Death Seeker: Shepherd of Souls, #2

Prologue

RAINY SEASON, 300 YEARS BEFORE THE GODS: HAU TUA ITIM

The Farseer, Fa’atasi, lay in the shadow of the Great Volcano and dreamed. She saw Auahi standing tall and strong above the rest of the island, not trembling in a rage or belching fire as it had done before in one of her visions. That was to come still, yes, but not for decades and decades in the future. This prophecy was for a time much closer to Fa’atasi’s present—she could feel it as easily as she had felt her children moving in her womb. 

Below the peak, built into the side of the volcano, was the Hall of Knowledge. The great, black stone building was chased with gold, hammered into the stone of the doors in mesmerizing, geometric patterns that coiled and twisted into each other. At the center, a single, triangular sheet of gold decorated the lock. Usually, the doors remained open from dawn to dusk each day, but in this dream, they were closed tightly, a crowd of people growing before them, their warm, brown faces twisted in anger and hatred, their mouths open to scream obscenities. In their hands, they held shark-toothed hooks and throwing axes.

The people were angry.

Fa’atasi’s vision changed. She was outside Tua Itim, the city below the Hall of Knowledge, her long hair hanging in the sand from where she lay on a pyre of logs drenched in sweet-smelling coconut oil. Around her was a cacophony of voices screaming, Heartseeker! There was a flicker of torchlight, startlingly bright against the star-scattered barkcloth of the sky above them. She could smell it then, the smoke as flames lapped up spilled oil and caught on damp timbers. She took a deep breath of the acrid air and closed her eyes. Fear was a typhoon in her breast, though this was a thing that had not yet happened.

When she opened them again, Fa’atasi stood among the crowd overlooking the burning. Before her was a handsome man, strong from many years of sailing, his tanned skin patterned with tattoos and his dark hair long and silken about his shoulders. Fa’atasi put a hand on his arm and looked up into his face when he turned to her. Tell me, why do you burn your tribeswoman?

She’s not my tribeswoman. She’s a Heartseeker. She can’t be trusted. Though he was handsome, fear and hatred twisted his features into something ugly. They make you feel things that aren’t real. They’re dangerous. 

All of the Knowers have power. How is she so different than a Farseer or a Healer or a Deathseeker? Is it not against the sacred laws to turn on each other?

The man turned to look at Fa’atasi more closely, disgust mingling with confusion on his face. What Deathseeker would make me misbelieve my own heart? Even a Truthspeaker can’t tell if you have been tainted by a Heartseeker, for when you speak, it is the truth at the moment, though not in reality. Who are you to question these things? She could tell his hatred and suspicion were turning onto her now, making her an enemy in his mind. 

She opened her mouth to tell this man that she was the Farseer Fa’atasi, Elder of the Council, who staved off war with the land tribes, who foresaw the discovery of Tarakona, who knows the day the volcano will belch out her flame and smoke and devour the village in which they stand. She opened her mouth to tell him to quench the fire, to release this woman from her ill-deserved death. Instead, from her throat and lips and tongue came the words, Burn her! Burn the Heartseeker lest she corrupt our children!

Around her, others took up the cry: Burn! Burn! Burn!

The vision changed.

Fa’atasi flew above the islands of her people on the back of a long-winged petrel, crouched between the striving joints of its wings and wrapped against the cold in a cloak of black and white feathers. Below her, the world was in flames, the jagged shapes of the islands like embers in the dark ash sea. Hau Tua Itim was gone, the great black towers of Whero Ika and Tarakona toppling into the waves. Even from this distance, Fa’atasi could hear the voices of the people on Hau Tua Itim, Zolela, Phecea. She could hear the cries of the tribes of the wild land to their east, the voices of tribes across oceans and in lands she had not known existed. They chanted together, their words aimed at those with magic, all those with power that frightened or shamed them. Over and over again, while the world around them was rent to ashes, they repeated the same cry: Burn!

Chapter

One

FIFTH MOON, FULL, 1835: DIRIGIAN ISLANDS

The first time Etienne saw the volcano crowning the largest of the Dirigian Islands, it was through a porthole of The Siren. With so small a frame, the mountain was impossible to conceptualize: just walls of rock and foliage rising out of a churning sea. Still, it made a better picture than that of his prison, a small cabin that he shared with a too-watchful pirate named Jules. Etienne turned away from the outside world, blinking dark spots from his vision after the glare of noon sun on water. Inside, there were two hammocks, one occupied by the only Ingolan pirate the mage had ever seen.

Does anyone live on that island?

What island? The man didn’t so much as open his eyes. Every inch of his exposed skin was tattooed in a pattern of interlinking lines that made Etienne’s head ache if he tried to make sense of them. There was more ink than natural skin color left—something Jules had likely done on purpose, to look less visually different than the other pirates. Ingolan paleness was not something to be proud of here. 

The big one. With the volcano. 

Nope.

No one? There’s so much land.

No one wants to live in a cursed place.

Etienne sighed and flopped into his own hammock. Without Moxous, the magic school in Ingola, or the Temples of Rhosan to educate the people here, they tended to lean into superstition to answer anything they didn’t understand. Occasionally, spirits of the dead did linger, but they most certainly couldn’t affect the world of the living.

What makes you say it's cursed?

He grunted. Stories. Ever the talker, that one. Maybe that was why Jules had been chosen to guard Etienne—that or the fact that he was Ingolan. Of all the pirates on the ship, this one had the most to lose if he helped someone from his home country.

The mage would gather no more information here, and he wanted to know if only because it meant doing something other than laying in the belly of The Siren waiting for the man he thought he cared for to turn him over to a mad Queen. 

Etienne rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. With his hands hidden from his guard’s view, Etienne pricked one dirt-caked finger with a splinter he had tugged out of the ship’s wooden floor and drew a symbol on the rough canvas of his hammock with the resulting blood. Astral projecting was easier than ever these days. He had never wanted to leave his body behind more.

Below him, the mage’s body lay in the pretense of a nap, curled up and peaceful in dirty, salt-stained sackcloth clothes. He was missing his dagger, satchel, and boots, but otherwise, Etienne looked much the same as he always had: long, thin, and pale, with a seeing-eye tattoo inked into the curves of his throat.

The mage shook his head. He had thought he had lost his freedom when the death mark was inked into his skin. Now, he’d give anything to have that much freedom again, captive as he was.

The room where the pirates kept him was not so far from the main deck as it had been the first time Etienne was taken by pirates—it only took him a few moments to climb into daylight and seaspray and bright noon sun. As always, the deck of Jaquelle’s cutter was as well organized as a Tupa Galan navy craft, pirates scurrying to see to their ship. The captain herself stood near the helm, speaking to her greasy first mate, her long, sandy braids tied up near the top of her head and a crooked smile on her angular face. Etienne turned away from her and walked to the prow where another spirit stood gazing out to sea, his ghostly spirit-feet making no noise upon the wood.

Hello, Zuri.

Lady Zuri Lamarre showed no sign that she heard him, but this was becoming typical behavior. Where the spirit Etienne had first met in Liles had been overly talkative, determined, and at times, irritating, this version was all but mute. He wasn’t sure what precisely had changed for Zuri, though her transformation seemed to have taken place the same day as Absolon’s death. He knew one thing for certain: The girl was becoming unreachable. 

He set one hand on her shoulder, and Zuri turned away from the endless waves to face him. Somehow her face, still beautiful, was drawn and her eyes framed in dark circles. It looked as if she was ill, an impossibility for a spirit. She had no physical body to become sick. Her green eyes flickered over his face in recognition and then drifted back to the railing of The Siren. The brisk ocean breeze didn’t affect them, so her artfully styled hair, piled on top of her head, was perfectly in place, and the skirts of her seafoam dress didn’t move. 

Bored with your pirate already? she asked, and her voice was hoarse as if she had been weeping recently. 

Ryou? Zuri, he betrayed us both. Once, Etienne might not have minded if she referred to the handsome islander as ‘his pirate’ but now… Now, the idea was just painful. Perhaps it had been foolish and naive, but in the time leading up to Absolon’s fall and the end of death magic in Ingola, he had been beginning to feel as though there was something special between them. Perhaps a pirate never truly stopped being a pirate. After their battle with Absolon, Ryou had hardly waited a week to turn them into Captain Jaquelle to be shipped back to his Queen.

At Zuri’s withering look, Etienne realized she hadn’t meant Ryou, who she had screamed at the first few days of their captivity, and then ignored entirely afterward, but the pirate who stayed in his cell of a room day and night. The Ingolan, Jules. Cursed Realms, even when trying to avoid thinking of Ryou, he managed to bring the bastard up.

As if his thoughts summoned the pirate, Etienne saw him then, a little way down the deck, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and squinting as he struggled to coil a rope. A moment of pity pierced Etienne’s chest at the sight of Ryou failing to adjust to his new, un-asked-for abilities, but then he remembered that Ryou had asked for this. He could have had help fixing his eyesight or learning to adjust, but instead, he had turned Etienne in for gold and glory.

When do you think we’ll arrive? Zuri, mercifully, let the awkward moment pass, turning to look at the islands popping out of the sea around them. 

Somewhere between too soon and not soon enough. Etienne sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. I hate this ship. I hate these people, and most of all, I hate the Queen on the other end of this gods-damned journey.

⥣          ⥣           ⥣

Welcome, Etienne d’Etoiles, Master of Moxous.

The mage stood in the black stone throne room of Hau Tarakona’s ruler, the Pirate Queen. Kyomi wore a dress of glittering gold, trimmed in black satin embroidery and showing her every curve. Her slick, black hair was elaborately pinned atop her head, and she held her arms out to Etienne as though welcoming home a treasured son.

Etienne, in his sackcloth and bare feet, was having none of it. He had just climbed the long, winding stone staircase that led up to this mountain top palace without the luxury of boots. His feet were coals on the ends of jellied calves, but Gods damn him if he was going to step meekly into slavery. He spat on the ground at her feet and said nothing.

Despite the wide smile on the Queen’s red-painted lips, he could see her eyes narrow slightly. It annoyed her that he wasn’t impressed with her magnificence. I understand you’ve had a long journey. Her gaze trailed over his defiant expression and down his body, his stained clothes and bound hands. Jaquelle, where is Ryou?

Taken ill, your majesty. The cat-eyed woman bowed low and graceful, her body bending nearly in half with the motion. He was afflicted with an… odd condition while working with the mage.

That was certainly one way to describe having your sight God-altered.

The Queen’s gaze snapped back to Etienne, her brows arching high onto her forehead. What did you do to my man, mage? 

He made no move to answer. Were his hands not tied, he’d burn her to cinders.

It is my understanding that the mage had little to do with it, majesty, Jaquelle answered for him. She and Ryou must have gotten quite close during the journey back for her to know so much.

"Oh? Indeed? How interesting. Well, I know you’ve solved the mystery of my missing ships and my pirates. I’m grateful, mage. And if Ryou had to pay a little price for that security, so be it." 

Zuri, who had been standing motionlessly at his side, stirred and looked up. Perhaps the narrowing of her eyes was a sign of dislike. A small, petty part of Etienne only felt vindicated. It had been Ryou’s choice to turn them in. It only served him right that the Queen he so revered would dismiss him too. The thought left Etienne feeling a little guilty, which in turn just made him angrier. Ryou was a traitor and a bastard. The mage wouldn’t feel sorry for him.

Jaquelle, show our guest to his quarters. 

The suite the pirate captain led Etienne to was more opulent than the last time he had been a captive here. In the first room, a broad, thick-mattressed bed sat between two floor-to-ceiling windows. The drapery fluttered in the breeze, the thin, cotton fabrics all covered in the same geometric patterns common on the tattooed arms of pirates. The open door to the armoire displayed several fine-fabric tunics, and the side door promised a bathing room tapped into the island’s natural hot water springs.

It would have been lovely were there not three guards stationed just outside the door.

Etienne turned to Zuri. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer Vai’s brothel over this.

She reached to touch one of the silk panels draped over the bed, but as her fingertips went through it, the spirit looked away. It’s less noisy here. 

At least we could leave Port Carcarac when we wanted. Etienne flopped onto the bed. He wasn’t so proud that he would turn away a hot bath after weeks at sea, but neither would it help the Pirate Queen get anything from him.

You could leave now if you wanted. Zuri’s voice floated over from the window, where she stared down into the jungle canopy of Hau Tarakona. 

I could prick a finger and break out of this palace, yes, but I’d have no way of getting off the island. Besides, even if I could, I wouldn’t leave your body behind.

Zuri’s physical form, trapped in stasis at the moment of her death, was hidden somewhere on the island. It was her last chance for normal life after having her soul ripped from her body by the death mage, Absolon—that was if Etienne could get her to a skilled healer like his sister-in-all-but-name, Alphonse. So far, they had only been thwarted in their journey north again and again.

She made no reply to his statement, remaining fixated on something outside. Since Zuri had told Ryou to kill Absolon and so allow her body to perish, she seemed disinterested in any conversation for long. The stasis spell didn’t seem to help; each time he brought up trying to save and heal her body, the noble didn’t react at all. 

It was difficult not to be angry with Zuri when she was so lifeless. So hopeless. After all, he was in a terrible situation as well, but he hadn’t completely given up. Cursed Realms, when Allee had been infected with Enyo, she had never truly lost hope. Certainly, she was tired, weakened by the Goddess’s inhabitation, but she didn’t become detached and uncaring. 

But Alphonse and Zuri were two very different women. By nature, Alphonse was a gentle, nurturing soul who had worked hard her entire life to become a Moxous healer. Zuri was a noble who lived a life of luxury and ease until her ill-fated meeting with Absolon du Sang. 

Etienne took a deep breath, swallowing his anger, and went to stand with Zuri. So long as he was in his physical form, they could not truly touch, but he hoped that she would take some comfort from his presence. They had been through so much together in the last few moons. What do you see?

When she looked over her shoulder at him, Etienne could have sworn her green eyes flickered with emotion. Was that amusement or anger? It was difficult to read her these days, as it seemed she shifted from state to state erratically. I see a smelly mage in dirty clothes. 

The smelly mage in question snorted, a smile hovering about his lips. There was some of the old Zuri, hidden beneath the miasma that she seemed to carry with her everywhere. Well then, I’ll take that as a hint that I should go take a bath.

⥣          ⥣           ⥣

Though the world of the living had lost much of its appeal for Zuri, as it was obvious she’d never experience it again, she had to admit the feasts Queen Kyomi put on were fantastic. They almost made her wish she could be alive. Almost. 

The platters of various dishes wafted past her and Etienne, their aromas impossible to ignore, even for a dead girl. She watched in mild trepidation as the large pirate guard on Etienne’s right wrestled with a bowl of curry, the tiny red peppers sloshing left and right as he greedily lifted his soup spoon to his lips. Maybe he’d spill it. Or burn his tongue on the dainty peppers.

On Etienne’s left was another pirate guard, who chewed on a skewer of satay and spoke emphatically to the woman across from her. Zuri sighed and returned her attention to the mage, who looked better for his bath. What’s that, some sort of… She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what was on his plate. It was round and flat, too thick to be a crepe, and filled with various vegetables. It looked crispy, light, and fried. Pancake? Though she had no enthusiasm for their old game of his describing what he ate, it was better than sitting in silence watching the world live on around her. 

Etienne hummed and took a bite of it, his eyes going wide with surprise. This is good! he told what appeared to be no one in particular to those who did not have spiritsight. It's spicy, not sweet, and it has a dense texture. The sauce is salty and flavorful. He took another bite and grinned. I wonder what I should try next...

A large dish of some sort of noodle caught Zuri’s eye, but before she had even started to speak, a deep voice interrupted them. You could try this, mage. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Ryou. He politely left her enough space, not stepping through her non-corporeal form, but that didn’t make up for his selling them out, and Zuri looked away. After telling the pirate what she thought of his selfish, greedy actions, she’d taken the tactic he had used on her in the beginning. He wasn’t real. He was just a composition of deranged hallucinations. He was nothing. 

I don’t want your booze, pirate. When Zuri glanced back, Etienne had turned on his cushion so that he didn’t have to look at his former lover. He ate another bite of pancake in silence, his expression stony. 

Zuri turned in time to see Ryou wince, though whether it was due to his newly altered eyes or to Etienne’s slight, she didn’t know. She doubted the pirate felt anything unless it was a self-serving emotion. 

Etienne— 

Jaquelle, seated closer to the Queen, let out a sudden bright guffaw. "I thought the mage was reliant on you, Ryou! What happened?" Around her, a few other pirates chuckled, roused from their various conversations by her sheer volume.

The spirit expected Ryou to make some wry comment or lewd remark, but he only sighed and turned to leave. It wasn’t until he was well out of earshot that Zuri snapped, What did you see in him anyway, Etienne? Was it just that he’s good-looking? It irritated her that Ryou kept trying to talk to them. Or, more accurately, to Etienne. 

Why would he want to talk to her, the woman whose body he had leveraged to enslave the mage? She was just a dead girl, after all. What little cheer she had cultivated during the feast evaporated. 

Before the mage could respond, Zuri stood. This room was too full of loud, laughing people. The voices mixed with the sound of a gourd drum, and the colliding scents of the dishes made her nauseous. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t belong here!

High tides! She should have been in Liles, bickering with her sister and practicing her painting and wondering if this social season would be any more interesting than the last. Not in the den of a pirate wench who called herself Queen. Not dead. Again. She glared at the mage and turned on her heel. 

Pirates, and death magic, and spiritsight. These were concepts she had never considered before. Never heard of. Her life had been so straightforward, though, at the time, Zuri hadn’t thought so. Before she met the mage, she never believed something terrible would happen to her. Before she met the pirate, she had never seen another person die. Thanks to his bloody nature, she’d been complicit in murder. Murders, really, if Absolon du Sang counted. Which, in her darkest moments, she didn’t think he did, though the guilt in her chest suggested she was wrong. 

And how sick was that? The man had lured her to his estate for supposed romance, which Zuri was ashamed to admit to herself she’d found intriguing, then hunted her down in his forest and killed her. Though her soul had escaped, battered and missing key memories, he had etched dark magic into her body and forced it to pretend to be alive, forced it to dress up in little outfits and assist him in making his corpse army. To dote on him and rub his neck and sit in his lap— Don’t think about that, Zuri. 

She shoved the memories of those days she spent locked in his tower, watching and helpless to stop the sick puppet show, away. She shouldn’t feel guilt for telling Ryou to kill that monster. 

Not thinking where she was going, Zuri looked around to realize she had traveled a good distance. Had she been running? She wasn’t out of breath, but it seemed impossible that she could have left an entire wing of the black stone palace so quickly unless she had run. Fled, more like. Her thoughts were bitter as the noble tried to orient herself. She’d never been down this corridor before. These weren’t the quarters, nor the throne room… 

Taking a random turn, Zuri stepped through a door with two guards standing out front and found herself in a room made of gold. Or rather, it was so filled with gold and precious items that it appeared to be entirely made of gold. The wealth of the Pirate Queen was astounding, even to one of noble birth. There were piles and piles of gold, silver, and bronze. Plates, cups, vases, candleholders, mirrors, combs, and even pieces of armor. Along one wall were rows and rows of trunks—the types filled with coins and locked before being placed in merchant ships. They all bore sigils, though none the same. Tables held jewelry and weapons and maps. Exquisite paintings of every conception lined the walls and stacked in the corners. 

Zuri wondered how long it had taken the Pirate Queen to accrue all this wealth and from how many different people it had been stolen from. Years and years? Hundreds of individuals robbed by the greedy woman? She hadn’t done it all herself.

No, of course not. She had a fleet of fast ships, crewed by loyal pirates like Ryou, who would sail off into a hurricane if she commanded them to. Loyalty or insanity. She didn’t know what it was. 

She examined a small statue of a dragon, curled around a sapphire that looked like an egg, and shook her head. What was the point of all this treasure just sitting in a room guarded by two pirates? It wasn’t as if anyone would steal from the Pirate Queen. No one would be that foolish. 

Perhaps the woman was paranoid? 

Zuri walked past the treasure to the heavily draped window, leaning through the curtains to peer outside. Night was falling, and the lights of the port city below flickered like stars in the sky. Even this high up, even with all the mist and dense jungle canopy, Zuri could just make out the docks far, far below. The ships that could take Etienne away from here if it weren’t for Ryou’s betrayal. 

Frustration mixed with guilt into a painful knot in her stomach. If her body weren’t in stasis, then Etienne could just go, but Zuri couldn’t bring herself to tell him to leave. It was her only chance at life, though she didn’t believe it was a real one. Not anymore. She was dead. She had been dead all these moons. She just hadn’t known it until Absolon collapsed to the floor with a knife in his skull. 

Regret coated her tongue, and Zuri pulled back from the window, shivering and rubbing her hands over her arms. Etienne would say spirits couldn’t feel cold, but what did he know of being dead?

✶

When the Queen stood and requested that Etienne follow her, the mage was almost grateful for the interruption. Though Ryou had given up trying to speak with Etienne, he could feel the pirate’s eyes on him from across the table. The happy chatter of the cutthroats around him set his teeth on edge. He spoke little of their language, but it all sounded as though they were planning their next crimes. So, at the Queen’s beckoning, Etienne stood with a number of her favored followers—Ryou and Jaquelle among them— and followed them away from the hall. 

The palace corridors looked to have been built for giants. They stretched upward into vaguely rounded darkness, the doors and entrances taller than two men and wider than six. They were empty of artwork, but metal sconces bearing lit whale-oil lamps and long, beautifully patterned rugs lined the path. The Queen didn’t speak as they walked but directed them silently to a locked door guarded by two heavily armored pirates. 

Jaquelle chuckled. Those loyal to the Pirate Queen are well rewarded, are they not, your majesty? The woman lifted a hand to touch a single teardrop diamond nearly the size of a quail’s egg hanging from her right ear.

They most certainly are. The Queen reached inside her golden gown and pulled up a key that hung from a long chain around her neck. This she inserted into the lock with some ceremony, turning around with her arms held wide as the two guards pushed open the door to the brightest room in the castle.

Etienne narrowed his eyes; he thought he had an idea of what was coming next.

Behold! the Queen crowed, her tone triumphant. As she strode into the glittering room, she seemed to disappear around the edges, her golden dress merging with the gold scattered around her. Perfect camouflage for a pirate. Ryou tells me you were a peasant of sorts before you went to your fancy school. Imagine the wealth you could have, mage, if you worked for me. She picked up a random goblet, inlaid with rubies and emeralds, and casually tossed it to Etienne. 

He caught it, looked at the gaudy vessel, and then let it roll off his palms and onto the floor. The clank it made reverberated around them, loud in the silence of all the Queen’s followers. What good would wealth do him at this stage in his life? He could not own a home in Dailion as he had dreamed before he was banished from Moxous. He could not leave the isles and spend it on a ship to carry him all over the world. He could not get to Nyth’draig and share it with his true family. 

While the majority of the pirates filtered into the treasury with their Queen, Etienne couldn't help but notice that Ryou lagged behind. The glare of the shining gold, difficult to look at directly for him, would be blinding to Ryou. Etienne gritted his teeth and turned away. Let him be a pirate who couldn’t stand the sight of gold.

I did serve you, your majesty, Etienne said cooly. I found and stopped the mage responsible for your lost ships. In return, you promised that I would be free to go, and now here I am, a captive. Why should I agree to work for gold? It isn’t as though the Pirate Queen keeps her word.

The pirates in the room started to drift away, their gazes averted. He was deliberately disrespecting their leader, and it seemed to frighten them. Her red lips twitched in what the mage assumed was irritation, but another smile replaced it quickly. You are free, mage. I only brought you here to hear my proposition. Work for me, accrue more wealth than you could possibly ever need, and then when you’re done? Go. Live your life. Ryou said you like mountains? With the gold you earn from me, you can buy your own mountain. She gestured to the treasure around them, and as she did so, Etienne felt a cold touch at his shoulder. 

He glanced behind himself casually and saw Zuri standing there. She was frowning and staring at the Queen. 

Etienne bowed low. "Your majesty, that is most gracious of you. Your generosity, it seems, has no bounds. However, I will have to decline your offer. I have obligations to meet in the Wildlands. I would like to leave in the morning along with my things and the body of the girl that was brought here with me. Her family deserves to pay their respects."

He could feel Zuri’s grip tightening on his shoulder, her ice fingers pressing through his muscle and bone. It was uncomfortable, but he understood her urgency. If Kyomi would truly let them leave, then perhaps this terrible ordeal could be put behind them. The Queen watched him for a long moment, her expression brittle, her smile too tight, but she nodded. Think on it tonight, Master Mage. The way I understand it, you don’t have many opportunities to make money, and life…. She shrugged. It always has a price. 

Thank you for your concern for my finances, Etienne said dryly, his expression bored and his eyes drifting idly over the mountains of useless metal. However, I managed just fine before I was abducted by pirates.

Etienne, Zuri’s voice was a whisper, a reminder that if he enraged the Pirate Queen, he wouldn’t be the only one suffering the consequences. The Queen’s face had become drawn, and her pirates moved closer, hands drifting towards the weapons on their belts, but a dry voice cut through the tension.

Yes, managed just fine, bartering trinkets for meals, owning no more than the clothes on your back, and banished and feared by your own people. Admit, mage, you were basically a pirate already when you met us. Ryou’s strange grey eyes were watering as he stared at Etienne and Zuri, but there was a subtle tilt to his chin. As if daring Etienne to reply. For the briefest of moments, the mage could see Ryou’s gaze flicker to his Queen and away again. A warning. 

Etienne took in a deep breath to cool the anger that threatened to spill out of him. Who was this criminal to compare blood money to honest work? He couldn’t even be trusted when his own vision was at stake. You and I have different definitions of piracy. It took more than a little self-control to leave it at that. Your majesty, might I retire? I have a journey to begin in the morning.

The Queen waved him off, turning to gloat over her treasure as two more pirates fell in to flank him. Though she said he was free, his honor guard put the lie to her words.

Etienne, you have to be careful. That woman is dangerous. Zuri hurried alongside him as they traveled through the palace corridors. It seemed as though the majority of the inhabitants of the black castle were still feasting, as the hallways were mostly empty. He couldn’t speak while his guards were present, else they know Zuri was there, but he waved a hand as though to dismiss the danger. If they killed him, the Queen would have no mage, and she seemed to dearly wish for one.

She made a frustrated sound. Yes, why listen to me. I’m just a silly noble girl who doesn’t know anything!

Etienne shot her a glance. Of course, she wasn’t. And she was right. The Queen was dangerous. The mage just wasn’t interested in pandering to her any more than he had to.

The guards accompanied Etienne all the way back to his rooms and then stationed themselves outside it. He could hear them bantering back and forth from his bed on the opposite side of the room, where he flopped immediately upon entering.

I’m sorry, Zuri. I didn’t mean to seem like I wasn’t listening to you.

The spirit turned away from him, pretending to inspect a large tapestry hanging on the wall opposite his ornate bed. It depicted a large naval battle, with some sort of sea dragon at the heart of it, massive tail crashing into one ship, while a taloned forepaw drug another below the waves. If he remembered correctly, there was a sea dragon Goddess, daughter of Iluka and Maoz.

It doesn’t matter, her voice was clipped, tinted with anger and something even darker than that. He could tell she was frustrated or perhaps afraid, but it seemed abundantly clear that she didn’t want him anywhere near her. 

He didn’t know how to help Zuri when she entered these moods. She seemed resistant to any contact or comfort. It was almost as if she wanted to be angry. 

Well, fine. He was angry too. They could talk again in the morning when he got them both off this gods-cursed island.

Chapter

Two

FIFTH MOON, FULL, 1835: DIRIGIAN ISLANDS

"E tienne." 

Yes? The mage sat across the fire from Delyth and Alphonse as he had seen them last, healthy and happy after years of living in their little home in Nyth’draig. Alphonse was nestled against her lover’s shoulder, one of Delyth’s wings curled protectively behind her. They must have been in the Brig’ians because walls of rock rose around them, and the sky above was a perfectly clear field of flickering stars. It was warm enough by the fire, though, and this little moment felt like home.

What happened next? Alphonse asked, her eyes wide, After Ryou killed the death mage, Absolon.

Even now that they were all much older, the look of wonder was as clear on Alphonse’s face as it had been when she was twenty. Some things never changed. We burned down the library so that no one else would be able to learn death magic from Absolon’s works.

Delyth’s brow creased. You burned all of it? Every book?

Etienne, it's vital that every page went up in flames.

The mage looked between the two of them, his mind on Absolon’s journal stored safely among his things. When he didn’t answer right away, they both stood up, Alphonse’s face worried and Delyth’s usually stoic expression twisted in anger.

Etienne, you have to burn the book!

Etienne, the book!

Together, they stepped towards him, their jaws widening and sprouting serrated teeth just as Allee’s had in the battle with Absolon.

Burn the book!

Burn the book!

Burn the book!

Etienne, it’s morning. Wake up. The voice was familiar, and slowly he swam up from his dreams to consciousness. When he opened his eyes, it was to see Zuri sitting on the bed beside him. The dark circles under her eyes were particularly evident in the faint light of dawn, but her lips were pulled into a soft smile instead of her usual frown. What were you dreaming about? You were moving quite a bit. 

Etienne shook his head, his mind still groggy and unfocused. About old friends, I think. And Absolon. He smiled back at Zuri, suddenly struck by how happy he felt to see her smile, despite the clinging unease left by his dreams. Are you ready to head north?

At the mention of Absolon’s name, her smile faltered, but Zuri nodded all the same. "I’m ready to leave this jungle. While you slept, there was this huge monkey that came and sat on the roof over the balcony, and it yelled. Truly yelled. All night. I don’t know how you slept through it, honestly." 

I guess I’m just a heavy sleeper. Etienne stood and stretched, searching the room’s wardrobe for traveling clothes. Most everything inside was silk or taffeta, but he found one pair of sturdy trousers with boots and a linen shirt to match. One moment.

When Etienne returned from the attached bathing room, he was clothed and ready to leave this cursed island. After he secured Absolon’s journal and Zuri’s body. His dream had shaken him. Maybe he should burn the book if only to ensure no one else ever found it. All that’s left is to meet with the Queen, I guess.

Zuri stood up from his bed and swept her hands over invisible wrinkles in her clothes. Very well, but try to be polite, Etienne. Important people don’t like it when you’re rude to them, even if they deserve it. 

She eyed his outfit and reached out to fix the collar, though her fingertips just pushed through the linen and into his neck. 

The mage smiled at her. I will be as polite as though I were speaking to the Council of Phecea. Promise. He reached out to place a hand where her shoulder would have been, familiar with the sudden cold by now. Anything to get free and get you to a healer.

 She sighed. Alright. Let’s go.

The pirates left to guard Etienne showed him and his invisible companion down into a lower level of the palace. He hadn’t realized the palace had subterranean floors dug into the mountain itself, but with further consideration, he supposed it made sense. By being deeper below the mountain, buried like this, they were completely secure. No typhoon would affect them, and he suspected back when the palace had belonged to someone other than the pirates, these chambers would provide