The sky was a cruel shade of gold beautiful and unforgiving as The Widow's Fang loomed ever closer, slicing through the clouds like a predator scenting blood.
Alistair Von Wolfenstein stood at the helm of the Stormrider, his cutlass gleaming at his hip, the wind whipping his crimson coat behind him. His heart beat to the rhythm of the ship steady, quick, always bracing for the next storm.
And this storm had a name.
Captain Varik.
The serpent-coiled emblem on The Widow's Fang's hull seemed to sneer at them, a silent promise of violence. The ship itself was a nightmare of brass and steel an ancient warship, much like the Iron Tempest, its dark runes glowing faintly across its metallic sails. The air around it shimmered, unnatural and wrong.
Behind Alistair, the tension simmered like an unquenched fire.
Seraphina Blackthorn stood at the port side, her daggers already in hand, though her gaze was fixed not on the enemy ship but on Isolde Greaves.
And Isolde, calm and collected, leaned against the main mast, her fingers grazing the hilt of her rapier. She hadn't taken her eyes off Seraphina since they'd stepped onto the deck.
The battle ahead was only half the war.
The real storm was standing right behind Alistair.
"Varik's not here to chat," Alistair muttered, breaking the silence. "He wants blood."
Seraphina's smile was a flash of teeth. "Then let's give him some."
Isolde's voice was smoother, colder. "The question is whose."
Alistair exhaled through his nose, his grip on the wheel tightening. "Let's keep the blood on his side of the deck, shall we?"
The Widow's Fang shifted, its cannons sliding into position with a metallic groan. The runes along the ship's hull flared brighter ancient magic stirring beneath the steel.
Rogan's voice bellowed from the engine room. "Cap'n! They're charging something doesn't look like any cannon I've ever seen!"
Alistair's pulse quickened. "All hands battle stations!"
The crew of the Stormrider scrambled into action, steam cannons creaking, ropes tightening, and the air thickening with the promise of violence.
And then
A blast of searing blue energy shot from the Widow's Fang, slicing through the air like lightning.
It struck the Stormrider's main mast not enough to destroy it, but enough to send a jolt through the entire ship.
The deck shuddered beneath their feet.
Alistair stumbled, catching himself against the wheel.
Seraphina didn't so much as flinch already steadying herself with a dagger buried into the mast. "They're playing with us."
Isolde stepped closer to Alistair too close her shoulder brushing his arm. "They're testing the waters. Varik wants something."
Alistair's voice was a low growl. "He wants us dead."
But the tension between them wasn't just from Varik's attack.
No it was the echo of last night.
The unspoken heat. The battle of lips and blades.
The fact that both Seraphina and Isolde were standing so close to him like two storms circling the same unlucky man was its own kind of war.
And Alistair?
He wasn't sure whether he'd survive it.
The Battle Breaks.
"Return fire!" Alistair roared.
The Stormrider's cannons bellowed, sending a volley of steam-powered shots hurtling toward The Widow's Fang.
The impact rocked the enemy ship tearing a gash along its starboard side but Varik's crew didn't flinch.
Instead, another pulse of blue light gathered at the tip of their main cannon.
Seraphina hissed, "They're going to fire again."
Alistair's jaw tightened. "Rogan! We need those engines hotter now!"
The old engineer's voice crackled through the speaking tube. "Aye, Cap'n but if I push her any harder, she'll rip apart!"
"Better her than us," Alistair muttered.
Another blast screamed through the air this time missing by inches.
The Stormrider veered sharply, the sails snapping, and Alistair felt the jolt of it deep in his ribs.
Seraphina steadied herself against the railing and Alistair saw it, the flicker of pain in her jaw as her hand shot to her side. A wound small, but fresh.
"Seraphina"
"I'm fine," she snapped, though her knuckles were white against the hilt of her dagger.
Isolde noticed of course she did.
She stepped closer to Seraphina, her gaze unreadable. "A scratch like that could kill you."
Seraphina's smirk didn't falter. "Then I guess you won't have the pleasure."
The space between them burned hotter than the cannon fire.
Alistair, caught between them, muttered, "Now's really not the time for this."
But neither woman moved.
It was more than rivalry.
It was a battle of wills and Alistair was the prize.
The Calm Before the Kill.
A sudden silence.
The Widow's Fang stopped firing.
For a heartbeat, there was only the distant rumble of thunder and the crackle of magic still lingering in the air.
And then
A figure appeared at the edge of the enemy ship's bow.
Captain Varik.
He stood there like a king his long coat flaring behind him, his clockwork eye glowing red. A cruel smile twisted his scarred face.
And beside him
A woman.
Tall, striking, with dark hair coiled like a crown and a serpent tattoo winding up her neck. She held a blade of strange metal one that shimmered like liquid silver.
Seraphina's jaw tightened. "Elira Duskbane."
Alistair's heart skipped a beat. "You know her?"
Isolde's voice was ice. "She captained The Siren's Vengeance. The ghost ship."
Seraphina's grip on her dagger didn't waver. "She didn't die in the storm."
Alistair's blood ran cold. "And now she's with Varik."
The sky darkened once more.
The storm the real storm was about to break.
And as the Widow's Fang hovered in eerie silence, with Varik and Elira watching like hunters circling prey, Alistair realized this wasn't just a battle for survival.
It was a war for the skies.
And for the two women standing at his side.
Because the fight between Seraphina and Isolde was far from over.
It had only just begun.