Cynthia stared at Lex, her wide eyes betraying a mix of fear and fascination. She couldn't reconcile what she had just seen—the ghoulish, skinless hand floating unnaturally in the air, gripping the fork with precision, only to disappear as if it had never existed. The memory burned in her mind. Is this sorcery? Is she some kind of witch? Cynthia's thoughts churned, and for the first time in years, she felt utterly out of her depth.
Arthur, meanwhile, sat motionless, his face pale and beads of sweat gathering on his brow. His gaze was fixed on the space above the table where the hand had materialized. It was as if he was waiting for it to return, half-expecting it to reach for him.
The oppressive silence dragged on until Cynthia finally managed to speak, her voice shaky at first but growing steadier as she addressed the red-haired woman before her.
"Arthur, tell her everything she needs to know. You will also cover any costs she incurs for handling this matter," she said firmly, though her trembling fingers betrayed her nerves. Then, turning to Lex with a newfound respect—and no small amount of trepidation—she asked, "But, um, ma'am, what… what is your name?"
Lex tilted her head slightly, as though weighing the importance of the question. Finally, she replied with calm indifference, "Lex." Her tone was as sharp and deliberate as her movements. The way her bandaged eyes seemed to fixate on Arthur made him flinch, as if she could see far more than he wanted her to.
Before either of them could speak again, the waiter arrived, his presence cutting through the tension as he placed several steaming dishes on the table. Plates of golden meat pies, a pan of deep-fried sailfish, a fresh loaf of bread, and a bowl of potato-turnip bisque filled the space between them. The aromas were warm and inviting, contrasting with the icy atmosphere that surrounded Lex.
Lex wasted no time. She reached out, grabbing a meat pie, and bit into it with mechanical efficiency. The golden crust flaked apart, revealing a rich filling of savory meat and vegetables. She consumed it wordlessly, her focus entirely on the food as she polished off two more in quick succession. Arthur and Cynthia exchanged uneasy glances, unsure if they should interrupt her or wait until she was ready.
Finally, Lex set down her fork, her tone cold and commanding. "Details."
Arthur fumbled with his napkin, his hands trembling slightly as he began to speak. "The pirates… they're docked at Banty Harbor, port four. Their ship—it's a dark brown vessel with three massive sails. There's no access except for the plank connecting the dock to the ship. They always have someone patrolling the deck, keeping an eye out for trouble. I haven't seen them leave the ship since they arrived."
Arthur paused, his throat dry. He reached for his glass of water but hesitated under Lex's unwavering gaze. He forced himself to continue.
"The crew is made up of twelve men," he said. "Most of them are your typical thugs—killers, thieves, the worst kind of people you can imagine. But the captain… he's the real problem. His name is Alan Bettany. He's not just strong—he's unnaturally strong. A freak of nature. People say he once crushed a man's skull with his bare hands." Arthur's voice dropped to a whisper as if saying the name aloud would summon the man himself. "No one's dared go near him since he docked."
Cynthia leaned forward, her curiosity piqued despite her fear. "If the captain is that dangerous, why haven't the police done anything? Surely they've heard about this."
Arthur shrugged helplessly. "The police say they're too busy. That they don't have the resources to deal with it. But we all know the truth—they're afraid. They don't want to go up against someone like Bettany."
Lex listened in silence, her expression unreadable. The name Alan Bettany echoed in her mind, and a plan began to take shape. Twelve men, one Beyonder. The captain is both the problem and the solution. Take him down, and the rest will fall like dominoes.
As Arthur nervously nibbled at a piece of bread, Lex stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. The sudden motion startled both Arthur and Cynthia, and they looked up at her in confusion.
Lex said nothing. She turned and walked out of the tavern without a backward glance, her movements deliberate and precise. Arthur scrambled to his feet, tossing a few coins onto the table before hurrying after her. Cynthia followed at a slower pace, her mind racing with questions.
The streets of the city were alive with the clatter of steam-powered carriages and the hum of machinery, but the signs of poverty were everywhere. Malnourished men and women lined the sidewalks, their hollow eyes staring vacantly as Lex passed by. Steam hissed from vents embedded in the cobblestone streets, mixing with the smell of metal and salt.
Lex moved through the crowd like a ghost, her crimson dress flowing behind her. She walked with a confidence that was unnerving to those around her. Despite the bandages covering her eyes, she navigated the bustling streets with precision, as if she could see every obstacle before it appeared.
Arthur trailed behind her, struggling to keep up, while Cynthia followed at a more measured pace. Her gaze remained fixed on Lex, the questions burning inside her growing louder with every step.
"Miss Lex," Cynthia called hesitantly, finally summoning the courage to speak. "What… what are you going to do? How will you handle the pirates?"
Lex didn't slow, didn't even turn her head. Her voice carried back to them, low and firm. "I'll handle it. You don't need to know how."
The answer was as much a dismissal as it was a statement of intent, and Cynthia swallowed her next question. Arthur, meanwhile, kept his head down, too afraid to interrupt.
As they approached Banty Harbor, the air grew heavier, the salty tang of the sea mixing with the metallic bite of the city's machinery. The towering steam cranes loomed over the docks, their gears groaning as they loaded and unloaded cargo from ships of every size. The noise was deafening, but Lex moved through it all without hesitation.
Port four came into view, and there it was—the pirate ship. Just as Arthur had described, the vessel was a dark brown monstrosity with three massive sails that loomed over the dock like the wings of a predatory bird. The ship's hull was weathered but sturdy, and its deck was alive with movement as crew members milled about, their voices carrying over the water.
Lex stopped at the edge of the harbor, her lips curving into a faint, unsettling smile.
"They don't know I'm coming," she said softly, more to herself than to the others. "But they'll know soon enough."
Arthur and Cynthia exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to feel reassured or terrified. They couldn't shake the feeling that they had just unleashed something far more dangerous than the pirates themselves.
As Lex stepped forward, her crimson dress catching the light of the setting sun, Cynthia found herself whispering a silent prayer—for the pirates, for herself, and for whatever dark force Lex truly was.