CHAPTER THIRTEEN
❛ 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙱𝙸𝙽𝙳 ❜

LOSSES ARE NOT UNCOMMON IN Marya's line of work. Death is simply another member of her crew; the only one that has been alongside her from the very start. And yet, despite the fact that she's faced loss far more times than she cares to admit, it never does get any easier. She'd love to say that it does— that, with enough time, the ache between her bones and her heart subsides, until it eventually fades completely.

         But that would be a lie. The truth is, Marya knows the day will come when her heart will be more pain than life, when it feels more hollow than full, when the scars that line its exterior outweigh the unmarred tissue.

         Captain Marya of the Repentance does not know what will become of her then.

         "We were lucky," Angus mentioned to Marya last night. "It could've been worse. A lot worse."

         Six dead. Two missing. Twelve wounded. Lucky is not the word she'd use to describe their current situation.

         Sturmhond's crew suffered similar losses. It was to be expected, but Marya always finds it difficult to face the music when it comes to this particular subject. She should've prepared herself, she should've considered that it would be the last time she would ever see members of her crew that had been with her for months, years even.

         The funeral rites were done more quickly than she is accustomed to. A sailor's prayer in Ravkan and Kerch by Sturmhond, a Suli and a Zemeni one by Marya. After they had both given a few words for their respective people, the whole ordeal was wrapped up in favor of their rapid approach to the eastern stretch of the Bone Road.

The losses don't hit the crew as hard as they did a few weeks prior. Perhaps, because they expected it— or maybe because of the strangers aboard their ship. Either way, the absences of Fatima, Bram, Imani— of every single crew mate lost is felt like steel against skin by Marya. Still, there's nothing else to do than move on— or, at least, pretend to.

Today, the weather is not as dreadful as the previous days. Despite the harrowing stretch that is the Bone Road, sunlight breaks through the clouds, lighting their way. Quietly, Marya thanks Sankta Maradi.

Emerens lounges next to the Captain, brown coat wrapped around his frame in a loose manner. He raises a dubious brow at the tracker on the deck below them, watching as Mal points ahead and gives a few instructions to Damien.

"He looks lost," Emerens comments offhandedly.

Marya casts a look at the tracker. "I think you might be projecting there." She rolls her eyes. "The way I see it, he seems pretty sure of what he's doing."

"Doesn't mean he's in the right."

She shoots him a look. "It almost sounds like you want him to fail."

Emerens gasps. "Me?" He presses his hands to his chest, that mischievous glint in his eye as bright as the sun. "How dare you."

Marya shoves him with her shoulder. "Have a little faith, Emerens."

The blond chuckles. "You're choosing to say that to the wrong person, Kapitan."

         As if feeling their eyes on him, the tracker turns his head back, brows furrowed. From the main deck, Mal Oretsev asks, "What're you two looking at?"

         "Tracker," Emerens calls out, leaning his forearms against the railing. He cocks his head to the side, ignoring the glances cast at him by other members of the crew. "Marya and I got a little bet going on. She thinks you can track the Sea Whip from here." He smirks. "I think you're full of shit."

         Mal straightens, tilting his head curiously. "How much did you bet against me?"

         "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, tracker." Emerens grins loosely. "I'm not exactly known for losing my money."

         Mal raises a brow. "There's a first time for everything," he counters.

         Emerens scoffs lightly. "We'll see about that."

         "Leave the poor tracker alone." Neyar's voice comes from the rigging, before she jumps off it and lands a few steps shy of the stairs. "Unlike others, he's actually doing his job," she remarks as she climbs up the stairs.

         Emerens turns his head to the navigator. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?" he prompts.

         "That would imply that I actually slept," Neyar grumbles. The bags underneath her eyes look a darker shade of brown. Neyar scrunches her nose, jaw tense. "My cabin stinks of rotten fruit."

         Emerens arches a brow. "You're the one who left a pile of oranges unattended on that shelf of yours."

         Neyar narrows her eyes. Her hand goes below her dark green coat and rests on the hilt of her sword. "Do you wanna go?"

         Emerens considers it for a moment. He straightens from his position against the railing with a slight bounce. "Didn't think I'd start the day with a brawl, but it is a way to get the blood going."

         Neyar and Emerens stand face-to-face, her hand on her sword and his near his belt. Emerens' lips part to add something else —something that will undoubtedly harbor the intent of setting her off— before Marya takes it as a sign to step in.

         "There will be no fighting on my ship while we have guests on board," she says in a light, easy tone— but the two of them have known Marya for long enough to hear the warning embedded into her words. "Please, be civil to each other until we reach land."

         Neyar's jaw twitches. "With him around?" she sneers, looking at Emerens with a withering glare. Her hand drops from her sword. "You're asking too much." And with that, Neyar heads towards the prow of the ship, where Fiona sits.

         Emerens follows the younger Shu girl with his eyes. "Good to see nothing's changed," he calls out after her.

         Now that Neyar is with their back towards them, Marya flicks her wrist, causing one of the buttons in Emerens' coat to smack against his cheek.

         Emerens yelps in surprise, snapping his head in her direction. A faint red mark is left imprinted on his face. "What the hell was that for?"

         His demanding gray are met by a pointed brown. "Quit pushing her."

         "She's Neyar," Emerens retorts in disbelief. "She can handle a little backtalk."

         "Yeah. But you're dancing a little too close to the line over here. And I don't think I need to remind you what happens when you cross it."

         Emerens furrows his brows, lips twisting. "It's just banter, Marya. It's not like I— like I killed her dog or something."

         Marya glances back at Neyar. Her voice lowers. "Do you know what time of the year it is?"

         He gives a confused shrug. "Should I?"

         "Spring's coming round, Emerens," Marya says, voice quiet and tight. She watches him carefully; she sees the brief confusion in his gaze, followed by a sudden clarity.

         "...Oh."

         "Yeah."

         Emerens grows quiet after that. His gray eyes briefly glance over to the ship's navigator, before flicking back to Marya. He clears his throat. "I'll go check on the others."

         He's heading down the stairs to the main deck before she can add anything else. Perhaps it's for the best; Emerens has never been the best at handling topics that border on the personal. It's a silent understanding between the two— an observation they've both come to on their own; the fact that this time of year is always harder on her.

         Neyar has never openly told her— not that Marya has ever asked. But she has an inkling that, somewhere during the spring season, comes the anniversary of... something. Of what, exactly, Marya can't be sure. She gets the feeling it has something to do with the ink portraits of people she keeps in her cabin.

         Even so, Neyar's not nearly as cautious as she believes herself to be— and so, most people aboard the Repentance know better than to stay in her path during the early spring season.

         Marya's brown gaze lingers on her navigator. She supposes she can sympathize; because, much like Emerens and herself, Neyar would rather have something to do than be left alone with her thoughts.

         And, well, Marya understands just how dangerous a person's own thoughts can become.

         "Neyar," Marya calls out suddenly. "I need someone to check the stock of our weapons. Make sure we got enough ammo in case we encounter another hostile ship." The Shu navigator straightens, head turning in her direction. "Can you and Fiona take care of it?"

         Neyar nods once. "I got it."

         Fiona says something to her that Marya doesn't quite catch, but it makes a smile spread on Neyar's lips. The two pick up their things and stride past Marya.

         "Before you go," she adds suddenly. Marya clears her throat. "Any chance either of you have seen Ravi?"

         "Uh..." Fiona shares a look with Neyar. The redhead shakes her head slowly, an apologetic look on her face. "Sorry, Captain. Not that I can remember— but we'll keep an eye out."

         "Thanks."

         The Suli pirate watches as the two girls head belowdecks. It's a good thing Fiona is the one going with her. After all, she can't remember of a single time in which the two haven't gotten along in the past. Marya's gaze drifts away from the trapdoor and towards the sails. There, unsurprisingly, stands the tracker looking out at the sea with an ill-fitting coat.

         She's walking up to him before she can help it. "How's everything looking?" she asks, and Mal nearly jumps.

         "When did you—" he clears his throat. "We're getting closer."

         Marya quirks a brow. "How can you tell?"

         Mal straightens at that. "There's a... a frequency. I heard it when we found the stag." He pauses, glancing back at her for a moment too long. "It's how I knew you had changed course when we were with the Darkling."

         "A frequency?" Marya repeats. She's not very knowledgeable when it comes to amplifiers, but that's the first time she's hearing of such a thing. A frequency. "Huh. Where's Alina?"

         The tracker's jaw tenses, and Marya immediately knows she's asked the wrong question to the wrong person. "With—" he sniffs, "with Sturmhond."

         "Ah."

         Mal waits a beat. He scratches the back of his buzzed hair, before turning to her. "Do you..." his jaw twitches again, "Do you trust him?"

         "Why'd you ask?"

         "'Cause I wanna know what you think."

         Marya tilts her head. "Does it really matter?"

         "Of course it does," he responds with furrowed brows. "You said you're doing this as part of a deal. Don't you wanna know what's in it for him?"

         "Isn't it obvious?" she asks. "Money. Wealth. Overall glory and fame." She scoffs a laugh, shaking her head. "I'm sure he'll make quite a name for himself for being the man to return the Sun Summoner to Ravka."

         "If he's after riches, then..." There's a curious glint dancing in his eye. Curiosity with a sharper edge— something bordering on suspiciousness. "What's in it for you?"

         Marya meets his gaze evenly. He doesn't even know what a loaded question that is. What's in it for her? "I'm a pirate. What do you think?"

         Finding her brother.

         Mal scoffs a laugh. "Should'a seen it coming."

         Marya pats his shoulder as she moves away. "Yes, you should've." She turns to leave, before faltering for a split second. "Mal—" Brown meet brown. Marya inhales sharply. "Have you... Have you seen Ravi, by any chance? I couldn't find him this morning."

         "Ravi?" He repeats, squinting his eyes. "Oh, yeah. I think I saw him going in there— but that was a while ago."

         Marya follows his line of sight. She furrows her brows— her own cabin? She was there just moments ago, surely she would've seen him.

         "Thanks."

         The issue with being raised by acrobat siblings is exactly this, Marya thinks. Ravi has always been good at hiding, at fitting into the most obscure places. He moves as quiet as a mouse. Much to Marya's dismay, it's almost like the Repentance knows and adores him, as she never gives him away.

And so, much like every other morning Ravi decides to play a one-sided game of hide-and-seek, it's not his footsteps or her ship that gives him away. Rather, as Marya strides to the middle of her room, it's not a creak or a crack that tells her exactly where he is.

It's a small trail of colorful candy wrappers, all leading to—

"Ravi," Marya starts slowly, "are you under the table?"

There's a beat of silence. Marya stops in front of her center table. A few seconds pass.

"...No."

Marya shakes her head as she glances down at the two wrappers left discarded just a few inches shy of her boots. "Are you eating candy?" she asks.

Another beat of silence. "...Maybe."

Marya exhales, ducking below as she raises the white tablecloth. There, she's met by Ravi, crouched underneath with a fistful of unopened candies and chocolate by the borders of his mouth. Marya raises a brow. "Where'd you get those?"

He wipes his lips with his sleeve before Marya can stop him from dirtying his clothes. "Don't be mad," he tries weakly.

She doesn't like the sound of that. "Ravi."

"Sturmhond said I could have them!" he exclaims defensively. "He said he didn't like candy— and, and that they would get all musty and gross if he held onto them for longer."

"Did he now?" Marya asks, gesturing for the boy to come out. Ravi grumbles and mutters a few things in Zemeni that Marya doesn't quite manage to catch. He dusts himself off, stuffing the remaining candy in his back pocket. Marya raises a brow. "Did he say anything else?"

Ravi perks up, big doe eyes meeting with hers. "He said the Kerch make the best sweets— because they don't care about, um, access."

She can't help the warm smile the curls onto her lips. "Excess."

"Yeah, that," Ravi says offhandedly. "But Sturmhond also said that Ravkan candy is all gross and sour— except for something called ptichye moloko, which is, like, chocolate with melted sugar and cream inside it." His smile is wide and bright, and Marya doesn't have the heart to tell him that ptichye moloko is bland and flavorless in comparison to what he likes to eat. "He was also asking about you."

Marya perks up, brows furrowed. "About me?"

"Yeah," he says distractedly, picking up a few wrappers that he left behind. "He was asking about how I met you, and I told him that was a dumb question. He also said that it was weird you didn't have a Healer on board for, like, injuries and stuff, si I told him that you didn't need to have one because you could always go visit me and Karim."

Marya stiffens. "He was asking about Karim?"

"A little," Ravi answers, finally straightening back to his full height to meet her gaze. The look on her face must be more telling than she thought, because Ravi's face immediately crumbles with worry. "Did I— did I do something bad?"

Marya licks her lips, offering a smile. "No, no, of course not, mejo," she says, caressing his cheek with her thumb. She wipes off a chocolate stain left on his face. "You don't have a single bad bone in your entire body."

"Does that mean I get to keep these?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

THE NIGHTS ARE COLDER. Teeth are chattering, wool overcoats being passed from crew mate to crew mate. There is a chill burrowing deep within the bones of people aboard the Repentance— and it's not just the cold.

An omen. They're getting closer.

New supplies have been making their rounds. Where they came from, Marya can't tell. At first, she thought it had something to do with Emerens— that, somehow, during his time alone acting as Captain he had gotten his hands on some much needed resources. That was her working theory until she spotted Sturmhond boarding her ship from another of his little trips to the Volkvolny with a chestful of wool items and enough rum to earn a spot in Emerens' good graces. He's been doing that often— in fact, Marya has noticed she's been seeing less of Sturmhond as they embark themselves deeper into the Bone Road.  He's been switching back and forth between both vessels without a complaint, all while bringing back and forth a few spare supplies.

         Marya doesn't know what to make of it. In fact, she doesn't know what to make of many things— for starters, the weight of Sturmhond's sudden absence. It's off-putting, how often she finds herself searching for him, for his voice, for his presence.

         "You've been staring," Sturmhond mentions offhandedly, "quite often, might I add."

         Marya arches a brow. "Just making sure you're not taking anything that doesn't belong to you," she responds, but there is no real bite behind her words.

         He chuckles. "Love, you're a pirate— isn't that part of your job description?"

         "Precisely, privateer." Marya purses her lips. She turns to look ahead, spotting a few of Sturmhond's Tidemakers working against the fog. Raziya stands off to the side, arm hanging limply by her hip. Marya clicks her tongue. "You've been chatting with the Sun Summoner quite a lot. Care to compare notes?"

         Sturmhond grins widely. "My, Captain, are you jealous?" He tilts his head down. "You know I only have eyes for you."

         "I'm cautious."

         "Are you?"

         Marya rolls her eyes, exhaling. "I don't have time for this nonsense."

Sturmhond reaches for her shoulder. "I only joke, Captain," he teases. "A little humor never killed anybody."

"So?" she pushes. "The Sun Summoner?"

Sturmhond straightens, scrunching his broken nose. "She's made the request that we do not kill the Sea Whip. Apparently, she thinks she can take its power without taking its life."

Marya considers it for a moment. She's not blind to Sturmhond's blatant skepticism. She shrugs. "If she thinks she can manage it..."

Sturmhond shakes his head. "Quite the idealist you are."

       She meets his gaze with a hint of a smile. "I try." She inhales sharply. "You were gone for quite a while."

        He smirks loosely. "So, you were paying attention to me."

        She bites her tongue to prevent herself from saying the first response that comes to mind. Of course I was. Instead, she opts for, "Don't let it get to your head."

        "I won't," he says, but smiles like a liar. He throws his head in the direction of his schooner. "I was making preparations on the Volkvolny. Giving out commands, preparing weapons, making sure everything's in order."

        "Mhm," she hums. Her eyes focus on him for a moment, on the line of his face, the set of his jaw. "You're looking better." His skin has gained color again. He must've had a long, long bath, as the red of his hair is back to its pretty ruby color.

        A devious glint dances in his muddy eyes. "All thanks to the Demon of the Waters."

        Sparks shoot up her spine. "What?"

        He seems almost surprised by her reaction. "That's what you told the Darkling, right?" He considers it. "It's a legend-worthy name. Will I get to hear the story behind it?"

        Marya chuckles, running a hand through her curls. "Maybe someday."

        "I'll look forward to it."

        "Kapitan!" a voice calls out from the crow's nest. Marya's head snaps up. "There's something up ahead!"

        Marya moves towards the stairs, steps rushing down. "Irina, clear a path ahead," she orders the Ravkan Tidemaker. Irina nods once from the side of the ship, bringing her hands together and thrusting them forward. The fog lowers until sunlight streams through, revealing a dark silhouette in the middle of the ocean.

"There's an island," the ship's lookout yells.

        Steps shuffle along the deck as people gather off to the starboard side of the ship. Soon enough, Marya is able to see the island more clearly. The island looks deserted— and for good reason too. Marya suspects the thundering storm clouds gathered above it are no exceptional occurrence.

        "Well, that's not foreboding," Sturmhond comments.

        Cold wind nips at their skin, the sound of thunder clapping ahead makes her ears ring.

        "Could be anywhere in there," Tolya adds from besides her.

        The island is huge— and, from the looks of it, there's more than one cave where Rusalye could be hiding. Marya taps her fingerstips against the wood. Her head turns to the side, eyes meeting with Mal's focused gaze. "Not anywhere."

        The tracker meets her gaze briefly, before pointing at one of the caves off to the east. "We enter through that one."

        Neyar raises a brow. "You sure?"

        Marya studies the tracker for a moment. She remembers his words vividly. There's a frequency. She nods. "He's sure."

        "It's in there," Mal confirms.

        "You heard him," Sturmhond says, slamming his arm against the wood with a wild holler.

"We're going ashore!" Marya yells out. A few chorus back 'yes, Kapitan!' before rushing to make the final preparations. Marya turns her face to the side, excitement bubbling up in her chest. "That looks like our cue to armor up."

Sturmhond offers a lopsided smile. "I don't think a suit of iron will do much good against a mythical sea beast."

"Maybe not," she shrugs, meeting his gaze with a devious glint of her own. "But a titanium harpoon might."

Sturmhond raises his brows, the corners of his lips curving upward. "I do love a woman who knows how to take charge."

Marya tilts her head. "I do love a man who knows how to keep quiet. Come on," she shoves him with a grin. "We got a sea beast to capture."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

THE CAVES OF THE ISLAND OF JELKA ARE WARM— unusually so. There's a dampness in the air, an uncomfortable heat that clings to the jagged stone walls. Unexpected, to be sure, especially given that they find themselves in arguably one of the coldest places in two continents.

The waters brush against Marya's hips, leaving her half-submerged, leaving her with wet trousers and belt. Marya holds her pistol close to her, eyes carefully scanning the cave.

"Watch your step," she hears Neyar warn from behind her.

Marya turns her head only slightly, sharing a quick look. Neyar nods in response, knives drawn in both hands. They're not her go-to weapon of choice, but given the size of the caves, she supposes it's better than a long sword. It's also the reason as to why Emerens didn't come along— after all, explosives and poisons in small tunnels is never a good idea. That, and using a gun is out of the question for him. For some reason, Emerens has never been a fan— although it's probably him hiding he's a terrible shot.

Something splashes ahead, making Marya flinch and aim. The others stiffen around her, pistols raised. "That could be it," she says in a low voice.

Sturmhond halts in front of her, jaw set. He turns his green eyes to one of his crewmen. "Grevyen, tell me. Anything in the water?"

The older man, Grevyen, rotates his hands, before carefully placing his finger tips on the water, causing ripples to disperse around them. Marya watches as Alina and Mal hold their breaths. "There are holes in the cave floor," the Tidemaker responds gruffly. "Careful where you step."

Marya raises her head— only slightly, so it is only by chance that she spots something above her. "There are holes on the ceiling as well," she murmurs, brows furrowed. The Sea Whip is a water beast. Of course, there is a chance that those holes are naturally made, but in the off-chance they're not—

"Hilde," Marya starts, barely turning towards the blonde Squaller. "Check the holes above," she orders, before quickly adding, "as quietly as you can."

Hilde nods once. She brings her hands together in a gentler manner, guiding them up towards the roof. Around them, the rest await in position, guns and harpoons raised menacingly. Hilde creates a soft, whistling sound of wind against stone tunnels.

"There's a network of them surrounding the cave," the Squaller explains with a heavy Fjerdan accent. Her blue eyes meet with Marya's brown. "But otherwise, no."

"No, you can't tell— or no, there's nothing in there?" Mal questions, holding his harpoon a little closer.

"Whichever makes you feel more comfortable," Tolya says with a downturned smirk.

"Comfort's overrated," Tamar adds with a spin of her axe.

Up ahead echoes a sharp trilling, followed by a low gurgling. Then, an eerie silence— save for the sound of her own breath.

"Keep an eye on the tunnels, yeah?" Marya tells Hilde with a quick nod. "I don't want any surprises," she mutters, finger grazing the trigger of her pistol. Sturmhond nods at Grevyen to do the same.

They wade through the waters for a few more steps, the ground beneath slippery and with an unstable feel to it. The warm air makes it harder to breathe. Marya's chest rises and falls. Rises and falls. Rises and falls.

Water splashes besides her as Alina stands by, brows furrowed and arms raised with a wariness Marya happens to share.

Another gurgling sound echoes up ahead.

"Wait," Hilde says suddenly, halting in her steps. Neyar moves the lantern in her direction, its orange glow casting an eerie glow over the cave walls. Hilde furrows her brows, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "I can feel something... moving. It could be water, but—"

"Behind you!"

Teeth. Rows and rows of sharp, white, knife-like teeth. Marya ducks out of the way before the sea beast can tear her face off, landing against the water with a slap. She pulls herself up as fast as she can manage, wet curls sticking to her face. Besides her, Grevyen falls onto the water.

"Watch—"

Grevyen lets out a strangled sound as a row of shimmering scales wraps around his neck. Before Marya can even react, the Tidemaker is yanked out of the water screaming, before disappearing in one of the holes above. Screams from everyone ricochet against cave walls.

Marya pulls the trigger on her pistol, shooting only two shots before the Sea Whip disappear into the walls with Sturmhond's Tidemaker in tow.

Growls echo amongst the tunnels, their point of origin indiscernible. Marya's chest heaves as she stands, gun raised. Another splash of water comes from up ahead, and this time, Marya manages to catch a glimpse of its white, iridescent scales and terrifying red eyes. It dives into the water, and Neyar throws on of her knives, making it release an echoing snarl before hiding back.

"Drop the nets!" Sturmhond shouts. "Aim to kill!"

Water slaps against Marya's legs as Alina nearly lunges ahead. "No! Don't!" she protests, raising her hands.

"Did anyone see it?" Tamar asks, twin axes raised. They all stand in a sudden, terrifying silence.

"Barely," heaves Marya. She clenches her jaw and unclenches it, hastily scouring the cave with her gaze.

"Novsh," Neyar swears in Shu with breath,  "Tell me we did not just bring guns to fight that thing."

Another low, trilling sound that seems to come from everywhere at once. Water slaps against the cave walls, but they're unable to see it.

"It's toying with us," Sturmhond says from behind her.

"Of course it is," Neyar mutters with a frustrated exhale.

"Conserve your ammo or we'll be dry by the time we need it."

Rusalye lunges into the water, snarling with its open jaw as it drags another one of Sturmhond's crew with it. Alina shouts something Marya doesn't quite manage to catch, before that unsettling silence joins them once again. Blood seeps into the murky waters.

"Where is it?" Marya asks as they all turn to form a back-to-back circle. "Saints damn it, where the hell is it?"

The only lantern left is Neyar's, casting the cave into an near total darkness. Marya can only hear the water against her and her chest rising and falling.

"It's hiding," Sturmhond breathes out. "It can camouflage."

"Kameleont," Hilde whispers in Fjerdan, disbelief bleeding into her voice.

Marya eyes frantically search the ceiling, struggling to find those iridescent scales. She simply sees dirty, warmed walls of worn rocks dripping with water. The dim glow of their single lantern doesn't help. Then, as she stares up at holes and holes on the walls— one of them blinks at her.

"It's—"

"Watch out!"

"Alina!"

Mal dives to move Alina out of the way while Marya shoots until her pistol clicks, a sharp snarl the only reason for her to think she landed at least one hit on it before disappearing.

A gurgling sound echoes from both below them and above them.

"It sounds like it's everywhere," Sturmhond swears.

Marya reaches for her belt, only to realize her reserve is gone— probably sinking somewhere nearby. "I'm out, I'm all out," Marya warns, heaving.

The water ahead of her ripples only slightly, before a pair of red eyes resurfaces from beneath it. Marya feels her heart stop in her chest, feeling the sea beast's snarling breath fanning against her cheeks. Rusalye screeches, unlocking its jaw before lunging for Marya. She tries to duck out of the way, but she's not fast enough. Rows of teeth sink into her shoulder, tearing at her flesh. She cries out.

"Captain!"

"Marya!"

Scales wrap around Marya as she's hauled underneath the water. She struggles, unable to see much of anything. Growls and snarls echo around her, blood clouding her vision. She barely gets the chance to get a gasp of air before she's dragged under again.

She can't see anything other than blood and scales. Just blood and scales and—

A searing burst of light.

The water around her abruptly heats up, another sharp, gurgling sound echoing from the sea beast before its tails fall limply against her body.

Marya's head resurfaces with a sharp, nearly killing gasp. The world shifts and blurs around her as someone hurries to help her up. Tolya carefully pulls her up, a painful hiss leaving her lips as she glances at the sizable bite mark left behind by Rusalye.

Her vision finally focuses again, only to see Alina standing with her hands raised just a few paces away from her. Marya blinks drowsily, nodding in her direction with what she hopes looks like a thank you.

By her side, Sturmhond stares only down at the dead corpse of the mythical Sea Whip. A silvery liquid drips from it as it floats limply on the water.

"It's dead."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

EMERENS ONCE TOLD MARYA THAT the single best way to deal with loss is to drink till you pass out. In all fairness, he told her the exact same thing about celebrations. So, as it happens, today is one of those days— of both loss and celebration.

Despite their losses, there is a lightness amongst the crew. Maybe its the fact that the end of this undertaking is closer than ever before. Maybe its the fact that they managed to kill what just hours ago had been a mere legend. Or, maybe, it's because they're all far too worn out to continue grieving. After all proper farewells and prayers, the deck of the Volkvolny is abuzz with lively conversation and endless rounds of alcohol being shared.

    Talk about a morale boost.

Only a few members of Marya's crew stayed back on the Repentance— those that were too tired, too worn, too exhausted to celebrate anything at all. And so, both crews toast and drink to mourn those that have been lost, and to celebrate the victories of both crews, united under the flag of the Sun Summoner.

Marya's shoulder aches. Thankfully, Tamar offered to help with it, but there was only so much she could do as an inexperienced Healer. Her other option was to ask Ravi— but, then again, she would rather not show the seven-year old her mauled shoulder. Instead, she settled for Tamar's somewhat helpful healing and a few bandages wrapped around it.

"I can stop the bleeding and heal the wounds a little, but it'll leave a scar," Tamar had warned her.

"Good," Marya had answered, half-delirious. "I'll look terrifying with teeth marks on my shoulders."

Tamar had grinned in response, before Marya promptly passed out. Now, however, she's feeling much better— although that probably has something to do with the rum buzzing beneath her skin.

Up ahead, Marya spots Alina chatting with a few members of both crews. She walks up to them with bottle in hand. She offers it to the Sun Summoner, who accepts it with an appreciative nod.

"I should thank you," Marya leans against the railing, exhaling. "You saved my life."

Alina looks up at the pirate with those dark eyes of hers. Her gaze flicks briefly towards the bandages that show from underneath her shirt. She offers a close-lipped smile, dimples showing. "Consider it a thank you. For everything."

Marya grins. "No need."

"Kapitan, if I may," Maksim starts suddenly, making both the girls turn to face him. He looks somewhat nervous. "Shouldn't we be setting sail for Ravka?"

She inhales, then exhales softly. "We'll worry about that tomorrow in the morning," she answers, resting her hand on the Squaller's shoulder. "For now, let's just enjoy this victory, yeah?"

Maksim nods, and Marya allows herself to drift back, letting them get back to their previous conversation. The Volkvolny is feels different from the Repentance— not in any way that truly matters, but enough to make Marya curious. The double-eagle flag flies above her, the regality of it a stark contrast to Sturmhond's own flag. The Wolf of the Waves is beautiful, unlike any vessel Marya has stood on before— not that she'd ever let Sturmhond hear that. Marya's hand trails the edges of the schooner with curious eyes. Its craftsmanship feels somewhat familiar, but she's unable to place where she's seen it before. The metal and wood blend seamlessly into one another, not a sign of rust or rot in sight.

It's impressive.

"How do you end up joining a pirate's crew?" Marya hears Alina ask from the main deck. Night has long since fallen, but there are enough lanterns to light up the whole deck. She soon realizes that most—if not all— crewmen have gathered around in a circle, most of them sitting on crates and barrels. Ever so quietly, Marya walks up to the crowd, making the choice to linger back, nearly out of sight.

"There's more than one story to it," Anya says.

"Well... what's yours?" Alina asks curiously. An embarrassed blush dusts Anya's cheeks before she averts her gaze.

Darius clears his throat. "Most of us owe our lives to the Captain," he starts, sharing a look with Jira. "She gave us our freedom. And while some choose to return to their homelands, others... others choose to stand by her and repay our debts."

Mal furrows his brows from besides Alina. "Debts?" he repeats.

Jira lightly shoves Darius, earning a hearty chuckle from the older Zemeni man. "Good ol' Darius here happens to be the righteous kind, in case you couldn't tell." She rolls her eyes with a bright smile. "Not all of us feel indebted to her. We respect her cause."

"What about you?" she asks. "You were on the ship with us— with the Darkling. You're Grisha, right?"

"Zowa," Jira corrects. Her dark coils of hair shift in her ponytail as she straightens. "And I guess you could say I got caught on the wrong side of the stretch. Drüskelle ship snatched me by the north of Novyi Zem, below Leflin." Jira glances down at her hands. "I thought I was hallucinating when I first saw her. My very own malaika."

"Angel," Darius translates with a smile.

"She saved you?" Alina asks, inching closer in her seat.

"She did far more than that," Jira murmurs, taking a drink of her bottle— before having it promptly taken away by Darius.

"You're far too young to be drinking," he chides, shaking his head.

"Oh, come off it old man— I've more than earned it!" The two of them proceed to argue in Zemeni, making Marya smile. She leans her head against the mast, watching as Fiona starts talking to Alina.

The redhead looks eager to speak. "For us, it was kinda different. My brother and I were raised on the Wandering Isle," she explains, her pale skin practically glowing under the attention of the Sun Summoner. "We were staying in a village by the coast. Angus bought us safety in exchange for using his powers to create better weather for crops. Eventually, one of the townsfolk sold us out— hunters came for us the next morning." Her excitement dims down a little. She purses her lips, fingers tapping against her glass. "I would've had to watch my brother be cut open and be slowly drained of his blood if it weren't for the Captain and Neyar," she mutters, sniffing. Then, she turns her head up. "We owe them our lives."

Alina nods, captivated and attentive of the different stories of Marya's crew. Then, her dark eyes drift off to the side, landing on a rather quiet Second in Command.

"What about you?" Alina asks, making a few heads turn in his direction. Indistinct conversations warm the cold night air. His gray eyes meet Alina's dark ones. "Emerens, was it?"

Emerens takes a swig of his drink, scrunching his nose as he puts it down. "Marya didn't have anything to do with it, if that's what you're wondering." He sniffs, looking awfully uninterested. Still, Marya isn't buzzed enough to miss the underlying feeling of discomfort in his demeanor. "Once you get enough wanted posters with your face on them, stadwatch, and gang members on your trail, Ketterdam tends to lose its appeal." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I ditched the island. Hitched a ride on the first ship I found."

Mal arches a brow. "And she just... let you stay?"

Emerens raises a brow, tilting his head. "Of course she did. Have you met me? I'm charming."

Someone scoffs. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Marya nearly kill you the first time she saw you?"

"Details, Damien." Emerens waves him off. "After that, I decided to stick around." A beat passes. "What? They grew on me. Besides, this ship is the safest place for Grisha to be." He shrugs again. "I'd much rather stay here than be watching over my shoulder for the rest of my life."

"Praise to that," Angus whistles, and now Marya knows that he's drunk— because there is no world in which Angus just agrees with Emerens.

The tracker furrows his brows. "I thought Grisha did live in Kerch."

"Only if they have a death wish. And Ketterdam's far worse— even for something as ordinary as an Alkemi," Emerens scoffs. "The only way to survive and keep out of indentures is to join one of the Barrel's gangs." The blond subconsciously pulls at his sleeve, taking another drink. He shakes his head. "And, trust me, you're much better off on your own than with any of them," he mutters, tone sounding awfully resentful.

As Emerens finishes his drink, someone else seems to capture the pair's attention. From where she stands, Marya can't see. "What about you?" Alina questions curiously. "Neyar, yeah? Are you Grisha as well?"

"No," the navigator responds stiffly.

"Oh." Alina furrows her brows. "Then how'd you end up here?"

Neyar turns her head away, shoulders squaring. "Dumb luck," she responds coldly.

Marya clasps her hands together, making a few heads turn in her direction. A warm orange hue lights up her face as she strudes closer to the center. "Alright, I think that's enough storytelling for today."

"What about you, Marya?" The tracker asks suddenly, curiously. "How does a Zemeni Fabrikator end up commanding a ship like this?"

Marya can see the way a few of the Volkvolny's crew and even a few of her own pretend to be uninterested, but they inch closer nonetheless. Sturmhond, whom Marya hadn't even noticed was there until then, flicks his eyes over to her, an indecipherable glint in his gaze.

"Suli Fabrikator," she corrects. "Pretending to be Zemeni was just a cover for the Darkling. It makes people ask less questions."

"You're from Ravka?" Mal asks, unable to hide his surprise.

"I'm from the seas and the waves."

"Do you ever give straight answers?"

"Only to questions worth my time."

"You've yet to give me one," Mal protests.

Marya smiles. "I'll let you figure that one out on your own."

"You've got people from everywhere in the two continents," Alina comments, meeting Marya's gaze with newfound curiosity.

"Yeah," she says softly. "I guess it goes to show how nowhere is truly safe for Grisha." Marya meets Alina's stare evenly, the corner of her lips quirking upward. "Perhaps you'll be the one to change that." Marya leans against one of the barrels sharing a quick look with Neyar before adding, "You'll have to forgive me, but I'm not really familiar with the whole... amplifier business." She clicks her tongue "But I thought there was a limit of one per person."

"There is," Alina starts, "but I believe Morozova's amplifiers are meant to—" she does a joining motion with her fingers "connect, through me. With the Sea Whip, I could be strong enough to destroy the Fold."

Tolya's confusion is clear in his voice. "Couldn't two amplifiers destroy you in the process?"

"There's always risk in anything worth doing," Sturmhond responds with a shrug.

"Besides, if it doesn't work, you could always keep it for yourself, Kapitan," Fiona grins, looking up at her from her spot on the floor.

        "That's not how it works," Maksim interjects. "Only the one who kills the amplifier may wield its power."

    Alina turns her head towards Marya. "You don't have an amplifier?" she asks, voice sounding somewhere between confused and skeptic.

"I don't think it's common practice for Materialki to get amplifiers."

"It's not common practice for Fabrikators to use their powers to redirect bullets either," she counters.

"So?"

Alina straightens. "So, what's really stopping you from getting an amplifier?"

"Is it really so hard to believe that I'm content as it is?" Marya questions. "I already know the feel of my powers. How deep I have to dig to reach it. Why would I give that up?" She asks. Then, with a smile, she adds, "I think I'll be leaving the greatness and the mythical amplifiers to you, Sun Summoner."

The night goes on, and as the hours pass, more and more deckhands choose to hit the hay and prepare for the journey that comes tomorrow. Tomorrow, when Alina will be wearing her second amplifier; tomorrow, when they set sail to Ravka. Tomorrow, when they head to the Fold.

Perhaps she should go catch up on some sleep too.

"Leaving already?"

His voice feels like a call to her. It always does. She's certain there is some magnetic quality to it— because, despite her previous plans, she finds herself waiting for him to catch up to her.

"It's been a long day," she answers simply. Sturmhond sidles up besides her, messy red hair falling over his eyes. Marya nearly finds herself wanting to brush it away, before he does it himself.

"How's your shoulder?" Sturmhond asks, nodding his head towards it.

"Better," she answers quietly as she looks down at it. It still stings, aches when she makes any sudden movements. "I'll give something to Tamar— as, as a thank you."

"She has a keen appreciation for sharp weapons," Sturmhond suggests with a wink. "I'm sure you'll find something for her in no time." Despite his best efforts, Marya can tell his eyes are lingering on her bandages.

"I'm fine," she justifies a little too quickly.

"I know," he responds, but it sounds strained. Odd. Sturmhond clears his throat. "I've been meaning to ask— was it true what you said back there? You're from Ravka?"

So many questions in just one day. "I'm from the depths of the ocean and the winds of the West." She meets his gaze with a tilted head. "What do you think?"

Sturmhond stops to consider it for a moment. Then, softly, he answers, "I think it's been a while since you've had a place to call home."

"The Suli don't have a word for home," Marya says, brown meeting dark green. "We are a people born from travelers. Never made to stay in one place for too long."

He quirks a brow. "What do you call the place you keep all your treasures and riches, then?"

"Obitelj. Family." Her chest rises and falls evenly. "And someone has stolen my home. I intend to take it back."

Sturmhond furrows his brows. "Is that who you're after, then? The man you're looking for— the Healer. Is he your family?" It feels so reductive. Family. Family doesn't begin to explain what Karim is to her. He's her ribs, her heart, her breaths and her lungs. He's her half— her better half. He's her forgiveness. His absence has left an open wound in her chest. A void, where a vital organ used to be.

Family. Karim is so much more than just family. "Do you know what kebben means?"

"You used it before, didn't you?" Sturmhond asks. "When I asked you about a girl and a boy from your crew. You said they weren't lovers— that they were kebben."

"I did. It's a Shu word— it doesn't have a translation to Ravkan, or any other language for that matter. The closest thing you can get is twin, but it's far more than that." She licks her lips, fingers reaching for the ring that hangs from her necklace. Her thumb glides across it, across the old, worn inscription engraved inside it. "It means close kin. Someone bound to your heart." For some reason, her chest feels lighter as she says it, as if she might lay rest to the weight she has been carrying around for just a moment. "That's what Karim is to me. Kebben."

Kebben. Because there are no other words to explain the way his absence has wounded her. Like the very breath was stolen from her lungs. Like she's been left adrift, directionless, hollow.

"Karim," Sturmhond repeats quietly, as if committing it to memory. There's a change in his eyes when he looks down at her. "I'll find him for you," he says softly, "I promise."

Marya can't tell if it's the alcohol or the relief those words bring to her; either way, she can't stop herself from wrapping her arms around his neck. He stiffens, and it takes him a moment to even register what she's doing.

"Thank you," she whispers against his chest— and his arms wrap around her waist.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MARYA SHOULD BE ASLEEP. Her pounding headache is a sign of that— but her nerves won't let her. As per usual, she finds herself making preparations on her ship. In just a few hours, she'll be joining Sun Summoner and amplifier— something that could either go perfectly well, or horribly wrong.

"Good thoughts, good thoughts, happy thoughts," she mutters to herself. As she enters her room, she finds her navigator still staring at the map in front of her. By the looks of it, she's been at it for quite a while.

"You're gonna burn a hole through it if you keep staring at it," Marya warns.

Neyar blinks a few times, not bothering to raise her head. Ravi's snores echo softly from Marya's bed, curls matted over his face as he pulls his blanket over his face. "Sorry. Bad sleep." She yawns, shaking her head. "I'll get it together before we reach Ravka."

Marya nods, before gesturing back at the door. "Come on— a little morning air would do you well."

The two walk out of the Captain's quarters quietly, the door shutting behind them with a click. The clouds above them are a soft pink hue as the sun chases away the darkness of the night. Marya inhales softly, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

"Marya?"

She opens her eyes, finding Neyar leaning against the railing besides her. "Yeah?"

"I..." she hesitates. "I was thinking about what they were talking last night." She licks her lips, drumming her fingers against the wood. She sniffs. "You— You had family before, right? Other than Karim?"

Marya looks at her, pondering on it for a moment. So many years at sea, and none of them have ever dared to ask each other. She supposes it's fitting that it took a Sun Saint and a mythical sea beast for them to break their pattern. Marya sighs. "Once. Yeah."

"Did they..." Neyar doesn't finish her question. She doesn't have to. Did they die? Are they all gone?

"Some of them did," Marya answers, exhaling. "But even then, the Suli never stay in one place for too long. I wouldn't have found them even if I tried."

"...Why didn't you?"

    The question takes her aback. Marya meets Neyar's gaze, before her shoulders drop. "It's another story for another time." She considers the younger girl in front of her. "What about you?"

Neyar sets her jaw, shaking her head vehemently. "I didn't have somewhere to return to."

"No family?" Marya asks, quieter this time— as if it's a secret that not even the waves may know.

When Neyar turns, Marya doesn't miss the glassiness for her eyes. She smiles bitterly. "No one that was worthy of being called that."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N.
hi hi hiiii

i'm thinking of recasting neyar... any ideas? i'm hoping for an asian actress that looks younger than miguel bernardeau (emerens) & medalion rahimi (marya) because in my head neyar's actually like 17-19 or so

anyways!!!!!! i felt like i'd been leaving neyar aside for a while (and even though she'll get her moments later on in season 2) i felt like this was a good opportunity to delve a little more into her character :-) you also may have noticed that she's no longer a quartermaster and is instead a navigator!!! this change was partly inspired by watching the one piece live action and understanding a little more the roles in a pirate ship but ALSO because quartermasters are usually seconds in command. so. yeah. i wanted to create a more visible distinction between neyar and emerens' roles on the repentance.

also!!!!! quite a few backstory hints being dropped in this chapter 👀 i wonder if someone will be putting a few pieces together soon...... anyways. this chapter took SO LONG to get out so hopefully the scenes don't feel too randomly stitched together lmao

[ Started: Sept 10th, 2023 ]
[ Posted: Oct 6th, 2023 ]

( word count: 8.5k )