Thiswas the world beyond the Veil.Thiswas what humans did.. When no gods listened. When creatures like her were reduced to parts and profit.
She stood there, shoulders squared, taking it all in—not as a visitor, not as a bystander, but as someone finally seeing the cost of freedom.
The sea rocked the wreck gently, making the bodies sway, mocking life. One sailor’s hand tapped against the planks with each shift, a slow, hollow knock that crawled under the skin.
A low growl started in my throat before I even realized it. The Covenant hadn’t just taken lives—they’d made a statement.
I stared at the ruin, my grip tightening on the cutlass until my knuckles blanched. My blood was singing for violence, every muscle in me coiled for the chance to sink steel into something warm.
“Get what’s worth taking,” I said, my voice low, dangerous. “Then burn the rest.”
The last of the crates was being smashed when the lookout’s voice cut across the deck. “Ships! Three—no, four—coming fast from the east!”
The crew froze for half a heartbeat before the Marrowherself seemed to jolt under us, eager for the chase or the kill.
I was already moving. “Back aboard, now!”
We crossed the gap in seconds, boots thudding on our own deck. The crew spilled into position, everyone moving on instinct—rigging checked, powder primed, steel drawn.
Garen was at the rail, his spyglass fixed on the dark shapes closing in. “They’re keeping tight formation.”
“Show me.”
He passed the glass without a word. Through the lens, the fleet came into focus in the moonlight—black sails with a symbol I knew too well. A white sigil painted like a brand across every one.
Out of the darkness, a fleet emerged.
Four long warships cut through the black water, their prows rising high and ending in snarling serpent heads, gilded eyes flashing as they caught the moonlight. The hulls were dark wood ribbed with iron, riding low to the waterline—built for speed, and for killing.
Along the rails, heavy oars struck in perfect rhythm. Thud. Thud. Thud. A thunderous heartbeat that grew louder as they closed the distance.
Moonlight slid over the weapons secured beneath them—polished spearpoints, iron hooks for boarding, curved blades forged to shear rope and flesh alike. The serpent figureheads seemed to stir in the shifting shadows, carved jaws gaping, gilded fangs poised to strike.
Their sails were deep as midnight, streaked with gold that burned like fire on water. At the center of each, stark against the dark, snarled their mark—a wolf’s head, muzzle lifted in a silent howl, its fur twisting into storm-wrought lines.
I knew that wolf. It was the last thing too many crews had seen.
The Covenant.
A familiar heat crawled up my spine, part rage, part hunger. “Positions!” I called, my voice carrying clear across the deck. “Load powder! Ready steel for boarding!”
Movement erupted across the deck. Men ran to the cannons, checked their pistols, drew blades against whetstones with a hiss that matched the wind.
I turned and caught sight of silver in the corner of my eye—Nerina, already moving toward the starboard rail to see for herself.
“Below,” I barked, closing the distance. “Now.”
She stopped, defiance flashing in her eyes. “No.”
“I’m not asking,” I said, my voice low but lethal. “You go to the hold, you bar the door, and you don’t come out until I come for you.”
“I’m not hiding,” she shot back.
The memory of the siren’s slit tail and the eyeless fae burned in my mind, tightening my grip on the rail.
“Did you see that ship back there?” I snapped. “The siren in the crate?”
My voice dropped, rough with restraint. “That’sexactlywhat the Covenant will do to you.”
