Chapter 8 Alaric
Alaric
The Black Marrow, On Course to the Forgotten Trench
One thing about me: if there’s a wrong place and a wrong time, I’ll be there.
Lucky for me, the storm had kept the skies overcast. I had no interest in testing how much sunlight my curse would tolerate before it turned me to cinders. Even now, the memory of scorched flesh—the stink of burning skin—lingered at the edges of my mind. A lesson carved deep enough to never fade.
The Black Marrow groaned under the weight of the sea, timbers creaking as waves slapped the hull.
She’d weathered tempests that would’ve split lesser vessels, yet even she seemed to shudder beneath my boots.
Above, the rigging swayed in a chorus of strained whispers, and a cool, salty breeze slipped through every crack, carrying brine, aged oak, and the faintest trace of ozone.
Rust, soaked rope, and the musty breath of a ship long at sea thickened the air—charged with the quiet that followed a storm’s passing.
Rain still dripped from the limp sails, each droplet pattering against the deck like the fading notes of a half-forgotten song.
But the storm had done more than batter the ship.
It had left something behind.
Invisible. Watching. Wrong.
The usual chatter had faded to mutters. Crew members exchanged wary glances, shoulders stiff, eyes cutting toward the shadows.
Even I felt it—the hum beneath my boots, the weight pressing through the wind.
I’d lived with curses long enough to recognize attention when it turned toward you.
The crescent on her forehead had glowed when she looked at the artifact—not a faint shimmer, but a pulse. A second heartbeat. The lines shifted subtly, responding to the shard.
It wasn’t just light.
It was alive.
The quartz shard hadn’t stopped pulsing since Nerina came aboard, its erratic hum gnawing at the edges of my mind like a splinter I couldn’t dig out. Each beat sent a phantom echo through my chest.
She’d been in my quarters a little over a day now—my decision, and one the crew already resented.
I had my reasons. Keeping her close meant keeping watch, making sure she didn’t slip away with answers I needed.
The shard’s response to her hadn’t faded, a steady reminder that whatever bound them wasn’t ordinary.
Coincidence wasn’t in my vocabulary. She was tied to it—I felt it in my gut. A familiar voice cut through my thoughts.
“Is she awake, Cap'n?” Garen’s expression was tight.
“Probably plotting my demise.” I muttered.
Not that I could blame her. In her place, I’d be doing the same—calculating odds, weighing every possible escape.
Garen smirked, but unease lingered in his eyes. The crew didn’t trust her. Hell, I didn’t trust her. A glowing mark, a restless artifact, and a woman pulled from the depths with secrets she clearly wasn’t eager to share.
Not exactly the kind of guest we welcomed aboard. Sailors claimed bringing a woman onto a ship was bad luck—which was an odd belief, considering a few of my best crew were women.
When I told them she’d be staying in my quarters, their reactions ranged from disdain to outright disbelief. Kael muttered something about taking in strays.
“You think she’s just going to sit quietly in your quarters, Captain?” His tone was dry, amusement laced with doubt.
“Well, we can’t very well keep her in the hold—can we?” I barked, cutting off further protest.
Tension hung thick in the air, but none of them dared challenge me outright. When I added that she’d be coming with us to the Forgotten Trench, their unease turned into thinly veiled outrage. But again—they knew better than to argue.
“You will play nice,” I added darkly. “Your lives depend on it.”
With that, I left them simmering and made my way to my quarters, boots creaking against the floorboards in the narrow corridor—each step measured.
When I stepped inside, she was already awake, seated stiffly at the desk, her new legs awkwardly tucked beneath her. At my entrance, her head snapped up, eyes narrowing—ready to fight.
Good.
People were easier to read when they were busy holding their guard up.
“Enjoying the accommodations?” I leaned against the doorframe, feigning nonchalance.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Hardly.”
I’d expected resistance, but something in her tone—more exhaustion than defiance—made me hesitate for the briefest moment. Her voice was cool as damp air seeping through cracks.
“Pity.”
She scoffed, but her fingers twitched against the desk’s edge. The quartz shard sat in front of her, its glow reflected in her eyes—eyes like shifting tides. Silver flickered in their depths, catching the shard’s light and refracting it—seeing through every mask I wore.
The ache in my veins dulled—just for a breath. Long enough to notice. Long enough to miss it when it came roaring back.
“Explain it,” I said, nodding toward the artifact.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped—though her gaze betrayed her, flicking to the shard before darting back to me.
I stepped closer, shrinking the space until she had to tilt her head to meet my eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”
She crossed her arms, defiant. “You don’t scare me.”
A slow smile ghosted across my lips. “I can wait.”
Her brows knit. “For what?”
“For the truth.” My voice stayed steady—almost gentle.
The flicker in her eyes told me she didn’t know whether to be angry or afraid. I didn’t mind which. Both worked.
I reached out and tapped the artifact lightly. It pulsed in response—bright and alive.
“That mark on your forehead? And this—” I tapped the quartz again. “—doesn’t glow like that for anyone else.” I paused, letting the silence stretch. “It radiates a power I’ve never known. And so do you.”
My voice dropped. “So, either you start talking, or I start making my own conclusions.”
Her fingers curled into fists on her lap, knuckles whitening. For a moment I thought she’d spit a retort, but instead her shoulders rose and fell once before she looked away.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, softer now, frustration threaded through it. “My mother never told me about… any of this.”
Something in her expression went raw. Unguarded. She wasn’t lying. Or she was damn good at it. Either way, her lack of answers only deepened the mystery.
“Your mother?” I pressed, tilting my head. “What did she tell you?”
Her gaze snapped back to mine—fierce and unyielding—though I caught the smallest hesitation before she hardened again. “She told me to stay away from humans.”
A low, humorless chuckle escaped me. “Smart woman. But I haven’t been human for centuries.”
Her scowl deepened. Most people cowered under scrutiny. Nerina met it head-on.
I studied her another beat, then tilted my head. “And yet there you were—drifting alone in the middle of the ocean, in the middle of a storm. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘safe distance from humans.’”
Her expression flickered, unreadable. She didn’t answer right away.
“Where are you from, Nerina?” I pressed, voice low. “What were you running from?”
Her lips parted—she might’ve answered—but she only shook her head. “Nowhere you’ve heard of.”
“Try me.”
She hesitated, then looked away again. “I wasn’t running. I was… leaving.”
I raised a brow, crossing my arms. “And what exactly were you leaving, then? A kingdom? A lover? A war?”
She glanced at me sidelong, then looked down at her hands. “A cage,” she said quietly.
I didn’t respond at first. Her words sat heavy in the room, sinking in like seawater into rotted wood.
A cage. Freedom always costs more than you expect.
Then I cleared my throat, shifting my stance—grounding myself in the mission.
“We’re heading to the Forgotten Trench,” I said abruptly, watching her reaction. It was dangerous. But if it held the key to my freedom, I’d risk it. I’d risk going back after all these years. I had to.
I glanced at her; tension held her shoulders tight. Her eyes snapped to mine, weighing me, but I didn’t look away.
“I don’t know what you are, Nerina, but I intend to find out.” My voice hardened. “If there are answers about that mark and this artifact, they’ll be there.”
“I need answers,” I added, quieter now. “And if that place can give them to me… I’ll take the risk.”
I looked at her—really looked. “Even if it means risking you.”
She didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded slowly, brushing her fingers against the shard, testing its response.
“Fine,” she said, her voice edged with fire. “But if you think I’m just some helpless fish out of water, you’re in for a rude awakening.”
I smirked, stepping back toward the door, studying her. Did she truly not know—or was she simply a better liar than most?
Either way, I wasn’t about to let her slip through my fingers. Not when she might hold the key to breaking my curse.
As I turned to leave, I caught the faintest flicker in her eyes—fear, maybe, or recognition. She was fiery, unpredictable, but out of her element here.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, but the words landed thinner than I intended.
The artifact’s pulse lingered in my mind, sending unease through my chest. It wasn’t just curiosity. It was a call.
Insistent. Threading through me like a demand.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t sure whether I was the hunter or the hunted.
Or which truth excited me more.