"Boila!" a fat orc roared, his green skin matching in hue to the gelatinised stew.
"Boila!" the rest of his savage friends chanted in response, toasting their bowls before sculling them. There was the odd crunch of bone between their festive gulping.
Lazarus was squashed between the wide shoulders of two of the chanting savages, holding an empty bowl of Boila that he'd periodically tipped onto the ground.
"Adendé, why'd you leave me here alone?"
The storm continued overhead of the Blackjack.
Gisla’s teeth ground into one another, the clenching grimace of her jaw serving as a shot of pain to try and clear her mind. The ringing in her head was accompanied by a disorienting blur in her vision, allowing her just enough sight to witness a series of flashes. Rumbles and whip cracks continued, but all were drowned out by the inescapable ring through Gisla’s ears.
“Lady… La- what’s… what’s happening?” Liza uttered, one hand holding her ear tightly whilst the other held the handrail. She too was looking out to the water, in slightly better condition than Gisla, but couldn’t intelligently follow the event.
"I'm not quite sure how I'd describe this," Lady replied.
As the initial lightning flash ceased, so did the whirlpool. Instantly disrupting its momentum, a circular wave was sent away from the heart of the vortex, allowing the Blackjack to ride on top of it and out of the direction of the spell's point of activation.
Once the wave died and the water returned, crashing on top of itself while filling the hole, the serpent was mercilessly pulled into the vacuum.
With the serpent disappearing under the water and the sea soon settling, Liza and Gisla began to recover from Adendé's wrathful arrival. A soft rain began to fall on the Blackjack, illuminated by the lightning in the blackened sky that had become the only source of light at sea.
The soft rain allowed Gisla the chance to cry, tipping her head in a deep shame. Her tears were carried down her cheeks by the rainfall, each drop feeling heavier than the last.
Thud!
Adendé's heavy black fist, flying through the upset seawater, slammed into the skull of the serpent and made a mosaic from its scales. Adendé's other hand gripped the eyelid of the serpent ruthlessly, tugging it in every direction to remain on its head. After shattering the scales from its tender skin and revealing a vulnerable pink, Adendé cocked his hand back under the water - preparing for another hit as electricity surged around it.
In a panic, the serpent swung its already dazed head to the surface of the water and flung Adendé into the air like a catapult.
Sent spiralling through the air and into the rainy sky, Adendé managed to find his bearings before the serpent submerged once more.
Whilst airborne, he extended his hand towards the thunderstorm above, planning to use his own arm as a lightning rod.
In a flash, the storm converged all of its power into one massive bolt, striking down on Adendé's arm.
Crash! Rumble!
The moment the thunderclap shook the air, Adendé had vanished. However, it was at this same moment that the serpent was struck with an uncanny paralysis - its body posing like a mannequin out of the water. Then it followed.
ZAPZKA-BOOM!
A cobalt streak of piercing light zoomed from where Adendé had been struck by lightning, straight down and through the head of the serpent. An electrical aura surged through the serpent, the voltage of the bolt contracting and tearing through the fibres of the serpents muscles.
Gisla’s eyes, as she was already disoriented, were reduced to an agonising squint - the pounding of the thunderclap still echoing through her hollowed head. Each hair received a powerful electrical charge, standing up with the durability of a silver needle - its point playfully stabbing at each layer of skin.
Liza couldn’t help but bury her face in the inside of her elbow, with the stinging of her hair pressed against her forehead forcing light tears from her eyes. A dry singe slithered up the length of her tongue, her lips almost cracking as a result.
In what was once a gap of shattered scales that sat atop the serpent's head, now lay a gaping hole that passed through its skull and under its jaw. Stiffly falling into the water, the once-powerful serpent now joined the many souls it had devoured for so many years.
Meanwhile, the streak had disappeared, the light fading into the darkest depths of the sea.
"Master Adendé lacks efficiency. I wonder why he didn't do that when we were at sea?" Lady asked as Liza and Gisla lowered their guard after trying desperately to shield their eyes from the series of lights.
"Did you know? Like, did you know that he could do this?" Liza replied in awe, looking at the aftermath of ripples and the falling serpent once her vision cleared.
"I view the living in a different manner than you, Liza. If you were to see Master Adendé’s spiritual presence, you might willingly relinquish your place on the Blackjack,” Lady commented, her ghostly vision peeling away at the physical barriers of the world and revealing absolutely ungodly energy.
Seen through the eyes of Lady as Adendé emerged from the water, was a midnight black and cobalt blue aura swirled in a vicious battle with one another around him. Streaks of light were constantly engulfed by darkness in an endless cycle, all of which went unseen by the naked eye.
With a thud, Galliard dropped from the mast above, landing not far behind Liza.
“What in the fuck was that? That wasn’t Gisla’s plan, right? If that was, I mean, hey, good fucking shi-” Galliard chuckled nervously, beginning his praise when he was cut off by Adendé, who was currently climbing up the starboard Jacob’s ladder.
“No, it wasn’t - stupid girl,” he insulted, following up with the loud thump of his behemoth body vaulting over the ship’s railing. Swiftly approaching Gisla, the boards creaking in fear of his wrath, she shook in the absence of her life’s overconfidence. Her grip was still tight around the spell’s parchment, wanting desperately for it to disappear. Once he stood over her, Adendé clasped onto her wrist - holding it up into the air and exposing her embarrassment to the world.
“Day after day I’ve watched you play with forces you do not understand, but you’ve not grown an inch wiser for it. You abuse the privilege of life’s greatest gift. You immaturely bathe in the freedoms of this ship without a second thought to who else is here,” his voice thundered with a more intimidating depth than the attack he’d unleashed on the naïve serpent.
“No, no I was only trying to help- I had it all figured out! The serpent couldn’t even do anythin-” Gisla pleaded her case, her eyes unable to pull away from the peerless glare of Adendé’s inhuman mask. He allowed her to speak no further.
“And neither could the ship. Had I not been curious as to how you might try and destroy it in my absence, you’d be dead,” Adendé replied, tearing the scroll from her hands and tossing her wrist back to her - his gloves imprinted around it in vivid red.
“No-” she tried to continue.
“Dead,” he repeated, his heavy steps returning in the direction of the captain’s quarters.
Liza and Galliard looked at each other, an awkward nervousness appearing with the sweat on their forehead.
“Gisla…” Liza uttered out, unsure of what to say to cheer her up. However, before she could think of anything meaningful, Gisla took off towards the stairs - disappearing into the hold below.
With the clearing of the storm and the return of the stars, the night flew by in a surreal bliss of the devastation that could have been.
Eventually, the sun rose to usher its golden kiss upon the dried grass once more. This same kiss bestowed a warm awakening upon Mikey, who’d fallen asleep on the back of Bat. Mikey’s tired nose had grown accustomed to the warg’s stench, making the morning sea breeze even saltier than it had been.
Rolling off of the canine and into the dry soil beside it, Bat was seemingly fast asleep - snoring without care for danger.
Mikey groaned in pain, his leg seizing from the strain of the previous night. The pain faded into the back of his mind, however, as his gaze tilted up towards a great, black wisteria tree sitting atop a hill.
Monumental in size, the tree towered over the hill with each of its raven petalled vines drooping down to the soil below. An intoxicating allure acquired a curious desire from Mikey to explore the shadowy reaches of the tree.
Then, much like on the ship, a sinister whisper tickled Mikey’s ears.
“Hello?” Mikey asked aloud, his legs irresistibly moving him underneath the cool embrace of the wisteria. His skin stung lightly as the petals brushed over his face and arms.
“Are you here to free me, as many have failed to do?” the sinister voice spoke louder, confidence emerging from the tree’s dark heart with each of Mikey’s steps.
“Another spirit? Like Lady?” Mikey spoke to himself, using his hands to gently clear a path forward - the vines only growing unusually thicker.
“Spirit, I do not favour the term,” the voice replied, deepening profusely as Mikey drew nearer still. “That’s a term for those that are lost, those that are lost - in despair.”
As Mikey cleared away the last vine, revealing a pale trunk, soft with an impossible combination of dried wood and soft rot. His eyes then came to lay upon a peacock coloured spectral figure, ghostly in a form much like Lady was. Old robes drooped over a wrinkled body, its jaw hanging low with what seems to be a century’s worth of aging.
“So you’re not… a spirit?" Mikey asked, more fascinated than intimidated by the spectre’s appearance.
“I am not in despair. I know where I stand, how close I am to having what I desire,” it continued, gripping a twisted wooden staff that was stuck into the ground. The staff was made of the same dried, yet rotten, wisteria wood that made the tree behind him. Despite clasping the staff, it was the only part of the ghost that seemed to exist on the physical plane.
Mikey’s eyes traversed the spiralling material on the staff, before meeting the hooded face of the spirit once more.
“And what is it you desire? Freedom? Power? Vengeance?” Mikey questioned, naïvely taking Lady as an example for what potential the spectre could hold. Mikey’s hands briskly passed over the hilt of his blade, thinking of what might be within his power to achieve.
“Vengeance… For years I’ve dwelled on the significance of vengeance, whether it would quench the thirst that keeps me here. It will not. Vengeance is a child’s satisfaction. I require something greater: sacrifice - the sacrifice I was forced to give. My life. My power. My time,” the spectre continued, a pulse of violet energy travelling down the staff he held and into the ground, before spreading through each thread that made up the weaving wisteria.
“I’ve nothing to sacrifice, not unless you want the blade by my waist?” he asked, though quickly frowned - questioning whether he actually offered away his sword. “No, no I don’t have anything to offer you.”
“You do, more than you could ever imagine. Mikhail Drewitt, allow me to show you your potential. It is truly boundless and I could bring it out.”
“L’il cap’in! Ya in ‘ere l’il cap’in?!” a familiar voice called out from beyond the gloomy vines, accompanied by a juvenile howl from a warg. Buggro had finally caught up to the pair of chaos causers. “Are ya in ‘ere? Can ya ‘ear me?!”
“Bugg…” Mikey went to yell out in reply, but the words dribbled off the tip of his tongue.
“You are a catalyst for the sacrifice I am so desperately owed, the only one that has survived this long,” the spectre elaborated as a snaking vine stretched down from above, slithering down Mikey’s neck and spine. The vine continued the violet pulse through Mikey’s veins and down to the ‘X’ on his hand - corrupting the once white luminescence with its own. “Youngling, you’ve given me the faintest glimmer of hope.”
“Li’l cap’in!” Buggro’s squeaky voice continued to call.
Mikey’s ears twitched, his gaze turning back towards the innocent voice. In the wisteria’s darkness, Mikey’s eyes embraced the violet glow.
