“Hard to starboard!” Eryk barked.
The ship lurched. Barrels skidded. Someone slammed into the rail with a curse.
Behind us, the Covenant followed—still gaining. Their ship cut the turn with ruthless efficiency, hull riding lower, heavier, built for pursuit.
“They’re matching our line,” someone shouted.
Another iron bolt shrieked past, close enough to feel the wind of it. Fear gnawed through the crew—raw, unspoken, contagious.
The channel tightened. Submerged stone lurked just beneath the surface, invisible until too late. For one heart-stopping moment,The Black Marrowdrifted off course—
The hull scraped hard against rock.
The sound tore through the deck, a bone-deep scream that seemed to hollow the air itself. The ship tilted dangerously, and the crew went still, waiting for the crack that would mean splintered wood and open sea.
Eryk snarled and hauled the helm over with everything he had. The ship tore free.
“Close enough for you, Cap?” he muttered, storm-dark eyes flicking toward me before locking back on the water ahead.
I didn’t answer.
My focus stayed on the Covenant ship still driving after us—and on the artifact burning hotter with every second, humming like itknewexactly who hunted us.
“Captain,” someone shouted from the rail. Not panicked—yet—but tight, controlled.
I turned, and for a heartbeat, I saw it clearly—not the storm, not the Covenant, but them.
Faces drawn. Hands white-knuckled on rigging. A deck that trusted me to keep it breathing.
The Marrow groaned beneath us, timbers shuddering as silver bit into the water nearby.
“Hold your lines,” I barked. “Eyes up. No one breaks formation unless I say so.”
The Black Marrow answered with a surge of power, her cursed magic propelling us forward. Eryk’s instincts guided the ship through the chaotic swells, narrowly avoiding jagged rocks that loomed like the gaping maw of a sea monster too polite to chew with its mouth closed.
“We’re not making it out of this,” someone muttered, voice barely above the storm.
Another sailor cut them a warning look but said nothing, their grip on the rigging white-knuckled.
Fear gnawed at them, raw and unspoken. For one heart-stopping moment, the ship veered too close, the scrape of the hull against a submerged boulder shuddering through the entire deck.
The crew went rigid as Eryk gritted his teeth and hauled the helm hard, forcing the ship back on course.
"Close enough for you, Cap?" he muttered, his stormy eyes flicking toward me before refocusing on the treacherous waters ahead.
The Covenant's ship faltered, their unnatural speed hindered by the very forces we used to our advantage. A few crew members dared to glance back, their faces tight with worry.
The storm's howling winds and relentless waves became both ally and enemy, testing the crew's resolve with every turn.
A flash of lightning illuminated the gap between the ships. For a tense moment, I thought we might have outpaced them. The crew stood motionless, straining to see through the chaos. Lightning flared again, and for a heartbeat their ship vanished into the swirling dark. Silence followed, broken only by crashing waves and the groan of the rigging. They might be gone, for now—but I knew better. The Covenant didn’t retreat. They circled. They bided their time.
"They’re gone!" Garen shouted, his voice breaking through the cacophony. Relief rippled through the crew, though I knew better than to celebrate. We had escaped, but only just.
I tightened my grip on the rail, staring into the storm-churned darkness. My father would have laughed at the idea of running, calling it weakness. But he was dead, and I was still here. That had to count for something.
The artifact pulsed once against my chest, a slow, deliberate thrum—like a heartbeat answering a call I couldn't hear. I dragged in a breath and let it go, shoving the unease aside.
"Eryk," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil, "Get us to safer waters. This isn't over yet."
