Chapter 15: Where Ends Meet

Two hours after the crew of the Seafarer had weighed anchor, they were already far into the heart of the Guardian's Sea. Shyvana looked out of the small airhole in the larder (as Markus had called it when he led them to the chamber) and saw nothing but blue. Blue of the sea and the sky, where different shades of azure, turquoise and cyan merged.

Larder, Shyvana snorted. Markus had arranged their lodgings in a rather damp and dark chamber, spacious yet packed with sealed crates. There were no telltale signs of meat or salt, nor any men of the crew entering the chamber to check on the stock. The sealed crates were nailed shut, that only a crowbar could pry them open.

Nonetheless, the remaining space of the chamber was large enough to accommodate five of them, and Jarvan sat with his back propped against a wall in the corner of the chamber. He was in deep sleep, having exhausted and wounded by the encounter in the alley. The men did not ask him or her what happened to him, and Jarvan did not tell them either.

August and Lance sat close to the prince. While Alfie stayed close to the entrance of the larder, his bow and remaining arrows hidden in the shadows of the dark room. Shyvana sat far away from them all, isolating herself. But once in a while, she caught herself looking at the prince, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the dark red stain of his wounded belly that she had no idea if it were properly tended to.

The sea. She was not use to being so far away from land, standing upon a ground that swayed and turned ever so slightly to the rhythm of the sea. It was as though the waves itself were the breaths of the ocean, and the whistles and wails of the winds through the airholes were the sea's voice – lamenting, demanding and imploring the sea dwellers. The moment the ship set sail, she felt nauseous, and it took her a while to get used to it.

"My lady?" she turned her head abruptly, her thoughts interrupted by the voice of a young boy. Alfie's eyes shone in the dark, and his mop of blond hair grew shaggier than before. "Are you hungry?"

Truth be told, she had not eaten at all that day.

Alfie took out a small bundle, unfolding it to reveal strips of salted meat and bread. He offered some to Shyvana, and she couldn't help but reach out for a strip of meat and broke away a quarter of the bread.

She looked at Alfie oddly, whose head hung low as he dared not look her in the eye. Timidly, he broke off part of the bread and pinched a bit of meat, taking small bites. His long blond hair hung low enough to cover his eyes, making him look haggard and dishevelled like a lost child.

She couldn't help but ask. "Are you so afraid of me?"

It was no louder than a whisper, but Alfie heard it nonetheless, and he looked up in shock. It was there, the fear in his eyes. And Shyvana stared at him, her lips neither smiling nor frowning.

"I-It would be wrong n-n-not to, my lady," he stammered.

Her eye twitched in annoyance. "Shyvana," she corrected. "Your other friend hates me so much I'm sure he would kill me in my sleep, the other one tries to avoid me as well. You intrigue me, boy, what is it that you're so afraid of?"

Alfie swallowed hard, and Shyvana felt amused. "Y-you are strong. Fierce," she noticed his hands were beginning to shake. "The p-prince. He admires you. I'm nothing but a simple soldier. Unlike you,"

She said nothing and ate the last bite of her food. The boy held his breath and dared not look away, as though he was afraid that she might smite him there and then.

"The prince," she began. "What is it like, serving him?"

Alfie seemed surprised by her question, and thought carefully before answering. "Like what I've always dreamed of," his timidity was replaced by reverence and admiration upon speaking of the prince. "He's both a leader and a friend, he cares about us, and fights like one of those legendary Valor Knights. Prince Jarvan is well-loved by many, and all Demacian soldiers are willing to die for him,"

"And the conflict two years ago?" she asked.

Where she expected anger and repulsion from a loyal soldier like him, Alfie only gave her a sad and remorseful look. "Prince Jarvan didn't take it well. But it wasn't his fault. The ambush… Swain was called the Master Tactician for a reason,"

Not his fault? Shyvana thought. His pride had blinded him and led him straight into a trap, and his men paid the price for it. But she kept quiet and said nothing about it. At that moment she realized that Jarvan was a lucky man, surrounded by such loyal soldiers that were ready to die at his command.

She decided to change the subject again, this time to the young lad himself. "Your skills with the bow is… remarkable,"

He dipped his head shyly. "You flatter me, my la-" he recoiled at her glare, and quickly corrected. "Shyvana. My father was a marksman in the military, and before he died he gifted me his bow. That was during my second year of service in the military,"

"How old were you then?"

"Thirteen," Alfie whispered softly, and the surprised look on Shyvana's face did not go unnoticed. "I had some complications… And I have to join the military. The government offers extra allowance to those who are willing to join the Demacian service at a young age,"

She remembered the night near the river, when they had all nearly walked to their deaths. She remembered everything the men had said, the things they saw in their dreams.

"Is it because of your sister?" her curiosity got the better of her, and she blurted it out before thinking twice.

Alfie's face turned melancholic. He did not even bother feeling astonished about how the half-dragon knows about his family plight, and Shyvana felt a pang of guilt. She almost wished she could take back her words.

Shyvana looked away. "You don't have to tell me about –"

"She… she was struck by an illness. A rather rare one," he sighed. "The local healers in my town said there were no cure for her. My mother wept, and I refuse to believe it. We are poor, and it was difficult looking for other apothecaries out there. So I joined the military. My sweet little sister… It's hard watching her so sickly and pale. She has been bedridden for more than a year,"

The half-dragon said nothing. She felt pity for the young lad, forced to shoulder such a heavy burden at such a young age. She did not say a thing, looking at him with a mask of hard expression, letting him continue.

"It has been three years. I sent money back home, to my mother. I told her about the healers from Piltover, or Ionia. Then two years ago Prince Jarvan picked me to go with him on his journey. It's an honour I could not refuse,"

"What about your sister then?"

"My sister… I've left my mother plenty of money to take my sister to other nations, where the climates might suit her. That was my last letter to my mother and my sister," Alfie then brightened up with a wide smile. "Who knows? She could be healed already, waiting for my return. It has been two years after all,"

The boy remained optimistic despite being around such crude men for so long. And usually the deaths of his comrades could have shaken him. But Alfie impressed her with his inner strength, a display of strong mentality.

They remained silent for a long while, the larder quiet except for the soothing sounds of the waves and Jarvan's snores. Then came three knocks upon the door where Alfie sat near, the sound so soft it was almost unnoticeable.

Alfie's hand gripped his bow tightly, while Shyvana quickly put up her hood. Lance and August remained passive, missing the knocks. The young lad looked at Shyvana questioningly, wondering what he should do.

She knew that Markus would not be so polite to knock before entering the chamber. He would just barge in as though he was the king, regardless of who was inside. The half-dragon signalled him to wait.

Silence met them. After a long while, an irritated groan.

"See, I told you there's no one here," a boy said, his voice echoing through the wooden door. His voice suggested that he was at the cusp of puberty, and a slight hint of Bilgewatian accent gave him away. But this boy spoke with some sort of intelligence, like a scholar.

"Father took 'em here!" a squeaky voice said. "I saw 'em from afar! Walkin' up the plank, hoods o'er their heads! And had 'em hidden here! Father's hidin' somethin'!"

"Reena," the boy chided. "Father probably brought in new sailors. Or you're seeing stuff. Or both. Are you done yet? I have stock records to keep up to, before father yells at us peeping into his precious ship,"

Shyvana walked forward and opened the door, not before pulling her hood lower.

Alfie looked at her in surprise, but Shyvana ignored him. She would not be kept down here like a prisoner, after all they paid that oaf for their passage.

Before her was a young boy no older than fourteen, with handsome brown eyes and a mop of black hair, and a small girl with large innocent eyes, her tiny hand holding onto the boy's hand. They both looked up at her in shock, before being taken over by fright. Luckily, the chamber within the ship was dark enough to keep her face from plain sight, but just the sight of her underneath a hood was enough to scare children to run for their covers.

What impressed her was the calmness and bravery the boy tried to feign, even though she could see his trembling hands. He quickly pulled the little girl behind him, shielding her from the stranger before him.

"Wh-who are you?" the boy spoke, with the maturity of a man of twenty years, yet could not hide the tremor in his voice.

"Passengers," Shyvana shrugged, not bothering to explain any further to the children. She had no doubt that these two were Markus' children, and they didn't need to know what their father had brought upon the ship.

"What purpose do you have here?" the boy asked. This time he was bolder, and Shyvana's eyebrows knitted in a frown.

The young girl peeped from the boy's waist, staring at her intently. Where there was fear in her large eyes was now replaced by curiosity and fascination, as though she seemed less dangerous when she could talk just like them.

"I am Reena," she squeaked, surprising the boy. "And this is my brother, Rodrik,"

"Reena!" the boy reprimanded. "Didn't I tell you not to talk to strangers?!"

The girl huffed in irritation. "You just talked to her!"

Before the two siblings could quarrel anymore, Shyvana sighed. "Why are you both here? Had your father never told you of monsters dwelling in the belly of a ship?"

Reena squealed, while Rodrik stared at her nonchalantly. Their fear seemed to have dissipated, no longer afraid of her. "Reena wouldn't stop bugging me to bring her down here. She claims that she saw a group of hooded people. And I supposed she's right,"

"Yes, she is," Shyvana snapped, her patience wearing thin. "And what are you going to do about it? We paid your heartless father a rather large sum, and all he offered was a packed room with neither rations nor chamber pots,"

She could hear Alfie wincing behind the door, and she paid it no heed.

"Father was never keen with outsiders," Rodrik said, ignoring her spiteful remark of his father. "He even makes sure his children work on his ship. I keep the sums and accounts of his load and goods, while little Reena here helps the cook. Ain't that right, Reena?" he ruffled his sister's hair with adoration.

Reena only giggled.

Shyvana said nothing. Her lips were pulled taut, and she thought carefully. Perhaps these children could give her answers to ease her doubts.

"Your father owes us," Shyvana said.

Fear flickered in his brown eyes. "Yes," he answered timidly.

"I won't ask for much. I don't need gold or anything else. But I want answers,"

Rodrik nodded carefully.

"How long does it take Markus to notice his two children missing?"

"He's a busy man," Rodrik swallowed hard. "He hardly notices us, unless it's dinner – "

"Good," Shyvana stood back and opened the door wide, gesturing to the two children. "Come inside, we need to talk,"

"Forgive me," the now awakened prince said to the children, his voice gentle and caring. "My friend must have scared you senseless," he chuckled while Shyvana scoffed, as he drew his fingers through his black hair.

August now stayed near the door, while Lance and Alfie took their rest. Jarvan, Shyvana and the two children huddled in the corner of the chamber, a meagre flame flickering from an almost burnt out candle.

"It doesn't matter," Rodrik answered. "M'lady mentioned she had some questions,"

Shyvana's eye twitched as he addressed her as a 'lady', but she made no comment of it. "Do you know where we're heading?" she asked. Markus could have promised them that they were heading to Northern Noxus, but as a freight ship he might dock somewhere, and lie to them that they had reached their destination just to ditch them.

"To Barouk's Bay," Rodrik answered calmly. "At Northern Noxus. Noxus doesn't have many harbours, only one main port each in the north and the south,"

"Does everyone on the ship know about us?" she asked again. It was important that Markus had kept the news of new passengers aboard his ship as discreet as possible. Sailors were known for their loose tongue, and it would not do good to the prince if Noxus knew about a ragtag band of mysterious hooded figure that appeared out of nowhere.

Rodrik's eyes were downcast as he thought deeply. "Father is a quiet man. He's never a talker. The only words he ever spoke of was money or yelling at the crew. We hadn't heard of any rumours around the ship about a bunch of hooded people, I suppose father kept it quiet,"

"But one of you saw us," Shyvana stated. She remembered the man at the hull of the Seafarer before they boarded, the thin man shouting at the Captain about their arrival.

"That was Reena," Rodrik answered.

"Not the girl," she said flatly. "A thin man,"

"Gunther?" Rodrik asked. "If you had noticed, he does not have a tongue,"

"What?" Jarvan and Shyvana exclaimed.

"He does not have a tongue," Rodrik repeated. "Everything he speaks is gibberish. You need not worry about him,"

He left them to ponder for a moment, and when they remained silent, Rodrik asked again, in that calm voice of his. "Any more questions, m'lord, m'lady?"

"Does your father ever treat his crew cruelly?" Jarvan asked. Shyvana looked at him quizzically, wondering what had the question got to do with their quest, but asked no questions.

"No," Rodrik answered too quickly, and the half-dragon quirked an eyebrow. "He's just… wary. Our mother left when we were old enough to walk. Took all his fortune, not a piece of silver left," Rodrik's hand stroked Reena's hair absent-mindedly, while she fiddled with the lace of her dress. "He's bitter ever since. Trusts no one. Not even us. You see why he guards his earnings from us. And when I was old enough, he told me I have to live for myself. He knows I read a lot. He makes me study sums, just so I could manage his accounts and stocks. No one else but me,"

"Rodrik reads all those stories," Reena added. "He knows 'em word by word. Others on the ship can't even write their own name. Rodrik knows everything, even the stories from Ioda –"

"Ionia," Rodrik corrected.

"- the Darkins, even the Bearded Lady. He tells me that story all the time!"

Both the prince and the half-dragon looked up at the siblings. "The Bearded Lady?"

Rodrik's lips curled into a clever smirk. "What about it?"

"Your father mentioned a taboo, related to this… Bearded Lady,"

"She's a patron deity of Bilgewater," Rodrik explained. "Every captains of every great ships worship her. 'Make a tithe to her, or die in Mother Serpent's jaws'. That's the common saying, and the taboo?"

"He said women bring ill luck to the ship, and the Bearded Lady will bring disaster upon the ship,"

"Every captain of Bilgewater is a superstitious man. My father isn't so brave. Do you think he'd forego such a taboo? I'm surprised you even managed to board his ship. Never mind him. He is just afraid. After all, the Harrowing is nigh, everyone has a reason to be afraid,"

Both the prince and the half-dragon stared at the boy with a puzzled expression. Rodrik frowned. "Haven't you heard of the Harrowing?"

Shyvana had not heard of such events, yet for Jarvan, the name rang a bell. "Isn't Harrowing a fun festivity to be celebrated, to ward off all evil spirits in the world?"

Surprisingly, Rodrik laughed, sounding older than he looked. "That was what they do in the mainland, m'lord. The Noxians consider the festival too immature for their tastes, while the Demacians treat everything too positively, those proud men," Shyvana noticed Jarvan's eye twitching. "Only the ones on Blue Flame Island know the true nature of the Harrowing, and because of that, we fear it. No ships will sail at the heart of the Guardian's Sea when the Harrowing comes, no Bilgewatians will go into the sea for adventure. And when you see the Black Mist, you sail away as far away as possible,"

"The Black Mist?" Jarvan cocked an eyebrow.

"It's when the dead comes," Rodrik's voice lowered to an eerie whisper. "When a mist of black with flashes of lightning come hurtling across the sea, the dead comes with it. Those who sailed past the Mist, never to return. Those who claimed they saw it from afar, said they heard moans and cries of the unrest. Some even said they saw a spectral horseman, armored and armed with a glaive, leading a horde of death across the sea,"

Shyvana snorted. "Children's stories. Madmen see what they see,"

Rodrik turned to her. "Last year, twelve ships departed from Blue Flame Island, heading to the mainland through the Guardian's Sea, only to never reach their destinations. Many sailors said they saw the Mist, coming with raging tides and storms," his eyes glowed a fiery orange from the candle's flame. "The Mist takes all, and leaves none. And the dead joins its ranks. When the next Harrowing comes, the Mist becomes bigger, claiming even more lives. Until it reaches the end of the sea,"

"If it's so terrible, why haven't the Bilgewatians asked for other nation's help?"

"Do you think the Demacians or the Noxians will believe a sailor's tale? It's what they all say, 'a sailor's mouth is bigger than his cock'. The Bilgewatians think offering a better tithe than usual to the Mother Serpent could grant them a safe voyage, but that was not proven,"

"And your father has seen the Mist?" Shyvana quipped, feeling wary of the boy's tale. After all she had seen at the desert, and the demon at the river, it wouldn't be a surprise if such atrocity existed.

The boy sighed in relief. "Fortunately, no. But it's best to take precautions. Even you and your company, m'lord,"

Jarvan laughed nervously. "Precautions?"

"It's one thing if we run into a heavy storm," Rodrik smiled sadly. "It's another if we run into the Black Mist. I don't know if the tales are true, but if my father sees a wisp of a black mist, he won't hesitate to throw you off the sea to the Bearded Lady,"

At this point, Reena had already fallen asleep in her brother's arms. Outside, the world started to dim, and the setting sun painted the seas orange and red. Shyvana could tell by the dimming rays of light through the tiny airholes.

"There's a boat though," Rodrik's fingers stroked his sister's hair. "To the rightmost out in the corridor. In the quarterdeck. Use it to escape, m'lord. And row as far as you can,"

"Then the Seafarer –"

"Father will sail away. He's always been a little jumpy. It could be just a smoke, or his mind playin' tricks on him. Either way, he's superstitious. But he never hesitates with his decisions. The Black Mist could be untrue, but my father thinks otherwise,"

Shyvana shifted uncomfortably, absently pulling down her hood. "You don't sound like a firm believer of this Harrowing tale,"

Rodrik shook his head, his black hair swaying slightly. "No. Not unless I've actually seen it,"

"Whatever the fuck this is, it doesn't seem appealing," Jarvan complained, lifting his tunic gingerly, revealing the torn wound near his upper left hip. The bleeding had stopped, but the dried blood crusted at the side, and the tear needed to be sealed.

"Relax," Shyvana held the tiny spoon with two fingers, scooping a small glob of greenish substance. "That boy took a lot of effort getting it here. Don't let it go to waste," she brought the spoon close to Jarvan's wound, applying the ointment upon the tear. The wound hissed, and the prince pursed his lips.

Jarvan couldn't help but notice the irony of it; how he had helped her when he first met her. And now she was tending to his wound, stitching and keeping it from getting infected, just like what he had once done for her.

"Funny how a few weeks ago I did this for you," Jarvan remarked. "And now you're returning the favour,"

"Just paying my debts,"

"You saved my hide more than once. Now I'm the one owing you,"

She used her flames to burn away the crusts of blood near the prince's wound, and his skin tinged pink from the heat. The half-dragon did not look away from his side, her armoured hands glowing golden and red under the dim moonlight. A few sparks flew, searing his skin and sealing the gash. Then the spark went out, and she looked into his eyes.

"And how are you going to repay me?" a playful smirk danced across her lips, and it made the prince snort with laughter.

"Now who's the pompous one?"

She punched his shoulder playfully, and the prince guffawed loudly. The other men were sound asleep and did not hear them, as they sat near the other end of the chamber. Shyvana continued applying layers of ointment upon his freshly sealed wound, a deep chuckle rumbling from her chest.

"But really, Shyvana," his eyes and tone turned solemn, yet a ghost of a smile remained. "Thank you. I could have died back there,"

The half-dragon put away the bottle of medicine Rodrik had snuck for them. She looked into the prince's eyes, always so sincere and genuine, and warm. She had no idea how to respond to his heartfelt gratitude. "Well, I'm not doing it for free," she mumbled flatly.

"Which is why the offer stands," he said. "Come back to Demacia with me, with us. You can be part of the Elite Guard. Your service will be a boon to the military,"

The smile died on her lips, and her brows were knitted in a frown. She wanted to accept that offer, she understood the lure of a home and having a purpose, after losing one. But she then she looked at herself. Will the people truly accept her as their own? Will the Demacians, well-known for their pride, see her as an equal?

No, a voice spoke harshly back in her mind, killing her hope. Of course not.

She remained quiet for a long while, and Jarvan could see that she was in a dilemma. "I don't expect your answer right now," he said softly, squeezing her hand. "Maybe after we slew the drake. Take your time,"

His hand on hers sent a jolt down her spine. She quickly retracted to it, not before noticing a look of dismay on the prince's face. Shyvana cleared her throat awkwardly. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" she looked anywhere but him, clenching and unclenching her fist.

"Oh well," Jarvan thought. "Actually my back feels kind of sore, like I just got dragged through broken glass,"

"They probably did," she rolled her eyes, failing to notice an amused glance from Jarvan. She gestured at the prince irritatingly to turn away and lift his tunic, which he did without hesitation.

She wasn't prepared with what she was going to see.

Criss-crossing his back were long thin scars, still gleaming bright red, as though someone just dragged his nails across his back, drawing blood.

She reared back in surprise and disgust. "They tried to feed you to a lion?" she said incredulously. Jarvan tried to hide his mirth, but it failed.

"Oh, you don't remember,"

"Remember what?" she snapped.

"I found this wounds when I woke up in the morning," he paused, letting his words sink in. Then he added. "The previous morning,"

She scrunched her eyebrows in a scowl. "I don't get it. I don't," the prince looked over his shoulder and grinned shamelessly at her. And her eyes widened in surprise when she understood his meaning.

"No fucking way," she shook her head in disbelief. "Don't be an idiot, I couldn't have done that!"

"You're the only one with claws here!" Jarvan threw his head back, guffawing. Shyvana only shot him a furious glare, obviously annoyed with him. "I really enjoyed that night, I do, but it hurt like fucking hell as well,"

"Lucky for you, I can't remember a shit," she got up and left the prince rolling on the floor laughing. "Well I hope you get an infection and die," the fuming half-dragon stomped across the chamber, feeling more frustrated when Jarvan wouldn't stop laughing.

"Come on, you obviously loved it,"

"Go fuck yourself,"

"Shyvana," Jarvan was still laughing, though he sobered a little. "It's alright, I don't remember much either –"

Her ears twitched and she stopped in the middle of the chamber. "Quiet, Jarvan," she held a hand towards the prince, who was cocking an eyebrow at her.

"You're still angry, aren't you –"

"Quiet!" Shyvana hissed, and Jarvan recoiled a little. Her eyes were glowing molten gold, and she looked towards the roof of the chamber, her ears picking up small noises. The silence of the chamber was thick in the air, save for one small noise that no regular human can hear.

And the half-dragon could hear it just right.

The wailing of an infant; long and shrill and cold. It sent chills down her spine, and she could feel the hair of her nape stand.

Jarvan had stayed still and watched the half-dragon intently, knowing something was wrong. Shyvana's eyes met him for a second, and he quickly went to retrieve his lance.

"Something's not right," she whispered. "There's a child on the ship,"

"Reena?" Jarvan asked.

"No, more like an infant,"

"That can't be,"

A moan tore through the quiet air, like the sound of a dying man. Shyvana gasped and raised her gauntlets, prompting Jarvan to raise his weapon as well. She could not tell if it was the fear in her heart, or that the room had suddenly become much colder.

"Did you hear that?" she asked the prince.

He frowned. "Hear what?" but before he could wait for an answer, Shyvana went to the end of the chamber and peeped out of an airhole. Jarvan watched her, and noticed how her shoulders slumped.

"Oh, fuck me,"

"Not here, perhaps somewhere more discreet," he whispered back at her.

"Jarvan," her hands were shaking violently. "Wake the others, we have to leave,"

"What is it?" he walked up beside her and looked into another airhole, his eyes squinting as he adjusted to the darkness outside. The world was black as ink outside the ship, the sea and the sky barely distinguishable. "What's wrong?"

"The moon. It was here earlier. Now it was gone,"

"Maybe it's just the clouds covering it, you're freaking out," Jarvan reassured.

"It's fucking dark outside! I can't even see a thing!" Shyvana retorted.

"That boy's story scared you, that's what happened. It probably isn't true. Ghosts don't exist,"

She nudged Lance awake with her foot, before throwing a nervous glance at the door. "After those things we face in the desert, I doubt that myths are just stories told to children,"

Right after she said it, a quick bright flash brightened up the entire room for a second, before a loud boom rumbled the ship. And that was when she heard it – men shouting up the deck, hammocks rustling and heavy crates being moved, and the slight sway of the ship.

"So what if the Black Mist isn't true? Markus will still feed us to the sharks," Shyvana grunted. "He doesn't care. He'll grow paranoid and throw us off his ship,"

That hit a mark, and instantly Jarvan went and roused his company.

Quickly, the five of them barged out of the larder, heading to the rightmost of the corridor just as Rodrik had told them. The commotion grew louder upstairs, and occasionally they could hear a distant clap of thunder – signalling the coming of a storm. On their way to the quarterdeck, all of them kept quiet, knowing how a mistake they make could possible put a final nail to their coffins.

"There it is," Jarvan walked two paces at a time. "The quarterdeck –"

Shyvana pulled him back instantly, shoving him against the wall before a corner and halting Lance, August and Alfie. She placed a finger on her lips, before taking a quick peep around the corner.

Straining her ears, she heard the quiet whimpers of a child close by. Noticing a lump of silhouette in the dark, she slowly walked out of the corner where they were hiding, creeping towards the crying child.

"Reena?" Shyvana called out softly, not wanting to scare the poor girl.

"M'lady?" she gasped. Her voice sounded broken and scared.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, gesturing at the men that it was safe to come out. Jarvan crept forward until he was beside her. "Where is your brother?"

"Bad things. Th-th-they are comin'," she hiccupped. "Rodrik joined Father. They want us dead. They'll hurt us," the young girl stammered, before bursting into tears again. Shyvana wanted to ask who were 'they', but the girl was in no shape to answer her questions.

Jarvan gripped Shyvana's elbow. "We have to help them,"

Shyvana gritted her teeth. "We can't, whatever's coming, we won't survive it,"

"We can't just leave them here to die!"

"There's only one boat in the quarterdeck, you being kind will get all of us killed!"

A loud blast drowned Jarvan's voice, and before they knew it, a huge explosion threw them to their back. Lance, Alfie and August stood far away from the blast that they just got thrown off balance. Shyvana crashed right into Jarvan, both of them slammed against the wall and it knocked the air out of their lungs.

Shyvana groaned and opened her eyes. Where the wooden floorboards and narrow corridor was before them earlier, was now gone. Flames licked at splinters and chips of wood that had been blasted off, and burning wood fell into the sea below, briefly lighting up the pitch-black night. They could see the sea from here, through a large hole blown right off the Seafarer.

And the young girl, Reena was missing as well.

"Oh fuck," Jarvan shivered. "She… she was just right here, seconds ago,"

"Prince, we have to head the other way," August looked around frantically. They started hearing screams and cries from above, knowing that it was more than just a storm.

"August," Lance stared out of the sea, his face pale as death. "Prince Jarvan. Look out there,"

Somewhere out there, a loud horn blared. And that was when they noticed a massive shadow thrown over the Seafarer. The fires brightened up their vision, and they saw an enormous body moving, passing by them. Painted in bright gold letters on the large wooden body were three words – 'The Dead Pool'

It was a ship. A ship thrice the size of the Seafarer. A ship with three masts that stood tall as concrete towers, with cannons lining the side of the behemoth. Another blast went off, similar to that of a formidable thunderclap. A black, tattered flag soared right above the middle mast, which was the largest of the three.

It wasn't just a ship. It was a galley.

They all stared as the galley sailed past, until they meet the mouth of a cannon.

It was aimed at them.

It's been a while. And I'm sorry for the late update.

And just to notify you guys this will be my last update for a while. I've got an important exam in mid-November, and I did really badly for the previous one. I'll update somewhere around the end of November, after my exams have ended. So, sorry for the long wait!

Please don't forget to review if you like the story so far. Or tell me if you think something is off. As always, thanks for reading!