Hook, worried with what just happened now looked on the deck, his gaze scanning every corner. The deck roared with music and laughter, the crew in high spirits, but unease gnawed at him. Ivory wasn't there.
He searched for her at almost every corner of the ship and at last found her at the very least expected spot, in a place few dared tread—the captain's hidden treasury. Gold gleamed in the lantern light, jewels winking like tiny suns, but it wasn't the treasure that held his attention. It was her.
She stood in the center of it all, still as a statue, eyes caught by the shimmer of coins as though some quiet spell had bound her. When his voice finally cut through—low, steady, almost uncertain—"Ivory," she flinched, like a charm had shattered around her.
"You've sharp eyes," he said, managing a crooked smile to hide the edge of his nerves. "Not many are clever enough to find the captain's hidden trove."
She turned, her lips curving with a faint smirk. "I am clever enough."
He let out a breath that could almost have been a laugh, though his chest felt far too tight for it. "Then come above. The crew's waiting, and for once they're celebrating instead of fighting."
Her gaze lingered a moment on the shell in that treasure, then on him, and finally she nodded. Together, they climbed back to the deck—where the night was alive with celebration, laughter crackling like fire, mugs raised, voices tangled with the sea wind. Music thrummed against the heartbeat of the Jolly Roger, the deck echoing with the stomps of boots and the clatter of cups. For once, it wasn't the ocean's rhythm that ruled them, but their own joy.
The night was alive with celebration—laughter crackling like fire, mugs raised, voices tangled with the sea wind. Music thrummed against the heartbeat of the Jolly Roger, the deck echoing with the stomps of boots and the clatter of cups. For once, it wasn't the ocean's rhythm that ruled them, but their own joy.
Amid the noise, Hook stood a step apart, his eyes never leaving Ivory. Shadows of torchlight gilded her face, catching in the steel curve of her smile as she sparred playfully with a crewman, a tankard in one hand, victory already gleaming in her gaze.
He moved through the crowd, the din falling away for him though it roared louder for everyone else. At his hip, the dagger—a weapon older than his ship, etched with runes and memories he had never let another touch. He drew it now, the blade catching firelight like a streak of moon over black water.
"Ivory," his voice cut through the noise, steady and rare in its softness, "this belongs to you, now."
The crew went quiet, their cheer caught in their throats as she blinked at him, stunned. He placed the dagger into her palm, closing her fingers around it. "May it serve you as faithfully as it once served me."
A silence swelled between them, heavy with what he had not yet said. His chest tightened; the words pressed against his teeth, the ones he had swallowed a hundred times before—I love you.
But before the confession could leave him, the sea itself growled.
The deck shuddered beneath their boots. A low vibration climbed up the mast, rattling ropes and lanterns, followed by ripples rolling outward, far too violent for mere waves. The crew froze, eyes darting to the horizon.
And then it rose.
A nightmare breaching the surface—Scylla. Five dragon heads, scaled and jagged, dripping with salt and foam, their jaws slick with hunger. Beneath them writhed a crown of tentacles, vast and writhing, thicker than the Jolly Roger's masts.
"Positions!" Hook's roar snapped them into motion. Cannons roared, harpoons hissed through the air, flames streaked across the water—but the monster surged through every assault, shrugging off steel and fire as though they were gnats biting its hide.
The tentacles slammed across the deck, tearing through barrels, splintering wood. Crewmen scrambled, hacking and firing, but the creature was searching. Not aimless—focused. Every lashing strike angled toward one figure.
Ivory.
Hook saw it. His blood iced. "No!"
She barely had time to spin before a slick tentacle whipped around her waist, locking her in its crushing grip. She gasped, dragged toward the railing. Hook lunged, his cutlass half-drawn—too slow. The thing lifted her higher, her boots kicking, the dagger she'd been given still at her belt.
Hook's hand closed around hers. Their fingers clamped together, knuckles white.
"Hold on! I've got you!"
"Hook—let go!" Her voice was sharp with fear, but he only tightened his grip, pulling with all his strength.
Another tentacle reared back, this one armed with cruel, jagged spikes glinting in the moonlight. It angled toward Hook's chest.
Ivory's eyes widened.
Hook's fingers clamped around hers, refusing to let go, even as the tentacle's tiny needle-like hairs pressed into his skin. At first it was only a sting. Then his hand began to throb, veins glowing an ugly shade of blue.
"Ivory, don't you dare let go—"
His grip trembled, faltering. The poison was already racing up his arm.
Her eyes widened in horror. "It's killing you—"
"I don't care!" His other hand fumbled for his cutlass, teeth clenched against the burning pain. "I won't—let—you—go!"
But the blue was spreading, crawling toward his wrist. She knew what would happen if it reached his chest.
Without hesitation, Ivory pulled the dagger from her coat—the very dagger he had given her moments ago. Tears blurred her vision as she raised it high.
"Forgive me."
The blade came down. And before he could understand, she slashed.
Pain erupted through him as steel bit flesh—his hand severed, falling with the dagger to the deck. His grip broke. His howl split the night.
The spiked tentacle lunged for his heart—but without her holding him there, it missed, spearing instead through the crow's nest in an explosion of splinters.
Ivory dangled in the monster's hold, but her eyes never left Hook's, shimmering with everything she hadn't said either.
"NO!" Hook roared, stumbling forward, reaching with bloodied arm, desperate—
"Cease fire!" Smee's voice cut through, shrill and panicked. "You'll hit her!"
The cannons fell silent. The deck froze in horror.
And then—silence.
Ivory still writhed in the grip of Scylla's tentacle, its fanged maws opening wide to devour her. But before it could strike, another sound rolled up from the depths—a growl so deep it rattled the bones of the ship. The water heaved, and from beneath surged a leviathan, vast enough to blacken the sea around it.
It charged, jaws yawning wide, and in one dreadful motion it swallowed Scylla whole. Tentacles, heads, and the woman bound in its coils—gone in an instant.
The sea slammed shut, and the leviathan vanished back into the abyss, leaving behind only shattered waves and the stunned silence of the Jolly Roger.
Hook's scream tore across the deck, raw and broken, the sound of a man who had just watched his heart vanish into the mouth of the deep.
Hook collapses to his knees, blood dripping from his severed wrist, his eyes fixed on the frothing sea where Ivory vanished.
"She's gone…" someone whispers.
But Hook's voice, hoarse and shaking, cuts through the silence:
"No. She's alive. And I'll tear the sea apart to bring her back."