My return to the surface was explosive. Cannonballs and I are now on a first-name basis.
I punched through two layers of hollowed space before the High Priest's chamber flashed before my eyes. My ascent barely slowed as I rose higher. It wasn't until the monastery began to shrink beneath me that I realized this wasn't entirely my doing.
At the apex of my flight, just after I broke through the wall of clouds, I floated for a breathless moment, stunned by the beauty spread beneath me. Then, as if kissed by the wind itself, my descent began. The currents caught me, guiding rather than shoving, teaching me how to adapt to this new environment.
Once again passing through the clouds, I found myself gliding on the winds. They had carried me straight over the harbor, and I began a slow, circling descent. I searched the docks for the Deadwood, and when I found it, an excited laugh burst from my lips. It truly no longer lived up to its name.
What had once been a patchwork of trial and error now stood as a mighty frigate, molded by my very being. Each mast bore winding vines, and the wood and bone of the hull had melded into a seamless whole. The Deadwood gleamed in uniform black, flecked with green and red.
I reangled myself into a dive, the center mast my target. The closer I drew, the swelling sense of excitement within me echoed from the ship's heart. Like a slumbering beast awakening for its master, the ship's own anticipation surged, soon outpacing my own.
A startled cry rang out from the deck as the vines coiling around the masts suddenly fanned outward. Like a hive of serpents, they twisted and writhed, then stiffened, converging to intercept me. They snatched me up, carrying me gently to the deck, where Natasha stood, eyes wide with bewilderment.
As soon as I landed on the Deadwood, a flood of information assaulted me. It didn't overwhelm me—if anything, I had grown to miss this feeling. The constant flow from the crew and the ship itself… it felt good to be home. My thoughts were interrupted by my first mate's bewildered comment. "That wasn't me."
I watched as the vines recoiled, each unfurling a flag-like leaf. Natasha's claim didn't startle me; in fact, I already had an idea of what had happened. Turning to her, about to explain, she said, "There seems to be a newly created spirit inhabiting the ship. It's perfectly adapted to the original pathways you created for me."
I nodded. "I believe this is some divine shenanigans, born of my… affinities. She feels more like a beast than a person, so treat her well."
Natasha's face twisted into a scowl. "She's been nothing but loving since I started poking her. I would never hurt one of your creations deliberately, even if she was an accident."
A deep-throated chuckle escaped me. "She's more premature than an accident. I had planned to create an assistant for you."
Natasha's eyes widened slightly, but she pushed the emotions aside. "Where to, Captain?" she asked, heading toward the wheel of the Deadwood.
"East," I replied, falling into place beside her. "Let's head back and let Gulp stop worrying about his daughter."
"Aye, Captain," she said, a giggle following her words. She deftly navigated through the busy harbor, leaving only our memory behind.
The harbor was nearly out of sight when a ship appeared on an intercept course. Even from this distance, the unmistakable violet flag stood out, emblazoned with crimson tears falling from a grimoire. Crimson trimmings also adorned the sails, catching the sunlight like streaks of blood.
A nearly primal urge to flee surged within me—but I crushed it. I didn't know why the Crimson Hold was here, yet I would give them a reason to stay. The crew was already moving into battle positions, while Natasha and the Deadwood angled the ship onto a subtle attacking line.
"Stand ready," I said. "Let's see if they talk first." I was surprised when a chorus of affirmations rose from the crew, a mix of eagerness and barely contained excitement. "Well, that's new," I murmured, wary and curious at once. Only the fact that I could still feel my essence in them kept me from flying into panic.
As the Crimson Holds drew close, its hulking silhouette sharpened against the void. A sudden flash of light leapt from its deck, shooting across the expanse with impossible speed. It hovered before me—an orb of shimmering metal, the sort of communication essence-tech ship captains widely used, pulsing faintly with a presence all its own.
Half the orb condensed into a miniature man, aristocratic in posture but ragged and restless, his movements twitching as if battling withdrawal. His voice rasped with dry annoyance as he spoke: "Hello, Captain. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Baron Vhorrex Nightweaver, and I have reason to believe you know the whereabouts of my betrothed."
My eyes hardened at the confirmation. This was my family—and I knew Vhorrex. A cousin, or something from one of the lesser branches, his cruelty had been highly praised during training. Rage simmered in my chest, threatening to overwhelm me, but Thessora's lessons held firm, and I directed it. I calmed myself, drew a deep breath, and replied, "Only the crew left aboard, I'm afraid. Dropped the lass off at the Monastery."
A sigh was the only response for a moment, our ships now close enough to yell across. "I figured as much," he said. "She was always a pious one." His tone grew more condescending with each word.
A calming breath brought a smile to my face as our ships began to pass.
"Hexrex," I began, causing the miniature to stiffen. "I'm glad it was you I ran into first. Have fun swimming."
The crew manning the cannons opened fire, drowning out the belligerent tirade that erupted from the miniature. I snagged the orb, wrapped it with my essence, and severed its connection to the other side. It reformed into its dormant state, smooth and silent, ready to be paired with another.
As I made my way toward my quarters, my thoughts turned to the future. The pest had been dealt with. Now it was time for the colony.
My mother was right. I wasn't ready to tackle the whole nest just yet. But I could stir it up a bit. I had been gone for ten years.
I felt the ship adjust its course as my thoughts settled. A smile of appreciation bloomed across my lips as I stepped into my quarters. I placed the communication device on a shelf and made my way to the trapdoor in the corner of the room.
Down the ladder I went. Below, a well-lit laboratory revealed itself, equal parts workshop and library. My personal sanctuary aboard the Deadwood. Here, my latest experiments awaited my input.
My experiences in the sky and beneath the ocean inspired new ideas. I quickly brought a fresh journal to my workstation, jotting down the random sparks of creation. After the initial ideas had been allowed to settle and simmer, I turned my attention to my latest creation.
Upon a wooden slab of a table lay a hulking body. Similar in form to the normal photo-skeletons, but more—three times their size, with a tangled mess of thick vines crawling across its back. My gaze landed on the cannon in the corner of the room; I had found many that were usable, yet broken.
Scuttling sounds near the door drew my attention. It swung open to reveal Scarf, holding a tray of snacks that she set on a cleared table.
"I thought you looked bigger," I said as she settled the tray. She gave a happy snip of her claws, twirling in the scorched light so I could get a better look. The feeling of smug pride escaped her as I added, "You're almost bigger than your old man."
Those claws soon turned on me after my last remark. "Hey, at least now you can use the kitchen properly." She chased me around the ship in mock outrage. We both ended up panting and laughing atop the prow, where the new figurehead rested: a hauntingly beautiful form, with a thin, skull-like face framed by dreadlocks reminiscent of Thessora's, and facial features that echoed Natasha's, as if she were her sister.
I leaned against the railing as Scarf went about her duties, determination burning in my heart, stoked by the knowledge of what had happened. The Deadwood and her crew began to reek of menace, chomping at the bit to punish anyone who dared hurt their master.
I was making my way back to my lab when I thought I heard a haunting melody, something that oddly perked me up. By the time I figured out how to place the cannon back onto my creation, I was humming along with the tune.