1
Raiden
This was it.
The time had finally come.
Raiden rolled his shoulders, the multi-coloured flight suit fitting his muscular frame like a second skin. He stalked through the winding streets of Mistros City, following the smooth curve of buildings until he reached the docks.
The Mist lay thick in the air, coating his lungs in a humid blanket as he darted between beams of moonlight gently filtering through.
The stars still weren’t visible at night, but anything was better than before.
That had been a fucking nightmare. A shiver pulsed through him as he recalled the bitter winters, trapped in the revolving cold darkness of the Mist for the past decade.
Urgency propelled Raiden forward as the scent of the sea drew him to the shore. A month of planning, of waiting, of gods-damned fucking pacing around the castle, until his plan was ready to be enacted. Everything had led up to this moment, even a second’s delay would throw it off course.
He was getting Kordelia back—if she was still alive.
His gut twisted at the thought. No, she had to still be alive.
He would know if she were dead . . . wouldn’t he?
His pulse fluttered. He’d been unable to connect to her since her plea.
Their connection had been severed, and a fathomless pit had formed within their void where her glistening dome had once stood.
A shadowed figure leapt in front of him and a growl vibrated from Raiden. A pair of slender hands whipped up, warding him off. “Woah, it’s me,” Leto signed.
His vivid eyes came into focus through the Mist, and Leto stepped forward, dressed head to toe in grey-and-black, accompanied by a grey-toned parrot with beady eyes perched on his right shoulder.
His wiry black hair had been scraped back, and his pale skin reflected the moonlight, casting a deathly aura.
“The ship’s ready,” Leto signed, motioning to the ocean behind him. The parrot—Mara—quietly squawked, fluttering her feathers. “Hector’s going to kill us for this.”
Raiden grunted. “I don’t care, this is our only chance of rescuing Kordelia.
” He signed quickly, his hands erratic. Leto’s peculiar eyes followed his movements, his brow furrowing.
Despite losing his hearing as a child, and his tongue later as an adult, he’d become one of the deadliest of pirate lords. All feared him—except Raiden.
To him, Leto was a brother in arms. A friend.
Someone he could depend on, unlike Hector fucking Read.
Since their return to Galen a month ago, after Kordelia slipped through Raiden’s fingers, Hector had stormed Mistros City, demanding to fortify the castle, insisting only the pirate lords could enter or leave the island.
Because the threat of the Talmon Empire still lingered—and it was growing.
Leto, Hector and Cassidy were scouting constantly, sending in reports via hawks about the rapid growth of blight that was the empire across Talmon Island, spreading towards Aldara.
Within one month, Barron’s reign had tripled.
And no one was doing anything about it.
They hurried across the promenade to the docks, their footsteps silent as the city slumbered.
Rows of rounded buildings erected from white stone lined the promenade, with blue slated roofs rising into a mix of spirals and domes.
Metal benches faced the sea, interspersed with tall lanterns they had installed during the first year of the Mist, as an attempt to gift light to the people of Galen all year round.
They rounded the docks and Mara flew from Leto’s shoulder, soaring through the Mist until she landed on the cracked, weathered railing of Bone Rattler.
Raiden’s muscles tensed as they silently raced up the wide plank, and he breathed in the mysterious aura that prickled his hair, causing every warning bell to ring in his mind.
Torn grey sails fluttered in the gentle breeze, the strips of fabric loosely hanging from the masts.
The deck groaned under Raiden’s feet, and he wondered if he’d fall through, into the jaws of the ocean.
He sought that familiar scent of ocean breeze and vanilla, but he’d been unable to reach Kordelia since her cry for help .
. . and Kordelia had never said please in her lifetime.
Tension wrapped around him like a vice as Leto organised his crew, all dressed in the same dreary garb. Their thin frames were overlaid by shredded longcoats, warped swords attached to their sides.
It was a gods-damned death ship.
Raiden carefully skirted around the holes in the deck, unsure as to how Leto’s ship ever survived the storms in Shaurock Sea, let alone sailed in the first place.
As he reached the other side of the ship, his hands biting into the crusted woodwork to steady his cresting nerves, a figure dropped down beside him from the single shroud still intact.
“Glad to see you made it, Windward.” Aryn crouched, balancing expertly on the creaking railing of Bone Rattler.
“Aryn,” Raiden replied stonily. As the ship pulled away from the dock, that strange aura thickened, expanding across the deck.
“Did your father see you leave?”
Aryn’s hazel eyes flashed gold against the muted honeyed lanterns as he carefully scanned their surroundings, as if he could see through the mystical aura.
No one had seen Raiden leave. He’d managed to evade his father’s guards, his courtiers, and was so gods-damned lucky that his father had decided to travel north for the week.
“No, Zephyr left this morning for Skybell Castle. He won’t know we’re gone until it’s too late.”
“Thank the gods for that,” a familiar voice joined, and Raiden groaned as Aerion clapped him on the shoulder, the red band across his forehead stark against the muted tones of the ship.
His curled silver strands looped around his brow, tickling his high cheekbones.
“We’d be strung up by our heels for leaving if he’d caught us. ”
Aerion leaned against the railing, throwing Aryn a casual glance as he gave Raiden an aloof thumbs up.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Raiden rubbed his face, suppressing his frustration. Holy Haizea, he was getting a headache already.
“Helping,” his brother summarised. “You can’t do this alone. We all want Kordelia back, and the latest scouting report shows Talmon is crawling with soldiers. We’re walking into a bloodbath.”
Raiden’s stare cut towards Aryn. “You said they’d left the island. That they were venturing to the west side and Aldara.”
Aryn’s grip on his bowstring tightened as that ethereal gaze threatened to turn Raiden’s world to complete darkness. He still hadn’t revealed what his power was, but something about Aryn was . . . off.
“Before I returned two days ago, I saw empire vessels sailing from South Wharf to the Black Abyss . . . the kraken’s escaping. Barron is trying to contain it. One of his soldiers confirmed just as much.” Aryn flexed his bruised knuckles.
Aerion scoffed, but not before glancing warily at Aryn’s darkened hands. “Maybe the kraken can help us destroy some of his armada.”
“His army must be growing.” Raiden swallowed the lump clogging his throat.
Fuck. He’d fight all of them. He’d battle his way across an inferno if it meant he could even see Kordelia again.
Gods, if he could touch her, feel her warmth, and allow himself a mere second to wrap her scent around him, he’d split the world in two to do it.
“That would be the smartest assumption,” a third voice appeared, and Raiden’s anxiety skyrocketed as Skylar emerged from the central grey aura.
Slicked back, braided hair ran down the length of her spine, and she donned the same flight suit as Raiden and Aerion.
She winced as she subconsciously rubbed the side of her head, where a small scar ran from her forehead to her right brow.
It’d become a noticeable tick, something she did when she was stressed, since Blake Marwood had laid his dirty fucking hands on her.
“No, absolutely not, you’re not coming,” Raiden snapped. His heart seized at the thought of his sister entering battle once again. She’d almost died the last time.
“It’s a bit late for that.” Aerion gestured to the fading shoreline as they sailed away from Mistros City.
“Get off and swim,” Raiden pushed, his grip tightening so much that the railing cracked. Aryn’s quick eyes darted to Raiden’s tense stance and his mouth tightened as he shuffled back, still crouched on the railing like a strange feline.
“In this outfit? I think not.” Skylar waved to the flight suit as she tossed her silvery braid over her shoulder.
Two pairs of doe-like brown eyes bore into Raiden as Aerion and Skylar stood side by side, their brows lifting in unison.
Despite being years apart, they had always been mistaken for twins.
“You know you can’t do this without me. As our general, I’m the most equipped for this mission, and the senior lead on combat.” Skylar’s hand rested on the hilt of her sword, as if to prove her point.
Raiden shook his head. “No. I’m not losing anyone else again. You can stay on the ship instead.”
Skylar huffed, folding her arms. “I’m not fragile, Rai. You’ve got one shot to do this, and if you fail, you die. That’s not happening on my watch.”
“I don’t care what happens to me,” he barked back. “This is about Kordelia.”
“She isn’t Kordelia anymore!” Skylar motioned to Aryn.
“Ask him. He’s spent enough time with her to know.
Or are you too afraid of the answer?” Raiden remained silent, his jaw ticking at Skylar’s incessant resolve.
“I’ll help you rescue her. No one deserves being at the mercy of Barron.
But you’re not dying for her. Just remember, she’s a stranger to you now. ”
Aryn slowly blinked, observing the interaction. He ground his jaw and cast his stare out to the ocean, taking a moment before answering. “She’s still in there. I’ve seen it.”
“I’m listening to the skildaj,” Raiden affirmed, and Aryn winced at his sharp tone.
A current of air circled them, as if Haizea’s winds agreed with Raiden. His determination, his desire, his gods-damned need to fill the hole in his heart had kept him going the past month, leading to this point.
There was no turning back now.
Aerion twirled his tattooed fingers, summoning a small gust of wind to propel the ship forward, and they raced through the Mist. Leto materialised behind the group, Mara squawking to announce his silent arrival.
“I’ll keep us hidden as long as possible,” he signed slowly. “Hector will no doubt realise we’re missing come dawn, and send for your father.”
“Zephyr is the last of our worries,” Aerion signed back.
“We’re going to be so dead,” Skylar muttered.
“We’ll be there within the week,” Leto continued.
“Try to remain within the boundaries of my magic.” His iridescent eyes flashed as he waved his hand, and the aura shrouding the deck expanded until it formed a perfect matching iridescent bubble around the decaying vessel, as though the shimmer of his irises swallowed them whole.
“This always gives me the creeps,” Aerion spoke quietly as Leto returned to the quarterdeck, his eyes burning with the might of his magic.
“It’s a valuable power, no one will be able to detect us,” Raiden replied as the Mist slowly thinned and the twinkle of the stars speckled the sky. Leto had inherited power from the illusion faction, with the ability to hide in plain sight. “He’s known as the Lord of Ghosts for a reason.”
Aryn shifted, tucking growing strands of floppy brown hair behind his ears.
“I’m going up to the nest to keep a lookout.
” As he climbed the shroud, Aerion mumbled something incoherently and Aryn flinched, before racing to the top, his movements rapid.
Raiden exhaled as his siblings stood either side of him, and they all looked out towards the calm ocean, preparing themselves for the fight ahead.
“Whatever happens, neither of you are dying,” Skylar repeated. The memories of previous deaths within the Windward family washed over them and the siblings huddled closer.
“Same to you,” Aerion placed a hand on Raiden’s shoulder. “This plan better work, Brother.”
“It has to.” Raiden’s power crested, causing the calm ocean’s surface to ripple as sparkling winds wove from his core, creating a complex web.
The tension and anxiety choking him threatened to submerge him into a waking nightmare, and he continued releasing his power, brushing it over the cool water as if he could reach Kordelia through her gift.
“If not for me, then for the islands. For Devania. We all need her.”
He hoped to Haizea that she was alright. That Barron hadn’t gotten to her again.
“I’m coming, hold on,” he pushed the thought out, and a shimmering current rose through the air, towards the void of his lost love.