The Meriam cut through the water with practiced ease, her sails full, her hull groaning softly with each shift of wind. It had been days since they'd left Yarrowton. Three, maybe four.. Long enough for routine to settle back into the crew. Long enough for tempers to dull. Zyphers had not.
He stood along the quarterdeck, one hand resting loosely against the rail as he watched the men work. Above him, canvas snapped and billowed as deckhands hauled at rigging, adjusting the sails to catch the coming night winds. The sky was beginning its slow descent into dusk—gold bleeding into amber. Above, Finnigan barked orders in his gravel-thick voice, directing a pair of deckhands as they hauled the rigging tighter. Anthony and Desmond lingered near the mid-deck, tools in hand, arguing in low voices over a warped beam they’d been meaning to fix for two days now. Felix stood steady at the helm, his posture relaxed but attentive, eyes flicking between the sails and the shifting wind. They were a small crew. Efficient. Predictable…
It was the kind of evening that should have felt peaceful.
It was not.
Most of the crew was up here, the rest somewhere in the lower decks.. His father, Chef, Reid, two or three more deckhands, and Arilez.
Arilez.
He’d learned her name in passing. Heard it tossed around in the kitchens, muttered by Chef, repeated once or twice by the crew. That was all.
He hadn’t spoken to her since port.
Had barely seen her, truth be told. A flash of copper hair here and there.. Always moving. Always avoiding.
Zypher’s eyes narrowed slightly, dragging back to the present as a familiar figure crossed his peripheral.
Mciver.
The man strode across the deck with far too much purpose for Zypher’s liking, a heavy coil slung over his shoulder. Thick rope. Weighted edges. A cannon net.
Zypher straightened.
“Oi,” he called, voice carrying easily over the wind. “What’s that for?”
Mciver didn’t slow. Didn’t even turn at first. Then, with an easy smirk thrown over his shoulder—
“Captain’s orders.”
“For what?” he pressed, stepping forward now.
Mciver finally turned, walking backward a few steps as he spoke, grin widening. “We’re huntin’ tonight.”
Zypher’s expression hardened. “Tonight?”
“Aye.” Mciver jerked his chin toward the horizon. Zypher didn’t answer further.
His shoulders went rigid instead, tension settling into him like a weight. No warning. No discussion. Just… a hunt.
Of course.
He moved to follow, irritation rising quick and sharp in his chest. “Mciver—”
He didn’t get far. A solid collision cut him off mid-step.
The sharp crack of wood echoed as something struck the deck, followed immediately by the violent slosh of water spilling in every direction.
“—shit!”
Zypher staggered back half a step, instinctively catching his balance as cold water splashed across his boots. A bucket rolled along the planks, knocking uselessly against the rail.
And there she was. Arilez.
She stood just a few feet from him, the soaked hems of her pants clinging to her legs, copper hair slightly disheveled where it had fallen loose. The mop had clattered to the ground beside her, and she was glaring up at him like she might very well shove him overboard if given the chance.
Zypher blinked once, taken aback more by the sheer disdain on her face than the collision itself.
Then his expression cooled.
“What are you doing up here?” he asked, voice sharp.
Arilez let out a frustrated breath, “Cutting across.” she snapped, as if it were obvious.
His gaze flicked over the deck automatically. Quick, assessing, before settling back on her.
“You’re not supposed to be on the upper deck at night.”
“It’s not night,” she shot back immediately. Zypher’s jaw tightened.
“There’s still—” she turned slightly, pointing toward the horizon where the sun hovered stubbornly above the waterline, “—half an hour, at least.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is when I’m trying to get my job done,” she bit out.
He frowned, irritation flaring. “Theres a path below deck.”
Arilez laughed—a short, humorless sound. “Right. The hallway below deck?”
Zypher didn’t respond. Her expression sharpened.
“It’s blocked,” she continued, voice tightening. “Three Deckhands standing around doing absolutely nothing. And every time I try to get through—” she gestured vaguely behind her, jaw clenching, “—they start in. Talking. Following. Getting in the way.”
Zypher went still. At least she hadn't said they'd grabbed her.
His eyes moved, just briefly, toward the stairwell she’d come from.
Then back to her.
“…So you came up here,” he said, quieter now.
“I needed to get to the back cabins,” she replied, defensive but no less firm. “This was faster.”
A beat of silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Zypher exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “Next time, you wait.”
“And stand there while they—?” she started.
“Yes,” he cut in, sharper than intended. Then, after a pause, quieter— “Or find another way.”
“There isn’t one.”
Their gazes locked, stubborn meeting stubborn.
Then, finally, Zypher broke it with a low, irritated huff.
“Just go,” he muttered, stepping back. Arilez hesitated, clearly expecting more resistance. When it didn’t come, she bent to grab the mop before lifting the empty bucket.
“Great,” she muttered under her breath. “Now I’ve got to go back and refill it.”
Zypher’s eyes flicked to the water soaking the deck.
Then to the bucket.
A subtle shift passed over his expression. Something more focused. Before Arilez could take more than a step, the water on the planks began to move.
At first, it was slight. A ripple against the grain of the wood. Then it gathered, thick streams pulling inward. The scattered spill slid across the deck in smooth, deliberate motion, rising just slightly as it rose up off of the deck and curled back into the bucket.
Arilez froze.
The water slipped cleanly over the rim, settling back inside as though it had never left.
Silence followed.
Zypher flexed his fingers once, the movement small and controlled, before dropping his hand to his side like nothing had happened.
Arilez glanced at the bucket, now much heavier in her hand.
Then at him.
“You have—”
“Go,” Zypher cut in, sharper now.
His gaze had shifted again—over her shoulder this time.
Mciver.
The man was heading back across the deck, empty-handed now, eyes already scanning the back of Arilez’s head with a grin.
Zypher stepped forward, closing the space between them just enough to lower his voice. “Now.”
Arilez didn’t argue this time.
She cast him one last look—equal parts annoyance and something else—before turning and moving quickly across the quarterdeck toward the rear cabins.
Zypher watched until the top of her head disappeared down the far stairs. Only then did he turn, expression already smoothing back into something colder as his eyes landed where the water had been.
The deck had dried.
As if nothing had happened at all.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvv4ONNto1b
and then Add to home screen.