Claimed by a Pirate of the Depths
Prologue
THE ROUND TABLE
Only on rare occasions did the gods gather at the round table, but it had not always been that way.
Before the Others divided the five divine beings into two separate realms, they met regularly.
But ever since corruption swathed the lands, and the Others crawled free from a summoning circle cast by the King of Serevalen, their ability to fully manifest had been hindered.
Which meant one thing—war was coming.
Standing at the head, Elaros, the God of Death, towered over the group as a spectral figure.
His pale skin gleamed beneath the dark ceremonial armor he wore, resembling the structure of a human body, paired with a shadow-woven bone staff.
His long, dark hair fell in disordered strands around his hauntingly human and eerily otherworldly face.
Skeletal decay marked the left side of his features and seemed to fuse with the halo-like, half-circle adorning his head.
The watchful eyes within it glowed a striking cyan and matched his vibrant blue iris, heterochromatically paired with his golden one.
Attentively, he turned to the goddess beside him. The only being who could ever make a man such as him bow in devout obedience.
Ellira.
Carrying a fluid grace, she remained quiet amidst the argument that had broken out.
Her lengthy locks flowed in soft, shimmering waves of cobalt, catching the light like ripples across the still Blooming Tide.
As her gaze shifted between the three others who had joined them, he caught their calm, unfathomable depth.
It was like staring into one of the ocean’s deepest abyssal craters, evocative in a way that felt like a lure.
A lure he’d already fallen for. Admiring the exquisite lines of her posture and the cool tones of her attire, which seemed to enhance her elegance, he bore witness to her commanding cadence when she finally decided to speak—something he would willingly listen to for hours.
“You wish to challenge me, and yet you have not reached out to your Children, all of whom are part of this prophecy!”
Ysalyne, the Goddess of Life, exhaled in understanding. While she hadn’t spoken up with the same adamance, her presence had always been far more like a fragment of the cosmos’ given form.
“She’s right.”
Her starlit hair flowed endlessly around her, drifting through gravity itself and holding no authority over her existence or her opinion.
The sleek, celestial mask she wore obscured most of her face, the star in its center glowing faintly.
Violet lips curling into an expression of internalized conflict, she settled her pale, luminous hands on the table—the very hands responsible for shaping the fabric of the universe.
Across from her, Jaskor, the God of Luck, perked up, catching the gold coin he’d been tossing into the air.
His skin, as if carved from shadows rather than light, shone with a cool, moonlit hue.
Silver hair swaying to cascade over his shoulder, his piercing yellow eyes lifted with the suggestion that his mind saw far beyond the conversation.
Voice carrying the definition of smoothed honey, he spoke, “What are you suggesting, Ysalyne? We put our Children in danger merely because Ellira’s and Elaros’s can’t seem to comprehend their roles in this world?”
“Your Children are already in danger, Jaskor. That is the part you seemingly fail to understand,” Ellira quipped, her agitation billowing through her liquid frame.
“They are prophetic to the same detriment as our Children. Whether you wish to connect with them now or later is your choice, but it will carry drastic consequences.”
“Oh, my apologies.” Leaning forward, Jaskor’s elbows greeted the table as he trained his glare on the Goddess of the Sea.
“I find it rather difficult to desire working with him,” his glower briefly shifted to Elaros before he continued, “when his son nearly became the reason my own joined his realm.”
“You can address me yourself. Unless you are too fearful to do so,” the God of Death hummed, his dark brow lifting with amusement. “Perhaps your Son should be more equipped to face the complexities of the human realm. His… inadequacies are not Caspian’s issue.”
“Oh, by the Grace,” Seirdra, the Goddess of Seduction, Illusion and Delusion, grumbled from Jaskor’s right. “Is there ever any instance when the two of you aren’t at one another’s throats?”
Her rose-gold stare grew clearer beneath the shadows that cloaked her as she settled on her counterparts.
The crown of black thorns that rested upon her head clashed with her blush-colored hair that seemed to drift like smoke through a dream that never truly existed.
Speckles of soft, ghostlike light traced her pale form, but it was well known amongst the four deities that even beneath her beauty was a darkness that would never be concealed.
“It is not my fault he bore existence to such a brute.” Leaning back, Jaskor folded his arms over his chest, the purple robes he wore following suit.
The corner of Elaros’s corpse-like mouth curled into a taunting grin. “You should be glad I was in a gracious mood that day. Had I not been, I would’ve stolen your Son’s soul without so much as batting an eye.”
“Whether stupidity is involved or not,” Ysalyne interjected with a sharp inhale, “the entire situation was fabricated. Caspian’s willingness to nearly execute your Son, Jaskor, came from a rightful place with what the Others planted on that ship.
Just as your Son’s distaste toward Caspian is equally provoked.
But we cannot sit idly by while our Children seek their bloodline for comfort.
When will the lip and cheek bites become lacerations?
By the Grace, we all know the Others will waste no time tearing them apart. ”
“Their existence is a disgrace,” Seirdra hissed, the surrounding shadows pulsing with her rage. “Had that idiotic King not placed that summoning circle and offered his child as a sacrifice to call upon them, then we wouldn’t be in this situation—carved in two and divided between realms.”
Ellira loosed a breath, and as she moved away from the table, Elaros settled his hand on the small of her back. Offering him a gentle smile, she brushed her fingers along his jaw; the two were entranced by one another, if only briefly.
Pulling back, she turned her attention to the rest of the group.
“Not two realms. An encrypted divide separates the two continents. They do not reside on different planes of existence, but on the same. Which is precisely where our halves can be found.” She looked at Jaskor, this time with more understanding.
“Believe me, I do not want Rohen in this mess, as she is the last one I have. But as soon as the King opened that portal, he ripped each of them into it as well. Their fates are tied to us, and those decrepit… beings will continue playing an influence so long as this divide remains.”
“And their origins?” Ysalyne questioned, turning to the Goddess of the Sea. “Do we have any inkling?”
Intrigued enough to engage, Jaskor prompted, “You’ve been unable to decipher them?”
With a hesitant nod, Ysalyne nipped at her bottom lip.
“All I am able to discern is that they are not from here. In fact, the god realm itself rejects them entirely.” Inhaling deeply, her shoulders fell.
“We all know they can straddle this divide they’ve implemented and often co-exist within both locations at the same time.
But as for their origin, I haven’t been able to pin it down.
And believe me, I’ve looked through every record I have available. ”
“So we have reached a dead end.” Seirdra dropped her elbow on the table, placing her chin in her palm. “Our bandwidths are already limited with this separation. Part of me can’t help but wonder if we are simply unable to find the answers we seek because they exist where we are not powerful enough.”
“Which is why we need all our Children to be aware of what’s happening.
” Elaros extended a glance in Jaskor’s direction.
“Not because we desire them harm, but because the goal of the Others involves eradication. They will kill every single one of them if they are permitted the chance. But together? Those born of our lineage stand stronger. They are our only hope of dropping this veil and fusing with our Children. And from there, we may find the answers we so desperately seek about these creatures.”
Jaskor sighed, running his shadow-dipped fingers through his hair. “You realize that the instant they are made aware of their ties to us, there is no turning back, right? They will be thrown headfirst into that prophecy, and there is no ounce of certainty that they will all survive.”
Throat bobbing, Ellira nodded. “Yes, I am aware.”
“As am I,” Elaros stated from her side. “We can no longer be selfish about the matter. Yes, the desire to protect our Children will always remain true, but we also have millions of lives to consider. With war on the horizon and the prophecy unfolding, our hands are tied. Especially with how efficiently the Others have rendered us powerless.”
“So we spool out information regarding the artifacts?” Seirdra questioned earnestly. “Where have you hidden yours?”
“The Sea bathes my trident.” Ellira peered up at the god she’d become fond of. “Elaros’s skull is waiting on an Isle.”
Jaskor blew out a breath. “In the wall of a ruined archive beyond a misted veil, the seven coins awaiting my Son’s hand are resting.”
“My fragmented mirror rests on a wall of royalty,” Seirdra cringed with the admission, her fingers drumming against the table as she awaited the final goddess.
“A vial of starlight rests in calm waters tucked in volcanic creations,” Ysalyne answered before continuing, “In knowing that, what of this other realm, or as you say, continent, Ellira? We would be well-acquainted if there were such a thing in existence, would we not?”
“Not when we are divided. The other aspect of ourselves carries that knowledge.” Ellira’s fingers drummed across the table. “Until we fuse, those memories, that power, and the overarching influence of our existence remain useless.”
“So we have to rely on our Children to get us there.” Seirdra shoved herself back, slouching in her chair. “Children who want one another dead.”
“The nuances of the human psyche are complex,” Elaros offered, turning his attention to the goddess whom he refused to part from.
“Our Children are no exception. But with what the prophecy entails, it is only a matter of time. Once they uncover the depth of the power that awaits them and begin their search for the artifacts, it will grant them the answers they need. I am confident in that much. They are Mizani after all.”
Jaskor stood, brushing a hand down the front of his chest. “So we turn to the humans to revive our essences?”
“They aren’t merely human,” Ellira whispered, but the subtle smile growing on her lips did not contain an ounce of unease. No, it was confidence and pride—a knowing that the five Children stood a chance against the Others. “They are Divari.”