[Caelum pov]
The air in Havenwood clings to you pine and saltwater, a mix of the forest's breath and the sea's whisper. This place isn't right. The crew's been on edge ever since we landed. Havenwood isn't just some backwater hideout.Lyra found a Black Tide stronghold, a nest where these bastards gather their strength, plan their next move. The trees stretch tall and ancient, as if they've seen more blood spilled than they care to remember. I can feel them watching us, judging, fortunately the repairs were finally finished.
Lyra's out there somewhere, blending into the underbrush, her eyes sharp, her mind sharper. She's good too good sometimes. You wouldn't spot her if you weren't looking.
After hours of meticulous scouting, she slipped back through the shadows, returning to the crew's temporary hideout deeper in the forest. The camp was hidden from view, a precautionary measure taken by Aldric and the others. Lyra found Aldric sharpening his blade near the fire, his eyes narrowed in thought.
She crouched beside him, her voice barely above a whisper. "The base is lightly guarded by overconfident and lazy guard. Fewer men than we expected, but it could still be a trap. They have supplies gold, weapons, and food. Everything we need."
Overconfidence is a dangerous thing, especially in a place like this. The flag of the Black Tide sways lazily in the breeze, mocking us. The guards, too relaxed, too comfortable—like they don't think anyone would be stupid enough to strike here.
She comes back, quiet as the wind, slipping into the shadows of our temporary camp. Aldric's there, sharpening his blade. The man's always thinking, always ready for the next fight. Lyra crouches beside him, whispers something about the base—fewer guards, plenty of supplies. Gold, weapons, food—everything we're running low on.
Aldric's eyes narrow, that calculating look of his. The weeks have worn us down. We need this. "We hit it tonight," he says. His voice is hard, final. "But we do it clean. In and out. No losses."
Lyra nods, her eyes gleaming with that mix of excitement and dread. "I'll get the men ready."
Night falls, wrapping Havenwood in darkness. We move like ghosts through the trees, silent, deadly. Aldric leads, Lyra close behind. I'm there too, heart pounding in my chest, senses on high alert. The clearing opens up before us, the base lying quiet, almost peaceful if you didn't know what lurked inside.
Aldric raises a hand, and we spread out. The plan's simple neutralize the guards, grab what we need, and get the hell out. Lyra moves first, a blade flashing in the dark. One guard down. The rest of us follow, dispatching the others before they even know what hit them.
Aldric leads us inside. The base is a mess of wooden structures, slapped together but sturdy enough to hold what we're after. Gold, food, weapons—it's all here, more than we dared hope. The others start looting, grabbing everything they can carry. I stay by the door, eyes scanning the darkness, every shadow a potential threat.
Something's wrong. I can feel it, that cold shiver up my spine. There's a rustling in the distance, too faint for the others to hear, but I've trained for this. My grip tightens on my swords. The moment stretches, and then movement. A figure bursts from the shadows, a knife gleaming. I don't think—just react. My blades cross, deflecting the attack, and I'm on him, driving him back, forcing him down.
We struggle in the dirt, his breath hot and ragged against my face. He's desperate, wild, but I've fought worse. I pin him, rip the knife from his hand, and send him into unconsciousness with a sharp blow to the head.
"We've got company!" My voice cuts through the night. The others snap to attention, the quiet raid turning into something else something ugly. Aldric's orders come quick. "Grab what you can! We're leaving!"
The crew's frantic now, stuffing loot into sacks as fast as they can. The base erupts in chaos. Pirates pour out of the woodwork, drawn by the noise. Swords clash, steel on steel, the sharp ring of battle filling the air.
I fight on instinct, twin blades moving in a deadly dance. A slash here, a thrust there—every movement precise, every strike deadly. Lyra's a blur, cutting down anyone who gets too close. Aldric's right beside her, a force of nature, carving a path through the chaos.
We break free, retreating into the forest. The pirates are too stunned to give chase, their screams echoing behind us as we melt into the night. We don't stop until we're deep into the trees, safe enough to catch our breath.
Aldric surveys the group, eyes locking on me for a moment. There's a rare smile there. "You did well," he says, voice gruff.
I nod, still catching my breath. "Just following orders."
Lyra wipes blood from her blades, a chuckle escaping her lips. "Let's hope they don't come after us. We've got enough on our plate without a full-scale hunt."
Aldric's face darkens. "We move fast. They won't catch us."
The loot's heavy, but it's worth it. We trek back to the ship, Havenwood fading into the distance. This was a win, sure, but a small one. The Black Tide's out there, and they'll be coming for us. This is just the beginning. The war's only getting started.