The Falcon's Claw lay broken on the reef, its hull wedged between coral fangs, waves hissing like scorned lovers. Zahra al-Nur crouched behind a jagged outcrop, her breath shallow, the crystal's cool weight heavy in her satchel. The storm had eased to a sullen drizzle, but the Fire Isle ships circled above, their crimson-flame sails cutting through the mist like bloodied knives. The jinn's fire had dimmed, but Zahra could still feel its heat in the air, a promise of death if she slipped.
"Stay low," she whispered to Malik, who huddled beside her, his eyes darting like a cornered rat's. Yasmin was somewhere on the Claw, salvaging what she could from the wreck. Zahra's fingers itched for her scimitar, but steel was no match for a jinn. Not yet.
The reef was a maze of coral spires and shallow pools, its turquoise glow eerie under the clouded sky. It was a smuggler's haven—perfect for hiding cargo or herself—but it wouldn't hold long against Fire Isle assassins. That crystal, whatever it was, had painted a target on her back. Its hum lingered in her bones, a song she couldn't shake, like a sailor's tune stuck in her head after a night of bad rum.
Footsteps crunched nearby. Zahra tensed, peering through a coral gap. A figure moved in the mist—an old man, his beard salt-crusted, his robes tattered like a beggar's. Jafar, the sailor they'd picked up in a pinch at the last port. He'd sworn he knew the Sapphire Isles' reefs better than his own hands, and Zahra had trusted him enough to let him aboard. A mistake, maybe.
"Zahra!" Jafar's voice was a low rasp, barely carrying over the waves. "You alive, girl?"
"Alive enough," she hissed, waving him closer. "Keep your head down unless you want it burned off."
He shuffled over, his limp more pronounced on the uneven coral. His eyes, sharp despite his age, flicked to her satchel. "That glow's trouble," he said, nodding at the crystal's faint light seeping through the leather. "You know what you've got there?"
"Trouble," Zahra said, her grin tight. "Same as always. You gonna tell me why the Fire Prince wants it?"
Jafar's face darkened, his fingers tracing a scar along his jaw. "That's no trinket. It's a shard of the Heart of the Sands. Old as the islands, forged by jinn when the seas were young. It sings to those with the right blood."
Zahra's stomach twisted, but she kept her face hard. "Blood, huh? Mine's nothing special—just salt and bad luck."
Jafar's laugh was dry as desert wind. "You're no merchant's daughter, girl. That shard's song says otherwise."
Before she could snap back, a shadow moved in the mist. Zahra yanked Jafar behind the coral, her hand clamping his arm. A figure strode into view—Khalid, the rival smuggler she'd crossed paths with in a dozen ports. His grin was all charm, his dagger glinting like a crescent moon. She'd run cargo with him once, shared a bottle of date wine under starlit sails. He'd always been too smooth, too quick to smile.
"Zahra!" Khalid called, his voice honeyed. "No need to hide. I'm here to help."
Malik shifted, his hand on his knife. "You trust him?" he whispered.
"About as far as I can throw a skyship," Zahra muttered. But they were pinned—Fire Isle above, reefs below. She stood, keeping the coral between her and Khalid. "What's your play, Khalid? You're no hero."
He spread his hands, his smile wide as a souk merchant's. "Heard you crashed. Thought I'd lend a hand—for a price. That crystal in your bag, maybe?"
Her fingers tightened on the satchel. "You're working for the Fire Prince."
Khalid's laugh was sharp, like breaking glass. "Not working. Trading. He wants the shard, and I want to live rich. Hand it over, Zahra, and we all walk away."
The hum in her bones grew louder, the crystal's song sharp as a warning. Zahra's eyes flicked to the sky—Fire Isle ships hovering, their jinn silent but watching. Khalid wasn't alone. He'd brought dogs.
"Trust is a luxury I can't afford," Zahra said, her voice low, "but I'll fight for it anyway." She drew her scimitar, its blade catching the dim light. Malik rose beside her, his knife shaky but ready.
Khalid sighed, his charm fading like smoke. "Pity. I liked you, Zahra." He raised a hand, and shadows moved—four figures in black, daggers drawn, creeping through the coral.
Zahra's heart thundered, but her grin stayed sharp. "Malik, run for Yasmin. Get the Claw's cannons ready."
"But—" Malik started.
"Go!" she snapped, shoving him toward the wreck. He bolted, his footsteps splashing through pools.
Jafar grabbed her arm. "You can't fight them all, girl."
"Watch me," Zahra said, her eyes locked on Khalid. The crystal's song flared, a sudden gust of wind whipping her scarf, unbidden and wild. Her breath caught—had she done that?
Khalid's men lunged, their blades gleaming. Zahra parried the first, her scimitar clanging against steel, sparks flying in the mist. She ducked a second strike, her boots slipping on wet coral, and kicked a man's knee, sending him sprawling. The third caught her arm, his dagger grazing her sleeve, drawing a thin line of blood.
"Give it up!" Khalid shouted, circling like a jackal. "The Fire Prince gets what he wants!"
Zahra spun, her blade slashing air, forcing him back. The crystal's hum surged, and another gust roared through the reef, scattering Khalid's men like leaves. Her eyes widened. That was no coincidence.
Jafar's voice cut through the chaos. "The shard's waking, girl! It knows you!"
Before she could answer, a cannon boomed from the Claw. Yasmin's work, no doubt. The shot missed the Fire Isle ships but sent Khalid's men diving for cover. Zahra seized the chance, grabbing Jafar and sprinting for the wreck.
They reached the Claw, its deck a mess of splintered wood and torn sails. Yasmin stood at a cannon, her face grim. "We're patched, but we won't fly far."
"Far enough," Zahra said, vaulting to the helm. The crystal's light glowed brighter, its song a fierce hum in her chest. She didn't understand it, but she'd use it.
Khalid's shout echoed behind. "You can't run forever, Zahra!"
She didn't look back. The Claw groaned, aether-crystals flickering as it lifted from the reef. The Fire Isle ships turned, their jinn's fire flaring anew. Zahra's hand tightened on the crystal, its song drowning out her fear.
Then, from the mist, a new shadow loomed—a massive skyship, its sails blue as the deep sea, bearing the Water Isle's coral crest. A voice boomed across the waves: "Surrender the shard, smuggler, or sink with it!"
Zahra's grin faltered. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.