Before the sun rose, the Court of Piracy emerged from their ships. They gathered with their goddess on a part of the beach that was only revealed at the morning low tide. Rusalye was waiting in the shallows for them.
"Thank you, for all sailing here," Luda said, twirling her trident with all the grace of a dancer. "Your predecessors bound my power—but you will set me free."
"How can we begin to do that, Lady of the Water?" Nikolai was not joking or mischievous now. Alina knew that the gravity of this was not lost on him.
"I have my trident, and my companion is returned to me." Luda gestured to Rusalye. "And you have the blades that bound me."
Alina glanced over her shoulder—she could see a ghostly ship sailing on the horizon. No, not sailing, she realized, as the crescent of the wave failed to touch the bow. It was flying.
"They're coming," Alina said. "We'll have to work quickly."
"Our forces are already forming a wall of defenses." Zoya's blue eyes were grim, braced for sorrow. "They understand what is at stake here."
Our very souls, Alina thought. For all eternity.
It was so different from the fight for one's soul she had learned from the icons of saints. That had been a matter of temptation, of constraining herself to their many rules about what constituted a life well-lived.
No, if she had to fight for her soul, she preferred it this way, she decided. She would rather do battle with Death himself.
"It is a simple ritual," Luda continued, oblivious to the ticking clock of her reaper lover and the threat of the Flying Dutchman. "Point your swords at me. I will use the trident to cast the spell, and Rusalye will forge it with his breath."
Alina glanced at the ice dragon, then nodded. "I'm ready."
"I'm ready," the others echoed, drawing their swords. The glowing ends all pointed at their goddess, turning the pale turquoise of the moon shining through the clouds in the middle of the sea.
Luda smiled and clasped the end of the Trident of Poseidon in her hands. Blue glowing water sprang from the tips, writhing around her and creating beautiful, arcane spirals. The blades' color shifted to match the water, and they glowed more brightly.
Alina could hear the song of sirens in the distance—-it was Genya, she realized, her sisters in the sea, and the crew of Ulla's ship, who were all merfolk who had chosen to take to the land. A tide rose up like a wall, greater than any fort in the islands of the New World, blocking out the sky except for the rising sun.
Ulla herself was singing, shadows rippling around her.
Luda smiled—the water now hung in the air, waiting.
Rusalye did not delay, even as the pirates began to sing along, unifying them in their inevitable battle. Fire made of ice hit the water, and the blades shined so brightly, Alina had to avert her eyes. She could feel her hair lifting, her sense of gravity shifting to match the feeling of being under the water.
Magic coursed through her blood, the natural response to the divinity taking place in front of her.
Then, like that, Luda fell to the ground, unresponsive. Their blades dimmed.
"What happened?" Wylan, one of the Pirate Lords, looked around as if one of them would have an answer.
"I don't know," answered another, Nina. She knelt down and felt for a pulse—only to recoil. She'd been burned, Alina could see that.
"Nina!" Matthias rushed to her side.
"I'm fine." Nina stood up. "She's definitely regained her divinity."
"Then what's happening?" Kaz demanded.
"She used a lot of power," Ulla said. "We have witnessed perhaps the deepest, most primal magic that will ever exist, the greatest feat. Goddess or no, that would take time to recover from."
"Time that we don't have," Kaz pointed out—the bow of the Dutchman had broken through the wave of water the sirens had formed.
"We need to protect her, then, until the magic is finished," Alina decided. She raised her sword. "This is it—the fight for our lives and our souls!"
She looked at the Court of Piracy, feeling emboldened by their attention as she thrust her sword into the sky.
"We're pirates! We are the ones chosen by the gods of the New World, and we fight for what we want!" Her eyes blazed. "It's time to rise up—are you in, Brekker!"
His dark eyes gleamed like a wicked blade. But he nodded all the same. "I'm here, aren't I, Starkov?"
"And what about the rest of you sea dogs? Are you ready for the fight of your lives?"
Cheers went up.
"Then let's show the Darkling our true power!"
With that, they went charging towards the forces jumping from the Dutchman as an anchor dropped into the damp sand.
From the ship spilled skeletal pirates, covered in barnacles and the extant decay of the sea. Blades clashed around them as more of the dead that the Dutchman had claimed came out to fight.
"Come on," Nikolai urged, grabbing the anchor. "We're taking the fight directly to the bastard—you in?"
"Always." Alina nodded and joined him in the climb up to the top.
They'd fought the mysterious captain of the Flying Dutchman, the ferryman of the seabound dead, and escaped once before.
Alina was hoping they would get lucky again.
To her surprise, when her boots hit the deck, the Darkling stood alone, smirking at the Pirate King and Luda's Chosen.
"Itching for a fight, are we?" He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Did you forget so soon, Pirate King, how that went?"
"Did you?" Nikolai taunted, spinning his sword. "We lived another day."
"And you won't live another." Shadow gathered in the Darkling's hand and formed a massive sword. "I've never had such a challenge in decades—the last ones who were so bold were Captain Daiyu and Dimitri Starkov."
Anger boiled in Alina's blood, but a warning look from Nikolai kept her from flying at the Darkling.
He was trying to bait her, to get her to make a stupid decision, one that would allow for him to claim her soul.
She tightened her grip on her sword, then nodded.
At once, she and Nikolai advanced, forcing the Darkling to split his large sword into two rapier-like ones of shadow. He blocked Nikolai's attack, then Alina's, and the blades were at an impasse.
Alina dug her heels into the rotting wood of the Dutchman. The light of the moon was threatening to spill out of her veins, but she knew she had to save her magic.
So instead, she kicked him in the kneecaps.
The Darkling stumbled back, losing his grip on his second shadow-blade. It vanished as it hit the deck, returning to the matter it was made from.
Alina stalked toward him, like fury incarnate as her hair blew in the wind. The sun rose further behind her, creating a halo around her.
She slashed at him with her sword—he was quick to block her, then Nikolai, and sparks began to fly.
"Such talent from a bastard," the Darkling muttered as he parried another of Nikolai's attacks. "You spent years, learning to fight better than your brother did—and yet, the tsar cares not for his wife's mistake. Even she resents you."
"You aren't saying anything I don't already know," Nikolai sneered.
Still, Alina noticed the opening he left, just as the Darkling sliced into his side. Nikolai fell back, onto his knees. The wound was shadow, and it was creeping up his flesh.
"You'll pay for that," Alina snarled.
"Fond of a bastard prince, are you?" The Darkling chuckled as he and Alina circled each other. "It makes sense—the abandoned daughter and the abandoned son would find their way to each other."
"I wasn't abandoned." Alina pointed her sword at him—the tip was inches from his exposed white throat. "You took them from me!"
"And they took my love from me," the Darkling snarled back. "And now you are taking what is mine from me."
"And what have I taken from you?" Alina threw her arms out in exasperation.
"My dead." With that, the Darkling lunged, throwing everything into the swipe.
Alina fell to the ground, her chest ablaze, and yet so cold.
"Alina!" Nikolai crawled to her.
She grabbed onto his coat and craned her neck to see her wound. Across her chest, a long black wound trailed from almost her neck to her thigh, ripping through her blouse and coat. Shadows oozed out with the blood, corrupting her skin.
"I've won," the Darkling sneered, standing over the Pirate King and Pirate Lord. "You should have known that it would always end this way. I am eternal."
"It's not over yet."
Alina moved her hand from Nikolai's coat to his neck, and placed her other hand over her wound, and focused on summoning the magic Luda gave her.
It rippled, purifying and healing the wounds dealt by the shadows.
"All you'll do is prolong this fight." The Darkling twirled his blade, preparing to strike. "Fine. I have eternity on my side."
Before he could attack, or Alina or Nikolai could try to defend themselves, there was a quiet that fell over the battlefield, then the rushing of the waves.
Water came crashing over the stern of the Flying Dutchman and Nikolai moved to shield Alina with his body as the water rushed over their heads.
For too long, there was only the water.
Then Alina could breathe again. She and Nikolai looked up.
Like in her dreams, water formed a wall, a slow-moving cyclone around the fight at World's End. Except for that the fighting had stopped.
The beach was now covered in shallow water, the tide had rolled in as Luda rode on Rusalye up to the Dutchman. Every eye was fixed on the goddess, ethereal in her every movement.
The Darkling dropped his other shadow sword, and ran to the side of the Dutchman to greet Luda with open arms.
Alina and Nikolai only had the strength to sit up, to watch rapturously. She wondered if the goddess would be angry at the Darkling, for hurting her Court so.
Alina did not have to wait long for her answer. She glanced up at the sky—the sun and the moon hung in the early morning air, close enough to eclipse, but not quite.
When she returned her gaze to the side of the Dutchman, Rusalye had come.
Luda stepped onto the railing, arms aloft, her expression neutral and otherwise indecipherable. She could either curse or caress, attack or embrace.
The whole world, or so it seemed, held their breath.
Then Luda smiled, and jumped into the Darklng's arms. Shadow and water swirled around the lovers as they embraced, touching their foreheads to each others', feeling their touch for the first time in decades, nearly a century.
They had once thought they would have eternity, uninterrupted. They'd taken it for granted, until Luda had been reduced to mortal, betrayed by those she had chosen.
They would not waste any more time.
This was the oldest magic there was, more powerful than any god, than death, than the sea.
It was love that had saved the day.
The lovers parted.
"You're back," the Darkling whispered reverently. "I could only dream that you would."
"I promised I would always find my way back to you." Luda caressed his face. "And the mortals helped me. They paid back the sins of their fathers and mothers in more than kind."
The Darkling nodded, shame coloring his face. "I have lost myself, and I have been derelict in my duty."
He glanced around. With a snap of his fingers, the Flying Dutchman was no longer rotting, the fighters on the beach were no longer decaying skeletons. They were flesh and bones again, but translucent and glowing like ghosts.
"I suggest as a reward that you lift the curse on my Pirate King," Luda added. "They were the ones who organized the effort to restore me."
The Darkling turned, looking Alina and Nikolai up and down as they stood up.
"I see now that you were trying to help, and that you have saved my love," he said. "I hope that breaking your curse will be ample reward for you."
"It is what is owed," Nikolai said, narrowing his eyes. "By your own rules."
"Yes, I suppose it is." The Darkling let out a tired sigh. Nothing visibly happened, but Alina could feel the shift.
"And for my Chosen—I think some treasure, or—"
"No, wait—I know what you can do for me." Alina met the Darkling's eyes. "I would like to see my parents, one last time before you take them to the Land of the Dead, where they belong."
The Darkling regarded her for a long while. Then he nodded. "That can be arranged."
Before Alina stood the two ghosts—her mother and her father, who had not aged a day past their deaths.
"Mother—Father!" Alina ran to them.
"Alina!" The ghosts embraced her, giving her the warmth Alina sorely missed as a child growing up in Port Keramzin.
She could feel their love, their pride, their approval washing over her like a gentle wave on the beach.
"Let me look at you, one last time, Alina, let us see what young woman you have become."
They parted, and her mother and father looked her up and down.
"A Pirate Lord." Her father's eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. "Just like your mother. Your adventures will be forever remembered by all who sail the high seas."
"We love you so much." Captain Daiyu brushed her hand over Alina's shoulder. She then looked to Nikolai. "You are my successor, as the Pirate King and the Captain of my ship. You take care of her, you understand?"
"She can take care of herself," Nikolai answered. He then looked to Alina with a fondness that made her cheeks turn pink. "But I take care of all my crew."
"I see." Captain Daiyu smirked, then took Dimitri Starkov's hand. "I'm glad to see who you've become. Thank you, for setting us free."
"Of course." Alina felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes. "Rest now."
"We will," Dimitri promised.
Then the ghosts disembarked the ship, walking off the World's End, the to the Land of the Dead.
Nikolai and Alina looked to each other and she accepted his hand.
They had won.