A shiver runs through me despite myself. What kind of force throws a galleon onto a rock like it’s nothing? What kind of powerdoesthat?
Zayan lets out a low whistle, running a hand through his damp hair, his eyes fixed on the wreckage. He looks like he’s trying to make sense of it too, but there’s no sense to be found here. Only questions.
“What the hell…” he mutters, his usual cocky grin wiped clean off his face.
The galleon’s timbers are weathered and ancient, crusted with seaweed and barnacles. It looks like it’s been rotting there for centuries, forgotten by time. And yet…
I glance down at the compass in my hand. The needle is pointing straight at the wreck, unwavering, like it’s found its target. But that doesn’t make sense. It really fucking doesn’t.
My pulse quickens, the realization settling like a rock in my gut. If this wreck has been stuck here for so long, how the hell did the compass act like our target was on the move? Ships don’t just sit still for centuries and suddenly make a move. Not without something pushing them.
“What the…” I mutter under my breath, the words slipping out without thought. “I don’t understand. Not one bit.” My lips press together as I stare at the needle, my mind racing. Something’s off, but I can’t put my finger on it. I tighten my grip on the compass. “But we’ve got to climb that rock. We’ve got to get onto that ship.”
“Oh, no,” Vini cuts in, shaking his head violently. “No, no, no. You want to get up that?! We don’t even have a skiff! We don’t even—no. This is cursed. This place is cursed. Just like that... oh god. I know this place!” His voice pitches higher with every word, panic bleeding through. “I heard about it in a song!”
Zayan and I exchange a glance, and I almost laugh at how absurd this is. A song. Normally, I’d dismiss it, brush off any talk of sea shanties and curses as nonsense. But after everything? After this damned compass keeps proving me wrong, I’m not so sure anymore.
“What song?” I ask, my voice flat.
“It’s a sea shanty! About a cursed ship that never found its final resting place! It’s said to be trapped between worlds,anchored by a cursed rock. Sailors who ventured too close never returned! They never returned, Miss Captain! Never!”
I release the steering wheel, not even realizing I’ve been gripping it like my life depended on it, even though we’re anchored. A sea shanty about this place. Fantastic. Just what we need—another ghost story to pile onto this mess. But no amount of songs or curses changes what needs to be done.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?!” Vini screeches, his voice so high it could shatter glass.
“Okay,” I repeat, more firmly this time. “You stay aboard. Zayan and I will go.”
I glance at Cagney and see him nodding his head.
There’s a pause. Vini’s face falls into something between shock and disbelief, his mouth hanging open before a long, pitiful whine escapes him.
“What?” he squeaks finally, his voice tinged with something I didn’t expect—disappointment. He doesn’t look relieved at all. Did he not hear me clearly?
“You stay on the ship,” I repeat slowly, so he understands me this time. “If we’re not back by nightfall, you can sail out. You know how to handle the ship by now, right? There’s a map here, and the sun will guide you. Hell, if you’re feeling generous, go find my father and tell him what happened to me. You’ll be fine. No curse is going to touch you.”
I speak like I’m made of stone—strong, commanding, like a captain who knows her crew will follow. But the truth sits heavy in my chest, burning my throat as I force the words out. I can’t look him in the eye. I won’t. Not when there’s a knot tightening in my gut, telling me this might be goodbye.
Instead, I focus on the little things—stretching the worn fabric of my shirt cuffs to cover the serpent tattoo coiling around my wrist, smoothing out my pants, keeping my hands busy. Itake out Zayan’s dagger, the one I’ve kept in my belt since this madness began, and hand it back to him. He takes it in silence.
“It’s going to rain, so that’s water for you,” I continue, my voice steady, too steady. “You’ve got a supply of fish. You’ll manage.”
I keep talking, anything to keep my hands from trembling, to keep from showing that leaving him behind feels wrong. He’s a grown man, capable of his own choices, but damn it, something about this is making me cold inside. I should be relieved to leave him safely behind, but I’m not.
I head to our makeshift armory, grabbing my gun, loading the powder with practiced precision. My jaw clenches, neck muscles tightening as I roll my shoulders, trying to brace myself for the unknown. For whatever’s waiting for us on that ship. I keep my eyes forward, refusing to look at Vini. I can’t afford to crack now.
And then I hear it—laughter. Sharp, maniacal laughter that makes my skin crawl. For a split second, I think it’s the madness of this place, some curse come to life. But it’s not Zayan—he’s standing right next to me, calm as always.
I turn, slowly, and the laughter hits me again. It’s Vini.
His pale blue eyes are wide, almost wild, and his face is twisted in something between amusement and desperation. He’s laughing, but there’s no humor in it. It stops as suddenly as it began, leaving only silence in its wake. He stares at me, something sharp and unnerving in his gaze.
My stomach knots.
“Mm,” he hums, eyes flicking between me and the wreck, lips pressed tight, nostrils flaring. He looks half-mad. “I don’t think so.”
I force myself to hold steady, though my pulse is pounding in my ears. Keep your composure, Gypsy. Be strong. Be fucking strong.
