hold her hand as she dozed, providing a steady presence in a world that had become terrifyingly uncertain.

One evening, as they neared the coast of Madripoor, a violent storm swept over them, sending sheets of rain pelting against the boat, the ocean's fury tossing them with relentless force. Mera held on with all her strength, fear clawing at her heart as thunder cracked overhead. She was drenched, cold, and terrified, yet her hand clutched her stomach as if to shield her unborn child from the storm itself.