The Wrong Current
The ocean felt off. The currents were wrong, and even the dead were barely singing. Virelai frowned as she surfaced, her tail gently waving beneath the water to keep her afloat.
Off in the distance, she heard a shout—Seraphine’s voice. The words were snatched away almost instantly by the wind.
Throwing up a hand to show she’d heard, Virelai dove and swam hard for The Storm Widow. Beneath the sleek vessel, Dreadwake cut through the water toward them, his massive body moving with the ruthless efficiency of his kind—an Abyssal Blacklip Leviashark.
Based on his speed alone, something was wrong. Either a threat was approaching, or Seraphine herself felt threatened by something.
The deepwater predator responded to the captain’s moods more than her words.
Sensing Virelai’s approach, the massive shark snapped his head toward her, a warning glint in his cold, calculating eyes.
She slowed immediately.
Only when Dreadwake began circling again—his attention dragged back to whatever was coming—did she continue forward.
Somehow, even Dreadwake’s circling felt wrong. Virelai couldn’t quite explain it, only that the massive beast had grown more and more testy of late. He was reacting to the same disturbances she felt in the water—the strange currents, the quieting Song.
Now, though, she felt the looming threat too.
Something was coming.
Surfacing again, keeping half an eye on Dreadwake, she took a moment to scan the water, but saw nothing. Then she heard her name.
Seraphine’s voice.
It carried this time, and the tone of it sent a sharp jolt through her—half panic, half terror.
It was enough to have the Bonekeeper diving again, cutting through the water toward her beloved’s ship, one eye on the approaching hull and the other on the massive shark’s dark, circling shape below her.
Once she was close enough, she surfaced yet again and pulled a necklace from the pouch tied at her hip.
Slipping it over her head, she breathed deeply as relief came instantly. The tightness in her chest eased as the charm took hold, air filling her lungs as easily as water ever had.
Gripping the rope ladder, she hauled herself upward, muscles burning with urgency more than effort.
As she climbed, she twisted to look back out over the water.
This time, she saw it.
A large ship, bearing down on them at a speed that set every instinct screaming.
A moment later, Dreadwake surged beneath her, heading at full speed toward the unknown ship.
Virelai cried out as a Song-Breaker net hit the water with sickening familiarity and sank beneath now-churning waves where Seraphine’s companion had been.
Seconds later, with barely a single rung gained, four pairs of hands reached down from the deck and seized her arms. As they hauled her upward, Virelai did what she could to help.
She had just managed to get her hands onto the railing when a hard judder rocked the ship beneath her, a spray of seawater catching her and the men above her.
“They’re firing at us, Captain!” came the cry from above.
Seraphine’s answering shout rang out, sharp with anger. “Blow the sea-forsaken bastards out of the water!”
Another impact slammed into the water near The Storm Widow, rocking the vessel even harder than before.
The crewmen released her, abandoning the pull in favor of sprinting back to their posts.
At the next volley, Virelai lost her grip.
With nothing to hold her and no hands left to catch her, she slipped and plunged back into the water.
The moment she fully submerged, she understood.
She heard it first.
Something deep beneath the approaching hull churned, grinding in a way that set her teeth on edge.
She knew that sound. She had spent enough time listening to the man who commanded that ship brag about the “upgrades” he’d made to turn the vessel into a more effective trap.
There was only one ship in these waters with a dual propulsion system that made the Song falter around it. Wherever it passed, the voices of the dead thinned… then disappeared.
She had spent long, painful days in the darkness of its hull before she’d been set free by the very pirate now trying so desperately to save her.
The Black-Iron Net.
Captained by Rafe Malachar.
The sight of the hated vessel sent a wave of frigid nausea through her. She had already experienced its “amenities,” such as they were, and had no desire to repeat it.
As she stared in growing horror, she realized that something was moving in the darkness below the ship, but it was still too far away to see clearly.
With speed born of memory and fear, Virelai twisted and dove beneath The Storm Widow.
She hadn’t gone far when something struck the surface above her with a wet, snapping sound and began to descend rapidly toward her.
A Song-Breaker Net.
Terror clogged her throat. She knew exactly the kind of damage such a device could cause. She still bore the scars—physical and otherwise—from her last encounter with one.
Humans called them Gill-Taker Nets, but the mer had given them a truer name.
They broke far more than flesh.
Fortunately, she was close enough to the hull that she managed to twist clear of the descending device and surge upward again, breaking the surface on the far side of Seraphine’s vessel.
She looked up, only to find Seraphine’s furious, panicked face peering down at her.
“Get up here, would you?!” she cried. “They’re firing Gill-Taker Nets!”
She disappeared from view, replaced moments later by six other faces—members of Seraphine’s crew. Virelai recognized them as the newest additions.
Still, they were strong and used to hauling heavy loads. She reached up, and they pulled her aboard quickly and with little ceremony.
She bit her lip, stifling a gasp as several scales were scraped loose against the rough wooden railing.
They hadn’t meant to hurt her—only to move quickly.
So she held her tongue and thanked them before they rushed back to their posts.
Dragging herself across the deck, she made her way toward her lover.
When she reached her, Seraphine’s jaw tightened before she dropped to her knees and pulled Virelai into a fierce embrace.
“Stay with me, okay? Don’t dive again until we win.”
Virelai nodded.
“It’s him,” she whispered, her voice already shaking. “The Stealer of Songs.”
Seraphine cursed under her breath. “Captain Rafe Malachar.”
She slammed her fist against the railing. “That son of a—” She cut herself off.
Virelai’s attention had already shifted back to the oncoming ship.
Black iron plating armored its hull. Chains hung where ropes should have been. From them, the Song-Breaker Nets swayed in a web of waiting torment and death.
Steam vented from its sides in harsh bursts, like breath forced from something that should not be alive.
Humans called him the Blackfin Silence.
She found herself wondering—
Which Blackfin was worse?
Rafe Malachar… or Dreadwake?
The thought chilled her to the bone.
Thankfully, Seraphine’s fierce gaze snapped her attention back. Virelai blinked, forcing herself to look away from the approaching monstrosity.
Instead, she leaned into the embrace of the woman who had proven, time and time again, that she was loved.
She closed her eyes, grounding herself in that warmth before pulling away.
“Enough,” she murmured. “Time for that later. Focus on that nightmare first.”
She jerked her chin toward the oncoming ship, then flashed a quick, wicked grin.
“Give him hell, love.”
Seraphine smirked, leaning in just long enough to murmur, “Tyrant,” against her lips.
After a brief, heated kiss, the captain rose in one fluid motion.
She strode to her first mate, issuing orders that had him shouting, “Aye, Captain!” as he turned to relay them.
Next, she crossed to the Gun Master and gave him his commands, sending another rush of boots pounding toward the gun deck below.
More crew surged up from below, drawn by the chaos above.
A heartbeat later, the guns fired.
The deck shuddered beneath Virelai as the force rolled through her body, the sound deafening, all-consuming.
The answering volley came almost instantly.
A thunderous crack split the air, followed by the shriek of something tearing through it. The impact slammed into The Storm Widow’s hull with bone-jarring force, sending a violent shudder through the deck beneath Virelai.
She grabbed for purchase, claws scraping against wet wood as the ship lurched sideways.
“Hold her steady!” Seraphine barked. “Don’t let them turn us!”
Another blast struck—closer this time. Splinters burst upward from the railing, peppering the deck with jagged fragments. One of the crew cried out, clutching his shoulder as he went down.
Virelai twisted, her attention snapping back to the water.
Dreadwake.
The massive leviashark surged through the churned sea, a dark, relentless shape cutting straight for the Black-Iron Net. One of the descending Gill-Taker Nets brushed past his flank—
—and missed.
Barely.
The creature pivoted with terrifying precision, circling wide before driving forward again, faster now, angling not for the hull—
—but beneath it.
Virelai’s breath caught.
No.
Don’t—
The water shifted.
Not from the ship.
From something beneath it.
At first, it was only a distortion—a subtle warping of current, like heat rising from stone. Then something moved where nothing should have been.
A shadow.
Too large.
Too slow.
Too wrong.
Virelai leaned over the railing despite herself, heart hammering against her ribs.
“Virelai—!” Seraphine snapped.
She didn’t hear her.
Another blast rocked the ship, harder than before—close enough that the force of it drove the breath from her lungs even through the charm.
And then—
Something struck the underside of The Storm Widow.
Not a cannon.
Not debris.
Impact.
The entire vessel jolted upward as if something massive had surged beneath it, lifting it bodily before slamming it back down into the water.
Virelai’s grip broke.
For the second time, she fell.
The ocean swallowed her whole.
Cold rushed in around her as she plunged beneath the surface, the noise of battle muffling into a distant, distorted roar.
And there—
Now she saw it.
The Black-Iron Net loomed above and just ahead, its armored hull cutting through the water like a blade forced through flesh. Chains dragged beneath it, thick and heavy, swaying in slow, deliberate arcs.
And wrapped among them—
The creature.
Virelai froze.
It was enormous.
A vast, elongated mantle stretched along the underside of the ship, its body partially obscured by iron plating and mechanical rigging. Tentacles—far too many, far too strong—coiled and flexed in restrained motion, each one threaded through chains and harnesses that bit deep into flesh.
Not guiding.
Not assisting.
Forcing.
One of those massive limbs pulled—
And the ship moved.
Not gliding.
Not sailing.
Dragged.
A pulse rippled through the creature’s body—color shifting in bruised, uneven waves beneath its skin. The movement wasn’t natural.
It was pain.
The Song—
Virelai flinched.
It wasn’t gone.
It was there.
Broken.
Strangled into fragments that scraped against her senses like shattered glass.
The creature was trying to sing.
And something was stopping it.
Her chest tightened, a sharp, instinctive ache spreading through her as the truth hit all at once.
This wasn’t a weapon.
This wasn’t a beast.
It was—
A tentacle jerked violently as the restraints tightened, iron biting deeper as the ship surged forward again.
Virelai’s hands clenched.
No.
This is wrong.
Above her, something slammed into the water—a net, descending fast.
She didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
Her gaze was locked on the creature’s eye as it turned—
And for the briefest moment—
It saw her.
Not as prey.
Not as threat.
As something else.
The net hit the water beside her with a violent splash, chains dragging it downward—
And that was enough.
Instinct snapped back into place.
Virelai twisted hard, darting away as the weighted mesh sank past her, close enough that she felt the pull of it against her tail.
Above, Dreadwake’s massive form streaked into view, veering sharply as he reacted—not to the net—
But to the thing beneath the ship.
His movement changed.
Not hunting.
Not circling.
Targeting.
The chains.
The realization hit Virelai like a second impact.
He understood.
Of course he did.
Another blast shook the water, the shockwave rippling through her bones. She didn’t wait for another.
Flipping her tail hard, she surged upward, breaking the surface in a spray of salt and breath.
“Virelai!”
Hands reached for her again—strong, urgent, unyielding.
This time, she didn’t resist.
Hauled aboard yet again, this time she was dumped unceremoniously by the railing. “Capt’n says to stay down, and away from the railing!”Virelai nodded, but gave no other response. None was needed anyway, as the two sailors were already halfway across the deck, off on their respective duties.
She glanced over the railing, careful not to lean too far, and saw nothing of the chained creature below.
Her heart gave a sharp twang as she recalled the agony in the single eye that had rolled toward her.
Resolved, she pulled herself across the deck, keeping clear of the rushing crew.
That captain was standing on the quarterdeck, her eyes darting back and forth, tracking the battle, the damage given vs received, her men, Virelai, and even Dreadwake beneath the waves. Occasionally, a sharp piercing whistle would skald the air, out of place in a sea battle, yet Virelai knew it was how Seraphine communicated with the Blackfin Leviashark.
Still, there was a frustration to the whistles now that drew the Siren’s attention. Cannon fire peppered the deck, but Virelai kept her eyes on Seraphine, hauling herself toward her, her powerful arms pulling her almost as surely across the deck as they did through the water.
Seraphine caught her eye and met her partway, kneeling to be on eye level with her lover. The captain’s expression was caught in a concerned frown. “Dreadwake isn’t listening. Sometimes he’ll ignore a command or two, but once the firing started, it’s like he can’t even hear me.”
Virelai knew immediately what the issue was. “He can’t hear you.”
As Seraphine’s frown deepened, the Bonekeeper hurried to explain.
“There’s some kind of giant, probably ancient, creature shackled to the underside of the ship using some awful black metal. Whatever it is, it’s keeping that thing from singing. I could hear it trying when I was underwater. That’s why Dreadwake can’t hear you. He can’t hear anything as long as he’s near that ship. The ocean screams around it.
“Creature?” Seraphine was shaking her head. “That’s impossible… Rafe’s never bound creatures in service to him like that before.”
But one look into Virelai’s eyes told the captain everything. It was true.
And that changed the course of her actions in battle.
Already weighing the consequences of her decision, Seraphine turned and shouted her next order. “Cease fire on the hull! Cripple her movement-now!”
Answering shouts from the Gun Master and First Mate had the cannons from below deck and the guns on the main deck shifting their angles to target sails, rigging, and machinery.
There was almost no hesitation among the crew. The few men who did hesitate snapped to attention as the bosun approached, their guns raised quickly into place and fired in the appropriate direction.
Masts exploded where cannonballs collided; more water poured from the steam vents than steam, and the rigging turned into a tangled mess of sails and ropes.
But Virelai’s eyes were locked on the surface of the water, and what she could feel coming from the creatures beneath it.
Rhythmic spikes of pain and fear ripped through her mind, and for a moment, the Bonekeeper had difficulty separating those emotions from her own.
The effort of trying sent nausea roiling through her gut.
Dreadwake wasn’t targeting the bound creature, but rather the chains that kept it prisoner.
She wondered if the creature itself could recognize that, though. Judging by the terror she could feel emanating from beneath the churning water, it was doubtful.
That thought alone was enough to give her pause and have her calling out to her lover.
“You have to get Dreadwake to stop,” she tried yelling over the melee to Seraphine. But the noise was too great. The Breaker of Chains couldn’t hear her over the screams of men, return fire, and snapping wood.
This was too important to keep to herself though, especially if it could affect the outcome of the battle, or Seraphine’s decisions throughout it.
Mind made up, Virelai dragged herself over to the human captain, who immediately dropped to one knee once again to be on the same level as her love.
“You have to get Dreadwake to stop attacking. He’s hurting the creature, which is making the ship move unexpectedly.”
“That’s why only half our fire is landing?”
Virelai nodded. “I saw what’s happening when I fell this last time. Dreadwake attacks chains; Creature jerks; ship moves unexpectedly.”
Seraphine’s face flushed with frustration as she cried, “He’s not listening!”
“Make him listen. He’s hurting that thing, and I can’t…”
She didn’t get to finish her sentence before a warning shout from the crew had Seraphine diving on top of her and pressing her into the wood of the deck.
Face down as she was, she could only feel the jerk of her captain’s body as something struck the human’s body, hear the muffled grunt of pain at her ear before Seraphine was back up - albeit stiffly - and shouting orders.
When Virelai managed to push herself upright again, the first thing she noticed was the area around her. Where once solid wood had kept the captain and crew from falling overboard into the open sea, now there was nothing but air and newly latticed framework courtesy of a cannon ball from the Black-Iron Net.
The second thing she noticed was the captain’s back; shredded and oozing blood from a thousand splinters left from wood exploding all around them.
Honestly, they’d been lucky they hadn’t both been swept overboard into the ocean.
“The masts are done for,” Seraphine hollered now to her crew, earning a ragged cheer. “Target her steam ports and other mech! I want that ship dead in the water!”
Virelai heard the pain in the captain’s voice, even masked as it was by forced strength.
The volleys came fast and steady; it was impossible to tell if the shuddering deck was from enemy fire or their own.
As the ships maneuvered around each other, a shadow could be seen standing silently on the quarterdeck, arms crossed, feet planted in a wide-legged stance.
That figure was the only still thing aboard the Black-Iron Net—and somehow, that made it worse. Virelai could feel it when that shadow-figure’s eyes landed on her.
An unpleasant shiver rippled down the back of her neck and down to the tip of her tail.
Another shout of, “They’re on us, Captain!” came from the crew.
Seraphine shook her head and strode away, eyes hard. “Not yet, they aren’t!” she shouted back. “Helm, hard to port! NOW! Give me some room!”
“Aye, Capt’n!”
Virelai glanced over at the Helmsman, who spun the wheel deftly and had the ship’s bow beginning to arc away from the Black-Iron Net.
“Bosun, watch those sails!” she barked.
“Aye!”
The Bosun shouted to his men, “Right, you dogs! You there, ease off that line! Open her up!” Turning behind him, prepared to holler at the men on that side, but they were already moving to do the opposite to help aid the turn.
Virelai noticed just a hair too late that the other ship was still steadily bearing down on them despite the damage done earlier.
A shout of, “Incoming! She’s gonna ram us! Hold on!” only confirmed her suspicions.
Another cry of, “Grappling guns fired, Capt’n!” rang out
“Switch to hostile boarding protocols!” There was nothing Seraphine could do about being rammed; they couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. But she wouldn’t have her crew caught unaware and slaughtered, either.
“Switch deck guns for close range! Gun Master!”
The man popped up from below deck as though he’d been waiting for her summons. “Aye Capt’n?”
“Half men below on cannons! The rest on main. Hostile boarding protocol!”
“Aye, Capt’n!”
The man disappeared for a moment to relay her orders, and a moment later, he appeared topside once again, at least 20 more men at his back.
Seconds later, a grappling hook found purchase on what was left of the quarterdeck railing.
The Helmsman, who had already drawn his sword and pistol, swung his blade and cut through the rope on that grappling hook before the pirate it belonged to could climb aboard.
“Not today, Hell-Spawn!” he called out to the opposing ship and the pirate who had been about to swing aboard.
But Virelai’s attention was on the water, and the place where she expected to be able to see both Dreadwake and the other creature. Its coloring made it almost impossible to identify from the ocean itself, so the only thing she could focus on was the Blackfin Leviashark.
Mentally, she hurled commands and pleas down to him, begging him to stop attacking the chains that bound the creature.
But he couldn’t hear her, and she doubted he’d listen to her even if he could.
In desperation to make the Abyssal predator stop, Virelai looked up again to glance around for Seraphine’s location. Was she still trying to communicate with the Leviashark? Or had she abandoned that endeavor in favor of focusing on the battle?
With her back turned as it was, she was completely unprepared when the impact came, shuddering through the Storm Widow with the force of 100 cannonballs. Whipping around in disbelief, Virelai realized the Black-Iron Net had just rammed them!
The Storm Widow tilted dangerously under the onslaught, and Virelai, no longer kept safe by solid wood railings, went sliding right off the quarterdeck and back into the ocean.
She knew the moment she hit water that Captain Rafe had been waiting for exactly this moment, especially as another Song-Breaker net slapped the surface of the water right above her and descended rapidly.
Still stunned from the ramming blow and her subsequent fall into the water, Virelai had no time to move before that deadly black metal was wrapping itself around her body with all the finesse of an abusive lover.
As she sank in the water, she had the impression of the same enormous eyeball rolling toward her, shared grief connecting both sea creatures at the immediate and sudden loss of access to the Song.
If she was capable of crying beneath the ocean’s surface, Virelai felt certain she would have done exactly that.
Instead, she simply closed her eyes and focused on staying as still as she could in order to mitigate the damage from the net to both her body and her voice.
Above the water, Seraphine and her crew were fighting for their lives. Not because their attackers were the superior fighting force, but because the crew of the Black-Iron Net fought dirty.
Just when the captain assumed they’d be blown out of the water and become just another shipwreck deep beneath the waves, Rafe gave the command to cripple them but leave them be otherwise.
He never let an enemy live if he could kill them.
The fact that he allowed her to live now set Seraphine’s teeth on edge.
As the Blackfin Silence was sailing away, he shouted, “Just remember, Seraphine! You brought this on yourself when you betrayed me!”
Seraphine’s only response was a crude gesture that her crew immediately picked up and reciprocated in Rafe’s direction.
But it wasn’t until the Storm Widow was dead in the water and Rafe and his crew were sailing away that she realized what the true cost of that battle had been.
Unwilling to believe it, the captain scanned her ruined deck, searching for Virelai’s familiar form.
When she didn’t see her immediately, Seraphine choked back her terror and called out her lover’s name.
There was no reply.
With panic well and truly setting in, her gut a roiling mass of terror and worry, she strode from Quarterdeck to main deck to Foredeck, questioning each of her men who had been above deck with her and might have seen what happened.
It wasn’t until she found the Helmsman, his face and body a mass of blood and broken skin from various surface wounds that she got her answer.
Slid overboard when they’d been rammed.
The words echoed in Seraphine’s skull as the realization dawned.
They’d been firing Gill-Taker Nets on purpose. He’d come for his once-lost cargo: the Siren Bonekeeper who had stolen Seraphine’s heart.
The empty space at the captain’s side where that Bonekeeper Siren should have been ripped an anguished cry of, “Virelai!” from her throat.
The sound echoed across the water longer than it should have and chased the Black-Iron Net and her unfortunate captives into the sunset.
