Chapter 4 Danica
Danica
"Wake up, lass!" the Captain's gruff voice rudely yanks me from my less-than-peaceful slumber.
I jolt upright, immediately regretting every life choice that led me to this moment, as a pounding headache threatens to split my skull in two. Through bleary eyes, I watch as the Captain sheds his soaked coat and disappears behind a changing screen.
The storm seems to have passed. The ship is steady, and I don't hear any howling winds outside.
I gingerly massage my temples, trying to ease the throbbing pain. This migraine is sucking the life out of me faster than a vampire at a blood drive, and my stomach is staging a mutiny, demanding sustenance.
I inhale sharply, my face contorting in pain as I gingerly touch the burning wound on my neck. "Ssss... ahh! Damn it!" I hiss through clenched teeth.
Azrael, you sadistic bastard. I swear, the next time I see you, I will make you suffer in more ways than one.
I take a shaky breath, trying to compose myself."Please tell me you have something to drink on this floating tub," I rasp, my voice as rough as sandpaper.
"There's rum," the Captain replies, his vague gesture toward a table with a decanter and cups doing little to inspire confidence.
I can't stop the eye roll that follows. "Wow, rum. How original—got anything that won't make me go blind? Like, I don't know, water?"
The Captain emerges from behind the screen, looking annoyingly refreshed in dry clothes. He strides over, grabs a flask, and practically shoves it into my hands. "Here. Drink."
I eagerly grab the flask, practically inhaling the cool, crisp water. It's like liquid ambrosia, and I gulp it down like I've just crossed a desert. Water dribbles down my chin as I surface for air, only to dive back in for more.
"Easy there, lass. I'd rather not have you redecorating my quarters with your stomach contents," the Captain barks, his tone heavy with irritation.
Suitably chastised, I cap the flask and hand it back, trying to catch my breath. "Thanks," I mutter, my voice still a bit breathless.
The Captain fixes me with a penetrating stare, his eyes narrowing. "Alright, lass. I'm willin' to listen. But don't be givin' me that vague 'we need your help' nonsense again."
I finally get a look at the Captain. He epitomizes a rugged seafarer with his crisp white shirt open just enough to reveal an impressively hairy chest. His sea-green eyes are sharp enough to cut through any salty mist, and coupled with that burly beard and chiseled features—he’s like the poster boy for "Handsome Middle-Aged Pirates Monthly. "
I bet he has a waiting list of mermaids dying to braid that shoulder-length brown hair. He probably thinks he's God's gift to the Seven Seas or something.
I meet the Captain's gaze head-on, mustering my most confident facade. "I've already told you the deal, but if you want me to play the part of a repeating parrot, then sure, I'll squawk it out for you one more time."
I take a deep breath, trying to channel my usual confidence and sass, but it comes out shaky.
"Look, we're on a mission to stop the big bad from turning the realms into his playground of destruction," I explain, filling him in on my role, my powers, and the crown's significance.
"You know, the usual 'chosen one' gig. If we don't step up and save the day, we're all pretty much screwed. Happy now?"
The Captain stares at me like I've just sprouted a second head, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "You've got a real way with words, don't ye, lass?"
I flash him a grin. "What can I say, Captain? I've got a gift. But seriously, I know it sounds like something out of a bad fantasy novel, but I swear to you, it's all true. And whether you like it or not, you and your crew are now smack dab in the middle of it."
"And who's this 'we' you keep mentioning?" the Captain asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Dani—it's such a pleasure to meet you," I say with a mock curtsy. "My partners in crime are Rhyland and Erik—the two you've captured somewhere on this ship. We are not exactly locals, if you catch my drift."
The Captain scoffs. "No kiddin'. But that still doesn't explain why I should give a rat's ass about yer little heroic quest." He narrows his eyes, studying me intently. "And while we're on the subject, how the hell did you get on my ship in the first place?
"We are from the Mortal Realm," I begin, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. "I accidentally conjured a portal here. Well, sort of. We were planning to come to Aquaria anyway, just… not right this second."
The Captain raises an eyebrow. "The Mortal Realm, you say? And you just happened to conjure a portal that dropped you onto my ship? Forgive me if I find that a bit hard to swallow, lass."
"Believe me, Captain, it wasn't exactly a pleasure cruise for us either. One minute, I'm conjuring a portal to my apartment; the next, we're taking an unexpected dip in the ocean and getting hauled aboard your floating funhouse."
His lips twitch as if he's fighting back a smile. "You've got a sharp tongue on ya, lass. But that still doesn't explain why I should give a damn about your little quest."
"Because, Captain, our quest isn't just about us.
It's about the fate of all the realms, including Aquaria.
There's a darkness coming, an evil that threatens to consume everything in its path.
And if we don't find a way to stop it, to fulfill our mission, then none of us will be safe. Not even the great Captain..."
I pause, realizing I still don't know his name. "What do they call you, anyway? Captain Scurvy? Admiral Barnacle-Beard?"
"You're a cheeky one—the name's Captain Gideon Sterling. And I'll have you know, I keep my beard meticulously groomed."
I can't help but grin at that, feeling a flicker of hope. If he's willing to banter with me, maybe there's a chance he'll hear me out after all.
"Captain Sterling, then. Look, I know this all sounds crazy. Portals, dark prophecies, ancient evils threatening to destroy the world. But I swear to you, it's all true. And whether you like it or not, you and your crew are now a part of it."
"Hold on, are you talking about the Sea Witch?" Gideon asks, his brow furrowed with concern. "That wretched wench is going to be the death of us all, mark me words."
I scoff. "Oh, come on. A Sea Witch? What's next? You'll tell me there are Krakens and Sea Monsters, too?"
Gideon fixes me with a look that suggests I've just committed the ultimate faux pas, like insulting his mother or questioning his pirate prowess. "Aye, lass. Those beasties be among us, and they're a right pain in the arse, let me tell ye."
I shake my head. Looks like I owe Disney an apology. Who would've thought that Ursula, the sassy sea witch extraordinaire, was more than just a cartoon character?
I mean, really? After all the supernatural shenanigans I've been through, am I surprised that sea monsters and sea witches are a thing? Come on, girl. It's time to embrace the weird and accept that anything is possible in this crazy world of ours.
But as Gideon's words sink in, my amusement quickly fades, replaced by a growing sense of unease. I swallow hard, my face turning serious as the gravity of our predicament hits me like a ton of bricks.
Note to self: never, ever discredit the existence of anything, no matter how bizarre or seemingly fictional. If you can dream it up, it's probably out there somewhere, waiting to make your life much more interesting.
I launch into my umpteenth recitation of the tale, detailing the Dark Prophecy and my unfortunate role in this cosmic catastrophe. It's like a well-worn script at this point, but I try to inject some enthusiasm into my voice.
As I speak, I can see the Captain's expression shifting from skepticism to something closer to disbelief. He looks at me like I've just asked him to swallow a bucket of nails, his face contorting as if trying to digest battery acid.
"Let me get this straight," his voice flat. "Yer some chosen one—an angel—destined to save the world from an ancient evil that wants to destroy everythin'? And you expect me to just take yer word for it and risk my crew's lives on some half-baked quest?"
I bristle at his tone, my frustration rising. "I know it sounds crazy, Captain. Believe me, I didn't ask for this either. But the fact remains if we don't do something and don't find a way to stop Moretemis, then everything we know and love will be lost."
Oh, how I wish I could whip out my supernatural party trick and be like, "Bam! There you have it, Captain. Proof that I'm not just some delusional damsel spouting nonsense."
But nooo, my powers have decided to take an extended vacation without bothering to send a postcard. Typical. The one time I actually need them to make a point, they're nowhere to be found.
His eyes narrow at the mention of Moretemis, a flicker of recognition passing over his face. "Moretemis? The Shadow Lord? Yer tellin' me he's real?"
I nod, "Oh, he's real alright. And he's not just coming. He's practically knocking on our door with a battering ram. The prophecy's got the whole 'epic final battle' thing down pat—light versus darkness, good versus evil, yada yada."
I lean in, resting my elbows on my knees. "But here's the deal, Captain. You thought you could sail through life, avoiding all this? Tough luck! Whether we like it or not, we're all guests at this shindig now."
The Captain leans back in his chair, his expression troubled. "I've heard the stories, the whispers in the dark. But I always thought they were just that—stories. Tales to scare children and keep sailors in line."
I shake my head, my voice urgent. "They're not just stories. They're warnings, glimpses of what's to come if we don't act. And right now, you and your crew may be the only thing between us and total destruction."
Oh, I'm not just laying it on thick—I'm slathering it on like a baker frosting a wedding cake!
Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
If a little extra drama is necessary to get Captain Oblivious here to wake up and smell the impending doom, then hand me a metaphorical piping bag and watch me work my magic.
He needs to see this prophecy for the cosmic-level, world-altering, can't-just-stick-your-head-in-the-sand-and-ignore-it situation that it is!
"Look, it's the truth. This darkness is coming and won't stop for a pirate parley. It's up to me and my friends to end it, or we're all doomed."
The Captain gulps his drink, eyes assessing me with a new intensity. "And you think my crew and I can help you stop this great evil, do ye?"
I shrug. "Honestly? I think we need all the help we can get. You seem like a nice guy, and who better to ask than a Pirate with a penchant for justice?"
Gideon strokes his beard, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You've got a silver tongue, lass. I'll give you that. But this is no small thing yer askin'."
I nod, understanding his hesitation. "I get it, Captain. You've got your ship to run and your crew to look after. But think about it this way—if we fail, if this darkness takes over, there won't be any more ships to captain or seas to sail. It'll be game over for all of us."
The Captain is silent momentarily, his gaze distant as if weighing the world's fate on his shoulders. Finally, he sighs, his shoulders slumping in resignation.
"I must be out of my goddamn mind," he mutters, more to himself than to me. "But I can't just sit back and do nothin', not if what yer saying is true."
He fixes me with a hard stare, his voice deadly serious.
"But let's get one thing straight, lass.
I'm not doing this for you or some mystical prophecy.
I'm doing it for my crew, for the people I've sworn to protect.
And if at any point I think you're leading us astray or putting my men in unnecessary danger, I won't hesitate to kill you and your friends. "
I nod, understanding the weight of his words. "I wouldn't expect anything less. But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to ensure we succeed, to make sure we all come out of this alive and victorious."
The Captain grunts a noncommittal sound that could mean anything. But I take it as a sign of agreement, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.
Finally, he gives a curt nod as if coming to a decision. "Captain Gideon Sterling, at your service," he says, suggesting that 'service' is a relative term. "Welcome aboard The Seraph—we're among the most respected pirate crews on the high seas."