Gilliam stood on the docks, watching Vyzera's white galleon fade into the horizon. The night air was fair and breezy, carrying a briny taste from the ocean. As he stared out at the black sea, he felt uncertainty in his heart. What would happen across the sea? Was the Starborn blood really enough to fight the Morning Star Kingdom? And what would Sir Smith do once he found his target?
For the first time since he became a Black Rose, Gilliam felt unsure.
"You're awfully mopey today, Frosty," Krista sang as she skipped to the frigid knight's side. "Why did'ja pick her to take 'em to the Widow woman? Why not someone less...goofy?"
Gilliam smiled playfully. "Easy. She was cheapest!"
Krista scowled. "You're a cheapskate, Captain."
"Oh?"
The young girl smiled. "And a bad liar," she said. "I know why you picked her."
"And why is that?" Gilliam said, frost seeping from his mouth like a dense fog.
"You wanted to help her—that pirate lady—didn't you?"
"Well, it's not like I'm forcing anything upon her. She agreed to this on her own volition. However..." the knight trailed off.
Krista cocked her head. "However?"
"We must all face the past at some point, somehow. Until we undo what ails us, until we drop our chains, well...we'll just keep sinking, won't we?"
Silence ensued, the knight and the young girl quietly watching the dark ocean waters underneath the high moon.
"You're not very good at proverbs, Frosty," Krista finally said.
The other began to laugh. "Maybe not...maybe not..." He paused. "Tell me, Krista, what brings you to see me? Did you want to say goodbye to Philos and his friends?"
"Oh!" the young lieutenant said with a giggle. "No that wasn't it..."
"Hm...then what did you need?"
The girl's grin was wide and innocent. "Oh, your brother—that Adonai guy—well, you know how he was all chained up and mopey?"
A sudden chill coursed up Gilliam's spine.
"Yeah," she continued, "well I guess he escaped because he isn't there anymore..."
Gilliam sighed. Well, older brother...
"I see."
"We don't know where he went, either. All of the scouts have gone searching, but well...nothing. It's like he just poof! Vanished."
You've left without trying to get revenge, Gilliam thought. Are you...going back to that place?
"Thank you, Krista. Thank you for the report."
Astrid lay upon her cot in the room that was provided to her and her friends by the strange Captain Vyzera. The room was larger than Astrid had thought possible; though, when it came to pirate ships, she didn't really know what she expected. Honestly, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she had never believed she'd find himself on board a pirate ship—much less as a guest. She rose and looked around. There weren't enough bunks, so the pirates had to bring in some extra cots, which Philos and Alphonso had both agreed to take. It wasn't really a big deal, as the remaining three beds had gone to herself, Vylet, and Uri. Joseph, as he himself had explained, could sleep anywhere in his cat form.
The room was scarcely furnished, and it was obvious that it had, until recently, simply been another storage room. The old casks and barrels that sat along one wall were proof of that.
It had only been a couple of hours since the ship left the docks of Talvory City and everyone had finally said goodbye to the Outskirts and drifted out into the vast sea. Her mind wandered; the name "Darwin Lyell" perplexing her mind.
Where have I heard that before...?
She wasn't sure, but the name seemed so familiar.
"Ugh," Joseph suddenly groaned, holding his stomach. "I hate the ocean."
"I'm fine!" Alphonso explained, almost tauntingly. "Gotta learn to balance, dog!"
"Shut up...you—" Joseph suddenly reached for the bin beside him and retched.
"Gross," Astrid said with a scowl.
"I'm surprised," Uri said, adjusting his bent spectacles. "Lots of ships keep a cat to hunt mice..."
Astrid cracked a devious smile. "Maybe he's just bad at being a cat."
"C'mon, Astrid"—Joseph retched again—"you're a...ugh...cruel beauty."
Suddenly, the door opened, and a Darkling stepped in.
"Hello," he said, his voice rigid and austere, "I am Lehem, first mate of this crew and second only to Captain Vyzera."
"You just doin' introductions or something?" Alphonso blurted out.
Lehem ignored the comment. "The captain would like to see you all above deck for an evaluation first thing tomorrow."
"Evaluation?" Vylet said.
"Yes." Lehem turned. "We're going up against one of the Five Angelic Lords, so she needs to evaluate your fighting abilities to see what you're made of."
Alphonso cracked his knuckles. "Hell yeah! Let's go!"
"Hothead, I see," Lehem said, his voice impassive and cold. "We'll see how you last."
"What was that?!"
"Rest well tonight," Lehem said, ignoring Alphonso once again.
"Hey, I—!"
But it was too late. Lehem was gone.
The breeze was briny with the smell of saltwater. Sir Smith stood on the bow, his eyes gazing out at the dark, starlit sea. No one had bothered him since their departure; instead, the pirates all seemed to look at him with faces mixed with fear and uncomfortable curiosity. But this was no surprise to him. As he stared out, he couldn't help but repeat their destination in his mind...
The Crimson Isle...he felt an odd discomfort as he thought about it. The Red Widow...
"It has been some time, Kysa..."
"You really are good at the whole 'brooding and mysterious' thing," Philos said as he approached, standing beside the Angel.
Sir Smith remained quiet; silence filled the space between them, a gap bridged only by the sounds of the sea and whooshing of the wind.
"But you seem unnerved," Philos finally said, his reddish-brown eyes gazing out at the murky waters. "This 'Red Widow' woman...you know her, don't you?"
More silence.
"I knew her once," Sir Smith finally said, "a long time ago."
"You're very taciturn," the young Starborn said, "and you don't show much emotion, but I think you have a good heart, Sir Smith."
Sir Smith turned his eyes to the young man. Philos didn't return the gaze, instead continuing to stare out into the seemingly infinite oceans that surrounded them.
"I was a slave for a very long time," Philos continued, "and they did terrible things to me." He gripped his chest where the tattoo lay under his shirt. "They took a lot of blood—I didn't know why then, but I guess it's because of the whole Starborn thing..." he trailed off.
Sir Smith turned his eyes back to the ocean, the light of his blue halo illuminating a pained expression upon his face.
"But when I met you," Philos began again, "I don't know why, but you didn't feel like the others. You might be austere and rigid, but I can also tell that you have a kind and just heart and that you want a peaceful world. I just..." Philos paused. "I see that you're troubled about this mission, and I just want you to know that you aren't alone."
"You've been thinking a lot..." Sir Smith said.
The young man smiled as he looked at the Angel. "I guess what I'm saying is that I just want you to know that you're my friend."
There was silence for a moment. Philos looked at Sir Smith. Under the dim light of an azure glow, Philos saw it.
The Angel was smiling.
"I guess that's all," Philos said as he turned. "I'm going to bed."
Sir Smith stood as the young man walked away. He couldn't help it. Something about the young man's words made him feel...lighter. In that moment, he felt as if raptured by some favorable memory.
In that moment, he thought of her.
"Vespira," he whispered, a pained wistfulness in his voice. "He really takes after you, you know..."
An Angelic messenger strode down the halls of the Crimson Palace and into the throne room. As he entered, he beheld the spacious room. Columns of rose quartz ascended from a floor of etched marble to uphold a glass ceiling. Deep pools of flowing water swirled around the edges of the room. The water was so pristine that it was a pinkish color, reflecting the quartz. Thick vines of blood-red thorns wrapped around the columns and streaked up the walls like lightening. To the messenger, the room was a marvel every time he saw it.
Angelic guards stood at their posts upon the walls, their yellow halos shining off of their gilded armor. Human slaves sat at the foot of the Blood Throne, their eyes dulled and fearful.
And it was there—upon the rose quartz chair—sat the Red Widow.
"Almighty One," the messenger said as he bowed before her. "I bring word from our scouts."
The Red Widow sat relaxed upon her throne, red eyes looking down at her subject. Her crimson halos glowed brightly, one above her head, the other wrapped around her finger like a ring. She said nothing for a moment as she tapped her pink nails upon the pale pink stone.
"And what might this word be?" she said, her voice smooth and sweet and equally cold.
"A ship is coming to the Crimson Isle," the messenger began. "Scouts in Talvory City said that there is an Angel aboard, ma'am."
A crescent grin creased the Red Widow's red lips.
"I see," she said. "You are dismissed."
The messenger bowed and left.
"Cherry," the Red Widow called out, "and Marsa."
Suddenly, the stone floor began to bubble like gurgling water as two Angelic women rose from the marble.
"Yes, My Lady?" one hissed as she bowed.
"What do you wish, Lady?" the other said, scratching at her red halo as if it itched.
"Marsa!" the first woman snapped.
"Oh, right!" She stopped scratching and bowed.
"Some guests are coming to our coven, sisters," the Red Widow began. "Why don't we go greet our guests? You know, show them...hospitality?"
Cherry laughed. "What a wonderful idea, Madame Sister."
Marsa smiled. "You are generous as ever, My Lady..."
"Good." The red widow tittered. "I would love to meet my guests. Please, bring them to me."
The floor began to bubble once more, swallowing the two Angelic witches; then they were gone.
The court was then empty, all but the nameless armored guards sworn to silence. Kysa Valyri, the Red Widow, sat on the bright pink stone of the Blood Throne and snickered.
"So you are alive, Metatron..." She smirked, revealing her sharp, vampiric fangs. "O, foolish Angel who loved a fallen star..."
I can't wait to drink your blood...