Slowly, I look up at him. The smile on the hunter’s face falters when he sees them. My mouth shifts into a smile that does not belong to the woman I was weeks ago.
His eyes widen.
Too late.
My arm lashes forward with a natural precision, faster than he can react. My talons slice cleanly into the back of his leg, just above the heel, sinking deep into the thick cord of his Achilles tendon before tearing through it completely.
He screams, and it is like music to my ears.
The sound rips out of him as his body collapses, his legs buckling beneath him as he crashes down onto his knees withviolent force. The blade he carried a moment ago clatters across the deck, useless.
Blood pours from the wound. Bright. Hot. Alive.
Yes. The sea whispers again.
My hands press into it without hesitation, my fingers sinking into the warmth of it as the instinct takes over completely, guiding me. I drag the blood across my skin, smearing it over my arms in slow, deliberate strokes as if marking myself with it.
The siren rises, and so does my power.
It surges back into me with a sudden force, flooding my body, drowning out the weakness that burned through me moments ago. The strength returns to me, in unruly, sputtering bouts, growing more and more intense as fear begins to glisten in the hunter’s eyes.
He tries to crawl away.
I let my voice rise again, and this time, it does not break. The note emerges low and steady, vibrating through him instantly, wrapping tight around his failing will as his body stills. When his hands fall limp at his sides, I know my command has burrowed deep into him.
Stand.
His ruined leg drags uselessly behind him as he forces himself upright, his face pale with agony. Trembling, he turns toward the railing with slow, obedient steps.
The sea stretches beneath him, black and endless, its surface broken only by the violent rocking of the ships. Around me, the battle continues mercilessly, steel striking steel in sharp bursts that cut through the air. Somewhere close to my left a man cries out before the sound chokes off abruptly, replaced by the wet collapse of something heavy hitting the ground.
I know it was one of our men without looking.
The hunter sways where he stands above the water, his fingers tightening against the railing as if some final instinct is fighting to return to him. But I do not release him from my control.
Jump.
I command him, and he lets go. His body drops into the dark with a dull, distant splash that vanishes almost immediately beneath the roar of the battle. The moment he disappears, the power surges back into me with violent force, intoxicating my senses with sweet death and pure, unfiltered power.
I do not feel weak anymore.
The smell of blood and gunpowder fills the air around me, polluting my lungs with every breath, thick and suffocating. I turn to take in what unfolds in front of me.
Grim is several paces away, his frame locked in brutal combat with two hunters at once. To my surprise, he swings an axe instead of a sword, forcing back the attackers. But he slows down, his twisted face a clear sign of exhaustion.
One of the hunters lunges low, and Grim blocks the strike, but the second moves behind him and raises his weapon high.
I raise my voice with intent, focusing solely on him. The note tears free from me, cutting clean through the chaos as it finds the hunter just as his blade begins its descent. He freezes, body locking mid-motion as the sound sinks deep into the fragile center of his mind.
Grim sees him now, confusion flashing across his face as the hunter steps away from him instead of toward.
Walk. Jump. Drown.
He passes Grim, his shoulder brushing against him as he moves through the heart of the battle and toward the railing, ignoring the shouts of his own men.
When he jumps, Grim's eyes lift to meet mine, only for a brief moment, with him already swinging his axe again.
Understanding passes between us, and I lift the corner of my mouth into a smile as more power floods my system.
