The Night's Whisper burned like a funeral pyre, its blackened timbers hissing as they sank into the Crimson Sea. Kael watched from the deck of the Ashbringer's galley, his arm still bleeding from her dagger's kiss. Vessa crouched beside him, shivering in her sodden dress, her gaze locked on the hooded prophet bound to the mast.
"You should've killed her," Vessa muttered.
"Death's too simple for prophets," Kael said, tightening the tourniquet around his wound. "They're worth more alive."
The Ashbringer laughed—a dry, crackling sound. "You think chains hold me, Bastard? The Burner's fire runs in my veins. I am already free."
Kael ignored her, turning to the crew of the black galley. Silent Dominion sailors, their faces hidden behind lacquered masks, moved like ghosts. They spoke in hand signs, their loyalty bought with coin or fear—he didn't care which. The captain, a wiry woman with a serpent tattoo coiled around her throat, approached.
"Your ship is cinders," she said, her voice accented with the lilting cadence of the southern isles. "We sail for Blackshell Cove. You will pay for passage, yes?"
"With what?" Kael gestured to the smoldering horizon. "My gold sank with the Whisper."
The captain's eyes flicked to the Ashbringer. "Her. The Bloodsworn's prophet. The Dominion's Shadow Matrons pay well for zealots… alive."
Kael's mind raced. Blackshell Cove was a den of slavers and informants, a place where secrets were bartered like spices. If the Dominion wanted the Ashbringer, they knew her value. But handing her over meant losing leverage—and answers about his mother.
"Half now," he said. "Half when we dock."
The captain smirked. "You bargain like a dockside thief."
"I bargain like a man with nothing to lose."
She nodded once and walked away.
Vessa pulled Kael aside, her voice low. "You're trading the one person who knows why your mother died. For what? A berth on a slaver ship?"
"I'm trading a pawn to keep the game alive." He studied her—the way her jaw tightened, the defiance in her eyes. "Why do you care?"
"Because House Kaelthar burned my home. Because the Bloodsworn butchered my father. And because you're the only one mad enough to gut them both." She leaned closer. "But if you let that witch slip away, you're just another fool with a dagger."
Kael's scar itched. He'd underestimated Mira; he wouldn't underestimate this taxman's daughter. "Stay out of my head, Vessa."
"Or what? You'll throw me overboard too?"
Before he could retort, the Ashbringer's voice slithered across the deck. "She's right, Bastard. You need me. The Burner's flame doesn't lie—your mother's death was no accident. She was a sacrifice. Your sacrifice."
Kael crossed the deck in three strides, gripping the Ashbringer's throat. "Speak plainly, witch."
She wheezed, her eyes blazing. "The night she burned… the Bloodsworn marked you. The scar… it's a covenant. You were meant to be ours. A king of cinders."
He recoiled. The ship swayed. The memory struck like a blade: his mother's screams, the smell of burning linen, Lord Cedran's guards holding him back as the flames devoured their hovel. A sacrifice.
Vessa's hand touched his arm. "Don't listen. She's twisting your grief into a weapon."
The Ashbringer grinned. "Ask your father, Bastard. Ask him why he never claimed you. Ask him who ordered the fire."
Kael turned to the Dominion captain. "Change of plans. We sail for Varynth Keep."
The captain stiffened. "The Keep is a week north. Through Bloodsworn patrols and Kaelthar blockades."
"Then pray to your Matrons." He tossed her a bloodstained coin from his pocket—a Varynth silver stag, its edges melted from flame. "This covers the risk."
The captain's eyes narrowed. "And if we're boarded?"
Kael glanced at the Ashbringer. "Then we give them their prophet… in pieces."
That night, as the galley cut through moonlit waves, Kael found Vessa at the bow. She stared at the sea, her face pale.
"You've never seen battle," he said.
"I've seen enough." She didn't look at him. "My father kept ledgers, but I kept his secrets. House Kaelthar didn't just sell us to the Bloodsworn. They're working with someone else. A group he called the Duskwarden Collective."
Kael stilled. The name meant nothing, but Mira's betrayal flashed in his mind—she works for the Duskwardens. "What do they want?"
"To watch the realm burn. To profit from the ash." She finally met his gaze. "They're the ones who told Kaelthar about the Iron Pass shipments. They're the ones who sent Mira."
Kael's fists clenched. Every thread he pulled unraveled into another scheme. "Why tell me this?"
"Because if we're walking into Varynth Keep, you need to know the enemies behind the enemies." She hesitated. "And because I want House Kaelthar's head on a spike."
He almost smiled. "Careful, Vessa. You're starting to sound like me."
A shout erupted from the crow's nest. "Sails! Due east!"
Kael followed the lookout's finger. Three ships, their sails dyed indigo and gold, closed in. Not Bloodsworn. Not Kaelthar.
"Dawn Pact colors," Vessa whispered. "The Puritans."
The captain stormed toward Kael. "You said nothing about the Pact! They'll sink us on sight!"
Kael unsheathed his dagger. "Then let's give them a reason to board."
He strode to the Ashbringer, sliced a shallow cut across her palm, and smeared her blood on the mast. It sizzled, emitting a thin curl of black smoke—a signal, a beacon.
"What have you done?" the Ashbringer hissed.
"Called your Burner," Kael said. "Let's see if he answers."
The Ashbringer's blood-smoke coiled into the night sky, a serpentine signal that pulsed with unnatural light. The Dawn Pact ships adjusted their course, drawn to the beacon like moths. Kael gripped the rail, watching as the lead vessel—a towering carrack adorned with sunburst sigils—closed in.
"They'll burn us all!" the Dominion captain snarled.
"Not if the Bloodsworn reach them first," Kael said.
As if summoned, a low horn bellowed across the water. From the eastern horizon, three jagged ships emerged, their black sails marked with crimson handprints. Bloodsworn reavers. The Ashbringer's blood had called them—her disciples, hungry for holy war.
Chaos erupted. The Dawn Pact ships veered, torn between their quarry and the zealots bearing down. Kael turned to the Dominion crew. "Cut the lanterns. Let the Puritans and fanatics gut each other."
The galley plunged into darkness, its crew silent as the grave. Kael dragged the Ashbringer to the stern, where Vessa waited with a rope and a rusted hook.
"You'll hang her as bait?" Vessa asked.
"Worse." Kael tied the prophet's wrists and hoisted her over the edge, her body dangling just above the waves. "The Bloodsworn won't risk hitting their holy woman. The Dawn Pact will."
The Ashbringer thrashed. "The Burner will flay your soul for this!"
"Tell him to stand in line."
The Bloodsworn ships crashed into the Dawn Pact fleet. Fire arrows streaked through the dark, igniting sails. Kael heard the screams, the clash of steel, the guttural chants of zealots invoking their god. The lead Puritan ship, crippled by a Bloodsworn ram, listed sideways. A lifeboat splashed into the water, fleeing toward the Dominion galley.
"Incoming!" Borin roared, hefting a boarding axe.
Kael peered over the rail. The lifeboat held six Dawn Pact soldiers—and Seraphine, her blood-red robes singed, her face a mask of fury.
"Bring her aboard," Kael ordered. "Kill the rest."
Seraphine collapsed onto the deck, coughing up seawater. "You madman," she spat. "You've allied with the Silent Dominion? Do you know what they are?"
"Saviors," Kael said, shrugging. "Today, at least."
She lunged for him, but Borin pinned her arms. "The Bloodsworn are your doing! Their prophet's been sighted on your ship! The Pact will brand you a heretic!"
"They already have." Kael nodded to the burning fleet. "But thanks to you, they're a little busy."
Seraphine's gaze flicked to Vessa. "Who's this? Another whore to manipulate?"
Vessa stepped forward, her voice icy. "The whore who's going to carve House Kaelthar's lies into your skin if you don't shut up."
Kael hid a smirk. She's learning.
The Ashbringer's laughter cut through the noise. "You fight the flames, Puritan, but you are the flame. The Burner sees your hypocrisy. He'll savor your screams."
Seraphine paled. "That voice… You're the Ashbringer. The Prophet of Cinders."
"And you're a pawn," the Ashbringer hissed. "Just like him."
Kael hauled the prophet back onto the deck. "Enough sermons. Why does the Burner want my father dead?"
The Ashbringer's eyes glinted. "Not just him. You. The covenant demands a king's blood… and a bastard's soul."
Before Kael could respond, the galley shuddered. A harpoon, tipped with a glowing blue crystal, pierced the hull.
"Breach!" the Dominion captain screamed.
Another harpoon struck, then another. The Silent Dominion crew scrambled as the sea around them began to boil. From the depths rose a ship unlike any Kael had seen—sleek, metallic, its hull etched with glowing runes. Duskwarden Collective.
Mira stood at the prow, her smirk visible even in the dark. "Miss me, Bastard?"
The Duskwarden ship loomed, its deck crawling with masked figures. Mira tossed a grappling hook, binding the two vessels. "Surrender the prophet," she called. "And I'll let your little tax collector live."
Vessa drew a dagger. "Try it."
Kael stepped forward. "You're bold for a traitor. What's the Collective's price for betrayal?"
"Higher than yours," Mira said. "But don't worry—I'll make your death quick. For old times' sake."
The Ashbringer writhed in her bonds. "Fools! The Duskwardens serve no god but gold. They'll sell you all to the—"
A crossbow bolt silenced her, piercing her shoulder. Mira lowered the weapon. "Next one goes through her heart, Kael."
Kael's mind raced. The Dominion crew was outnumbered. The Bloodsworn and Dawn Pact still brawled in the distance. His scar burned, a relentless itch. Think. Adapt.
He grabbed Seraphine. "You want redemption? Prove your faith."
"What?"
He shoved her toward the Ashbringer. "Blessed flame purifies, right? Burn the prophet. Burn her now."
Seraphine hesitated, then drew a vial of oil from her robes—holy fire, meant for heretics. She doused the Ashbringer and struck a flint.
The prophet's scream was a thing of nightmares. Blue flames engulfed her, but she did not burn. Instead, the fire coiled around her like a lover, healing the crossbow wound, melting her bonds.
"You cannot kill the Burner's will!" she roared.
The sea erupted.
A pillar of flame shot skyward, and from its heart emerged a skeletal figure wreathed in ash—a Bloodsworn warship, its timbers blackened, its crew charred husks with glowing eyes. The true zealots. The Burner's chosen.
Mira's smirk faded. "What in the seven hells—"
The Ashbringer rose, her body unharmed, her voice echoing with infernal power. "The Bastard is mine."
Kael seized Vessa and Seraphine. "Jump. Now."
They plunged into the sea as fire rained. The Dominion galley splintered, its crew screaming. Kael surfaced in time to see the Ashbringer stride across the water toward the burning warship, Mira's Duskwarden vessel fleeing into the dark.
Borin hauled Kael onto a floating plank. "Still think this was a good plan?"
Kael coughed saltwater. "It got us here, didn't it?"
"Where's here?" Vessa spat, clinging to debris.
A shadow fell over them. The metallic Duskwarden ship loomed, its gangplank lowered. Mira stood at the top, arms crossed. "Going my way, Bastard?"
Seraphine hissed. "It's a trap."
"Obviously," Kael said. "But traps have teeth. And teeth can be pulled."
He climbed aboard.