Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The wind howled through the rigging, sending the Beetle’s sails billowing as she cut through the dark waters. The ship, a sleek and sturdy vessel, was smaller than some of the Domain’s warships but faster, built for speed and maneuverability rather than brute force. She was painted a deep blue, blending in with the sea under the moonlight, and the figurehead at her bow was carved in the likeness of a great beetle, its horned head jutting forward as if ready to charge into battle.

Bug stood at the helm, his coat whipping around him in the salty breeze. His brown hair was tousled by the wind, and his sharp eyes scanned the horizon. They had been sailing for weeks now, picking their way through treacherous waters and dodging navy patrols. Their latest prize had been a merchant ship, fat with cargo and gold—enough to keep the crew well-fed and happy for a time. But Bug knew the peace wouldn’t last.

“Cap’n!” A voice rang out from the rigging. Chaos, small but quick as a cat, clung to the ropes with ease, her keen eyes catching something in the distance. “There’s a ship on the horizon! Can’t tell if it’s friend or foe.”

Bug strode forward, pulling out his spyglass. Through the glass, he saw the telltale shape of a navy vessel, its sails crisp and white against the darkening sky.

“Foe,” he muttered, snapping the spyglass shut. “All hands on deck!”

A flurry of movement followed. The crew of the Beetle was young, but they were fast, hardened by years on the sea. Night, Chaos’s twin, took position by the rigging, ready to adjust the sails at a moment’s notice. Vam was already at the cannons, checking the powder and aiming with a sharp eye. Flicker, ever nimble, darted between the crew, making sure weapons were where they needed to be. Crab stood near the edge, cutlass in hand, looking eager for a fight. Sun was up in the crow’s nest, scanning for any other ships. Eclipse, the youngest, stayed near Bug, holding onto the railing with wide eyes.

“They’re gaining on us,” Night called down.

Bug clicked his tongue. The navy ship was bigger, heavier, but they had the wind. “Hold course,” he ordered. “Let them think they have us.”

The Beetle flew across the waves, the navy ship closing in. Then, at the last second, Bug spun the wheel hard. The ship veered sharply to the side, forcing the navy vessel to adjust too late.

“Fire!” Bug roared.

Vam and the others let loose a volley of cannon fire. The first shots hit their mark, splintering the enemy’s side. Chaos whooped from the rigging as the navy ship lurched, thrown off course.

“Boarding hooks, now!” Bug ordered.

The Beetle’s crew was quick. Hooks flew across the gap, latching onto the enemy vessel. Crab was the first to leap across, her cutlass flashing. Flicker followed right after, moving like a shadow, while Chaos and Night climbed down to join the fight.

Bug was the last to board, his blade drawn as he cut through the chaos. The navy soldiers were well-trained, but they weren’t ready for the sheer ferocity of the Beetle’s crew. Chaos darted between them, her knife quick and deadly. Night fought with precise, controlled movements. Crab laughed as she took on two at once, knocking one overboard with a well-placed kick.

Bug cut down a soldier who lunged at him, then turned to find the navy captain—an older man, his uniform still pristine despite the battle.

“This is the end for you, pirate,” the man sneered.

Bug smirked. “I doubt that.”

The fight was quick—Bug was faster, more experienced. In moments, the navy captain lay at his feet, defeated but breathing.

“Take what we can, then burn it,” Bug ordered.

His crew moved fast. Gold, supplies, weapons—anything useful was taken. Then, as the Beetle pulled away, a single torch was thrown onto the navy ship, flames licking up the mast.

As the enemy vessel burned behind them, Chaos grinned at Bug. “Another victory for the Beetle.”

Bug chuckled, ruffling her hair. “That it is.”

The Beetle sliced through the open sea, her sails catching the wind as she made her way back to the Domain’s base—a hidden cove, nestled between towering cliffs and treacherous reefs that only the fleet’s sailors knew how to navigate. The water here was calmer, sheltered from the open ocean, and the scent of salt and smoke hung in the air.

As they neared the docks, the sight of other ships greeted them—some sleek and fast like the Beetle, others massive warships designed to intimidate and overpower. The Domain was not just a fleet; it was an empire of pirates, a force that even the navy feared. And at its head was  Era, a siren whose voice was said could command the tides themselves.

Bug steered the Beetle toward an open berth, calling out orders as the crew worked to dock. Ropes were thrown, sails furled, and within minutes, the ship was secured. The gangplank was lowered, and as soon as it hit the wood of the dock, Chaos was already sprinting off, eager to stretch her legs after weeks at sea.

“Oi, don’t go causing trouble before we even set foot on land properly,” Bug called after her, though there was no real bite to his words.

She waved him off with a grin before disappearing into the crowd of pirates, sailors, and merchants that filled the docks.

Bug stepped off the ship, stretching his arms as he took in the familiar sights. The base of the Domain was more than just a port—it was a thriving city, built into the cliffs and spilling out onto the shore. Wooden walkways crisscrossed above, leading to taverns, shops, and homes carved into the rock itself. Pirates from all across the fleet milled about, bartering, drinking, and swapping tales of their exploits.

“About time you lot got back,” a voice called from the docks.

Bug turned to see Ren leaning against a post, arms crossed. His dark coat was a bit cleaner than Bug’s, but the glint in his eye spoke of just as many battles fought. Ren was another captain in the Domain, his ship the Styx—one of the fastest in the fleet.

“Ran into some navy trouble,” Bug said, stepping forward. “Took care of it.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “I saw the smoke. Looked like a proper mess.”

Bug smirked. “It was. But we got what we needed.”

Before Ren could respond, two more figures appeared—Henry and Ty. Henry, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, was one of the more seasoned members of the Domain, known for his skill with a blade. Ty, on the other hand, was as quick with his words as he was with his hands, always ready with a sharp remark.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Ty said, grinning. “Thought maybe the navy finally got the better of you.”

Bug rolled his eyes. “Like that’d ever happen.”

Henry chuckled. “Did you at least bring back something good?”

“The hold’s full,” Bug said. “Gold, weapons, supplies. Enough to keep the crew happy for a while.”

Ty clapped his hands together. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get to spending!”

Chaos reappeared then, bouncing on her heels. “Are we going to the markets? Please say we’re going to the markets.”

Bug sighed but smiled. “Fine. But stick together. Last thing I need is one of you getting lost or starting a fight.”

That last part was mostly directed at Chaos and Ty.

The group made their way into the heart of the Domain, where the streets were alive with the sounds of trade and music. Stalls lined the walkways, selling everything from exotic spices to stolen jewelry. Pirates and merchants haggled over prices, while laughter and shouting echoed from the nearby taverns.

Chaos flitted between stalls, eyeing the various trinkets and weapons on display. Ty was already deep in negotiation with a merchant over the price of a finely crafted dagger, his voice rising and falling with exaggerated indignation. Henry stood nearby, watching with an amused expression, while Ren leaned casually against a post, taking in the bustling market with a practiced eye.

Bug exhaled, feeling the tension of the last few weeks slowly ease from his shoulders. The familiar chaos of the Domain’s base was comforting in its own way—the chatter of bartering pirates, the distant clang of a blacksmith at work, the salty breeze rolling in from the docks. For now, they were safe, victorious, and had a ship full of spoils to show for it.

He turned to the others. “What do you say we head to the tavern and get a drink?”

Ty immediately perked up. “Now you’re talking.”

Henry smirked. “Only if you’re paying.”

Bug rolled his eyes but started walking, the others falling in step beside him. The kids, sensing a chance to explore, fell in behind, whispering to each other about who would win in a fight between the tavern regulars and their own crew.

The tavern was alive with the rowdy energy of pirates fresh from the sea—laughter, shouting, and the occasional crash of a mug hitting the floor. The scent of spiced rum and salt filled the air, mixing with the smoky haze of lanterns swinging from the ceiling. The warm glow of firelight flickered across the rough wooden walls, illuminating wanted posters, old maps, and weapons mounted haphazardly like trophies.

Bug led the way inside, his coat still damp with sea spray, while the kids trailed behind, wide-eyed and eager. The second they stepped in, the sound of a chair being knocked over and a man being shoved against a table confirmed that, as always, this place was one brawl away from complete chaos.

“Find a table,” Bug told the kids, waving them off. “And don’t cause trouble.”

The last part was mostly for Chaos, who grinned like she had every intention of ignoring it.

Ty let out a short laugh, clapping Bug on the back. “You say that like they won’t start chaos the second we turn around.”

Bug sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Let me pretend for a little while.”

The kids wasted no time claiming a large table near the corner, a perfect spot to keep an eye on the room while staying out of the worst of the brawls. Night took a seat first, already rolling his eyes at whatever Crab and Vam were whispering about. Flicker had snatched a deck of cards from somewhere, shuffling them expertly as Sun and Eclipse leaned in to watch. Chaos was already scheming something, Bug could tell, but for now, he let it go.

The adults settled at their own table near the bar, where Ren, Henry, and Ty had already flagged down a server. A round of drinks was set down before them—some stronger than others—and Bug leaned back in his chair, finally allowing himself to relax.

“You’ve done well,” Henry said after a sip of his drink. His gaze flickered toward the kids, who were already deep in a fast-paced card game. “They handled themselves in the fight. Better than some of the so-called seasoned pirates I’ve sailed with.”

Bug nodded, watching them with no small amount of pride. “They’re tough. Smart, too. No hesitation when it matters.”

Ren chuckled. “Not bad for a bunch of kids.”

Ty raised his mug. “To the Beetle’s crew, then. The youngest pack of menaces the sea has ever seen.”

Bug chuckled and lifted his own drink, clinking it against the others’. “To the Beetle.”

For a while, things were peaceful. The tavern buzzed with life, the kids played their games, and the adults swapped stories of their latest exploits. Bug allowed himself to settle into the warmth of it all, proud of the way his crew—his family—had handled everything. They had faced a navy ship and come out on top, and here they were, safe and victorious.

Then, of course, Chaos had to ruin it.

A loud shout erupted from a nearby table. “OI! WHO TOOK MY COIN PURSE?”

Bug groaned. Ty nearly choked on his drink from laughter.

Turning, Bug locked eyes with Chaos, who was in the middle of stuffing something into her coat.

“Chaos,” he said, voice dangerously calm.

She grinned, all innocence. “Yes, Cap’n?”

A burly man from the other table, clearly a pirate from some other ship, was already pushing to his feet, glaring. “That little rat took my coin!”

Chaos looked around, as if expecting someone else to take the blame, but Bug gave her a look that said she wasn’t getting out of this.

With a sigh, she pulled the pouch from her coat and tossed it back to the man. “You should really tie it down better,” she said, as if she were doing him a favor.

The man looked ready to lunge, but before he could, Bug stood, his presence enough to make most men think twice.

“She’s a kid,” Bug said, his voice steady. “She’s also mine.”

The meaning was clear—touch her, and you’ll have to deal with me.

The man hesitated, looking between Chaos and Bug, then huffed, snatching his coin back. “Keep your stupid brats in check,” he muttered before sitting back down.

Bug turned back to Chaos, arms crossed. “What did I say about causing trouble?”

She shuffled her feet. “To not to…”

“And what did you do?”

“…Caused trouble.”

Bug sighed, but there was no real anger behind it. “You’re lucky I was here. And that he was smart enough not to push it.”

Chaos grinned. “That’s why I did it.”

Ty laughed, ruffling her hair. “Next time, at least pick someone who won’t notice so fast.”

Bug groaned. “No. Do not teach my kids how to be menaces.”

Ty smirked. “She’s already a menace. Might as well make her a smart one.”

The night carried on, the Beetle’s crew as wild as ever, and though Chaos had gotten herself in trouble, Bug couldn’t help but be proud. They were pirates, after all.

Chapter Text

The first storm rolled in around dawn, dark clouds swirling low over the jagged cliffs that marked the edge of the Domain’s bay. Thunder cracked like cannon fire in the distance, and rain lashed the waters with growing fury. Bug stood at the edge of the dock, coat flapping in the wind, eyes narrowed at the horizon. Something was wrong.

Storms didn’t just happen here—not around the Domain. Not while Era was watching.

By noon, three different squalls were circling the bay. Boats rocked violently in their moorings. Lightning forked across the sky like angry claws. Even the seabirds had vanished. The air felt wrong, like it was holding its breath.

Bug turned sharply and headed toward the command hut, where Ren, Ty, and Henry had gathered, each of them looking more grim by the second.

“She’s not answering,” Ren said as soon as Bug stepped inside. He held up a weather-stained shell communicator—Era’s favorite—but it was dead silent. “No signal. No reply. It’s like she’s just… gone.”

Ty’s jaw was tight. “I went to her cove. It’s empty. No signs of a fight, no blood, no tracks. Just the storm.”

Bug frowned. “And Midnight?”

“Not at the tower,” Henry added. “Or anywhere else we’ve checked. Her usual routes are clear. Even Dan’s hut is empty—he’s gone too.”

Bug’s heart sank. Midnight was Era’s left hand, always close. Dan, her navigator, never left without a word. If all three of them were gone, something was seriously wrong.

The room went quiet for a moment as the storm rumbled again outside, louder now, almost… closer.

“That explains the weather,” Bug said, low. “If Era’s not keeping the storms at bay, they’ll close in fast. We don’t have long before it’s dangerous to sail at all.”

Ren ran a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the map sprawled across the table. “It’s not just the weather. If someone took her—”

“—then we’re looking at more than just missing captains,” Ty finished. “We could be staring down a full invasion.”

“We don’t even know when they went missing,” Henry said. “Could’ve been last night, or three days ago. The storms only started this morning, which means whatever happened—it happened fast.”

Bug looked toward the door, where the kids were huddled under the overhang, watching the darkening sky with wide eyes. Even Chaos, normally a ball of motion, was still.

He exhaled. “Get everyone to shore. Arm the crews. We search now, before it gets worse.”

Ren nodded. “Where do we start?”

Bug’s eyes darkened as thunder rolled across the bay. “Everywhere.”

The Beetle cut through the churning waves like a wounded beast, its sails torn by the wind, hull groaning with every crash of water against its sides. Rain slammed down in sheets, blinding the crew as thunder boomed overhead and lightning illuminated the wild, frothing sea. The sky had turned black as ink, and even Chaos couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead.

Bug barked orders over the roar of the storm, voice hoarse from shouting, soaked to the bone, hands clinging to the wheel. “Hold the line! Get below deck— now! ” His eyes were fierce, determined. He’d been through storms before, many of them—but none like this. Without Era’s presence, the sea was wild, ancient, and angry.

Then came the crack. Not thunder— wood.

A wave, taller than any before, rose like a mountain and crashed down upon them.

Chaos screamed.

The deck snapped. Rigging tore free. The Beetle lurched sideways, mast splitting down the center. The sea swallowed them.

When Chaos came to, everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

Waves still lapped at the sand nearby, but the storm had passed, replaced by a bleak, overcast sky. The air felt heavy, like the ocean was still holding its breath.

She blinked against the stinging salt in her eyes and sat up, body aching, lungs burning. Around her, pieces of the Beetle were scattered along the beach like broken bones—planks, ropes, barrels, sails half-buried in the wet sand.

“Bug?” she rasped, throat raw.

No answer.

She turned—then saw him. A crumpled figure near the rocks, barely visible under a collapsed piece of the Beetle’s railing. His coat was soaked, face pale and still. His hair stuck to his forehead, stained with blood from a deep gash above his temple.

“ Bug! ”

She scrambled over, slipping on the rocks, tearing her knees. The others were beginning to stir—Sun coughing as she sat up in the sand, Eclipse wailing, her tiny body trembling with shock. Crab dragged herself up on one arm, blood running down her side. Even Pidge was limping, holding a possibly broken wrist against their chest, dazed and wild-eyed.

But Bug didn’t move.

Chaos knelt beside him, hands shaking as she touched his neck. There was a pulse—it was faint, but it was there.

“He’s alive!” she shouted, barely able to hear her own voice over the rushing in her ears. “He’s alive, but—he won’t wake up—!”

“Where’s Vam?” Crab rasped.

“Night was right behind me,” Chaos murmured. “I—I don’t see them—Flicker?”

No one answered.

The realization hit her like a second wave. They were gone. Vam. Night. Flicker. Swept out to sea—or worse.

Chaos pressed her forehead against Bug’s chest, her tears mixing with the saltwater. “You promised,” she whispered. “You promised we’d be okay.”

The sea gave no answer.

Chapter Text

The Styx moved through the black sea like a shadow given form—sleek, silent, and gliding just beneath the growling belly of the storm. Its sails were drawn low, rigging tight, hull cutting through the swells with eerie grace. Ren stood at the bow, one gloved hand gripping the rail, eyes locked on the churning horizon.

The storm wasn’t natural. That much was incredibly obvious.

Behind him, Heavenly moved silently across the deck, boots making no sound on the soaked wood. It kept its eyes low, scanning the shifting clouds and the water’s pulse with quiet calculation. The dark suited it—the way shadows bled across the deck, the hiss of rain on wood. It didn’t speak, didn’t need to.

Guardian stood further back, wrapped in her oilskin cloak, her brow drawn tight in worry. “No signal from Era. Nothing from Dan. Midnight’s trail ends in fog.”

“We’re not the only ones caught in this,” Ren muttered. “Bug took the Beetle out this morning. If they got hit—”

“They’re strong,” Guardian interrupted softly, but her hands flexed with unease. “But the storms… they’re closing. Fast.”

A low hum rumbled through the ship. The sky above crackled—lightning flashing so bright it turned the ocean white for an instant. Then came the roar.

A wall of water, higher than the sails.

Ren turned too late.

The Styx bucked violently, a groan of wood and steel. The mast snapped, the deck pitched—Guardian cried out as she was flung against the rail, Heavenly clung to the mast until it too was swallowed.

Then darkness.

Silence.

Ren coughed seawater out of his lungs, blinking against the haze. His fingers dug into sand.

The storm had passed.

He pushed himself up slowly, looking around. Pieces of the Styx lay scattered around the cove they’d washed up in—wreckage twisted in jagged shapes. But—

“Heavenly?” he called, voice raw.

It was already on its feet, standing near the treeline, soaked but unbothered. It was scanning the jungle beyond, impassive as ever. “You live,” it said, like an observation rather than a relief.

Guardian was coughing into her hand, stumbling upright with wet hair sticking to her face. “All accounted for?”

“Yes,” Heavenly said. “No major injury. Damage to the ship is... significant.”

Ren took a breath, dragging a hand through his drenched hair.

Heavenly’s gaze flicked upward, watching the clouds twist unnaturally. “We are not alone here,” it said flatly.

Guardian’s hand went to the hilt of her sword. “Then we find the others. Or whatever took them.”

Ren nodded. “We’re not letting this storm have anyone else.”

The wind howled through the spires of the Domain’s bay, tearing sails from their masts and sending crates tumbling across the docks like dice. The sky above churned in sickly shades of green and gray, and the sea slammed against the pier with violent hunger, dragging pieces of wood and rope into its depths.

From the lookout post, a bell rang three times—urgent threat.

Ty stood just beneath it, coat whipping in the wind, jaw tight as he stared out at the horizon. Lightning struck the water in rapid succession. The storms were no longer just circling—they were closing in.

Henry appeared beside him, soaked to the bone, water dripping from his gloves. “That’s the third ship smashed in the last two hours. No one made it out of the bay.”

Ty didn't answer immediately. His eyes scanned the sky, the sea, the already flooding lower docks. “Era's gone. Bug’s gone. Ren's gone. That leaves us.”

“And about a hundred people who are starting to panic,” Henry added grimly. “If we wait, we're going to lose them.”

Ty was silent for a moment longer, then spoke, voice sharp. “We call it. Evacuation.”

Henry gave him a look. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Ty turned and started back toward the center of the Domain, raising his voice as they moved. “Sound the full bell. All hands, get to your assigned vessels! Anyone without a ship, grab a pack and move inland!”

The Domain erupted into motion. Crews scrambled to secure what they could, rushing through the rain with armfuls of supplies. Civilians were guided out by the older sailors. The infirmary was cleared. Lights flickered across the bay as lanterns were lit in the darkening storm.

Henry jogged beside Ty, breath visible in the sudden cold. “If the storms are moving inland too…”

“We keep moving,” Ty growled. “We survive. That’s what we do.”

Behind them, the sea let out a sound like a living thing—a deafening, bone-deep roar—and one of the upper docks cracked clean in half.

There was no more room for doubt. Otherwise they would lose more than just a few ships.

Chapter Text

The world was water.

And then—cold.

Flicker gasped awake with a sharp inhale, spitting seawater from her lungs as her cheek pressed against something rough—sand? Pebbles? Her entire body ached, as if every part of her had been scraped raw by the sea. The sky above her was a churning gray bruise, flickering with distant lightning. Trees loomed behind her, a dense jungle tangled with vines, the shoreline half-flooded from the storm’s rage.

She sat up slowly, muscles trembling, head pounding. “Night?” she croaked, voice barely audible over the waves. “Vam?”

Silence.

No answer.

Her panic surged fast and sharp. Flicker scrambled to her feet, swaying slightly. The remnants of the storm still licked at the beach with cruel intent, and pieces of the Beetle lay scattered like bones. A broken beam. A splintered crate. A length of rope, still tied into a sailor’s knot.

“Night!” she shouted this time, louder. “Vam!”

She sprinted down the shore, slipping on the wet stones, calling their names until her voice cracked. Her throat burned. Her heart was thudding too loud. Then—

“Flicker!”

Her head snapped toward the trees. A figure stumbled out of the underbrush, dripping wet and dragging one leg, a bloody scrape across their temple.

“Vam—!” Flicker ran, crashing into her sister with relief and wrapping her arms tight around her. Vam winced but didn’t pull away.

“I—I don’t know where Night is,” Vam rasped. “I woke up by the rocks. I was looking.”

Flicker nodded shakily, then turned back toward the beach. “We need to find him.”

“Start from where the tide’s pulling,” Vam said. “He’s small, he could’ve gotten dragged further down.”

They began to run again, calling, eyes scanning every piece of driftwood, every shape in the sand. The wind was quieter now, but the sea still hissed, full of threats and secrets.

And then they saw it.

A limp shape further down the shore.

Flicker’s heart dropped. “There!”

They bolted.

It was Night. Facedown, half-buried in the sand, unmoving.

Flicker threw herself down beside him, hands shaking. “No no no no—”

She rolled him over.

He coughed.

And then again.

And then sucked in a jagged breath.

“Oh my Sea,” Flicker sobbed, clutching him close as he blinked blearily, lips blue and eyes dazed. “You’re okay—you’re okay—”

Night groaned faintly. “I don't feel good…”

“You’re alive,” Vam said, falling to her knees beside them, hugging both tightly.

They stayed there like that for a long while, the three of them, soaked and broken and still alive.

And then Flicker pulled away, eyes steeling. “We have to find the others.”

“They could be anywhere,” Vam whispered.

“I know. But we’re not splitting up again,” Flicker said. “We find them. We all get out. Together.”

She took Night’s hand in one of hers, and Vam’s in the other, and the three of them—bruised, battered, half-drowned—turned toward the jungle and began to walk.

The cell was dark—stone and salt and silence. A single torch flickered on the far wall, iron bars stood between them and the corridor beyond. No windows. No view of the sea Era ruled.

Dan sat slumped in the corner, his coat still soaked through, hair matted and heavy with dried blood. His breathing was steady now, though his movements were slow and shallow. Midnight knelt beside him, her sharp features bruised but alert, a protective arm braced between him and the wall.

Era stood.

She had not spoken in hours.

She stared through the bars like the tide might rise on the other side, eyes unblinking, cold. Her dress, once flowing, clung to her in tatters. Her skin, iridescent in the right light, was dulled now, marred with bruises and dried salt. But her presence—her command—remained intact. Era, even caged, was a siren. And they knew it.

“Do you hear it?” she said finally, voice low and distant.

Midnight glanced up. “Hear what?”

“The ocean. It’s screaming,” Era murmured. “It knows I’m gone.”

Midnight shifted her weight. “It’s not just the ocean. The storms are spreading. Even without looking, I know the Domain’s suffering.”

Era turned slowly, meeting her eyes. “Then we must escape.”

“We don’t even know where we are,” Midnight snapped. “We woke up chained to a wall in a fortress with no name. No marks. No guards talking.”

“It’s the silence that gives it away,” Dan croaked. “You don’t go through this much effort to catch pirates just to not gloat.”

“They’re waiting,” Era said. Her expression didn’t change, but her voice grew colder. “Waiting for a show. They want a stage. A spectacle. This is politics.”

Midnight frowned. “You think this is... planned?”

“I know it is,” Era said, her voice gaining an edge like frost on glass. “And we are pawns in it. You don’t catch a siren, a god, and an immortal by accident, much less keep them.”

Dan finally shifted. “So what do we do?”

“We wait,” Midnight said grimly. “We watch. We listen.”

“We survive,” Era finished.

Outside the cell, heavy boots echoed once.

Then silence again.

Midnight’s jaw clenched. “They’ll regret taking us.”

Era turned back toward the bars. Her voice was quieter now, but deeper, ancient and full of the sea. “Trust me, they already do.”

The jungle pressed in tight around them—wet leaves, buzzing insects, thick roots that threatened to trip every step. The storm still rumbled in the distance, thunder growling like some great beast reluctant to let them go. Rain had stopped, but the air clung to them, heavy and humid, every breath like drinking steam.

Chaos stumbled through a patch of thick ferns, face smeared with dirt and tears long since dried. Her arms ached from dragging Bug, whose coat was soaked through and whose head lolled with every jolt. He hadn’t stirred. Not once.

Behind her, Eclipse limped along with Sun’s arm slung protectively around her shoulders. Crab followed closely, walking backwards half the time to keep checking over her shoulder. Her blade was already in her hand, blood crusted along the edge from a creature that had gotten too close. Flicker, Night, and Vam were still gone. Swept into the storm. Maybe drowned. Maybe worse.

Chaos didn’t let herself think about it.

They had Bug. That had to be enough. She had to believe they could find the others later.

“Stop,” Crab whispered suddenly, voice tight.

Chaos froze, heart thudding. She turned.

And saw her.

At the edge of the clearing, emerging like mist from between the trees, was a girl—older than Chaos, maybe seventeen. Tall, strong-built, white ears flicking alert on top of her head, and a thick white tail swaying behind her. Her skin was pale, her clothes patched but practical, and her hair hung long and silver down her back. She held a long spear, but didn’t point it. Her eyes, icy gray, swept over the group in a single assessing motion.

Chaos stepped in front of Bug instinctively, shoulders squared even though she was shaking.

“Don’t,” she warned. “He’s hurt. We don’t have anything worth stealing.”

The girl blinked slowly. Then, finally, she spoke—her voice calm, low, and certain.

“I’m not here to rob you.”

“Then what are you doing out here?” Crab snapped.

The girl tilted her head slightly. “Saving you, apparently.”

Chaos frowned, uncertain, watching the stranger step closer. The girl crouched near Bug without touching him, just… looking. Measuring. Her expression didn’t change, but she nodded to herself.

“Hit his head hard. Could have swelling. He needs shelter, dry clothes, and something to keep his head elevated. You’re lucky he’s still breathing.”

“You know what to do?” Sun asked, peeking out from behind Crab.

“I know enough.”

“…Who are you?” Chaos asked, finally.

The girl stood again, brushing dirt off her knees. “Name’s Mystery,” she said simply, flicking her tail once. “You all look like you got caught in the storm.”

Crab gave a tight laugh. “You don’t say.”

“You’ve got too many injuries to stay out here,” she said. “There’s a cave. About an hour from here. Higher ground. Dry. I’ve got some supplies stashed there.”

Chaos hesitated.

They didn’t know this girl.

They’d lost half their family in a single night. Bug might be dying. And Chaos—Chaos felt like if she trusted the wrong person right now, everything could shatter.

But Crab looked at her. Sun, too. Even little Eclipse, who leaned heavily on Sun’s arm but met Chaos’s eyes with wide, trusting ones.

Mystery saw it. She stepped forward and offered her hand—not in a handshake, but palm up, no weapon, no threat.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” she said again. “You want to keep your captain alive? Come with me.”

Chaos stared at the hand.

Then down at Bug.

Then back again.

“…Fine,” she muttered, gripping Mystery’s hand tight. “But if you try anything—”

“You’ll stab me,” Mystery said calmly. “I’d expect nothing less.”

The deal made, they hoisted Bug up again—Crab and Mystery taking most of his weight. The kids fell in line behind them, limping, bleeding, exhausted, but still moving.

Because they had each other.

And now, they had Mystery.

Wherever Vam, Flicker, and Night were… they had to hope they were still fighting, too.

Chapter Text

The shore spat Ren out battered and bruised.

He coughed as he hit the sand, brine and blood mixing in his throat. The roar of the storm still echoed in his ears, but the sea behind him was pulling away now—finished with him. His arms trembled as he pushed himself up, his coat heavy with water, his vision swimming.

He was alive. Barely. And he was going to make it the world’s problem.

He staggered to his feet, one hand pressed against a deep gash in his side. Every step forward was fire through his system, but he kept walking. Something had pulled him this far—instinct, maybe, stubbornness? …Yeah it was probably stubbornness—but now, as he limped through the underbrush, he unconsciously began following the signs of recent passage. Broken branches, a bit of familiar looking blue cloth snagged on a thorn—his path became something else entirely.

It became a purpose.

He followed the trail until the trees opened into a clearing—

And froze, taking in the scene.

There they were. Flicker, pale and bruised, holding a broken stick like it might do anything. Vam, bleeding from a slash across her arm, breathing hard. Night, barely standing, eyes wide with terror.

Bug’s kids, who he'd love as his own. Only little ones in this wild world of pirates and magic.  

And surrounding them—six armed Royal Navy soldiers. Or, in Ren's eyes, the very lowest of the earth.

“Hands up,” one barked, lunging forward. “You’re done, pirate scum—”

Ren didn’t think.

He moved.

He burst from the tree line with a scream that tore through the clearing. Steel flashed in the light. The first soldier had barely time to react before Ren was swinging at him, hit after hit. Maybe it was the surprise attack, but the rest of the soldiers looked on in terror as this terror of the battlefield swung at them. 

His blade found the first soldier’s throat before another could stop it, but they managed to cut Ren’s face with their last ditch effort to survive– a dagger. 

The next fell to a brutal strike to the chest, but they rammed into Ren with a metal shield that he grabbed and cut his hand on. The adrenaline pushed him through it, every move practiced and smooth. 

The third was an archer, stepping back as they fired arrows towards the skeleton hybrid. They caught Ren in the right shoulder before being downed by a stab through the chest. 

The fourth soldier was a brute, and rammed Ren into a tree, knocking the breath and sense out of him with a gut punch.

Ren didn't stop there, spitting out blood and grabbing his sword again from where it had dropped. The simple fact of his continued attacking despite the odds seemed to weaken the resolve of the remaining soldiers. A dagger through the neck, thrown with deadly accuracy, dropped the brute soldier dead.

The fifth was a practiced swordsman, dodging and parrying at Ren’s attacks. They danced back and forth, before they grabbed Ren's arm, pulled him in, and kneed him in the gut before forcibly controlling Ren's sword hand, and stabbing him in the chest.

“REN!” Night screamed, and Vam let out a strangled cry of despair.

But Ren didn’t stop. He couldn’t. They were his kids too, even if not by blood, and he wouldn't let anything happen to them. He'd made a promise of that, and Ren never broke his promises. Never.

“Alright, I've been thinking.” Ren said, feet propped up on the Beetle’s railing, sharing a bottle of apple juice with Bug as the sun sank behind the sails. They were young then, too focused on the present to think about the future, save for times late at night when they were away from the kids.

Bug cut him off before he could continue with his thought. “Terrible habit.”

Ren shot a light-hearted glare at Bug, then went on. “If I die—”

“You’re not going to die,” Bug muttered, not looking up.

“If, you dramatic barnacle,” Ren grinned. “If I die, you’re taking the kids. All of them. Frankie, Dandy, and Rouix. No arguments.”

Bug scoffed. “You know how many of my own I’ve got?”

“Then what's a few more?” The skeleton hybrid snickered, raising his glass up to the light to see it shine through.

Bug shook his head. “You’re insane.”

Ren leaned back, arms stretched. “Maybe. But you’d be good to them. Better than the world.”

Bug was quiet for a while. Then: “Fine. But you're taking mine if anything ever happens to me.”

Ren laughed. “Easy. I'll take ‘em, any day.”

Ren played dirty. He used his shield-cut hand to grab the hair of the soldier, kicked them forward, which ripped out the sword buried in his chest. With one swift movement, Ren snapped their neck and let them drop.

A crossbow arrow was shot through Ren’s leg, a missed shot as a result of a young soldier’s horror at the visage of a skeleton hybrid slicing through the ranks of the soldiers who once deemed themselves superior. Without delay, Ren drove his previous attacker’s sword through the young soldier—and promptly fell to his knees as the blade clattered to the ground beside him.

The clearing was silent.

Blood soaked the dirt. All six of the Royal Navy soldiers lay dead, each able to lay at least some sort of injury upon the skeleton hybrid who fought all six of them single handedly.

Ren coughed, and red bloomed across his lips. Stars, not now.

“Ren!” Night was at his side in an instant, dropping to his knees, hands pressed to Ren’s shoulders. “You’re bleeding—you’re bleeding so much—”

“I know, kiddo,” Ren rasped, voice thick. It was all he could do not to break down at the idea of what might come. But they needed him to be strong. Already with the nightmare of what might be happening to the Domain, to all his friends and family, Ren couldn't let the kids know how absolutely terrified he was of death.

Vam and Flicker hovered nearby, faces pale, eyes wide with horror and grief.

Ren slowly, with trembling fingers, took off his coat and draped it over Night’s shoulders. He'd always been fond of the kid, and as much as he wanted someone dear to him to stay, just until the lights went out, Ren knew that wasn't in his cards.

“You keep that warm, alright?” he whispered. “Your dad’s gonna be looking for you. You go find him. Fast as you can.”

“But—” Night’s voice broke. “I don’t want to leave you—please—”

“You have to,” Ren said gently, pouring every ounce of strength he could muster into it. “You have to live. That’s the deal. Got it?”

Hesitantly, Night nodded, pulling the coat tighter around him as tears began to drip from his eyes.

He touched Night’s cheek with a bloodied hand. “Go to your dad, he needs you. I'll.. I'll find help.”

Night shook, clutching his coat tight, sobbing. Vam pulled him back, pulling Flicker too—both resisting every step—but Ren just smiled, soft and tired. They weren’t his kids, but the fate he'd earned, the pain he'd endured? For them, it was worth it.

“Keep carrying on.” He said quietly to the three of them. “May the Stars guide you.”

They ran.

Ren stayed.

He watched them until they vanished through the trees.

Then he leaned back, propping himself against a tree, eyes drifting to the gray sky above. Clouds circled overhead, a storm promising to come soon.

The pain was fading now. Or maybe his body was just letting go.

The wind whistled through the clearing as rain began to sprinkle from the sky. It was cold, each drop on his face sending a sharp jolt through him. It did, however, wash the blood off his hands as it got heavier. Ren liked that. As comforting as the smell of iron was, it was thick and overwhelmed him.

You’re not going to die, Ren remembered Bug’s voice from so long ago. He almost laughed out loud at the idea. If only Bug could be here now, seeing his bleeding form. In all reality, Ren should’ve been dead by now. The pain and the bleeding was enough to kill him instantly, but maybe the Stars were smiling on him that day. In fact, looking back on it, maybe they were smiling on him his entire life.

Ren was young- in his early teens the day he ran from home. If he could even have called it that. A place he didn't belong, and one he knew he had to leave. He'd ran to the nearest town, sketchy as it was, and picked a ship to jump on, stowing away. 

The ship he'd picked was the biggest one at the docks. There wasn’t a sign of any crew member besides who Ren presumed to be the chef, who was too busy muttering over their empty fish net to notice a 12 year old boy climbing the side of the ship and slipping into the cargo hold. 

The crew wasted no time in plucking him out of his hiding spot and putting him to work. The captain, Dan, adopted him as an errand boy when he learned Ren’s story. The god’s ship, Valhalla, became Ren’s home. At night, Dan made Ren look at the stars and named each one. He pointed out the constellations, and over time, Ren committed each one to memory, memorizing their names, their stories.

When Ren was old enough to get his own ship, he named it the Styx, and set out on the seas by himself. Storms came and went, but the Styx remained firm on the ocean, a new home for Ren to stay with. The stars were there every night, and Ren told his stories still- even if just to himself.

Each board of that ship was a place Ren walked, sang, and lived. He was happy there, but there was always something new waiting wherever he went.

The bodies of his enemies lay around him like shattered puppets, because in all reality, death had been his domain for a very long time. Death was something he'd worked alongside, but it was all just for show. He didn't have control over it.

Ren had been scared of death for as long as he'd been alive.

He was still scared now. Cold, alone, and bleeding out, Ren could only breathe deeply and wish whatever awaited him next would be just as peaceful as his spot in that clearing. He'd believed in the stars the day he set foot on a ship, and it had carried him this far. 

It wasn't dark enough for the stars to appear, but they were always there, keeping watch over him.

Time wasn't out yet. The pain was still slowly subsiding, but the clouds movement seemed to slow down. Time itself seemed to move in a thick jelly, allowing him the closure he needed. 

Ren couldn't help but worry about his kids. He didn't have a lot- nothing compared to Bug’s crew, but each one was valuable, cared for, and loved beyond belief. They'd all been strays like he'd been, and adopted into his crew without a second thought. It was his way of repaying what Dan did for him.

Stowaways were often thought of as vermin to most pirates. With Ren, however, they were usually children, running to a better place to spend their lives. They were a reflection of himself, a perfect replica of what he was like when he was young and scared, anxious to get away.

He'd found Rouix in the empty barracks, sleeping in an empty hammock, with a potato sack over their curled up body. The child was just younger than Ren was when he ran away. Though nervous, young, and woefully unprepared for taking care of two lives on the sea, Ren took them in.

Rouix was a zombie piglin hybrid, with bright, spiky white hair and an affinity for mechanisms that Ren couldn't possibly hope to understand. Redstone was their safe place, and Ren had the room, so he got them their own place to practice it.

A couple years of that went by, and then another two joined. Another zombie piglin hybrid, fierce and feisty. They went by Dandi, and carried with them their baby sibling, hardly just two years old, still learning how to be a person. 

Ren tried not to cry when he heard the story of how they'd gotten thrown out of their home because of Dandi’s refusal to comply with the abuse they were facing. The scars were proof enough to let a few tears slip.

Ren didn't have as many kids as Bug, but the ones he did have were exceptional. The seas had no match for his young, yet capable crew. He welcomed a few more on board; Heavenly and Guardian were older than the rest, but just as determined to prove themselves.

Each one was dear to him, and had value in his eyes. They were his crew, but they were his family, too.

But through all his pain, hidden suffering, and prideful banter in his life, Ren was not ready to die. Time went even slower, his breathing seemed to be slowing down to a stop. His mind went to the final piece in his puzzle of a life. The Domain. The place he'd been adopted into. Despite the untrustworthiness of a skeleton hybrid such as himself, Era had welcomed Ren in without seeming to care too much about his past. 

Maybe it was just Dan remembering that young skeleton hybrid he’d adopted into his crew. He'd met everyone who made being a pirate worth it in the Domain. Sure, money was fine, but Ren was never in need of that when he had his family.

Sil was the first to spot him, darting over with her curls bouncing. She'd asked him question after question, but it was never intimidating or overwhelming. She invited him to tea, and he accepted, more curious than anything. They became friends over tea, and remained that way.

Bug was a bit more difficult to make friends with. Ren saw his large crew– also consisting mostly of children– and decided that they had to be friends. Bug, once given the chance, proved himself to be brave, compassionate, and quite sarcastic in humor. Ren was absolutely delighted to get that side out of him. After each trip, they'd sit together as the sun was setting and enjoy some apple juice while they chatted.

Ren would play with the kids on the Domain, chasing them around and telling them stories, singing them songs. Being an uncle- as Chaos, Night, and the rest of the Domainlings called him. That definitely didn’t make his heart break.

Ren really was the luckiest person in the universe, wasn’t he? How had it taken him so awfully long to realize it? 

A stinging sadness hit him, as he realized the end was undeniable now. He'd never get to sit in the evenings and tease Bug over a cup of apple juice. Sil would never be able to invite him over for tea again, where they’d chat about the useless things and laugh over each other’s company. He'd never get to make fun of any of the kids anymore. 

He'd never see any of the kids again. 

He'd never see his kids again. 

But, Ren had to think, I'll be there. In the stars, in the sky, I'll be there. Even if no one else is there, I will be. 

In the end, the stars were where he believed life returned to once it had ended its time. They were omnipresent, listening, smiling, laughing alongside each person who was alive. 

Ren was alive, if only for a blink in the moments he'd been able to create a crew, family, home, and memory to look back on when he’d be gone.

Ren was alive in the music he made, the stories he told, the maps he'd drawn, and the paths he'd paved, all by himself.

Ren was alive with every breath he took, every word he'd said, every flower he'd smelled, and every sky he'd gazed up at.

Ren was alive, if only for a moment.

But life wasn't meant to last. Not for him. Though he'd lived a good life, protecting those who needed it most, Ren couldn't stay forever. There wasn't a future down that path, and he'd known it for years.

It hurt, but the truth remained. Just as the stars stayed, truth did also. Ren's time had come, and finally, he was ready to accept it.

Ren smiled one last time, as he looked up to the cloudy skies and the rain falling down. The stars that were hidden, but ever present. The universe that loved him deeply, a world that cared for a little skeleton hybrid with no one else to go to.

Ren spoke up to the stars, the universe, whatever in the world could be listening to him, the words feeling more alive than anything he'd ever said before in his life.

“Domum venio.”

Chapter Text

The forest inland was thick with the scent of moss and damp bark, the ground soft beneath the hundreds of booted feet that had trudged through it over the last two days. Tents dotted the clearing now—ragged sails repurposed as shelter, barrels cracked open for food storage, ropes tied between trees to dry what few clothes they could salvage. Smoke curled from a dozen campfires. The hum of quiet conversation floated through the trees, worn voices growing a little steadier with each hour of safety.

The evacuation had been brutal. Fast. Frantic. The sea had nearly eaten them whole, and the Domain was gone—or at least, what it had once been. Now, they were rebuilding from the ground up, tucked in a clearing on higher ground, surrounded by watchposts and the ever-present fear of another storm.

Henry stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the layout. He had dirt smeared across his face, and a shallow cut on his forehead that no one dared bring up anymore. His coat was soaked and stiff, but he hadn’t taken it off. He wouldn’t. Not while there was still work to be done.

Next to him, Ty was barking orders at a group trying to raise a food shelter, gesturing wildly with a wooden beam under one arm. His voice was sharp, clipped—more so than usual—but it came from worry, not anger.

Amid the controlled chaos, three younger figures moved through the crowds, quick on their feet as they worked.

Rouix was stacking crates like they’d been born for it, sleeves rolled up, jaw set. Their  dark eyes flicked between tasks like they were keeping score. Nearby, Dandi had taken over the sorting of salvaged supplies, using a piece of burnt stick to mark each barrel with surprisingly neat handwriting. And Frankie—sweet, clever Frankie—was sitting with a group of younger kids, showing them how to make makeshift slingshots from rubber scraps, bent nails, and sticks, keeping their minds off the terror they’d all lived through.

They were everywhere. Helping. Calming. Building.

Doing everything they could to keep things together.

He found them all together that evening, huddled near the largest fire pit as the sun dipped low behind the trees. They were covered in dirt, ash and bruises, but they looked up when he approached, alert and steady.

Henry crouched down beside them, a small smile flashing across his face.

“You three,” he said, voice rough but warm. “Have been holding this place together better than half the grown captains I’ve known.”

Frankie blinked. “We just—wanted to help.”

Henry nodded, resting a hand on his knee as he looked between them. The firelight danced in his tired eyes.

“I know,” he said. “And you are. You’re doing more than help. You’re making sure people aren’t falling apart.” He looked at Rouix, who had yet to sit down, still pacing like they hadn’t quite allowed themself to stop. “You kept the supply trains moving all day. You moved more than half the crew, and without being asked.”

Rouix ducked their head, just a little. “Can’t sit around and wait. If we stop moving, we start thinking.”

Henry looked at them a moment longer and gave a soft hum of agreement. Then he turned to Dandi.

“You organized an entire inventory of wet food, dry food, damaged goods, and salvageable medicine using a burnt stick. I saw that list. It’s better than anything the quartermasters ever handed me.”

Dandi shifted, clearly trying not to smile. “Some of it’s guesswork.”

“Still better,” Henry said.

Then his gaze settled on Frankie. “And you—”

Frankie looked up, blinking behind smudged glasses, a bit of soot on their cheek.

“You kept a dozen scared kids from crying themselves sick. Taught them to build. To aim. To focus. That kind of calm... that’s not easy to find in the middle of a storm.”

Frankie rubbed the back of their neck. “I just didn’t want them to feel alone.”

Henry stood slowly, his joints popping from kneeling so long. He looked over the three of them again—these children who had grown ten years older in two days. He swallowed hard.

“Your dad,” he said quietly, “is going to be so proud of you when he gets back.”

They didn’t say anything at first. Dandi’s lip trembled. Rouix turned away just slightly, blinking too fast. Frankie dropped their head into their knees for a second, just breathing.

Henry looked away too, toward the canopy above, where the smoke from their fires curled toward a sky still heavy with distant clouds.

“He’s still out there,” Henry said, more to the fire than to them. “Ren’s not the type to go quietly. He’ll find his way back.”

Ty approached then, wiping his hands on a filthy rag, glancing toward the fire and the kids. He didn’t speak—just looked at Henry, and the three quiet figures by the flames. Then he handed Henry a flask and sat on the nearest log without a word.

The prison smelled of brine and rust, of old magic and older blood.

They moved silently through the stone halls—Era in the lead, barefoot and regal even in chains, Dan close behind her with a stolen sabre gripped tight in his bloodied hands, and Midnight—burned, limping, but still moving—dragging one ruined wing behind her.

The escape had not been clean. It never was.

The guards lay silent in the hall. Some were unconscious. Some not.

They had fought through iron gates and enchantments etched in salt and ash. Dan had picked wards that should’ve been unbreakable. Midnight had stolen the keys with fingers trembling from pain. Era had sung—not to enchant, not this time—but to shatter. Her voice cracked the chains binding the inner gate, fractured the very foundation of the magic that had held them captive.

Freedom was so close they could taste it.

The sea was visible beyond the last archway—dark, angry, and wild—but still hers. Era smiled faintly. Just a few more steps.

Then—

A hiss. A whistle. A thud.

“Era!”

She staggered mid-step. Collapsed to her knees.

“No—” Dan was at her side in an instant. “No no no—”

“Go,” she whispered. “Please.”

Midnight tried to grab him. “We have to go!”

But Dan didn’t move. Not without her. Not without his wife.

He looked back, saw the figures gathering in the darkness—Royal Navy officers in iron-forged armor, magic crackling across their palms, faces grim. One of them raised a hand.

Dan turned to Midnight.

“Get back to the Domain. Tell them what happened. Don’t look back.”

“But—Dan—don’t you dare—”

“GO!” He bellowed, magic crackling around him.

And she ran.

Days later, Midnight stumbled alone through the thick tangle of the Domain’s cove, her bare skin slick with sweat and salt. Her wings, once proud and expansive, were now a raw, featherless wasteland. Pain lanced through her chest with every breath, but she pressed on, driven by Dan’s whispered promise: “Find them. Find the others.”

The cove lay in ruin.

Boats splintered on jagged rocks, supplies strewn like broken dreams, but no sign of Bug, Henry, Ren, or the others.

Midnight’s breath caught in her throat. The place that was home was silent—empty, shattered.

Her footsteps faltered. She sank to her knees, hands brushing the wet sand, salty drops falling on her face.

In a ritual thick with ancient curses, whispered in dead languages, the Navy bound Era’s power with dark magic. They twisted the siren’s song into silence, a curse to imprison her in eternal stillness.

As the last syllable fell, Era’s body went limp. Her chest rose and fell slowly, then stilled.

Her eyes closed.

The storm outside—the furious, raging tempest that had threatened to swallow the Domain whole—ceased.

A hush fell over the world, as the sea itself mourned.

At the Domain, Henry stood on the cliff’s edge, staring out at a sea now calm and glassy, a sky washed clean of thunderclouds.

He didn’t trust it.

Not after weeks of storms, screams, and ruin. Not after the ocean had taken so much—too much—and now dared to offer silence like a peace offering. His hands clenched around the railing of the makeshift lookout, knuckles pale under the salt-stained leather of his gloves. The wind had lost its bite, but it carried no comfort. Just… emptiness.

Behind him, Ty approached quietly, for once not filling the air with sharp words or orders. He stopped a few paces back, eyes locked on the same quiet horizon.

“She’s gone,” Henry said finally, his voice rough.

Ty didn’t ask who. He knew.

“She isn’t dead,” He tried. But the words fell flat. Forced.

“You felt it too,” Henry said. “There is only one thing that could have caused that.”

Neither spoke for a long moment. They just stood there, listening to the waves kiss the broken shoreline.

Then, a shape.

Moving—barely—a figure stumbling from the treeline down by the edge of the camp, soaked to the bone, burnt and bloodied, wings scorched black and trembling behind her like broken sails.

“Midnight!”

Henry bolted first, Ty right behind him. The descent from the cliff was steep, but they didn’t care. By the time they reached her, Midnight had dropped to her knees, barely conscious, her breath rattling in her throat. Her face was pale, bruised, her hands scraped raw from crawling. Her wings were unrecognizable—no feathers, just ruin.

“Hey—hey, stay with us,” Henry said urgently, dropping to the ground beside her, gently cradling her head. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Ty’s eyes were wide, panic flashing just beneath the surface. “We need a medic. Now.”

Midnight tried to speak, her lips cracked and shaking. “Dan… Era…”

“What happened?” Henry asked, trying to keep her eyes on him. “Where are they?”

But Midnight’s body was already going limp.

“I—I couldn’t bring them back,” she whispered. “They- they’re gone.”

Her voice broke. She slumped forward, collapsing against Henry’s chest.

Ty caught her other arm, lowering her gently to the ground.

“She passed out,” he muttered, brushing a soaked strand of hair from her face.

Henry didn’t speak. He just stared at her ruined wings, his jaw set hard enough to crack.

The sea might’ve gone still.

But war was coming to whoever dared hurt his friends.