Chapter 30
Esmyra
After days of soaring beneath the tides, Anchorage Cove seemed smaller than Esmyra remembered.
Maybe it was her, and not the isle. The once-welcoming chaos of the pirate stronghold now felt cramped. The alleys were tighter, the smells ranker, the drunken laughter grating. It wasn’t the same place she once knew, wild and burning with life.
Or maybe Esmyra just wasn’t the same woman.
She pulled her hood lower, the coarse linen scratching her brow as she drifted through the jostling crowd. The moment she’d set foot on the isle, she cloaked herself in her usual mortal guise, welcoming the small bit of comfort it brought.
A man bumped into her—a pirate with rotting teeth and blood on his collar—and muttered a half snarled curse before stumbling away.
Her body went rigid, and she almost clawed his throat open. Her fingers twitched at her side, aching to shift, to do something, but she reined it in.
You’re trouble, Miss Esmi, Draevyn’s words from the night on his ship floated through her memory.
The truth was… trouble had always simmered around her like a second skin. It was once the only thing that made her feel. And she had been numb for weeks at this point. She was desperate to feel anything. A rush of adrenaline, an urge to laugh, an orgasm for fuck’s sake.
No, actually. Not that last one. Esmyra never wanted anyone touching her body ever again. The thought of it sent nausea rolling through her.
As she walked along the alleyway, she kicked over a merchant’s barrel on purpose, just to hear the curses rain down on her again like the old days when she frequented the isle.
The days when her crew would have her back, no matter the trouble she brought to them.
She even almost got into a brawl with a man twice her size just for looking at her wrong.
She didn’t even plan to use magic, just wanting the feel of bones crunching beneath her fist.
But still, nothing felt right.
Eventually, Esmyra reached the steps of her favorite old tavern that sagged between two buildings. The sign above it—The Kraken’s Alehouse—creaked in the wind, a familiar shape carved into the wood: massive tentacles wrapped around a ship, bringing it to the depths.
It was only then a subtle smile curved her lips, before she exhaled slowly and pushed the door open.
The tavern was a shrine to chaos, carved from shipwrecked wood and stone. Low ceilings pressed in, strung with lanterns made from old glass bottles and bits of sea glass that shimmered green and blue in the smoky light.
It reeked of sweat, gunpowder, and cheap liquor. The floor was slick in places and sticky in others. Every surface was scarred: tables nicked with blade marks, stools chewed by the sharp heels of boots, and the bar itself tattooed with burn marks and carved names.
In one shadowy corner, someone played a fiddle, the tune drowning beneath shouting, laughter, and the occasional thud of someone’s fist meeting a face.
Esmyra stood in the doorway for a long moment, the sight and scent of it all dragging old memories to the surface.
A strange sense of longing washed over her. She had so many memories here. Had gotten into her first fight that wasn’t aboard her ship. Stolen her first kiss from a drunken sailor hundreds of years ago and then another one from a barmaid.
This is where I met Draevyn.
The last thought had her clenching her teeth as she sucked in a sharp, painful breath.
But now this place felt like trying on an old coat that didn’t fit anymore, too tight in the shoulders and wrong at the seams. She stepped further inside, regardless of that feeling. A few heads turned, seeming wary and curious. Perhaps there was even a flicker of recognition in one or two.
Esmyra didn’t have a plan for what to do once she reached the port. She was hoping something would click in her mind once she stepped foot on the shore. Disappointment settled into her bones as she started to realize that she still felt just as lost.
She slid onto a stool at the bar, ignoring the man next to her loudly recounting a story about fighting off sirens with a fork. Esmyra smirked, knowing it was likely true since Maerinys had risen.
But the barkeep, a woman with scars across her throat and one gold tooth, raised a brow. “Sirens have been extinct for hundreds of years, you dumb brute.”
“They’re back! Swimming up from the south,” he claimed.
Esmyra’s gaze drifted to him. As he turned to meet her stare, her eyes shifted into their serpentine slits and her canines elongated into tiny fangs, all while that smirk remained curving her lips.
The man let out a gasp and leaned back so far he fell off his stool and hit the floor with a loud thud.
The barmaid lifted her fingers to her lips and sent up a loud whistle that got the attention of the surrounding men. “Get him out of here,” she ordered, and then several of them reached for the man and dragged him away.
Esmyra watched his body slide across the dirt and ale-covered floorboards, his eyes remaining locked on her, jaw agape.
“That was fun,” Kaelypso said with a cackle.
“Um, what can I get for ya, Miss?” The barmaid’s voice caught her attention.
“Rum,” Esmyra answered. The woman nodded once and reached for a bottle.
The barkeep slid the mug of rum across the counter without a word. The liquid sloshed inside as Esmyra turned from the bar and began weaving through the crowd, her eyes scanning the smoky haze and flickering candlelight.
And then a different kind of noise than she was used to caught her attention.
Tucked into the back corner of the tavern, half hidden by a tattered sail repurposed as a curtain, sat a group of women. Four of them were clustered around a wide round table littered with mugs, coins, and scattered dice.
They were laughing. It was the loudest, most unabashed, open laughter she’d ever heard from a group that wasn’t a bunch of drunk, raucous men.
Esmyra slowed her steps as she stared at them, drawn toward the sound as it rolled out over the chaos like a symphony of music.
These women… they were so different, each one like a separate world.
The first who caught Esmyra’s attention appeared to be an elven, her brunette hair tucked behind a pointed ear while her green eyes shone brightly in the tavern light.
In front of this female, a white wolf head was carved into the top of her dagger, wings protruding from its hilt as its blade dug into the table’s rotting wood.
Another woman stood at her side, her golden-blonde hair braided over her shoulder’s armor. This one appeared mortal, though her expression seemed sharp enough to draw blood.
“One, two, three, GO!” the elven boomed with a laugh, spilling part of her drink onto her black leathers.
Both women began to chug their drinks.
Were they in some kind of drinking contest? Esmyra had half a thought to go over there and teach them a lesson, but she wouldn’t even know the first way to approach a group of friends like that.
Mainly because I don’t have any myself. The realization made her throat tighten. Tits, she missed Jak.
A silver-haired woman crept out of the shadows, seeming to have them floating between her hands before she sent a few wisps of darkness at the two drinking. Her gold and violet eyes shone with mischief as they smacked the mugs out of their hands.
The cups fell to the floor with a loud clank.
Esmyra’s head reared back. Had she just wielded shadows? It must’ve been a trick of the light.
“Veli, that’s cheating!” the golden-haired knight yelped as she wiped the liquid from her mouth. She lifted her middle finger toward the culprit as she winked.
The elven one leapt down from her stool and jumped toward her. “Witch!” she screamed, dragging out the word as they all burst out in another fit of laughter.
The silver-haired woman—Veli—smirked at them both but said nothing.
Esmyra didn’t even realize her own lips had kicked up, laughing with them at their game. Was that what it was like to have girlfriends?
And the last of the women sat on her stool, her fiery-red hair looking like flames in the candlelight. “When’s it my turn?” she yelled with a giggle, sounding tipsy.
The one named Veli looked over her shoulder, checking for watchful eyes, before she sent shadows at her companion, knocking her off her stool with a shriek. But then she walked over and reached out to help her up. “We’re not going to let you win this time, Avery.”
“Wyvern’s shit!” The redhead blew out a breath, sending her hair fluttering as she reached out and dragged Veli down to the ground with her. “If you’re afraid of losing, you can just say that.”
Those chuckles sounded again, but this time from all four of them.
Esmyra wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly felt an immense amount of respect for these women. They were all different. And yet… they fit. Maybe not with the realm, but with each other.
They seemed like they were each other’s homes.
And it was then Esmyra realized that maybe this sense of home she’d come here to search for was something she would never find. Maybe home wasn’t a place at all. Maybe home was just the people you love and would do anything for.
An ache cracked in her chest, and then she noticed the green-eyed elven was watching her. She stiffened on instinct as the female approached her.
“Hi!” she greeted, tucking her hair behind her pointed ear. “Would you like to join us? Apologies for the rowdiness. We were just fucking around,” she finished with a laugh, peering back over her shoulder at them.
The entire group of women were watching, heads tilted in curiosity.
“Oh, no, that’s okay. Thank you, though,” Esmyra said. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
The woman let out a laugh. “Oh, please. I feel like we are the ones intruding.”
“Where are you from?” Esmyra asked.
Her lips tilted into a smirk as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. “Not… here.”
Esmyra chuckled. “I didn’t think so. So, another realm then?”
She dipped her chin. “You could say that.”
“Well, welcome to Rymelle…” she dragged out the word. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Lia,” she said with a drunken giggle. “My name is Lia.”
Esmyra smiled. “Hi Lia, my name is Esmi.”
“Esmi,” she echoed. “That’s very pretty. Well, Esmi, the offer still stands. We’ll be wreaking havoc all night.” Her arms lifted out to her sides as she tilted her head, taking a step back. “You’re more than welcome to join. After all, only my friends call me Lia.” She winked.
Esmyra let out a laugh. “Well, interestingly enough, only my friends call me Esmi.”
Lia gave her a dip of her chin. “I knew I liked you. See you around, Esmi.” And then she returned to their table, all the women cheering and laughing once more as they started another round of their game.
There was something so effortless about the way they leaned into each other, the way their glances flicked between one another mid-laugh and how jokes spilled from their lips like wine they’d been drinking for years.
They were a family built not born. And Esmyra hoped they realized what they had.
Her crew had been fierce and loyal, but mostly, they had been her friends. And she didn’t even realize that until it was entirely too late. They would drink together, fight beside one another, and would even die together if it came to it. Was that not what friendship was? Or even what a family was?
Gods, she had been so stupid.
She had half a thought to take Lia up on her offer, and her boot shifted forward instinctively. But then something in her stilled, and she turned away instead. Everything she touched or cared for recently had withered away to nothing, and she refused to risk doing that to the group of women.
Esmyra found a shadowy table on the opposite end of the tavern and sat down alone, imagining what her life would be like if she never set out for Maerinys.