Somewhere in the Great Eastern Ocean.
2307.
Two-score and one nights til the full moon.
4th Year of the Reign of King Caspian X.
Caspian.
Night would fall soon, but darkness had already begun its slow creep across the sky. Heavy clouds had swallowed the last golden rays of the sun, their swollen bellies churning with the promise of a storm. The sea, once a calm expanse of shifting silver and blue, had turned restless – its surface broken by the mounting wind, its voice rising in a slow, guttural howl.
"Sails! Black sails!"
The wind whipped at Caspian's hair as he turned to Liliandil, catching the way the dimming light cast shadows across her face, those strange silver freckles almost glowing. Fear flickered in her eyes – not for herself, he knew, but for him, for the crew, for the fate of the Dawn Treader as the black sails closed in.
I do not like it.
He could not bear that look.
One who had never felt fear before…
His hands found hers, cold and trembling, though she quickly steeled herself beneath his touch. He should have told her to go at once, should have sent her below before she could protest, but something in him faltered. The thought of losing sight of her, of sending her away where he could not shield her, twisted his insides.
"Liliandil," he said, his voice low, urgent. "You must go below."
She shook her head, her grip tightening around his fingers. "No, Caspian – I can stay, I can help."
His heart clenched.
He knew she would fight if he let her. But there was no safety for her above deck. No armour thick enough, no sword swift enough to keep her from harm. The pirates would show no mercy, not to a woman, not to anyone.
"Liliandil, please," he said, pressing his forehead to hers for the briefest of moments, his breath warm against her skin. "If you stay, I'll be watching you, not the battle. I need to know you're safe."
Her lips parted as if to argue, but the vulnerability in his voice stopped her. She searched his gaze, and perhaps she saw the war waging behind his eyes – the part of him that wanted her close, where he could shield her, and the part that knew he could not fight freely if she was within reach of danger.
Finally, with great reluctance, she nodded.
"Promise me you will not fall," she whispered.
He smiled faintly, though his throat felt tight. "I will not. And I will come for you when this is over."
A shudder ran through the ship as the pirate vessels drew closer, the waves churning angrily beneath them.
"Go," he urged, releasing her hands.
But then as she turned to obey, something inside him rebelled. The thought of sending her away, of losing sight of her in the chaos to come, was unbearable.
Before he could stop himself, before he could think – he reached for her again.
And then he kissed her.
He didn't mean to.
But he couldn't help it.
The world around them – the rising wind, the shouts of the crew, the ominous creak of the black-sailed ships closing in – faded into nothing. It was only her, only the warmth of her lips against his, the way she gasped softly before melting into him, the way his hands cradled her face as if he could keep her safe through sheer will alone.
It lasted only a breath.
Then reality crashed back over him like a breaking wave.
Caspian pulled away, breathless, his forehead pressed against hers. Her eyes searched his, wide with something between surprise and sorrow.
"Go," he whispered again, with more difficulty.
Liliandil swallowed hard, lingering for just a heartbeat more. Then, with trembling fingers, she brushed his cheek and turned, vanishing below deck.
Caspian stood motionless for half a heartbeat, his breath uneven, his pulse thundering in his ears. The warmth of her lips still lingered, the ghost of her touch branding his skin – but there was no time for it.
A deafening crack split the sky.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the black sails that loomed ever closer. The wind roared, carrying the sound of shouted orders and the creaking of wood as the Dawn Treader braced against the swelling sea.
Caspian forced himself to move.
"Arm yourselves!" he bellowed, his voice slicing through the chaos. "To your stations! Do not let them take the deck!"
His crew obeyed without hesitation, men scrambling to seize weapons, to brace for the collision. The Dawn Treader had no way to drive them back from a distance – the pirates would come aboard, and the fight would be steel against steel, man against man.
Another boom of thunder, another flash of white fire across the sky – then the first impact struck.
The entire ship shuddered with a sickening crunch as the first pirate vessel rammed their starboard side. Men stumbled, ropes snapped, wood groaned under the strain. Before the Dawn Treader could recover, the second ship struck her port, pinning her between the two like a beast caught in a hunter's trap.
The first grappling hook landed with a dull thud against the railing.
Then another.
And another.
Caspian drew his sword, the steel gleaming in the flickering light. He could not afford to think of Liliandil, could not dwell on the fear tightening in his chest.
Lightning slashed across the heavens, a jagged wound of white fire, illuminating the battle below. Rain followed, sudden and cold, needling against exposed skin, soaking the deck in a heartbeat. The sea heaved, and the ships groaned with its fury.
But no storm, no darkness, no wrath of nature would quell the fight that had begun.
He would fight.
He would not fall.
And when it was over – he would kiss her again.
…
Liliandil.
From her place below deck and desk, Liliandil could hear the battle raging overhead, each thud of boots and clang of swords echoing in her ears. She gripped her arms around her knees, sitting behind the desk and away from the windows that could shatter at any moment, her heart pounding. It was nothing like the serene battles of light and shadow that she had known as s star. It was raw, visceral, and terrifying.
And her heart thundered.
The first impact had nearly thrown her to the ground, and then another had come – a brutal, grinding shudder as the ship was crushed between its enemies. Silence followed for the span of a single breath, the kind of terrible stillness that came before a storm.
Then, the battle began.
She could hear the clash of swords, the screams of men, the thud of bodies hitting the deck. Each sound was like a strike against her chest, making her heart race faster and faster. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the noise, but it was impossible. The weight of her helplessness pressed down on her like a heavy stone.
Caspian could have been hurt.
Or Drinian.
Or any number of the crew she had come to know the names and faces of.
And she could do nothing to help.
Her words to Caspian had been empty.
The minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and all she could do was listen – listen to the chaos, the desperation, and the fear. The ship was under attack, and she wasn't able to do anything about it.
And then the door began to rattle.
She froze, her breath catching in her throat.
She could hear footsteps – heavy, deliberate – and then the sound of wood creaking underfoot as someone approached. Her heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, she pushed herself deeper into the shadows of the desk, her breath shallow and quiet.
The door slammed open with a violent force, and before she could react, a rough hand seized her by the arm, pulling her forward with a jerk. Her startled cry was muffled by the man's iron grip.
"Well, well," a voice hissed through the chaos, laced with malice. "What do we have here?"
Liliandil struggled against the man's hold, her feet sliding against the wooden floor as she tried to break free. The pirate was tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar running down one side of his face. His grip was like iron, and he dragged her toward the stairs with ease, ignoring her weak attempts to fight back.
"Thought you could hide, did you?" The pirate chuckled darkly, his breath rank and foul. "You're coming with me, princess."
Her heart pounded.
It thundered.
And she felt a familiar hum sing through her veins, under her skin.
A blinding flash of light erupted from her fingertips, filling the room with a pure, radiant glow. She heard the man closest to her shout, his voice thick with pain as the light seared his vision. He stumbled backward, hands raised in a futile attempt to shield his eyes.
Liliandil stared at her hand, and then at the man.
And hesitated a moment too long.
Another pirate – a large, shadowed figure – reached for her just as she tried to dart out from beneath the desk. She twisted away, but his hand was too quick, too strong. His fingers closed around her wrist in an iron grip, pulling her roughly to her feet.
"No! Let me go!" she cried, lashing out with her free hand, but the pirate's other hand shot out to grab her shoulder, holding her in place.
He was near twice her size, his strength overwhelming as she struggled against him. Desperation surged within her, and she summoned her magic again, trying to blind him, to force him to release her, but the darkness of the room was too thick, and she wasn't fast enough.
A cold laugh echoed in her ears as the pirate tightened his hold. "You're not going anywhere, lass."
With a final, helpless cry, Liliandil fought to free herself, but the world around her spun into chaos as the man dragged her out of the State Room. Her heart sank, and despite her struggle, she knew there was little hope of escaping.
Terror flooded her veins.
A bone-chilling terror that she'd never felt before.
Desperation surged through her, and she reached for the magic within her, the light she had always known.
But found nothing.
It was too far away, as if locked behind some unseen door, just beyond her grasp.
Panic clawed at her throat. Her magic had always been there, shimmering beneath her skin like starlight waiting to be called forth. But there was nothing.
Nothing.
The wind whipped around her, stinging her cheeks, and the chaos of the battle overwhelmed her senses. The deck was a blur of bodies, swords clashing, and blood staining the wood. Pirates and crew members alike fought desperately for control of the ship.
As the pirate tugged her off the ship, her feet stumbling across the rough wooden planks of the gangplank, Liliandil's gaze shot to the deck of their ship. Her heart dropped as she saw Caspian, fighting fiercely, his sword flashing with determination – but then his eyes met hers.
His expression shattered, stricken, a mixture of disbelief and fear flashing across his features. His lips parted in a silent plea, and his voice rang out, sharp and desperate. "Liliandil!"
Her name, the sound of it on his lips, was like a lifeline, pulling at her heart even as the pirate's grip dragged her further from him. She strained against the hold, her eyes locked on Caspian's, her throat aching with the need to reach him.
"Caspian!" she cried out, her voice breaking with panic, though in vain. The pirate shoved her forward, and she was pulled onto the other ship, the world around her growing distant and blurry. The sounds of battle, of shouting, of Caspian's frantic calls for her – all of it faded into the background, the ship's rocking motion disorienting her.
And then, as she struggled against the grip of the pirate, a sudden blow struck her head, the impact sending a wave of darkness crashing over her. The last thing she heard was Caspian's voice, calling her name over and over, a haunting echo in her fading consciousness.
"Liliandil... Liliandil..."
And then, everything turned black.
The sea, the wind, the chaos – it all faded, leaving only the quiet void of unconsciousness.