I’ve fought too hard for this. Bled for this. This compass is supposed to be my way out of all this—the key to my future, my freedom, my name. The one thing that could sever me from everything—the gods, the sea, the Lady my father worships like the fool he is.
But what if it kills me before I get a chance to use it?
“Zayan!” I call out, my voice hoarse. “You said this compass is the cause of all this!”
He stops bailing long enough to glance my way, eyes wild, hair slicked to his face with rain.
“Yes!” he yells back, barely audible over the crash of waves. “Get rid of it, Gypsy! Throw it into the sea!”
I feel bile rising in my throat as my mind races, weighing the odds. If he’s right, if this cursed compass really is the reason we’re all drowning, then tossing it could save us. But if he’s wrong... I’m throwing away the one thing that could set me free—all on ahunch.
I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
“Fine!” I snap, voice tight with anger. “But if this doesn’t work, Zayan, I swear—“
I don’t bother finishing the threat. No time. Instead, I wrench myself away from the wheel and kick it hard to port. The ship groans, lurching, and everyone slides, me included.
The privateer ship looms ahead, close enough that I can see the whites of their eyes. Their captain’s staring right at me, fear etched across his face. Zayan’s shouting something, but all I can focus on is the target in front of me.
“Now or never,” I mutter under my breath.
With a surge of frustration and determination, I hurl the compass with everything I’ve got. It spins through the air, catching a gleam of gold even in the chaos of the storm. For a split second, it almost looks beautiful—too beautiful for the hell it’s caused.
Then it hits the deck of the privateer’s ship, bouncing once on the wet wood, before landing right at the captain’s feet.
Time seems to stretch. The captain looks down at the cursed thing as if he’s just been handed his death warrant. My heart pounds.
And then everything changes.
A deafening crack splits the air, and lightning explodes from the sky, hitting the mast of the privateer’s ship with a force so violent that the ship shudders as if struck by a giant’s fist. The mast splinters, wood snapping like brittle bone, and the sails ignite, flames roaring to life even in the midst of the storm.
What the…?
I feel the shockwave of it, like the storm itself has been waiting for this moment to unleash its full fury. The wind picks up, screaming louder than before, whipping through my hair and slamming against the schooner so hard I stumble back, barely managing to keep my footing.
The privateer ship is in chaos. Men are shouting, scrambling to put out the flames, to right their ship, but it’s no use. The storm is too strong, the fire too wild. It’s nothing like what I gifted them. They’re truly finished.
And the worst part? All I feel is dread. Because this just now, was not normal. I don’t know what it was, but…
“Gypsy!” Zayan’s voice cuts through the chaos, pulling me back. “Get to the wheel!”
I shake off the shock, my body moving before my brain catches up, and rush back to the helm. My hands grip the wheel, slick with rain and sweat, forcing the schooner to veer away from the sinking privateer ship. The whole thing lurches, and then I hear it—a crack that sends my heart plummeting to my boots.
I look up. The mainmast is bending, groaning against the wind like it’s begging to snap.
Holy shit. If that thing goes, we’re done for.
We need to cut the sails, now. But if we do, we’re helpless—drifting in open water, waiting for the sea to finish us off. Not much better than drowning.
But then, just as we’re pulling away from the wreck, something shifts. The wind, the storm... it all justeases.
It happens in an instant.
“The storm’s letting up,” I mutter under my breath, almost not believing it.
Not that it’s over—no, not yet—but the wind’s died down enough that the schooner isn’t thrashing beneath my feet like it’s trying to throw me overboard. The waves, still heavy and wild,don’t feel as hungry anymore. Less like they’re trying to swallow us whole and more like they’re just pissed off.
I blink, trying to wrap my head around it. My gaze shoots toward the horizon, half-expecting the storm to rear its ugly head again and knock us flat. But it doesn’t. Just the soft hiss of rain now, and the schooner’s wood groaning like it’s as confused as I am, adjusting to the sudden calm. The mast holds.
