Apocalypse
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The head of the screaming skua burst through the wave in a violent spray of mist. The sea elf locked eyes with the ship that not even the sea itself could tame. The Gravewind crashed through another wave, not riding it but dividing it as easily as shears sliced through parchment. He swallowed hard, feeling a rock land heavy in his gut. Twenty years. Twenty long years had he been waiting to see this ship again-
“Boy!”
The sea elf did not glance down. She could not stop him - not anymore. Red may have been the captain of The Albatross, but he had command of the helm. His grip remained iron tight on her spindles. She never understood. She never could have. The Scourge had not gutted her crew and hanged them in front of her eyes. The Scourge did not plague her in the midnight hours when no one could provide sanctuary. His cruel laugh did not haunt her in every waking moment of silence. The sea of scarlet, the stench of sulfur and rot-
“Boy! To Starboard!”
He looked down upon her. Red clung to the mast - she had no choice. Another wave swallowed The Albatross from the stern. The sea elf embraced the helm as the freezing waters slammed him against the wheel, each corner and edge carving their marks into him. One...two...three. On the third heartbeat, the wave broke and the sea elf gasped for air. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a flailing deckhand right before they were consumed by the rioting waters. The first mate set his jaw. They would be all joining him if they turned tail now.
“Boy, please!”
His stomach wrenched within him, twisting itself into tangled knots upon hearing the plea in her voice. A captain never pleaded with her crew. The sea elf fought to keep his eyes forward. He would break if he saw any fear or vulnerability in those emerald eyes. The woman that raised him, the woman that saved him. He clenched his jaw tight. The taste of iron mingled with the brine upon his tongue.
Through the pelting rain, The Gravewind tore through the storm. Close enough for the sea elf to see the clumps of barnacles and coral clinging to her hull. Close enough to see a figure standing at the bow. The shadow raised an arm, hefting a mirror blade up in a mockery of a salute.
The sea elf’s blood ran cold - then boiled hot as coals.
And amidst the maelstrom, the two ships collided.
Her arms weaved through the air, graceful as skybirds and deadly as eels. The iron devil lashed at them with its blade but caught none of them. Each one found their target, binding the bloodless beast by arm, waist, and neck. Strangle, quarter, and slaughter! The Gravewind squeezed, her crushing weight bearing down upon this hunk of metal.
And yet the iron devil refused to break.
A flurry of movement caught Moonscar’s attention. The pair of dueling world trees had separated, and now one approached him from behind. Impudent whelp. If that one had cast some manner of sorcery to aid the devil, then they had just etched their name upon the captain’s list. But first…
Moonscar flooded his will into the limbs of rigging, tightening and pulling upon them. Mayhaps this devil could not bleed - but he had yet to meet any beastie that could survive in pieces. He would chum the waters with whatever constituted its heart and guts.
The pirated lurched as something pulled at his leg of flesh. Something devoid of water or any physicality rain could touch. His focus intensified on the gangly sorcerer. Ye wish to bleed first? Fine - let the world witness how much blood ye have to spill! The Scourge relinquished his hold on the kraken’s limbs.
In that moment of vulnerability, the iron devil acted. With a swift yank, Moonscar flung forwards from the force of its might. He willed his arms to move, but seizing back control took more time than a sailor’s knot. What remained of his nose cracked as it slammed into the ground. He lay prone for a breath as control returned to his limbs. His face and jaw tickled even as he spit out a slew of cracked and fragmented teeth.
Dastards and blaggards! Metal thudded as Moonscar raised himself up with his anchor arm. He turned to face the sorcerer behind him, also laying upon the floor. Too cowardly to go for the kill. Too spineless to let the dread captain finish what he started. A mere minnow in a sea of krakens and drakes. Did the sorcerer, too, seek his beauty and beloved?
A lukewarm fire lit within him. Something familiar, yet distant. A creeping thought of fog and foam tangible enough to be felt, but not enough to be touched. A boy, barely a man…
Moonscar flashed a broken smile at the sorcerer. “Would ye seek vengeance, boy?"
The minnow’s answer came back not as a storm but a whisper. “I can’t afford— to.”
The Scourge scowled and hefted the anchor arm above his head with both arms. Spoken like a true bilgerat. In a single overhead swing, Moonscar released the barnacles and hurled the mass of iron at the interloper.
Don’t die yet, little minnow!, he thought as the anchor twirled end over end towards the sorcerer. Ye owe me a bit o’ fun after that insult!
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