The weight of his words settled between us.
This ship had carried us through storms, battles, nightmares that should have swallowed us whole. I couldn’t shake the guilt threading through me. It wasn’t just a vessel; it was our lifeline—and I had brought a storm to its decks.
I’d seen creatures in Thalassia wither when their lifeblood was drained. This felt the same. And for the first time, I wondered if the Black Marrow could die the way a living thing did—slowly, painfully, and beyond saving.
If we didn’t get what it needed soon, it wouldn’t matter how many answers I was chasing. We’d be lost at sea—adrift and easy prey for whatever else my mother decided to send after me.
I exhaled, looking at the sea before me, and wondered—did my mother know I was with the pirate she cursed? Did she know I was standing beside the very man she once damned to the sea?
"Then we better make sure you leave Morgra alive this time."
Alaric turned toward me fully, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, with a slow, devilish grin, he tipped his head. "You planning to protect me?"
“Someone has to keep you from doing something catastrophically stupid.”
His grin widened.
“Oh, darling… that’s a full-time job.”
He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head before looking back out to sea.
Morgra’s Cove
Thalassia had been cut off from the world since my birth.
I was nervous, but excitement pulsed beneath the uncertainty. The thought of stepping onto land for the first time, real land, not just the trench—of seeing something beyond endless water and shifting tides—sent a thrill through me. I had spent my life surrounded by the ocean, never dreaming I would walk where trees stretched high above and the earth felt solid beneath my feet.
For the first time, I realized how small my world had been underwater.
Morgra’s cove rose out of the fog like a broken tooth.
Beyond it, Sylvaris came into view—green, wild, and alive in a way that made my chest tighten. So this was land. Not just ground and trees, but something pulsing and ancient. The cliffs were lined with tall trees, their branches heavy and tangled. Even from here, Sylvaris felt powerful.
Torches dotted the rock face, their flames dim against the shadows. Symbols were carved into the stone—faint blue, pulsing steadily. As the Black Marrow drew in, the glow brightened, sending a low vibration through the hull.
Alaric stood beside me, shoulders tight, eyes on the cliffs.
My boots sank slightly into damp earth, the ground firm and cool beneath me, humming with a quiet power that made my knees tremble. Not the creaky Black Marrow deck. Not the jagged stone of the trench. Real land.
“Stay close,” Alaric said quietly. “And don’t make a sound. Morgra can sense fear—and she likes it.”
The air was thicker here—green and wild, soaked in the scent of moss and bark. I inhaled and it felt like my lungs were tasting something forbidden. A place that had existed long before me and would outlast everything I’d ever known. The ocean’s hum dimmed behind me, replaced by the pulse of a sleeping forest.
A figure stepped into the torchlight just as my feet touched semi-solid land for the first time in my life.
Morgra, I presumed.
She was draped in layers of tattered cloth, adorned with charms of bone, dried coral, and sea-glass that clicked softly with her movements. The scent of herbs and damp earth clung to her, tinged with something bitter. Her hair was wild, streaked with silver and dark as the caves she called home.
The sight of her made the crew tense further. I felt it too—an unnatural chill curling through the air.
And yet… she felt like a half-remembered dream, or a name caught on the tip of my tongue. I couldn’t place it, and the sensation unsettled me more than her eerie presence. I shook it off quickly—now wasn’t the time for strange feelings I couldn’t explain.
Morgra grinned—jagged, familiar— her voice a rasp laced with something almost indulgent. "My, my, Captain. Miss me that much, did you?"
Her attention moved past him and settled on me. A flicker passed through her expression—curiosity, calculation. Interest. Then her lips curved into something almost wicked. “And what’s this? Not often you bring new things into my den. And certainly none this shiny.”
She stepped closer, moving with an unsettling grace, her tattered layers rustling like dead leaves. Her eyes—too sharp,too knowing—traveled over me, lingering on the tension in my shoulders.
