Mira
Chapter seven
Salt & Leather
I step out of Kai’s quarters—or are they mine now? The alliance feels uneasy, yet inevitable, like this was always the path waiting for me. His crew watches as I pass, wide-eyed, bracing for me to strike. They don’t fear me yet, but they will.
I seize the rope dangling from the mast, sprint, and swing.
The sea wind whips through my hair as I arc across the deck, landing on my own ship with practiced ease.
The moment my boots hit the wood, my thoughts surge.
I pause, steadying myself, then climb atop the stacked wine barrels near the helm, rising above my crew, ready to claim the space that’s mine.
I know I’ll have many coming after me, Taika warned as much.
Kai knows something I don’t, and I need to start digging.
Why am I suddenly so priceless when it comes to the fountain?
My father never said anything about it while he was alive, but he always called me his ocean-born miracle.
I thought it was just a father's love, a nickname wrapped in pride. But, he never loved me the way a father should. He loved blood. Gold. Power. Sea beasts and slaughter. He was obsessed with what he wanted, and I was just another thing to protect, not to love. Still, he kept me safe, but now I wonder if I’d been something else to him.
If I meant something more. Not just his daughter, but part of a prophecy, a curse, a piece of the fountain's legend.
During battles, he’d lock me in his quarters, post his fiercest men at every entrance.
I’d hear him bark the same words, over and over: “She’s special.
You protect her. If someone tries to take her, you kill them.
And if they best you in battle, you lose your life with a blade in your hand, fighting for hers. ”
Locked away, I used to sit and listen, steel clashing, men screaming, the chaos of battle kept just out of reach.
Every time he barred me in like that, fury burned through me.
He knew I could protect myself, but still he sequestered me, like something fragile, tucked away on a shelf.
I could have broken out if I wanted, but it was never worth the fight with him.
Instead, I waited for the door. Never knowing if my father would be the one to open it, never sure if I’d see him again.
Every night, I prayed it would be his face that met me in the morning.
Was it love that he felt for me? Or was it possession?
Despite everything, I loved him. I cared for him.
He had a soft spot for me, but I wish he’d been more of a father than a captain.
I’m grateful for the skills he taught me, how to fight, how to survive, but eventually, he lost interest and handed me off to Smith to finish my training.
He did the same with Neressa. Found her on Magda when she was young.
I don’t know the whole story, but she’s always just been there.
It still frustrates me, how he’d invest in us just long enough before pawning us off to whoever was available.
Though Neressa's story is much darker than mine, I still don’t know her full truths.
I don’t think I ever will. Neressa didn’t take kindly to being pawned off.
She grew powerful, so powerful that she killed most of her mentors.
In fact, I don't think a single one is alive.
Kai’s words were intense, but his touch was molten. That damn stare, those hazel eyes, melted me. I hate that my body urges me to be near him and feel the warmth of his body when I want nothing more but to end him where he stands, for everything his bloodline has done to mine.
The hate I feel for him has roots, deep, tangled ones.
It goes back to my father’s rage. It goes back to the little girl who watched her mother die.
It goes back to all the blood and all the pain and tears.
But the other half, the part that could never quite deny the pull toward him, thrilled at the thought of sharing a bed with the most feared pirate on the seas.
The Pirate Lord. The one women would sell their souls to lie with.
Now, I’ll have all the time in the world to figure out what I really want from him and what he knows.
It wasn’t a choice I ever expected to make.
And then there was my ship. She’s family.
She’s blood. I’ve always been there to guide her, to speak for her.
Leaving her behind feels wrong. But what choice do I have?
Sailing the seas in The Leviathan is smarter.
More strategic. It's the most feared ship in all the seas.
The Siren is a known ship and easy to track down.
The Leviathan, on the other hand, is the fastest ship there is.
Staying away from Kai wasn’t working. Not when he holds the truths I need, truths that could get me closer to the fountain, to the answers buried beneath the sea.
And yet, the idea of him holding that kind of power over me burns like saltwater in a wound.
But I trust the map that led me to him and for some odd reason, I trust Taika.
Once I board The Siren, I gather everyone on deck.
Smith stands beside me, his silent presence steadying the buzz of unease rippling through the crew.
One nod from him tells them all they needed to know, this is the moment we’ve been chasing.
We’ve trailed Kai’s ship for months, keeping to the shadows, tracking every breadcrumb he unknowingly left behind on the path to the fountain.
Pirates like us, raised under ruthless captains, hardened by betrayal, trained never to trust another soul, don’t merge with other crews. It’s rare. Reckless. Dangerous. But this time, it’s the smartest move we can make. Kai is right, we're safer in numbers.
“Everyone, gather what you need. Pack light,” I call out, my voice rising over the creaking of the ship and the thunder of the tide.
“We board Captain Kai’s vessel shortly. The Siren will be docked in a safe location, just until we find the fountain.
” I scan their faces, most unreadable, some uncertain.
“I expect you to show respect. Get along with the new crew. No exceptions.”
I step down from the stacked wine barrels I use for height, brushing off the uncertain looks thrown my way. My voice hasn’t shaken, that’s what matters. I make my way back to my captain’s quarters, bracing myself.
Once I cross the threshold into the room that smells like him, salt, leather, and secrets, everything will change. His captain’s quarters. This isn’t just a shift in living arrangements. This is the start of something bigger, something irreversible.
I need to pack. But more than that, I need to search.
For anything my father might’ve left behind.
A letter. A journal. A sign. Something, anything, that could explain why he always calls me his ocean-born miracle.
Something that might tell me why the fountain has chosen me… and what that means for everyone else.
When I was a child, my father’s quarters were forbidden. He guarded them like a tarlock guards its breeding grounds, every journal, every trinket, every secret kept locked away behind that door. I learned early that his treasures were not mine to touch.
I was seven the day I forgot that rule. I slipped inside while he was on deck, curious, restless, drawn to the glint of a necklace resting on his desk.
It was beautiful, the kind of thing a girl dreams of wearing.
But before I could even lift it fully into my hands, I heard the footsteps.
His voice followed, sharp and furious, and then…
pain. So much pain. What kind of father strikes his daughter in the ways he did?
My memory fractures there, splintered by the way he looked at me, not as his daughter, but as someone who had trespassed too far.
After that, I never went back. I never touched his things again.
Even after his death, I couldn’t bring myself to step across that threshold.
His quarters have remained sealed in my mind like a wound that never closed.
And yet, now I can’t shake the feeling that the answers I’ve been searching for are buried beneath the dust he left behind.
I slide the key into the salt-rusted lock, and the door gives way with a reluctant groan. For a heartbeat, I almost expect him to appear behind me, boots heavy on the planks, voice sharp and scolding. But the only sound is the faint moan of the ship settling, the sigh of the sea against the hull.
The air inside is thick, stale with dust and the faint tang of salt. Moonlight pours through the wide windows, silvering everything it touches. I step across the threshold, and it feels like trespass, like stepping into a tomb, yet one still warm with his presence.
His bed lies unmade, the covers tangled as though he had only just risen. The pillow is flat, bearing the hollow trace of where his head once rested. For a moment, I swear I can hear him shifting there, muttering under his breath, alive again in the shadows. The sight makes my chest twist tight.
Across the desk, the moon ignites the treasures he once guarded so fiercely, scattered now like offerings left behind.
I drift closer, pulled by their gleam, until my eyes land on the necklace.
That necklace. Aquamarine, glowing like a piece of the sea itself, my birthstone caught in silver.
I don’t touch it. I can’t. Pain lingers in my bones from the last time I dared, a memory carved too deep.
It’s beautiful, yes, but cursed by the moment he stopped being a father and became something colder.
The room hums with contradiction, empty, yet full. Innocent, yet haunted. For so long I convinced myself he was nothing but cruelty, but here, surrounded by the fragile remnants of his life, I feel the echo of something more. A soul, maybe. Or the ghost of one.