It's been months. I know. But here it is. And longest chapter yet, as an apology for the long wait. Do enjoy.

Disclaimer: Some characters and quotes belong to Riot Games.

Chapter 16: The God and the Undying

It all happened too quickly.

Shyvana could barely register what happened. She only remembered being basked in a warm, golden light, before hearing an ear-splitting blast that made the Seafarer tremble. Temporarily blinded by the light, she hissed before she was thrown off her feet, her ears still deaf and ringing from the explosion.

Moments later, she found herself lying face-first on the ground, and she could hear crackling fires and snapping wood around her. Her mind was still in a haze, her eyesight a terrible blur.

"Fuck," she groaned, forcing herself to stand. Another section of the ship had been blown off. Orange flames danced devilishly around her, eating away the walls and the floorboards of the ship. Knowing it could sink anytime, Shyvana hurried to her feet. They had to get to the deck quickly, or else they would sink with the ship.

"Everyone fine?" Jarvan winced. The prince leaned on his lance, his bruised and bloodied face concealed by his hood. The hem of his cloak was singed black, and he quickly stepped out the fire that caught on his cloak. The prince swayed on his feet, the remnants of the Golden Aegis spell still glowing and hissing near his feet. She could tell how depleted his magic power was, to deflect a cannon blast like that.

Shyvana had no doubt that she looked as dishevelled and exhausted as he was, but she carried on, helping Alfie to get himself together. The young lad nearly fell back to the floor when Shyvana raised him upright.

"They could be reloading," August wrapped a strip of cloth around his wounded arm, tightening it to stop the bleeding. "We have to be quick, the ship is tilting already,"

Jarvan took the lead without a word, putting some distance between him and his men. Shyvana could see that the prince was clearly disturbed, as she noticed how his jaw was locked and his fists clenched tightly. She matched his pace, walking side by side with him.

"You know that we won't make it, this ship will sink either way," he whispered harshly to the half-dragon.

"There's always a way," she assured him, though she was as unsure as he was. "We just need to be clever,"

"We're in the middle of the sea, with not a single boat to spare, and a giant warship blasting us to bits!" he hissed angrily. She could not tell if it was her imagination, or the ship just tilted more than earlier. It rumbled with distant booming, telling them the onslaught still hadn't ended.

"Get to the deck," she said firmly. "Get to the deck, we'll see what we can do. You have the wits for this, you'll know how to escape," she gripped her gauntlets tightly, summoning her flames. She only hoped that she was right.

The deck was pure chaos: a picture painted with bloodbath and gore, and the place reeked of fear and death. Here and there, they could hear shouts and screams of men begging for mercy before they were brutally murdered, followed by a gurgle or cry as they choked on their own blood. Corpses strewn about the deck, with flames eating away in the background serving as a hideous backdrop; feeding, forever feeding.

Among the agonized cries of the dying, were the sounds of men whooping with joy. These men held scimitars and cutlasses, dressed in boiled leather cuirass and badly forged iron armour. Those who were not slaughtering the helpless sailors of the Seafarer were busy looting corpses and raiding the ship, stripping them of their valuables and piling them in wooden chests and crates.

If their appearances had not seemed obvious enough, their actions would have given their identities away. Jarvan's lips curled in distaste. Disgusting, lazy savages. That was what he called these pirates. Pillaging and plundering the labour of others. And slaughtering without mercy.

He was ready to charge into the deck with his lance and throw these vile barbarians into the rolling waves. The prince had no doubt his men would follow without a moment's hesitation – after all, their loyalty to the crown was unquestionable.

But a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. Looking over his shoulder, he met Lance's eyes – solemn and grim. Lance, in his thirties with his salt and pepper stubble and closely shaved dark hair. His thumb tweaked at his sword hilt nervously, a slight shake of his head telling the prince that whatever he had in notion was a fool's idea.

Jarvan tensed in anger and desperation, his eyes narrowed in a frown at his subordinate. "You expect me to stay here and watch them being murdered? They can't even defend themselves!" he snarled, but Lance's gaze did not falter.

"My prince, hear me please," the soldier pleaded calmly. Shyvana noticed that his eyes flickered here and there constantly as if expecting an ambush at any time, but they were well hidden beneath a trap door of the quarterdeck that led them to the main deck, hence an onslaught was mostly unlikely. "These pirates bear the mark of the Jagged Hooks, and they are the most notorious gang in the Slaughter Docks. You don't want to mess with them, or get on the nerves of whoever that's hiring them,"

The prince remained unconvinced. "We've faced worse odds, we can retake the Seafarer,"

"No, we can't," Lance said sharply. "We are outnumbered and overpowered. Not even discipline can brave the worst odds, my prince. And that pirate ship is the biggest I've ever since. They have more cannons than I can count, and they will blast us to bits. Trust me, Bilgewatian pirates will do anything just to get that pretty lance off your hands, prince,"

He glared at Lance, his hands gripping his weapon with an irritated shiver. But then his eyes softened as his comrade looked him squarely in the eye, even though he obviously had much more power over him.

Lance was never a talker, because from where he came from, talking too much either gets you mugged, pickpocketed or brutally murdered in the alley. Jarvan knew where he hailed, but not how he came to swear allegiance to the king. After all, every person has his own secrets.

Jarvan sighed. "Sometimes I forget where you came from, Lance. You were Demacian for so long," he put away his lance. "Our best course of action, then?"

Lance's eyes twinkled gratefully. His thumb on his sword moved nervously. "We can either escape by swimming, which is unlikely. Or by their ship,"

They all stared at him quizzically, not quite understanding his meaning, until the prince's face lit up with realization. He threw Lance an incredulous glance. "You can't be serious. You mean we have to surrender?"

Lance said nothing.

August spat. "That's madness, Lance,"

Shyvana sneered. "I'd rather die then,"

"We don't have to surrender," Lance added in quickly. "Just disguise as them. It's dark out here, no moon to light the way. We can use it to our advantage and just avoid the bright places. Sneak into their ship. That warship must have boats standby in case of a shipwreck or whatever. Stealth is the key,"

They all fell silent and thought about his plan carefully, thinking about any potential threats. It did seem solid enough, and Jarvan nodded with approval. Even Shyvana seemed glad with the idea, albeit how fiercely her eyes shone, obviously itching for a fight.

"Everyone move out then," Jarvan ordered. "Lance, August and Alfie will take the east. Shyvana and I –"

"Go with Lance and fuckface, prince," Shyvana interrupted. He could tell that Shyvana was amused at how August was seething with white-hot anger upon hearing how she called him, yet her tones were sombre and grim. "I'll go with Alfie,"

Jarvan's brows furrowed. He had never known her to bond with anyone else as she rarely socialized with his men. The prince snuck a suspicious glance at his youngest comrade, wondering if something happened between them both without his knowledge.

Alfie, however, looked perplexed. As though he did not expect the half-dragon to offer to pair with him either.

August snorted, shooting a heated glare at Shyvana. "What are we waiting for then? Let's move out,"

Stealth, Shyvana whispered in her mind. She remembered her father's lesson on how to hunt a prey and follow its trail, how to walk with the shadow and be as silent as still wind, how to match the calmness of her beating heart to that of a gentle sea wave. The forests of the Great Barrier were quiet, still and tranquil, the soft winds like a chime to her ears. But this was different: a ravaged and raped trader's ship tainted with blood and slaughter, the winds neither still nor tranquil but raged and howled and screamed to the ever-growing flames. They were hauled into this bedlam of merciless plunder, and the only strategy to survive was by stealth.

Behind her, Alfie followed closely. Their backs were leaned close to the walls of the captain's cabin, where the middle mast stood nearby, her sails unfurled yet punctured with holes torn by cannonballs and bullets.

Slowly they crept along the path. It was much quieter this side until Shyvana's ears picked up on the wicked cackle of four pirates, no doubt. She was confident that Alfie and her could dispatch them quickly and quietly without them alerting the others – Alfie could put two down swiftly with his arrows, and she would leap from the shadows and break the neck of the remaining two within seconds.

She turned to Alfie and her amber eyes glowed. Alfie understood, drawing his bow and a well-fletched arrow from his quiver, placing it to his weapon and pulling the bowstring taut. She held a fist in the air, ready to release it as a signal to fire.

Then she heard the wail of a boy. Her body shuddered as she recognized that voice.

"What happened to cuttin' us, boy?" a cruel voice teased, and his jest was answered with the boy's exhausted grunt. "Or were you just all talks? We gave you a blade, yet you can barely lift it!"

A brief clash of steel, followed by an excruciating cry. The pirates' laughter echoed.

Shyvana gritted her teeth and released her fist. Immediately, Alfie let the arrow fly, watching as it whistled through the air just as the half-dragon burst from the shadows, pouncing on the savages with her gauntlets ready.

Plenty of things happened at once.

The arrow buried itself into a pirate's neck, blood spurting from his mouth and wound. His three comrades looked at him with shock, and then Shyvana swung her fist with all her might at the nearest pirate, her eyes mad with fury. One of them still had his blade crossed with the boy's, whose once clever eyes were now filled with raw terror.

Another arrow was embedded in a pirate's eye. The pirate with his blade snarled and pushed, throwing the boy off balance. A second before Shyvana's gauntlet connected with his skull, he slashed at the boy's neck.

Gouts of blood sprayed upon the floor. Her fist slammed into his skull, breaking his bone and killing him on the spot.

Her fists were red-hot with rage, her eyes crazed and hungry for a kill. She turned towards the last one left, who had drawn his pistol and was cursing under his breath. His knees shook as he aimed it at her.

Shyvana's let her draconic side take control and dashed forward. She could hear the crack of gunfire, and she quickly dodged left and right, the bullets missing by an inch. Her speed was demonic, and the pirate fired shots after shots desperately until his clip ran blank. Fear took him then, when the half-dragon loomed before him and punched her burning gauntlet into his chest. Ribs and bones broke, puncturing his lungs and heart. The pirate gasped, before falling to his knees with a weak groan.

After her bloodlust ended, she ran to Rodrik's side, whose eyes were already glassed over as he gasped piteously. His neck bled profusely, and she knew he had only moments left to live.

Rodrik's eyes shone as he saw her. If he saw Shyvana's true appearance, he did not seem bothered by it, whether it was because he was dying or his vision was obscured by the darkness she did not know. The poor boy opened his mouth to speak, yet only blood came from his throat.

Still, he gasped and wheezed, trying hard to form a word. She listened intently and it took her a while to understood what he wanted to ask.

But she could not find it in herself to answer.

She could have lied, and the boy would pass peacefully. But her father had oft told her of the afterlife and how lying to the dead would always bring about unforeseen consequences as they would never rest in peace. Besides, it was disrespectful to lie to the boy. He deserved at least the truth moments before his passing.

And so she answered, "She was spared from the Jagged Hooks. They can't harm her,"

Rodrik's eyes brimmed with tears, his cold hand gripping Shyvana's with surprising strength. Those curious, bright eyes locked with hers, and at that instant she saw how grateful he was for at least giving him closure.

Shyvana nodded, her hand squeezing his lightly.

His eyes then lost the spark of life, and his hand went limp in hers. The young boy's head lolled in her lap.

Another innocent dead.

"My lady?" Alfie's small voice reached her ears, bringing her back to their current predicament. He had already stripped two pirates of their apparel, replacing one of them with his own outfit as he hastily equipped the cuirass. "We must hurry, there is little time left,"

Shyvana nodded grimly, and stood to walk over to the pile of armour already stripped for her. Before she could take a step, however, a cold hand gripped her ankle, anchoring her to the place. She struggled feebly and fell on one knee, grunting painfully as the hand tightened, cold deadly fingers pressing into her flesh hard. Another hand clutched at her blood-stained cloak, pulling her back until she was face-to-face with Rodrik.

The dead boy's eyes and mouth were wide opened. But his orifices were filled with a ghostly pale green glow. Mists coiled and curled from his mouth, eyes, ears and nose, his head lolled to the side with his fatal wound glinting like a second grin. Shyvana's heart plummeted with fright, and she tried to tear away from his grip. However, his hands did not budge, locking her in place.

"The Black Mist," a ghost's voice sang, and it sent shivers down her spine. "It approaches. Death comes. One more awaits, and what comes after will consume you, Halfling. Your fate is written in suffering. Naught can you do,"

Shyvana's breaths grew rapid and shallow. Her throat felt constricted, her lungs barely taking in air. Neither could she feel the dead boy's grip as her arms and legs were numb with cold. The flames around her slowed into a long, frightening moan, nor could its warmth reach her. Groans and wails of the dead drifted through her ears, echoing in her mind in a repeated pattern, slowly driving her insane.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to ask for help. But she could not move. She tried to shout to Alfie or the prince or her dead father, but the moment she opened her mouth her voice died in her throat. The mists coiled closer, outlined with shadows, slowly consuming her.

"The time is nigh," Rodrik's cadaverous hands wrapped around her throat. "The die is cast," The hands tightened, cutting off her airway completely. Her vision swam and swirled, before fading into darkness.

"My lady!"

Shyvana wheezed and coughed and spluttered, her hands instinctively grabbing for her throat. Smooth tiny scales met her touch, and oddly, there wasn't a raw or burning sensation when she had been strangled earlier.

Her heart thundered and her breath was quick. She was laying on her back with Rodrik beside her, his wound already stopped bleeding. His blood pooled around them both and was already soaked into her ragged cloak. When she saw a lad clad in leather cuirass wearing the mark of the Jagged Hooks, she nearly lashed out at him. Then she found the blue eyes and blond hair too familiar to miss.

Alfie bowed over her with concern clear on his face. He was disguised just like the pirate, with ragged cloak tied over his shoulder to hide his bow and quiver of arrows, his hip holding a sheathed scimitar.

She sat upright carefully, her heartbeat and breathing still fast and uncontrollable. She was still frightened and held in a daze – the cold bite of death merely inches from her, and the endless chill and shiver down her spine that could never seem to go away.

"You were talking to the boy before he died," Alfie took out his skin of water and gave it to her, which she accepted gratefully and drank to wet her chapped lips. "I was putting on the pirate's armour, then you suddenly screamed and thrashed about the floor, like you were having a fit,"

Shyvana said nothing, taking small sips from the water skin. Her hands still shook vigorously; which Alfie gave her a nervous glance.

"My lady, are you sure you're –"

"I'm fine," Shyvana snapped, obviously irritated with him. But the tremor in her voice made her sound terrified instead.

She looked to where Rodrik laid, now still and properly dead. His empty eyes were fixed on the sky, his mouth hung open in wide terror. Crimson blood covered him from neck to chest, amidst the other pirates whose deaths seemed less messy. Then she remembered what she had to do.

"We need to get going," she stood on trembling knees, heading to a pile of armour laid out for her. "The prince and the others are probably – What are you doing?"

Alfie held his scimitar anxiously, his eyes looking far ahead of her. He pointed with his chin, and Shyvana looked behind.

A large silhouette stood in the dark, far enough that they hoped they couldn't see them. Shyvana started sneaking towards the hidden man, hoping to take him by surprise.

Until a shot rang in the air, startling them both.

"Where do you think you are goin'?"

And pirates began hopping over the rails of the Seafarer, wielding scimitars and cutlasses and guns. They were soon surrounded by the Jagged Hooks, all snarling and sneering at the half-dragon. Shyvana quickly drew up her hood, her cloak long and large enough to conceal her entire body, including her gauntlets.

Her anxiety was now gone, replaced by newfound fury. Alfie still held the stolen scimitar, the weapon foreign and unfamiliar to his hand. There were way too many of them to fight back.

She thought of taking on her dragon form and burning these men to crisp, but that would immediately sound the alarm and the cannons of the warship would fire, bringing down the entire ship. Doing that would risk the lives of Jarvan and his men. Not to mention that even a gang large enough could take down a single dragon.

Shyvana thought of the prince, hoping that he was safe and sound. Strange, she mused, lightly laughing to herself. I must have been too close to him. I never once cared if he lived or died. Yet now I worry for him. She pushed the thought into the back of her mind when a large figure stepped through the crowd of pirates, her hands flexing around her metal gauntlets, desperately looking for a way to escape.

"What a mess they've made," a large man wearing a worn leather jerkin with a tricorn hat spoke. His left hand held a burning sword while his right held a pistol. "Looks like you survived, cunt. No one usually lives facin' my crew, not a bunch of useless milk-drinkin' traders,"

She kept her head low as the man, obviously the captain of the pirates walked towards her. His footfalls were heavy and loud, giving away his large stature and chiselled figure. She dared not look up, fearing that he might see her odd-looking eyes and have her killed on the spot. She only snuck a glance towards the captain.

And large, he was.

He was probably larger than Jarvan by a head, with his hat casting shadows over his intimidating glare. His hands were so large they looked like they could bend a metal rod effortlessly, and his matching sword and pistol fitted his hands perfectly.

When he looked down at her, Shyvana acted on instinct and took a fearful step back. His grey beard was long and masculine, plus that sneer that never seemed to leave his face, granting him a guttural impression.

He landed a foot on the dead man which Alfie had quickly put his armour on, not knowing that that was his own man. "No one gets away with killin' my men. Either way, I'm impressed. Usually I would reward such crime with a bullet to the head, but seems that my crew would rather have your blood spilled,"

The pirates roared in agreement. Shyvana wished they could shut up.

The captain then went back and sat on a crate, putting his gun back into its holster. She tensed when she saw him reaching into his jerkin as though taking something.

Oddly, he pulled out an orange. Snuffing out the flames engulfing his sword, he started peeling the fruit with it, purposely paying no heed to her. Shyvana shot him a puzzled look, watching as juice dripped down his fingers.

"You're lucky we came in time, kid," the captain chuckled at Alfie. "Pretty sure you would've been carved like cake,"

They think he's one of them, Shyvana thought, risking a glance at Alfie. He was at an advantage, he could possibly sneak into the ship and regroup with the others. Still, she looked about hastily, hoping that she could come up with an idea to escape her current plight. Yet she could think of nothing.

Alfie's stolen scimitar was still drawn, pointing at no one in particular. He stared at the captain intently, not understanding what he just said.

And suddenly Shyvana thought of something crazy, that she had no choice but to go with it.

Without warning, she whirled around and launched herself towards the prince's youngest comrade, letting off a battle cry. Alfie's eyes widened in horror, his arms moving on instincts in a defensive position as he lifted the sword high, attempting to intercept her sudden assault.

She prayed to her father, hoping this would work, that the darkness of the night had rendered the pirates blind, leaving them with half-truths on what they were really seeing.

And swiftly she took hold of both Alfie's shoulders with her gauntlets, trying to inflict minimal damage upon the boy. She pushed hard and they both fell onto the floor, with Alfie below her and his sword upright, the gleaming tip pointing towards the half-dragon.

The pain that came afterwards was the worst she had ever felt.

The blade plunged deep into her shoulder, piercing her collar bone and fortunately stopped right there. It would have gone all the way through and out from her back, had Alfie not quickly withdrawn the sword at the last moment. The moment it stabbed her, her vision darkened and dimmed, and she barely felt it when Alfie frantically pushed her until she rolled to her side, so the blade would slide off her shoulder, preventing it from going any deeper.

She fell without resisting at all, her cloak once again wet with fresh blood. Alfie's hands trembled as he held the scimitar, obviously still stunned by what happened. His eyes were wide with guilt and horror, and he wanted to reach out for her, until he met her shining golden eyes, burning fiercely.

"Remember the plan," she whispered, only for his ears. "Find them,"

She resisted the urge to sleep, but it was getting difficult. She heard someone approaching, yet she could feel nothing. All she could feel was pain.

"Looks like you downed her, mate," the captain clapped a hand on Alfie's shoulder. "Still shakin'? I don't blame you. You faced a tough foe. Be glad that you're still breathin'," Alfie shuddered and shied away from his touch, which the captain took no notice. He bit into his orange and walked towards the half-dragon, while the other pirates clapped the boy on his back.

Shyvana breathed quickly. She struggled to roll to her good side, so it would hurt less. A sharp stab of pain shot through her back and halted her movements when a boot was planted upon her back. Still, she stifled a cry of pain. She will not show weakness before these vile savages.

"Still alive, aren't you?" the captain finished what was left of his fruit and drew his pistol again, this time aiming it at the back of her head. He put pressure on his boot, making her shudder in agony but still refusing to make a sound of pain. "Not so tough now, perhaps? Thinkin' you can take down the whole crew of the Dead Pool by yourself? Pathetic,"

He pulled down the hammer. The pistol clicked.

This is it, Shyvana closed her eyes, waiting for her final moment. I'm sorry, father.

But it never came.

"But my crew deserves a bit of a spectacle. You'd make a damned good show, would be a shame to kill you now," he put away his gun and stepped away, leaving her bleeding and helpless on the deck of the sinking ship. "It's been the eighth raid, men!" he roared, and was answered with the cheers of the pirates. "Sink this damned ship and take down her flag! Then bring out the rum! For the Kraken!"

The Jagged Hooks shouted and roared in joy, some walked towards her and hoisted her up by her shoulders, dragging her towards their warship. She hissed when one of them touched her wound, but she was too fatigued to snap at him. They bound her wrists and tightened the rope so much that it rubbed her skin raw, but that was the least of her concerns. She looked around for the boy, but he was already nowhere to be seen.

She only hoped that Jarvan and the others had made it out in one piece.

Once in a while, a pirate or two would turn behind and spit a curse at her or make crude jokes about how she would be gutted and killed like a pig. Some even had the audacity to lash a whip at her feet, laughing loudly as she stumbled about like a drunkard.

She gritted her teeth and swallowed hard, forcing herself to control her temper. Her throat burnt with rage, unbearable with the humiliation she had to endure. Laugh while you can, she swore. I will burn down your precious ship and drag you all into the depths with me, if it needs be.

Shyvana didn't remember walking across the plank to the warship or being pushed to kneel by some rough-handed sailor. She heard someone shouted something, a command or whatever. And moments later, a loud explosion was heard, deafening and ear-splitting, followed by a few other cannon blasts. Fire rained upon the Seafarer, blasting more holes into her and breaking her masts and hull. Soon, the ship split into two with a loud snap, and finally it sank together with her slain crew.

Rodrik. And poor Reena, Shyvana mourned. She wanted to lay down and weep for them, but no tears would come, for they were all dried and overwhelmed by fury and a hunger for justice. Justice for Rodrik whom these pirates found it enjoyable to kill, and Reena who never deserved any of it. She could barely feel sadness or pity. Inside her was a raging maelstrom of emotions – anger, agony and hatred.

There was a feast going on, with pirates laughing and jesting, pouring rum from barrels into their mugs and tankards. It soon got brighter as they started placing torches into sconces near the masts of the warship. They can see me, that was all she could think of. The pain was far too much. They can see who I am. Kill them, kill them all. Her eyes flared with pure hatred, her draconic side wanted to take over.

No. Hold it in, she inhaled deeply, keeping her rage under control. Her emotions were fueling her dragon form, and if she didn't control it well, she would lose it. The pain, feel it. I must live. I must avenge my father. Avenge him. Avenge him. Avenge him.

Her eyes dimmed for a brief moment before they burnt again.

Kill them. Kill all on board. Unleash it. Sink this gods-be-damned ship. Her fingers tingled with heat, smoke already billowing from her nostrils and mouth.

No, she tried hard to reason with her draconic side, closing her eyes in concentration. Vengeance, she repeated like a mantra. Vengeance. Vengeance. I can't die here, not yet. Remember father. Remember the prince.

The prince.

She let out a long shaky breath and directed her anger to the part of her body that hurt the most. Using her rage, she summoned small embers beneath her skin to temporarily seal her wound, preventing further blood loss.

Her human side had won. And the excruciating pain suddenly seemed a lot more bearable.

Then the sound of a gunshot. It made her jump.

The loud sounds of the ongoing feast died, and all looked to the source of the sound, where the captain of the Dead Pool stood proud with his pistol pointing at the sky, wisps of smoke curling from the muzzle. His blade was sheathed, and in his hand a mug of rum. "We're forgettin' our manners, mates! Seems we've left our prisoner here sulkin'!"

He walked towards Shyvana, who still knelt with her head low and her hands bound tightly. Her eyes were screwed shut, concentrating on sealing her wound. It may be easy summoning fire using her hands, or just simply engulf herself in fire. But willing it to appear at a certain body part was something she rarely did, and it was proving quite difficult for the half-dragon to control. If not careful, she could cause an explosion which would be very distracting. And attention from these men was the last thing she needed.

Her strength was waning, but she forced herself to focus.

He knelt in front of her and whispered harshly, his foul breath close to her nose but she took no notice. "You caused quite a scene back on that ship. Na'rik was the most ruthless pirate in my crew, one of the best. And you killed him. You'll have to pay, and my prices oft demand blood,"

The half-dragon's mind simply shut out his voice, her brow only twitching for a brief moment when he spoke. She could feel her wound closing, her blood already slowing to a trickle.

Irritated by her ignorance, the captain grabbed her by her neck and hoisted her in midair. That took her by surprise, and she kicked her legs furiously as she struggled to breathe. His hand tightened around her throat once before he swung around and tossed her across the deck.

Shyvana crashed a few feet away from him, her body limp like a ragdoll. Fortunately for her, she landed on her good shoulder and not her wounded one. She only grunted and tried to stand to her feet, which proved quite challenging with bound wrists. Before she could get to her knees, the captain took two quick strides towards her and kicked her hard in the side.

She dropped to the floor again. The pirates laughed cruelly at her feeble struggle. He reached down and grabbed her by her cloak, pulling her roughly upright.

"I'll let you choose then, how you'd like to pay the blood price," the captain snapped his fingers. The crowd parted to a few pirates dragging two men, bound like her. They were thrown into the open space right in front of her, groaning and trying their hardest to get on their knees. "By spilling their blood, or yours,"

The half-dragon strained to look at the victims unlucky enough to suffer the same fate as her. Yet when she saw their faces, she gasped.

Markus was beaten to a pulp, his left eye swollen purple and his lips split and bleeding. His nose was obviously broken and twisted in an odd angle, and a nasty gash running down his forehead was still bleeding. He whined piteously, his lips kept moving in a silent prayer with his eyes closed.

The other man, broken and bruised as she was, was stripped of his cloak and equipment, leaving him in a ragged tunic and breeches. Dried blood crusted his neck and cheeks, though she could not find a single mortal wound on him besides the bruises and rashes. Among the three of them, he was the least injured.

He hissed and turned up, looking at her blankly for a few seconds. Her eyes shone a bright orange as she fumed with anger, and his face lit up in recognition, though he did not say a word and pretended not to see her.

You idiot prince. How could you be so reckless?

The sharp hiss of a drawn sword drew their attention. The captain sat on a barrel with his sword peeling another orange, his cold eyes and cruel sneer directed at the three of them. "The last one standing gets to live. I don't care what methods you use, strangling or beating each other to death,"

The pirates urged them on, throwing their fists into the sky and some making a wager on who would live. Some simply spat curses at them for killing their mates. Markus fell to his feet and wept silently. Jarvan grimaced. Shyvana snarled.

"You have two minutes, until I decide to kill all of you," he spun his gun menacingly, a thumb toying with the hammer. "Fight like a man, or die like a dog,"

"Shit," Jarvan cursed. He clenched his fists and looked from Shyvana to Markus hopelessly. The captain of the sunken ship looked as distraught as he could be, staring at them both with eyes full of fear and horror. Then his eyes fixed on Shyvana, and his face flickered from terror to remorse.

"You," he growled. "You brought this on me. It is all your fault!"

"Markus, think this through. We can get out of this," Jarvan placated, but Markus continued scorning the half-dragon.

"Get out of this?! I had 'nough with you ill-lucked bastards! Now I lost my ship and all my trading goods because of you!"

Reena and Rodrik, Shyvana thought. She returned Markus' scornful glare, and he fearfully took a step back. "What of your children then? Have you not a care for them?"

"What of them?"

Jarvan looked at her pleadingly. "Shyvana, please –,"

Shyvana ignored the prince, walked towards Markus in three long steps and slammed a fist across his face.

Markus let off an astonished "Oompf!", and fell to the floor. He tried to get up but his legs were weak and wobbly with fright, entangled by his own limbs. The pirates laughed when he simply fell again.

Jarvan stood there, his jaw dropped.

"Where were you when your son is being slaughtered?" she grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted. "Or when your daughter is wandering around aimlessly, crying for help?"

"My children are none of your business, bitch," he said spitefully.

Shyvana punched again.

"Do you not have remorse for them?" her tone was a threatening rumble, like the voice of her in dragon form. That was when Markus broke, his expression changing from that of an angry man to a feared one. He started scrambling backwards, afraid of the beast before her.

So this was what he truly was – a craven, unfit as a captain.

"Y-you don't know nothin'!" he shouted, his voice clearly trembling. "No one runs into Gangplank and gets away with it. Rodrik and Reena… There's nothin' much to be done. I… I had to…"

"And leave them behind while you run with your tail tucked between your legs?"

He said nothing.

She pounced onto him, grabbing his neck and throwing him hard against the wooden deck. She started landing blows after blows upon his swollen face. "You don't deserve them!" one particular punch broke a few teeth. "You fucking traitor! They were your flesh and blood!"

I don't want you anymore.

Tears prickled her eyes as she kept landing punches. Anger seared her throat and chest.

"Shyvana, enough!" Jarvan hurried towards her. He held both of her shoulders tightly and pulled her back from the former captain, whose face was now so beaten that he was unrecognizable. She writhed and snarled, before whirling back and backhanded the prince in a fit of rage.

She could not hold it back and it was too late. Her armoured fist connected with Jarvan's jaw. A sickening crunch resonated and the prince was slapped hard, falling face-first to the deck.

Shyvana stood there, her face blank and dumbfounded.

"Holy fuck," the prince's voice was muffled. He curled to his side, holding his face in both hands with his eyes screwed tightly in pain. The half-dragon breathed heavily, her hands balled into fists. The ragged cloak wrapped around her body billowed from the heat she emanated. Her amber eyes gleamed bright with anger, and regret.

Whatever Markus did was unforgivable, so why did she feel a pang of guilt within her for what she did?

"Damn, you really could pack a punch," Jarvan mumbled painfully, still holding his broken jaw.

She walked over to help him up, or to apologize, until someone barrelled into her from behind, knocking her down. She was briefly stunned and could barely recover to her senses before Markus pressed his knee hard against her throat, constricting her airway.

She almost fainted when her shoulder flared with pain, suddenly going numb and rendering her immobile. Using her good arm, she clawed at Markus' face, whose eyes were bloodshot and mad. Veins bulged from his forehead, hungry for her blood.

"To hell with you, bitch!" his knee pressed harder. The half-dragon wheezed and rasped. "I ain't givin' a fuck about those two brats, and you shouldn't either!"

Both of his hands went for Shyvana's head, and started slamming her skull against the deck. The first hit almost knocked her out, and she could have screamed had she the strength to do so. She was sure she had drawn blood, driving her nails hard into the swollen and bruised flesh of Markus' cheeks. Still, the pressure on her throat only got stronger, as if he had lost all senses of pain.

"I'll spill your blood!" he howled like a madman. "I will survive! Even if it means getting' rid of those two brats! Why should I fuckin' care if they live or die?! They were just spawns of a whore, a money-launderer!"

Her sight darkened, mouth still opened in a desperate attempt for air.

"Shyvana!" Jarvan quickly got to his feet, stumbling as his head swooned from the devastating blow. He ran towards Markus, who was still slamming her head against the hard floor, his knee pressed hard against her throat. His eyes were dilated and crazed.

"I'll kill them myself just to survive!"

Twang!

And suddenly the pressure upon her throat was lifted, the hands grasping her head loosened and released her. Shyvana gasped for air, wheezing and coughing as she was strangled for the second time that night.

Her eyes moved to Markus, only to be met with the face of a madman, his eyes frozen in a mix of insanity and solid fear yet his mouth was hung open in a permanent grin. An arrow was planted deep into one side of his head.

Everyone fell silent, even the pirates. The captain dropped his orange.

Markus' eyes then rolled back into his head and he toppled to one side of the deck. Behind him Jarvan stood rooted and astonished on his spot, looking at Shyvana silently asking the same question.

"How…" the words died on his lips.

The captain rose to his feet and ran his flaming sword right into a barrel, splitting it into two. "Who was that?!" he roared, his eyes searching the crowd madly.

And all on board, looked to the direction where the arrow fired, revealing a young lad holding a bow and his hand slightly apart from the bowstring. Tears were running down his cheeks, his expression spoke of pure hatred. All was silent around them.

The light from the torches brightened the deck. All hell broke lose when the Jagged Hooks realised the young lad was but an impostor.

"Kill them all!"

But Alfie dashed forward, avoiding a thrust of someone's sword. He swiftly nocked another arrow, this time aiming for the captain's head. His hand released and let the arrow fly.

The captain's eyes widened, quickly pulled out his sword stuck in the barrel.

"Nagakabouros!"

A flash of ghostly green light blinded them all, ceasing the uproar on board. It lasted for half a second, before the light faded enough that everyone could open their eyes. Beside the captain, an enormous woman appeared out of nowhere, wielding a large golden idol engraved with a face, its mouth and eyes flowing mists of green light. Spectral shapes resembling tentacles swirled to and fro from the idol.

Huge that woman was, with muscles more rippled than the prince and shoulders broad enough that rivalled the captain. Her golden eyes were piercing, making anyone brave enough to stare into them feel uneasy. If it weren't for her breasts and indistinguishable curves, they would have thought her a man.

Whether she appeared or not, it would make no difference. The captain stood sneering at Alfie with his flaming sword near his hip, an arrow snapped into two laying few feet away from him. Ghostly tentacles began sprouting all around the ship, all half as tall as the Dead Pool's masts. Even the pirates appeared frightened, having retreated a little.

"Arrows are slow," the captain doused his flaming sword and sheathed it. "That's why all my mates used guns. If you're trying to sneak into my crew unseen, boy, you just did a pissed poor job,"

A couple of pirates apprehended Alfie, confiscating his bow and arrows. One of them kicked him in the back of his knee, and the boy fell.

Shyvana's shoulders tensed and she wanted to help Alfie, but Jarvan held her back, shaking his head. Slowly he helped her stand, and they both stared at the newcomer warily.

"And what the fuck are you doin' here, Illaoi?" the captain growled, though his tone was softer. "I told you I'd call you if I needed your help," his beard bristled with underlying rage.

But the woman seemed unfazed and held her head high. She was slightly taller than the captain, and the large heavy idol on her shoulder only made her seemed bigger. Nonetheless, both of them seemed to be equal in everyone's eyes.

If the captain was the king of the ship, this woman was the queen.

"Of course you don't need my help," she said with sarcasm, and her Bilgewatian accent was heavy. "I hope you haven't forgotten our deal, Gangplank. Unless you wanted your ship swarmed with undead,"

"I've made offerings to the Mother Serpent, to your god,"

The woman named Illaoi steeled her demeanour. "Weak demands of weak gods. My god demands naught but motion. You were supposed to bring me potential disciples worthy for the truth, not have them kill each other,"

Gangplank spat. "Unless you counted these sick cowards as worthy. I'm doing you a favour to not waste your time,"

"Fear sometimes forces one to retaliate," Illaoi countered. "He nearly strangled that one to death out of fear, until the arrow took him,"

"This is my business, Illaoi, so stay out of it!"

"What harm is there to let them know the truth?" she remained stubborn. "You know what happens to those who fail the trials. You've seen it yourself, though you remain untested,"

The captain went silent, then muttered a curse under his breath.

"That one killed my best men," Gangplank pointed at Shyvana. "Make her pay, and that proud dimwit as well,"

The captain stepped back and gave way to Illaoi. Shyvana glanced at Jarvan with a puzzled look, which the prince flashed her a cocky grin. "I'll tell you later, this won't be easy," he whispered, looking at the tentacles nervously, then at Illaoi, whose posture spoke of power and confidence.

Illaoi threw her golden idol down, nearly shattering the wooden boards of the deck. With a voice akin to thunder, she bellowed, loud enough for all to hear. "Behold!"

Jarvan and Shyvana fell into a stance, prepared for combat. The prince held up his fists as he had no weapons, trying his best to look intimidating.

"I will teach you the truth of Nagakabouros," Illaoi's grip on the idol's handle tightened, and green tentacles materialized from the crevices of the idol. "Life is an ocean! Swim forward or drown. Prove yourself worthy of your life!"

She swung the idol hard, a tentacle bursting forth and reaching for the prince. It was too fast for them to dodge, and Jarvan could only hold up his arms in defence. One moment, it plunged deep into Jarvan's chest, trespassing the physical barrier of flesh and bone. The next, he was thrown back like a ragdoll, his eyes wide with shock and fright, leaving a white-green mist of the prince's visage.

The white-green figure stood frozen, wisps of smoke curling from its faint outline, looking exactly like the prince. Meanwhile, Jarvan laid on the deck unmoving, his eyes staring blankly into the sky.

More tentacles appeared around the prince. In unison, they reared backwards and slammed upon the prince, burying him in a mass of spectral appendages.

Alfie shouted for the prince. Shyvana snarled and faced Illaoi. She charged towards her.

Illaoi had quick reflexes, and hefted her idol before swinging hard. The heavy weight caught the half-dragon square in her wounded shoulder, propelling her away from Illaoi.

"Move, Halfling," she reprimanded, bringing the idol upon her shoulder again. "If you can't, then die,"

Shyvana spat, feeling uneasy that she somehow knew her true nature.

"You don't have to tell me!" she charged again.

Three to four tentacles shot towards her and wrapped around her limbs, immobilizing her and leaving her suspended in mid-air. Illaoi's eyes bored into hers, and for a moment Shyvana thought she saw a hint of disappointment in those golden eyes.

But all was forgotten when she swung the idol again, a tentacle ripping forth from its mouth. It went past her chest, just like what happened to the prince, and the half-dragon suddenly felt coldness spreading throughout her body from the inside. Fear and paranoia had her in its grasp.

The tentacle gripped onto something hard, and pulled. The half-dragon screamed as she felt herself being torn apart, like it was attempting to separate her soul from her body. Pain and numbness overwhelmed her, but she held on for dear life, screaming and gnashing her teeth as the tentacle inside her tried to overcome her resistance.

Illaoi was astonished. Her brows furrowed as she pulled the idol backwards, a new surge of green energy giving it strength, making it pull even harder.

Shyvana struggled. It was unbearable – like her body was being quartered in slow motion. The tentacles holding her pulled her body back, forcing her to submit. Her soul began to emerge from her body and was on the verge of being ripped apart from her flesh. Only her fingertips and toes remained tethered to her body.

She felt a daunting foreign spirit in her mind, whispering sweet nothings in her ears and imploring her to give up. Her last ounce of strength was fading.

A memory flashed. And she remembered she must live.

"Never!" she roared, commanding her spirit and body to merge. Flames burnt from her limbs and chest as both her soul and flesh fell back into place. The tentacles lost and broke their hold on her, instantly vapourising into thin air and leaving nothing behind. The half-dragon dropped to the floor, her body on fire.

She panted. Forget about the wounds that had inflicted upon her. This was the most terrifying experience she ever had. Flames circled her and died as she glared at Illaoi, who only looked at her approvingly.

Gangplank's face was a mask of stone – if he seemed surprised by her control over fire, he did a great job hiding it. The other pirates looked at her with a new kind of fear. Alfie breathed a sigh of relief.

The half-dragon looked towards the mass of tentacles where the prince was buried under. For a few moments it seemed as though the prince had remained still, his doppelganger still standing a few feet away from him. Then something budged.

"Leave…" the mass of tentacles slowly rose, revealing Jarvan who tried to hold their heavy weight. "… me… BE!"

Tentacles snapped around the prince's neck and leg, anchoring him to the ground to keep him down. Jarvan groaned and stood, his legs faltering as his arms bore the burden of the deadly weight. His soul stood just a few steps from him. The tentacles continued to pull him back, just as he began trudging towards his spirit, his fingers reaching out desperately for it.

More spectral appendages halted his movement. One tightened around his fingers, and snapped them.

The prince gurgled something, making unintelligent noises. It felt as though the shell of Jarvan was the one struggling to stay alive and not the prince itself. The body was seeking for its lost soul, and would never be whole and sane until they merged.

Still, the empty vessel continued walking forward. The spirit was fading, the white-green hue of it growing fader each passing second.

Finally, his broken fingers touched the outline of his spirit, and Jarvan found the strength to reach further, breaking the tentacle's captivity. Getting stronger, he started ripping apart the tentacles wrapped around him, and pushed.

The tentacles vanished. Jarvan's momentum threw him forward, his body and soul finally becoming one again. He fell face-first and laid there, breathing heavily.

Gangplank stood.

"They passed," Illaoi commented. She sounded pleased. "Few can survive the Test of Nagakabouros. You both, are in motion," The wisps of pale green light grew faint and then disappeared, leaving the idol a dull golden colour.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Shyvana grunted. Her cloak was almost singed, already blackened with soot though she tried to keep the flames as far from the fabric as possible. The pirates could see her face now, clear as day, but now that was the least of her concerns.

"The Truth Bearer," Illaoi answered curtly. "I serve Nagakabouros, who is the sky and the ocean. What I had just shown you was the truth. Life itself is a motion, and you have proven yourself worthy of the Serpent's trials,"

Jarvan stood shakily. "Now what? Throw us overboard to feed the sharks?"

Illaoi smirked, which unnerved them both. "My god has shown me visions. Visions of dark tidings. The Black Mist is nigh. And the creatures of the Mist oppose the way of the universe. It is my duty to send them back to where they belong, and to find the ones deemed worthy by Nagakabouros,"

"I don't care about your fucking god," Shyvana snarled.

"And you don't choose Nagakabouros. The Kraken chooses you. We are all but the god's instruments, living as Nagakabouros intends, whether you like it or not," she smirked again. "And even if you reject, what can you do? The undead has marched across the sea, they will be here at any moment. Your only option is to fight to survive,"

Pirates began to murmur to each other uneasily. Gangplank's lips curled in a hateful grimace, walking towards the prince and the half-dragon.

"I never asked for this parley," he growled. His eyes glowered as he stared at Shyvana. "Though I've no choice. You intrigued me, beast. Bleed for me, and you'll never go poor for the rest of your life. Refuse, and walk the plank,"

"If you think we fear death, you haven't been paying attention," Jarvan said haughtily.

The captain then flashed a wicked grin. "Of course you don't," he pulled out his gun and pointed at Alfie, who was still held by the pirates. "How about I kill that little twat over there?"

Both of them hesitated.

"Maybe I should show you how fast a bullet flies," his finger rested on the trigger.

"Captain!"

All heads turned towards the top of the middle mast, where a pirate with a spyglass pointed north. His face was pale and affright.

Then a strong force crashed against the hull of the Dead Pool, teetering slightly. Pirates staggered and quickly balanced themselves, most of them already drawing their weapons for to defend themselves from an ambush. Gangplank sneered.

"Get to your places, you sons o' whores!" he bellowed, and the crew started moving about. "Get her moving! Faster! Someone take the fucking helm and get her moving!"

Sails unfurled. Anchor weighed. The helmsman spun the wheel and the ship changed course. However, the sails fluttered only once and twice, then stopped dead.

"Cap'n!" The helmsman cried. "Wind is dead! We can't get movin'!"

"Second time for today," Jarvan sighed, only loud enough for Shyvana to hear.

"I guess having a woman on board really brings bad luck," the half-dragon crossed her arms.

Someone at the deck shouted in alarm. Ahead of the ship was the silhouette of a gigantic, armoured figure trudging through the waves. Two red eyes burnt and were fixed on the ship. Cannons began reeling towards it. "Load the Death's Daughter!" Gangplank commanded.

There was no wind, yet the sea raged.

The figure trudged forward, and a huge tidal wave crashed upon the stern, tilting the ship slightly. It soon moved in a position like it was about to throw an object, something heavy that could possibly deal lethal damage.

"Change course!" but it was too late. A huge anchor was thrown forward, damaging one side of the ship as it crashed through wood. The cannons remained untouched, fortunately. The Dead Pool teetered again, and everyone on board struggled to maintain their balance.

The sailor atop the middle mast shouted again. "Captain! From south-west!"

Everyone needed no light to see what was coming from that direction, to clearly see what was coming.

A rolling dark mist raced across the ocean, covering the skies and the sea in pitch black. Thunder flashed within the mist, showing blue-green ghosts moaning and wailing from afar. The sounds were a blend of agonized screams of all ages, from infants to old men and women, as if the dead was still singing in sorrow.

"Fuck!" Gangplank cursed, pushing the helmsman aside and steering the ship himself. "We are flanked! Arm all cannons and bring on the ballistae! No one runs off or I'll rip your fucking cocks and push it down your throats!"

The Black Mist came closer and closer. The dark figure ahead of them pulled on the chain of its anchor, drawing it back for a second strike.

"And so it begins," Illaoi's eyes narrowed. She gripped her idol with both hands, and it roared back into life again, tentacles dancing aggressively around her. She turned towards them both. "Either you both help, or move out of my way,"

"Your call, prince," Shyvana tightened her gauntlets.

"Not like we have a choice," Jarvan sighed. "Return me my lance,"

As always, reviews are very much appreciated. Do tell me how you feel about this chapter. Thanks for reading!