31
Like a ship loves the open water
T he night dragged on slowly, each minute a reminder of the danger lurking outside. None of us dared step out the aft cabin, knowing that the sirens’ voices still haunted the sea.
The air inside was thick with worry, the captain lay still, his skin pale, his breathing shallow. Alastair said the mermaid’s poison was coursing through his veins, weakening him, but the potion he mixed together in a battered vial would flush it out soon.
I had been awake the entire night, seated near the small window, watching over Calico, the quiet creaks of the ship the only sounds keeping me company. Through the fogged glass, I saw Swan Rock emerge in the distance. The jagged cliffs towered over the water, the dark green rocks rising like sharp teeth from the sea. Sirens were carved into the stone, their faces frozen in screams or song, their long flowing hair tangled with seaweed. The eerie shadows of the statues made it look like they were moving, a place shrouded in mystery and darkness. Every now and then, a faint melody would seep into the silence, but the thick wooden walls of the cabin kept us safe.
As the night began to slip away, the first light of dawn filtered through the tiny windows, painting the room in soft, golden hues. The warmth of the sun was a welcome relief after the long cold night. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the light touch my skin, trying to push away the images of the mermaids, the way the diamond tip of my arrow felt as it sank into flesh.
Ela approached me quietly, her footsteps light. “You didn’t even think twice,” she said, sitting beside me. “You just jumped. You jumped after our captain knowing you couldn’t swim back up.”
My voice was barely above a whisper when I said, “I’ve killed three people now.”
Ela tilted her head, a small smirk pulling at her lips. “Congratulations, Pink Arrow.”
I stared at her, eyes wide, not finding any humor in her words.
Ela frowned, and then realized. “Oh. You didn’t mean it like an achievement.”
I shook my head. “Was it like this for you too? The first people you killed?” I said with a distant gaze. “Will I always be thinking about them?”
Ela’s expression softened. She reached out and took my hand, tracing the sea serpent tattoo that curled around my index finger. “No one is born thinking they’re going to kill.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “My first three were just like yours—because I had to do it. And here’s the thing, Donna, as messed up as it sounds, the next ones will be for the same reason.” Ela paused, locking eyes with me. “There are people out there, terrible people, that kill for many things. For enjoyment, for greed, for power, for religion… But we don’t. We kill for family. We kill for resistance. We kill because we love. As disgusting as you think that might sound.”
My breath caught in my throat. Ela squeezed my hand a little tighter. “And I’ll be there with you. We all will. Behind your back, at your side, holding your hand… Because what you did back there? I would have done it too. I would’ve done it a thousand times for these bastards. And I know they would for me too. And for you.”
Silent tears slid down my cheeks as I whispered, “I would do it again too.”
Ela wiped a tear away with her thumb, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “That’s what makes you part of this crew, Pink Arrow. That’s what makes you a pirate. You can choose for which cause and battle you kill, and I choose to kill for love. For them only. You too?”
I smiled through my tears. “Aye. Me too.”
Ela pulled me into a hug, the warmth of it wrapping around me like a blanket, a feeling of belonging that made the ache in my chest a little easier to bear.
And then I understood my actions, and I understood that I was willing to do it again, as many times as necessary, just like I was willing to drown. For them, for love. Fierce, protective and unwavering love. The kind that welcomed a stranger into a family, and made her a part of it.
As we pulled apart, I could tell by Ela’s face that she noticed the eye paint she long time ago put on me, smudged and streaked surely from crying. She burst into laughter. “Even your tears, Pink Arrow? That’s a much bigger level of loving, you know? Even from your tears, you shed love.”
I laughed softly, wiping at my face. “Do you think love is the color pink?”
Ela smiled with warm eyes. “I think love is whatever color you choose it to be. You taught me that, actually.”
I blinked surprised. “Did I?”
Ela nodded. “Aye. With your ridiculous pink arrows and beautiful auburn hair.”
My lips twitched in a smile as I said, “Well, piracy was the one that taught me .”
Ela raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “Oh really? How’s that?”
I leaned back, looking at her thoughtfully. “Pirates hoist their colours proudly, every time they go into battle or just… be. And those colours are whatever they want them to be. Their own. Your colours. The ones that announce your arrival, the ones that make you who you are, the ones that people know you for. The ones you wave proudly, whatever colour that might be.”
Ela grinned. “You know what, Pink Arrow? That might just be the smartest thing you’ve ever said. You should write it down. Put it in the pirates’ code or something. ”
I laughed, feeling how the weight of the night began to lift, and immediately, Calico’s words echoed in my mind, “This crew is your family now, we take care of the burdens that each one of us want to share, and the ones we don't, the ones that remain stored deep inside of us, those we understand them from silence.”
???
The first light of dawn broke over the horizon, bathing the sea in shades of gold and orange. A color gold so bright and warm that could only mean one thing, we were entering Dallene’s coast.
The wind, gentle and cool, caressed my face, carrying with it the soft scent of salt and the promise of another day at sea. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that settled after a storm had passed—still, yet heavy with the events that happened in Swan Rock.
I stood alone on the deck, save for Duke at the helm. His broad shoulders cast long shadows across the wood, the rising sun painting him in gold like some sort of ancient statue, steadfast and unwavering. The rest of the crew was below deck, finally getting some rest after the hell of last night. Calico was still in bed, fighting off the effects of the mermaid poison. I shivered at the thought, pushing the image of his pale, fevered face from my mind.
Taking a deep breath, I made my way to Duke. My boots barely made a sound against the worn wood as I walked, the rhythmic creak of the ship almost lulling me into a false sense of peace. But it was the silence between us that felt comforting in a way I hadn’t expected.
“Morning,” I said softly as I approached, leaning against the railing beside him.
Duke glanced over at me with a quiet laugh, his usual stern face softened by the light of dawn. “Morning, Donna.”
For a while, neither of us spoke. We simply watched the horizon, the sea stretching out endlessly before us, golden waves shimmering beneath the sun. The wind rustled through the red sails, and somewhere below deck, I heard a faint snore. I smiled.
“She would’ve loved this,” Duke said, breaking the silence. His voice was rough, yet there was a tenderness in it that I had only heard when he spoke about Dara.
I turned to him, catching the way his gaze lingered on the horizon, faraway and heavy with memories. “Dara?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
He nodded, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Aye. She always liked watching the sun rise, said it was the only time the world felt right. Quiet and… safe.”
I smiled softly, the thought of Dara and her love for the most beautiful things a bittersweet warmth in my chest.
“She was always the first one awake in the castle,” I said, my voice quieter now, as if speaking any louder would disturb the fragile peace of the morning. “She used to tell me the sunrise reminded her there was hope for a better world. ‘No matter what, we will always have the sunrise’, she used to say. ”
Duke let out a soft chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“That sounds like her. Always tryin’ to see the good in the world, even when it was falling apart,” he sighed. “You remind me a lot of her.”
I watched him for a moment, the way his brow furrowed ever so slightly, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. There was a heaviness in him now, a weight I understood.
“You loved her very much,” I said gently, the affirmation hanging in the air between us.
For a long moment, Duke didn’t answer. He was as still as the ship beneath us, the only movement the gentle rise and fall of his chest. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough, like it hurt to say the words out loud.
“More than I ever told her. More than I think she ever knew.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat. We had talked about Dara multiple times, shared stories of her with each other, but I had never seen him so vulnerable talking about her since that night in The Mariner’s Mirage. It was like the quiet of the dawn had stripped away all the defenses he kept so carefully in place.
“I’ve never been a man of poetry or arts but… she made me feel like I could be one. She made me feel like I could paint, and write, and even sing,” Duke continued, his jaw tight. “She felt like light and color. In a world that’s got too much dark, y’know? She made things better just by being around.” He paused, and I saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped the wheel. “Bu t I never told her that. Not the way I should’ve. I never told her that I loved her.”
The pain in his voice was palpable, and I could feel the weight of his regret settling over the both of us like a heavy fog.
I swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to form. “She knew, Duke. By the way she saw the world and loved so much? She had to know. She had to have seen it in you.”
He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Maybe. But it doesn’t make it easier, does it?” He glanced down at me, and for a moment, I saw the raw emotion he usually kept hidden behind his stoic mask. “She knew you loved her because you probably said it to her, and she to you, countless times I bet. But it was different for me. You loved her like a mother, but me… I loved her like…” “Like a ship loves the open waters,” I finished for him, my heart aching. I didn't know he never had the chance to say it to her.
Duke nodded, his eyes glassy as he turned back to the sea. “Aye. Like that.”
We stood in silence again, the wind filling the sails above us, the ship gently rocking beneath our feet. I didn’t know what to say. No words would ease the pain he was carrying, and in some ways, I understood it all too well. Grief wasn’t something you could just wash away with the waves.
“She deserved better anyways,” Duke whispered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. “More than this. More than a life of running, of lookin’ over her shoulder. More than me. ”
I reached out and gently placed my hand on his arm, squeezing it softly. “Oh, but you knew her! You know that was exactly what she wanted. The thrill of it all. The love.”
He looked down at me, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of gratitude, maybe, or understanding.
Our conversation hung in the air, a painful reminder of all I hadn’t said to the captain yet. I had been dancing around it, scared of what I’d find out, not for myself, but for everyone else. Thalassa had warned me about the prophecy, about the captain knowing more than he’d let on. The weight of it pressed heavily on my chest.
I didn’t know how to ask him—how to pull him into something that could change everything, change our direction, maybe even put all of them in danger. More than we had dreamed of encountering. The crew hadn’t chosen this, and the last thing I wanted was to drag them into a storm they couldn’t see coming.
But I needed those answers too. I needed to know where should I go next.
I turned to Duke, still standing strong at the helm, his posture rigid as he looked out at the horizon.
“Duke,” I started hesitantly, “do you… do you know about the prophecy?”
He stiffened at the question, his hands tightening on the wheel. For a moment, I wasn’t sure he’d answer me. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned his head sightly, avoiding my gaze. “ That’s not something I can talk to you about,” he said slowly, his voice low and gruff.
My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
Duke’s expression hardened, and his tone was firm but gentle. “That’s something you need to ask the captain. It’s not my place to tell it. It’s not my story.”
I blinked, feeling a rush of nervous energy swirl inside me. Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the quiet morning air.
“What about the captain?”
I froze, feeling a wave of warmth spread through my chest at the sound of Calico’s voice. Duke and I both turned to see him standing behind us, leaning casually against the rail, his lips curved in that playful smile I liked so much. His dark hair was still messy from sleep, but his posture was stronger, and the sickly pallor that had clung to him last night was mostly gone.
He looked better—much better.
My heart swelled in relief, and I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. After the terror of last night, seeing him standing there, alive and smirking, was almost too much to handle.
But then I noticed the cut on his lip, a small scar where a drop of dried blood still lingered. The memory of elbowing him in the face flashed through my mind, and I bit my lip to keep from apologizing.
Duke cleared his throat, and I glanced over to see him watching the two of us with a knowing look. He dipped his head slightly to Calico. “I’ll go let the others know we’ll be arriving at Dallene tomorrow.”
Before leaving, he casted him a sidelong glance and muttered under his breath, “Good to see you’re back and well, Cap’n.”
Calico grinned and nodded toward me. “I think we need to thank The Pink Arrow for that.”
Duke’s lips quirked up in a small smile as he muttered, “Indeed.” With that, he turned and disappeared below deck, leaving the two of us alone at the helm, the dawn light painting the ship in golden pink hues.
I felt the shift in the air as Calico moved closer, the space between us shrinking until I could feel the heat radiating from him. The sound of the sea and the wind filled the silence, but all I could hear was the beating of my own heart. I swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but the fact that he was standing so close.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I said quietly, glancing down at his lip, still bruised from my accidental hit. “It was my fault.”
Calico chuckled softly, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers like currents of warm water up my spine. “Don’t ever apologize for a good punch, love. The Gods know I'll be dreaming of it for centuries.”
“No! I meant—Gods, apologies for that too,” I stammered, suddenly flustered. “I wasn’t… thinking clearly. My mind was not my own. It was my fault you were on the deck at the first place, it was my fault you got dragged into the water by that mermaid.”
He laughed again, a rich, easy sound that made my stomach flip. “She was a pretty mermaid, you can’t take the blame for that. ”
My brows furrowed, and anger flared in my chest. I could feel it boiling over, my frustration mixing with something I refused to acknowledge. “You almost died. You almost left this crew without a captain. Can’t you take anything serious? Is everything a game to you?”
He smirked, his eyes gleaming in the early light. “Life is a game. One we play with all the cards stacked against us. Might as well have a bit of fun while we’re at it, aye?”
The way he said it, with that infuriating grin and the glint in his eyes, made my blood boil. He was so cavalier about everything—about life, about death, about nearly drowning, and I couldn’t understand it. I clenched my jaw, my heart thudding louder in my chest as I stepped closer to him, my voice sharp. “So, what? You let that mermaid drown you just because you found her pretty?” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. “But I thought you said beauty was a lie, Captain.”
His grin widened, and he took a step towards me, his presence overwhelming as he leaned in, his voice low and teasing.
“Careful now, love. Or I’ll start thinking you pay too much attention to me and nightmares will no longer be what haunts my nights.”
My breath hitched as the space between us all but disappeared, his face so close to mine I could see the teasing spark in his eyes, feel the heat radiating from him. The pearl hanging from his small hoop earring swayed with each heavy breath he took, drawing my eyes to the curve of his jaw .
I could feel my cheeks flushing, the tension between us thick, charged. My skin tingled where he was searching for an answer in my eyes, daring me to close the distance between us.
I could swear in front of all the Gods that for a moment I almost did.
The logical part of my mind screamed at me to step back, to put space between us before I said something I couldn’t take back. But the rest of me, the part that had been battling this strange and magnetic connection for days now, the part that had been fighting this pull I couldn’t quiet yet comprehend, and the part that made me look up at the dome of that church a month ago, wanted to step closer.
And I could still hear the echo of Thalassa’s voice in my head, the warning about the prophecy, the reminder of the path I had to take. The knowledge that the captain held some piece of that prophecy was a heavy weight on my shoulders, but standing this close to him, it was hard to think clearly.
“I…” My voice faltered as I tried to break through the tension, but the words tangled in my throat. “… I do. Pay attention.”
Calico’s grin softened, just a fraction, his gaze searching mine. His hand lifted, and for a moment, I thought he was going to touch my face. My heart raced, anticipation burning through me, but instead, his fingers lightly brushed the edge of his lip—the same lip I had split open the night before.
“You’ve got that look again,” he murmured, his voice lower now, softer, almost teasing but with an edge of something deeper. His eyes gleamed as he tilted his head, his breath warm against my cheek. “As if you’re worried that I’m about to keel over again.”
I shook my head, my voice wavering. “You almost did, Captain.”
Calico laughed, a soft chuckle that made my stomach and heart trembled, but there was something in his expression now—a shadow behind the lightness, something darker lurking just beneath his playful facade. “Yet here I am, still standing. And it seems I have you to thank for that.”
“You don’t,” I whispered, my heart clenching at the memory of last night, of how close we had come to losing him. “It was my fault that mermaid got you.” I cleared my throat.
His smile widened, and he leaned even closer, his breath warm against my skin as he whispered, “You have been thinking about that mermaid a lot, haven’t you?”
Heat rushed to my face, and I took a step back, my hands balling into fists at my sides as I tried to steady my breathing.
“No, I haven’t.”
His laugh was soft, teasing, and he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “You are a terrible liar, love.”
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, the anger and frustration bubbling up inside me.
My heart pounded in my chest, my breath coming faster. His words grated on me, but there was something in the way he said them that pulled me in, even when I wanted to push him away.
His eyes, bright and sharp, searched mine, as if he were looking for something—some reaction, some answer I wasn’t sure I had .
“You almost died,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I hadn’t said. “How can you laugh about that?”
His expression softened, just for a second but it did. “And you jumped after me, knowing that maybe you weren't going to be able to rise to the surface. So you almost died too.” He stepped even closer, and said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, “And because if I didn’t laugh, I wouldn’t know what else to do.”
I stood there, without knowing what to say, but I felt like he needed to hear me saying that somehow I understood. “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh, indeed.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The wind tugged at my hair, and the sound of the waves lapping against the ship’s hull filled the silence between us. His eyes were so close now, dark blue and intense, searching mine for something I couldn’t name.
His fingers reached towards the sleeve of my dress, the fabric slipping off my shoulder, and he carefully tucked it back into place. The simple act was filled with a sensuality that sent a thrill coursing through me, every brush of his skin against mine igniting a fire deep within.
As he lingered near, opening his mouth as if to say something, I felt the words bubbling up inside me, pushing to escape.
“Tell me about the prophecy,” I whispered, my breath mingling with his, my heart racing .
His hand dropped away from my dress, and I caught a flicker of worry in his eyes as he stepped back, a sudden distance growing between us. “What do you know about it?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.
The absence of his warmth was a jolt to my senses. “Nothing really,” I admitted, feeling a pang of loss at his retreat. “Just that Thalassa told me to ask you. Is there something I need to know?”
Calico shook his head, a shadow passing over his features. “That Goddess of yours is going to be your ruination.”
Confusion welled up inside me, knotting my stomach. “What do you mean?”
His gaze dropped to the deck, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “There are things that need to be kept underwater.” And with that, he turned his back to me, and I felt the panic rise in my chest.
“No!” I cried, urgency pushing me forward. I grabbed his arm, my grip fierce. “I’m tired of being left in the unknown. I’m tired of feeling just like the puppet, the compass. What would become of me after you get what you want? I’ll be nothing of your interest then. I need—”
He spun around, his hands gripping my arms with an intensity that stole my breath. His face was inches from mine, his expression serious, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a thick fog .
“You don’t understand a thing,” he said, his voice tight, his eyes darkening. “If I end up getting what I really want, this world will end in catastrophe.”
My heart ached at the fear I saw reflected in his gaze, the sadness that creased his brow. I wanted so desperately to touch his face, to wipe away the shadows and tell him everything would be all right.
But all I could manage was a whisper, soft and filled with longing. “Then help me understand. I can’t be left alone in the shadows again. I can’t truly feel like a part of something if you are keeping things from me.”
Calico’s expression faltered, and for a moment, he looked so vulnerable, so lost, just like the night I found him tied to the mast. “I can’t,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’d be betraying the only God who once listened to me.”
With those words, he turned to leave, and a wave of desperation washed over me. I was left standing there on the deck, alone, the dawn casting a golden light on the water as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders, pressing down like an anchor pulling me into the depths of the ocean.
I was terrified—terrified of what that prophecy could mean, terrified of the implications of his refusal to share. And most of all, I was terrified of the distance growing between us, of how easily he could slip away while I stood rooted in place, lost and aching for clarity .
As I watched him walk away, my heart raced with the uncertainty of it all. I felt the shadows creeping back in, threading to envelop me again, but this time I wouldn’t let them. I couldn’t. Not now, not when I now knew where I belonged to. Where I was the most myself and happy. And mostly not now, when I was willing to do everything to keep it that way.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself against the helm, the cool wood grounding me as I tried to make sense of the storm brewing within me. I would find a way to bridge this gap, to pull Calico from the shadows he hid in. No matter what it took.