Kai
Chapter thirteen
Breath & Vine
“We’ve arrived, Cap’,” Jay calls from the starboard side of the ship. I’m down on the lower deck, watching the waves slap against the hull and keeping an eye on Mira. She’s been talking to Smith for far too long.
“Aye,” I call back, turning to let her know we’re close and to prepare for docking.
Mira and I are the only ones going ashore to find Veyra.
She’s not the type you simply stumble across.
She hides deep in the jungle, somewhere the map doesn't reach. We’re the only ones meant to walk this path to see Veyra.
If we bring anyone else, she’ll try to balance their souls too, and this journey is ours alone to take.
We board the small rowboat, the wood creaking under our weight as it drifts from The Leviathan’s shadow.
The only sound is the rhythm of the oars cutting through the water.
The sea is calm and glassy, reflecting the bruised colors of dawn.
Overhead, gulls cry and circle, their calls sharp against the stillness.
Salt clings to the air, heavy on my skin, and every pull of the oars brings us closer to the shore waiting ahead.
I hold out a hand to steady Mira as she climbs out of the boat.
She takes it without hesitation, and I help her down.
“Thanks,” she says. We move toward the tree line, where the jungle begins to swallow the beach.
Mira walks close behind me, quiet, breath steady.
Most would be on edge heading into Pike, with all the stories told about its cursed jungle and vanishing travelers, but not her. She’s unshaken.
As we reach the tree line, Mira pulls out the map Taika gave her.
“I think this should help us find Veyra,” she says, unraveling it carefully.
Small black specks stain the top left corner like ink spilled in warning.
“We follow where it turns black. North. When it’s completely black…
we’ve found her.” I glance at the map, then at her.
If that map brought her to me, I trust it’ll get us wherever we need to go.
The jungle engulfs us fast. Some parts are quiet and unsettling, shadows thick as tar between twisted trees, branches draped in moss that sway even without wind.
Other parts feel almost peaceful, with birds calling overhead and the sound of water threading through narrow streams. It’s the kind of place someone deeply tied to the earth might call home. Someone who doesn’t want to be found.
Mira moves steadily beside me, alert but never tense.
The deeper we go, the stranger it feels, like we’ve stepped into a place that sees us, weighs us up, waits for something.
It feels like every sin I’ve ever committed is being judged here.
Like the jungle decides whether I deserve to walk through it at all.
Animals slip between the trees, silent and watchful.
A fox darts across our path. A line of unusually large ants crawls in perfect order over a vine-covered root.
A snake slithers nearby, long and dark, its scales catching the faintest trace of light as it winds through the underbrush.
I instinctively step in front of Mira. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t slow, just glances at the creature with mild curiosity, like she’s seen far worse.
None of them come close, but none of them flee, either.
It feels like we’ve been invited into their home, and they've opened the door.
What is it this cursed place shelters? The sea has its sirens, its kappas, its drowned horrors. What does the land have? The vines whisper, the air trembles. Whatever watches us now feels older than myths.
It’s strange, feeling more unsettled on land than I ever have at sea. The ship is chaos, sure, but it’s my chaos, one I can be in control over. This? This, something written by the gods, is a different realm.
Still, I tread carefully. I don’t want to harm a single living thing before seeing Veyra.
Even something as small as an ant under my boot.
Her soul probably runs through every leaf, every stone, every bead of dew left behind by morning rain.
This place feels sacred and I want to be respectful on her land, but if anything even tries to touch Mira, I’ll burn the whole damn jungle to the ground.
Mira pulls the map out again. The black ink stains more of the top left corner now, the spreading shadow shifting our path.
We veer slightly until we stumble upon a waterfall, its silver ribbons crashing into a crystal plunge pool below.
The water smashes against the rocks, catching the light like scattered diamonds.
Rain begins to fall. Soft. Warm. The droplets make the surface of the pool shimmer even more.
It’s mesmerizing, like this place was meant to be found.
The jungle heat wraps around us, heavy and wet.
Our clothes cling to our skin, every breath thick with the scent of moss and rain.
Mira glances at me, a sly, knowing smirk tugging at her lips, more playful than usual.
“Should we go for a swim?” That smile of hers could undo kingdoms. Fighting my feelings of hatred towards her is getting harder, day by day.
“I would love to,” I say, already pulling at my shirt.
Mira’s fingers are quicker, unlacing her boots, peeling off layers until we’re down to nothing but our undergarments.
She wears only a thin strip of fabric across her chest, completely see through.
Her skin gleams in the golden haze of humidity.
She dips a toe into the water. The chill snaps at her skin, and she recoils with a small gasp.
“It’s freezing,” she says, her teeth clenching through the shiver.
“But we can get used to it.” I let out a low laugh and dive in without warning.
The cold bites hard, but it’s sharp and refreshing.
When I surface, she’s still easing in, inch by inch.
The water climbs her body, and she trembles against it.
There’s no fat on her. No warmth to hold onto.
She’s all sinew, grace, and stubborn pride.
A siren in her own right, but she has no clue yet.
I look at her, her eyes wide with worry.
“Your arm… It looks infected.” I glance down.
The veins have darkened, spreading up my bicep and down my forearm like ink spilled beneath the skin.
It’s getting worse. The pain comes in waves, sharp, burning, alive.
When it hits, it feels like the siren herself is clawing to get out.
I move toward her, reaching to pull her in close.
She tenses at the offer at first, but she gives into the warmth coming from my body.
My arms wrap around her, pulling her in close.
Her body fits perfectly against mine, like we were molded to belong to one another.
Her arms slowly circle my waist, as though she's fighting herself to embrace me. She sinks into my warmth like she’s been needing it, craving it, not fighting the pull.
Her head rests right over my heart. For the first time in what feels like forever, I can breathe.
Like I’ve been drowning my entire life and only now surfaced for air.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, voice steady even as the burn crawls higher. “It’ll fade.” A lie, sharp and easy. The truth is uglier. Varn warned me it would reopen, but he never said it would spread like poison.
Her lashes flutter against my chest, soft, delicate, until they still. Her eyes close. Her body surrenders to the comfort between us. She stops shivering. She’s so small in my arms. Fragile in a way I don’t think she even realizes. But she feels safe. And that matters more to me than anything.
Mira looks up. Her emerald eyes, rich and dark like the forest around us, lock with mine. “If you say so,” she says softly. I glance down at her, rain still dripping from my soaked hair. A droplet lands on her cheek and she scrunches her nose in protest. I chuckle.
The spark between us is impossible to ignore.
She doesn’t look away. Neither do I. Rain clings to her lashes like tiny diamonds.
I’ve never liked this kind of eye contact.
I can stare down an enemy across a battlefield, meet the gaze of a man I’m about to kill without blinking.
But someone who makes me feel something real?
That kind of gaze is harder to hold. Right now, I don’t want to look away. I don’t want her to look away.
She looks at the waterfall, jaw tight, eyes flashing with something sharper than the sunlight cutting through the jungle storm, gleaming off the water.
“Don’t use your magic on me,” she says, voice clipped.
“I don’t like my mind being invaded.” The accusation hits like a cold wave.
I blink, confused, narrowing my gaze. “I haven’t touched your mind since the night we were in the pub,” I say slowly, brows furrowed. “Why would you assume that?”
She looks up at me, guarded. But behind the armor, I catch it, a flicker of vulnerability.
Something raw. “I had some… feelings,” she admits, the words thick, heavy, like they cost her something to say.
“I thought maybe you were controlling them.” A silence blooms between us.
I want to touch her cheek, her jaw, anything to anchor her.
But I don’t. Instead, I let my lips pull into a slow smile. “Feelings of what?” I know. Of course I know.
But I want her to say it. I want it spoken into the air, something real. Something undeniable. She looks away. Her jaw twitches. “It doesn’t matter,” she mutters. “We should get going.”
She pulls from my arms and climbs out of the water, droplets trailing down her skin like silver threads. Her walls, which had started to chip away, rebuild themselves with every step. I let her go, respecting her boundaries. As much as I silently want her, I will never force anything on her.
Her warmth vanishes instantly. Like it was never there at all.
After everything I’ve done. After the way I was in Magda.
After a life where people only ever took from her.
Especially with the weight of both our families’ pasts, I don’t blame her for putting up walls.
I’d help her build them, if she needed me to.
She’s shivering as she pulls her clothes back on, fingers trembling slightly as she laces her already soaked boots.
I shrug off my shirt and offer it to her.
“Here. Use this.” She takes it without a word.
Her fingers graze mine for a heartbeat too long.
She presses the fabric to her skin, and finally, I speak.
“You have to know,” I say gently. “I won’t enter your mind again. Not unless you want me to.”
She doesn’t look up from what she’s doing. “Okay” is all she says. It hits harder than I expected. So quiet. So unsure. But not a no.
A breeze stirs the trees above us. Leaves flutter like they’re whispering. Something in the forest shifts, a rustle too purposeful, a shadow that moves without sound. She doesn’t notice. But I do. Veyra is close. And she’s listening.
I dress quickly, still watching Mira as she adjusts her corset, eyes downcast. We start walking again, side by side this time, not speaking. There’s too much left unsaid. But we’ll get there. One step at a time.
We keep a close eye on the map. It’s been hours of trudging through the thick, humid forest, and finally, the black ink starts spreading again, slowly at first, then all at once. Nearly the entire map is consumed. We’re close. As we near a quiet pond, the last patch turns black.
“We’re here,” Mira says, her voice barely above a whisper. She points ahead to a small house made of moss, vines, leaves, and mud, tucked beneath a curtain of vines and moss. It glows softly from within, the kind of light that feels alive.
“Stay behind me,” I murmur. “One rule with Veyra, only speak when spoken to. She will ask her questions. Never speak out of turn.” Mira nods, face solemn, and we step forward.
I hesitate before crossing the threshold of her land. It doesn’t feel right to just enter. She’d know we were here. Someone like Veyra always knows. So we wait. And then she appears, not from the house, but from behind us, silent as a shadow.
Her skin glows golden, warm and otherworldly.
Her eyes shimmer a bright, unnatural green, brimming with ancient knowing.
Her hair is twisted into thick locs woven with twigs, moss, vines, exotic flowers, and bits of bark.
She wears no fabric, only carefully placed moss, her form wild and sacred.
She floats like a fairy, her presence wrapping around us like thick morning fog.
“Welcome to my home,” she says, her voice like honey over stone.
“Thank you,” I reply, keeping it short and respectful. My hand stays on Mira’s wrist, gentle, but firm. A quiet promise that nothing will harm her. Veyra shifts her gaze to Mira.
“Mira,” she says softly, tasting the name on her tongue. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Her voice is calm, almost sweet, but it pulls a shiver straight down my spine.