POV of a random pirate
The sea was a black mirror, broken only by the silhouette of our ship, the *Abyssal Hunter*, slicing through the water. We were part of the Black Tide, the shadow that stalked the seas of Arkhadia, feared by all who dared to venture too far from their shores. Tonight, we hunted the *Stormbreaker*.
I tightened my grip on the cold, iron hilt of my blade, feeling the familiar weight in my hand. The air was thick with the scent of salt and impending violence. This was how it always was—silent, deadly, no hesitation. We struck fast, left nothing but wreckage in our wake. But tonight, something felt different. The storm had driven them toward us, and we had followed their trail like sharks smelling blood.
Our captain stood at the bow, a dark figure against the night, his eyes fixed on the distant lights of the *Stormbreaker*. His voice was low, almost a growl. "Prepare to board."
The crew moved in sync, a well-oiled machine of death. Grappling hooks were readied, blades sharpened, pistols checked. We had done this a hundred times, and yet, there was a tension in the air that I couldn't shake. This wasn't just another ship—it was prey that had the audacity to fight back.
We came up alongside them in silence, our black sails blending into the night. The first grappling hook flew across the gap, catching hold with a muted thud. Then another, and another. The boarding planks slammed down, and we poured across like a wave of darkness.
The deck of the *Stormbreaker* erupted into chaos. Shouts, the clash of steel, the crack of gunfire. I pushed through, my sword slicing through the air, meeting resistance as it found flesh. There was no time to think, only to fight. The faces of my enemies were a blur, their expressions lost in the haze of combat.
And then, I saw her.
She moved like a shadow, her blades dancing in the dim light. Each strike was precise, deadly, a blur of motion that left a trail of bodies in her wake. She was a specter, a ghost among the living. I watched, mesmerized, as she disarmed one of my brothers with a flick of her wrist, her blade flashing as it found his throat. Blood sprayed in an arc, glinting in the moonlight, and she was gone, a wraith disappearing into the fray.
I turned, blocking a strike aimed at my side, driving my sword into the gut of my attacker. He gasped, blood spilling from his lips as he fell, his life extinguished in a heartbeat. But there was no time to dwell. The *Stormbreaker* crew was fighting with a ferocity that matched our own, and for the first time, I felt the stirrings of doubt.
A man presence loomed ahead of me, a force of nature on the battlefield. He was a mountain of muscle and steel, his blade cutting down anyone foolish enough to stand in his path. He fought with the precision of a man who had seen countless battles, each movement efficient, calculated. I watched as he deflected a strike with his gauntlet, his sword driving through his enemy's chest with brutal force.
There was no hesitation, no mercy. He was like a god of war, and I found myself faltering. What were we up against? This wasn't the easy prey we had expected. This was something else entirely.
But it was the boy who truly unsettled me. He was smaller than the others, his frame lean and wiry, but he moved with a speed and agility that was unnatural. He was everywhere and nowhere at once, slipping past our defenses, his strikes coming from angles I couldn't anticipate. The two swords was an extension of himself, a blur of steel that left our men falling in droves.
I lunged at him, trying to catch him off guard, but he was faster. He ducked under my swing, his blade catching my leg as he rolled past me. Pain shot up my side, but I gritted my teeth, turning to face him again. He was already gone, moving to his next target, his face a mask of focus and determination.
The battle was turning against us. I could feel it in the air, taste it in the blood that spattered my lips. We had underestimated them, and now we were paying the price.
I pushed forward, desperation driving me as I sought out their leaders, hoping to end this before it was too late. But they were unstoppable. they were a force, a storm of steel and death that we couldn't contain.
I caught sight of the ghost again, her blade flashing as she decapitated one of our men, his headless body crumpling to the deck. She turned, our eyes meeting for the briefest of moments, and I saw it... the cold calculation in her gaze, the utter lack of fear. She was no ordinary woman; she was something else, something dangerous.
The captain of the *Abyssal Hunter* roared, rallying what remained of our crew, but it was too late. The *Stormbreaker* was pushing us back, their ferocity matched only by their skill. The tide had turned, and we were drowning in it.
I fought on, my blade heavy in my hand, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My body screamed in protest, but I couldn't stop. Not now. Not when death was so close. But it was hopeless. I knew it, even as I slashed at another enemy, my sword carving through flesh and bone. There were not many of them, but they were too strong.
Suddenly, a searing pain shot through my side, and I staggered, my vision blurring. I looked down, seeing the hilt of a dagger protruding from my ribs. My breath hitched, blood bubbling in my throat as I fell to my knees.
Through the haze of pain, I saw Caelum standing over me, his eyes hard as he pulled the dagger free. There was no malice in his gaze, only the cold determination of a soldier who knew what needed to be done.
I collapsed onto the deck, the sounds of battle fading around me as darkness closed in. My blood pooled beneath me, warm and sticky, and the last thing I saw before everything went black was the figure of Lyra, moving through the carnage like a ghost, her blades singing the song of death.
The Black Tide had met its match, and as I drifted into oblivion, I knew that we had been broken by something far more powerful than we had ever imagined.