Night had fallen quietly over the deck of the ship. Anya tucked a warm blanket around Uncle Bobby's frail shoulders and handed him a small plate of roasted fish from the remnants of what they had. He ate hungrily, and she watched him, wondering what kind of life he'd endured all these while.
Nereus lingered nearby, leaning against the mast with crossed arms, his eyes narrowed as he studied Uncle Bobby. He hadn't said much since they'd brought the old man aboard, but his silent scrutiny hadn't gone
unnoticed by Anya.
Breaking the silence, Anya asked, "Uncle Bobby, what happened on the ship? You were with my father but now you're not. Why?"
Uncle Bobby sighed, there was clear weariness in his eyes. "The journey seemed endless, Anya. Your father was obsessed, never willing to turn back, and all I wanted was to see home again." He shook his head. "So I told him I was done. That I wanted to leave. We argued, but in the end, he handed me a rowboat and let me go."
Anya's heart clenched at the thought of her father, still out there somewhere, refusing to give up.
"How did you survive for so long?" Nereus asked breaking his silence.
"Who is that man?" Uncle Bobby asked.
"He's someone I rescued a few days ago." Anya replied nonchalantly. Nereus got pissed by her reply and walked away with Maximus tagging along.
Uncle Bobby sighed. "Luck, mostly. I drifted on the sea for months. Ate whatever I could catch. Drank seawater, sometimes… when there was no rain. Surviving out there is nothing short of a miracle." He turned back to
Anya, his expression softening. "But enough about me—how's your father? Is he safe?"
Anya's voice wavered as she replied, "He never came back. They say he's gone, that he's… dead. But I know he's still out there,
somewhere."
Uncle Bobby nodded solemnly. "The sea isn't kind, Anya. And for a young girl like you…" He trailed off, looking her over as if to make sure
she was unharmed. "How do you plan to find him? It's a dangerous path."
She took a deep breath. "I'm prepared for whatever comes. I found something on the Isle of Sablethorn—a strange word carved under a crescent symbol."
Uncle Bobby's face tightened at the mention. "Aelystran," he said quietly.
Anya's eyes widened. "You know that word?"
"Aye," he replied, nodding slowly. "We saw it, too, on the same isle. Your father was convinced it was a clue, something pointing toward the treasure we sought. But… it's more than just a word. It's a warning."
"A warning?" Anya whispered.
He nodded. "It's an ancient word that means 'binding curse' in an old merfolk dialect. You're stepping into dangerous waters, Anya. A curse like that doesn't come without a price."
Her determination was unwavering. "I don't care. I'm going to find my father, no matter what."
Uncle Bobby studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Well, then… I hope you're ready for what's ahead. You'll need strength,
patience… and maybe even some luck."
As night deepened, Anya helped set up a small sleeping area for Uncle Bobby near the edge of the deck. Exhausted from the day's events, she finally retreated to her cabin, closing her eyes in search of a few hours of
rest.
Hours later, with the ship silent, Uncle Bobby crept quietly into Anya's cabin. His eyes gleamed with a strange hunger as he approached her bed, reaching out to touch her arm. He began picking at her skin, his
fingernails scraping greedily as if seeking sustenance.
At that moment, Nereus, restless from his thoughts, made his way toward Anya's cabin. He hadn't wanted to leave things as they were, not after her dismissive introduction of him as "someone she'd rescued." As he
reached her doorway, the sight stopped him cold.
"Uncle Bobby," Nereus growled, his voice sharp with accusation. "So that's how you've survived all this time."
The old man looked up, his eyes wild and filled with guilt and hunger. Anya stirred, wincing as she came to consciousness, rubbing her bruised arm. "What's… what's going on?" She looked between the two of them, her gaze settling on Nereus with suspicion.
Nereus stepped forward, pulling Uncle Bobby back roughly. "Your uncle's been surviving by… other means, Anya."
"What do you mean?" She glanced down at the bruises on her arm, then at Uncle Bobby. But her gaze drifted back to Nereus, a creeping thought seeping into her mind. His kind were believed to have eaten her kind.
Nereus's face fell as he saw the look in her eyes. "You… you think it was me?" He took a step back, disbelief clouding his face. "Anya, you have to know I would never hurt you."
She looked away, but her silence said everything. Maximus, who had been nearby, whined and nudged against Anya's legs, as if trying to bridge the gap of distrust that had suddenly grown between her and Nereus.
"You don't trust me, fine. Good luck finding your father." Nereus said then he left.
_________
While Jack and Gertrude were close to escape, Jack doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach as a sudden, intense ache gripped him. Gertrude, alarmed, rushed to his side.
"Jack!" she whispered, her voice laced with worry. "What's happening?"
Jack groaned, sweat beading his forehead. "I... I don't know. It's like something's twisting my insides…"
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of heavy boots echoing down the narrow corridor. Blackbeard strode in. In his hand, he held a small, crude doll fashioned from cloth, with rough stitches around its midsection and a small needle pricking its stomach. Blackbeard's face twisted into a sinister grin as he held the doll aloft.
Jack's face turned pale as he realized what was happening. "That doll..."
"Aye," Blackbeard said, a dark gleam in his eye. "This little trinket here's got a bit of you in it." He smirked, twisting the needle just enough to send a fresh wave of pain coursing through Jack's body. Jack gritted his teeth, doing his best to suppress a cry as agony shot through him.
Gertrude's eyes widened in horror. "You… you're using dark magic," she spat. "Have you no compassion?"
"Compassion?" Blackbeard scoffed, his tone dripping with mockery. "I have no need for compassion, lass. Only power. And I intend to keep it." He moved the needle up, tracing it to where the doll's heart would be, a silent threat hanging in the air.
"Listen to me carefully, boy," Blackbeard said in a low tone. "The next time you try anything like this—" he glanced meaningfully at Gertrude, "—it'll be your heart I pierce."
Jack glared up at him. "You think you can scare me with that?"
"Oh, I don't think, lad. I know." Blackbeard smirked, his hand steady as he pressed the needle further into the doll. Jack flinched, swallowing a shout of pain.
"Now, you're going to go back to your cell and prepare for the next stop." Blackbeard ordered.