"NEW PLAN!" Lewis shouted. "RUN!"
Vines lashed out as sailors from both crews bolted in all directions. Vivienne sprinted with Lewis, weaving through the chaos, until something yanked her backward. A vine coiled around her ankle, dragging her toward one of the monstrous plants. She hit the ground hard, gasping as she clawed at the dirt.
"VIVIENNE!" Lewis lunged, grabbing her arms, but the plant was stronger.
A second vine snaked around her hips, pulling her closer to its waiting maw. Her eyes darted frantically, searching for help.
"THORNE!" she screamed.
The commander whirled, eyes wild, and sprinted toward her. He slashed at the vines with his sword, hacking them away. But another wrapped around her chest, tightening and stealing her breath.
The plant’s wet, gurgling jaw yawned open behind her. Closer. Closer.
With a final, desperate swing, the commander severed the vine, and Vivienne collapsed onto the jungle floor. Lewis and Thorne hauled her up, and the three of them ran for their lives.
They ran until their lungs burned, dodging the writhing vines. Screams echoed behind them, muted once the horrifying mouths enveloped their prey. By the time they stumbled into a clearing, they were panting, their clothes torn and bloodied.
Garrett scanned the survivors, his face grim. Only four of the ten sailors had made it out. “We’ve lost them,” he murmured, his voice hollow. “What the everdark were those things?”
"Mortivora arbori," Lewis said hoarsely. "Like Venus flytraps, but... much bigger. Smarter."
Vivienne barely registered the words. She was still trembling, still feeling the vine’s crushing grip on her ribs, still hearing the awful crunch of bone and flesh behind her.
“Banns! I lost sight of you in the chaos.” Cirrus pulled her into an embrace, his chest rising and falling against hers. "Please tell me you're alright."
She nodded weakly, but he must have felt her shaking.
"What, no hug for me, Cici?" Lewis quipped.
Cirrus shot him a look. "Your intact sense of humor tells me you’re fine."
Vivienne might’ve laughed if her stomach weren’t still twisted in knots. Cirrus finally let go, but his arm stayed around her waist, grounding her.
Commander Thorne clocked the contact between Cirrus and Vivienne, but said nothing. He wiped sweat from his brow. “Captain, do we proceed to Enyo’s camp?”
Garrett turned to him. "What say you, commander?"
Thorne paused before shaking his head. "We regroup. We’re not ready for another fight."
Garrett exhaled. "Agreed. Mr. Theodosia, lead the way back."
As they moved, Vivienne’s fury burned hotter. The king had sent them here knowing what awaited. He had sent Enyo, knowing he’d try to force them into an early grave. They couldn’t afford to lose more of their crew. They couldn’t afford another misstep.
Another wrong move, and this island will consume us all.
27
The crew had spent the day burying their fallen, marking the graves of those lost in the raid. When the smaller scouting group returned, bringing news of more deaths, whatever hope remained in the crew’s eyes was snuffed out.
At sunset, they gathered at the stream. Captain Garrett spoke of the fallen, sharing their names, their stories. For each life lost, a flower was sent drifting downstream, a quiet farewell in a place that had given them nothing but suffering and death. Proper mourning had to wait. They still had hostages to save and an unknown tribute to find.
At the far edge of camp, the officers gathered, their voices tense.
“We shouldn't waste another moment,” Cirrus argued. “We need to rescue our crew, find the tribute, and get off this damned island.”
Melodie took a measured inhale. “We must acknowledge the possibility that the hostages are already dead. If we send you all out to meet your demise, the rest of us are screwed. We won’t be able to leave the island without a navigator and a functional boatswain.”
Cirrus bristled. “So, we leave them to die?”
