The Stormrider sailed through a bruised sky, the clouds black and swollen, rippling with skyfire. The storm that had once been a distant whisper was now a roar, the wind clawing at the ship's crimson sails and the engines groaning under the strain.
Alistair Von Wolfenstein gripped the wheel, his knuckles white, his jaw set. This storm wasn't natural it was too sudden, too violent, like a living thing lashing out.
A phantom gale.
Skyfarers whispered about them tempests that seemed to hunt ships, storms that defied reason or wind patterns. Some blamed sorcery. Others spoke of ancient skyships that still haunted the clouds, dragging the storms behind them like a shroud.
Alistair didn't believe in ghost stories.
But the air felt wrong.
And the tension on deck was thicker than the stormclouds surrounding them.
"Cap'n! She won't hold much longer!"
Rogan's voice boomed over the howling wind as he fought to keep the engine from tearing itself apart. Steam hissed from the gears, and the entire ship shuddered as a bolt of skyfire cracked too close for comfort.
Alistair's coat billowed behind him as he shouted back, "Hold her steady we push through!"
His words were met with a hiss of frustration from behind him.
Seraphina Blackthorn stood at his side, her hair wild in the wind, her daggers strapped securely against her thighs. Her lips were set in a thin line, but her dark eyes danced with something else something Alistair couldn't quite place.
"You think we can just outrun a phantom gale?" she asked, voice like a blade sliding from its sheath.
Alistair flashed a roguish grin. "Worked with Varik, didn't it?"
Seraphina didn't smile back. "Storms don't bleed."
Before Alistair could retort, Isolde Greaves appeared on his other side, her coat whipping in the wind, her rapier still strapped to her hip though her hand hovered dangerously close to the hilt.
Her voice was soft, but it cut through the storm. "And storms don't bargain, either. If this is a phantom gale, we're not escaping it."
Alistair's smile faltered, though only slightly. "Then what do you suggest, Lady Greaves? Negotiation?"
Isolde's gaze was flint and ice. "We cut through it or die."
The three of them stood there a captain, a pirate, and a blade-for-hire while the storm raged around them, the wind twisting their words into something dark and desperate.
And then
A flash.
But not from the skyfire.
From a ship.
Emerging from the swirling clouds was a vessel unlike any Alistair had ever seen sleek and black, with a hull of dark steel etched with glowing runes. The sails weren't fabric but something ethereal, flickering like liquid moonlight. It moved like a shadow, silent and smooth.
A ghost ship.
Or something worse.
"By the gears of the gods," Rogan muttered, his cigar falling from his lips. "It's her."
Alistair's blood ran cold. "Her?"
Before Rogan could answer before anyone could the ghost ship fired.
A bolt of crackling blue energy shot from its hull, not like any cannon Alistair had ever seen. It struck the Stormrider's stern, sending a shockwave through the entire vessel.
The Stormrider bucked like a wild animal.
Crewmembers were flung across the deck, ropes snapped like whips, and the main mast groaned dangerously.
Alistair was thrown backward, hitting the railing hard, the breath leaving his lungs in a violent gasp.
Seraphina stumbled, catching herself on a loose rope. Isolde, ever the predator, landed gracefully despite the chaos.
"Return fire!" Alistair roared, fighting to his feet. "Rogan, get those cannons hot!"
But Rogan didn't move.
His eyes were locked on the ghost ship.
"No use, Cap'n," he rasped. "That… that's The Siren's Vengeance."
The name tasted like poison in the air.
Even Seraphina's face paled at the mention. "That's not possible."
Isolde's jaw tightened. "That ship was lost years ago."
Alistair wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. "Someone forgot to tell her that."
The Legend of The Siren's Vengeance…
No one knew exactly what happened to The Siren's Vengeance.
She had once been the pride of the Sky Reavers a vessel captained by Elira Duskbane, a woman as ruthless as she was beautiful. They said Elira had made a deal with the sky gods themselves, trading her soul for a ship that could outrun death.
But one day, the ship vanished swallowed by a storm as sudden as the one they faced now.
Some said Elira had betrayed the gods. Others claimed she had become one.
And now, the ship sailed the skies like a ghost hunting those who dared to chase legends.
Like Alistair.
The Stormrider lurched again, and Alistair snapped back to reality.
He drew his cutlass, the steel singing in the storm. "We're not dying tonight."
Seraphina unsheathed her daggers. "I'm holding you to that, Captain."
Isolde's rapier gleamed in the dim light. "Let's hope your luck hasn't run out yet."
The ghost ship was closing in.
And as the Phantom Gale screamed through the clouds, Alistair realized
The true storm hadn't even begun.