James's Path: The Captain's Burden
The water surged to James's waist as he wrenched the rusted hook free from his shattered shackles. His broken locket swung uselessly against his chest, its chain snapped. Above him, the ship's timbers groaned, saltwater weeping from the cracks. He gripped the hook, its edge jagged and cold, and staggered into the corridor.
The hook's jagged edge bit into James's palm as he staggered into the corridor, seawater sloshing at his knees. The ship groaned around him, timbers screaming like wounded beasts. His snapped locket swung uselessly against his chest, its broken chain a cruel reminder of Élodie's failed protection. Somewhere ahead, the captain's locket pulsed—a faint, sickly glow bleeding through the cracks of a warped door.
The air reeked of brine and decay. James pressed forward, his boots slipping on algae-slick planks. Shadows writhed on the walls, their shapes twisting into skeletal hands that clawed at the air. He tightened his grip on the hook, its weight grounding him.
Ahead, the corridor dipped sharply, swallowed by black water. James waded in, the cold searing his skin. Half-submerged crates floated like coffins, their contents—rotting silks, shattered porcelain—glimmering faintly. Something brushed his leg—a seaweed tendril, or fingers? He swung the hook blindly, the water churning as a spectral face dissolved into foam.
The stairs to the upper decks had crumbled, leaving a jagged gap. James climbed the wreckage, splinters digging into his palms. A beam shifted beneath him, and he lunged for a rusted pipe, dangling over the abyss. The pipe groaned, bending under his weight. With a heave, he hauled himself onto a splintered ledge, blood dripping from his torn hands.
A long hallway lined with tarnished mirrors stretched before him. His reflection fractured into a dozen distorted versions—some younger, some older, all staring back with hollow eyes. Whispering voices overlapped:
"You'll drown like the rest…"
"Gold for blood, James…"
He smashed the nearest mirror with the hook. The glass shrieked, and the visions shattered.
The helm door loomed ahead, crusted with barnacles and etched with the Marchand crest—a ship devoured by waves. James shoved it open, the hinges screeching.
The Captain stood motionless, his back to James, hands fused to the ship's wheel. His locket glowed—intact, its chain unbroken, the crest polished to a sinister gleam. The air here was thicker, colder, as if the sea itself had seeped into the walls.
His hood slipped.
"Théodore," James breathed, recognizing the face from family portraits.
"You know my name," the captain rasped, his voice a chorus of drowned whispers. "Then you know I have no choice."
"You hunted your own blood," James said, raising the hook.
Théodore turned slowly, his movements stiff, like a marionette dragged from the depths. His face was a grotesque mockery of the family portraits—sharp cheekbones eroded by salt, eyes voids of obsidian, lips peeled back in a permanent snarl. Barnacles encrusted his coat, their shells clicking like teeth.
"I am bound, James Marchand," Théodore said, brine dripping from his jaw. "Nerites' first pawn. Élodie stole this locket to spare you, but her death broke its power." He yanked his hands free from the wheel, flesh tearing like wet parchment. "Now, it's your burden."
He tossed the locket. James caught it, the metal searing his skin as if alive.
"Chant its name reversed —three times—in the engine room, where you'll find its heart," Théodore said, seawater bubbling from his throat. "Pierce his heart. Fail, and we all suffer a fate worse than death."
James lunged forward. "What's his name?"
The captain's lips parted, seawater bubbling from his throat. "Ne—". The word choked into a gurgle as his form collapsed inward, dissolving into a swirl of brine and kelp that slithered across the floorboards and vanished into the cracks.
Lily's Path: The Ledger's Curse
Lily stumbled into the captain's quarters, her dress soaked and clinging. The room reeked of mildew, the walls lined with maps of forgotten seas. On the desk lay a ledger, its pages crisp despite the rot.
Lily's fingers trembled as she flipped the ledger's pages. Moonlight seeped through a cracked porthole, illuminating the captain's spidery script:
1690: Théodore Marchand
In exchange for wealth unending, I pledge the youngest heir of each generation to Nerites, no sooner than 25 years apart. Defiance erases the Marchand name from land and memory.
A new entry materialized in blood-red ink:
2025:
The heir resists. Nerites' tide rises.
The name Nerites thrummed in her skull like a curse. Before she could react, the door slammed shut. Shadows pooled beneath it, thickening into gaunt, spectral figures—sailors in tattered uniforms from centuries past, their skin bloated, eyes milky voids. Not Marchands. Victims of other doomed voyages.
"Gold for blood," they moaned in unison, their voices echoing as if rising from the deep. "Blood for gold."
Lily backed against the desk, clutching the ledger to her chest. The crewmen oozed through the door's cracks, their forms dissolving into brackish water before reforming, closer each time. One lunged, seaweed-strewn fingers grazing her arm. She swung the ledger like a shield, its spine cracking against the spectre's jaw. The creature hissed, disintegrating into mist, but two more surged forward.
Spotting a collapsed panel in the wall—a jagged gap hidden behind rotting maps—Lily dove through it, glass from the shattered porthole slicing her palms. The crawl space beyond was claustrophobic, reeking of mold and salt, its walls slick with algae. She scrambled forward on elbows and knees, the ledger clenched under one arm. Behind her, the crew's whispers reverberated through the narrow passage:
"Defiance drowns…"
The ship's heartbeat grew louder—thud, thud, thud—a primal rhythm guiding her deeper into the bowels. She emerged into a cargo hold littered with decayed crates, their contents spilling out: tea leaves blackened by time, opium sacks split like rotten fruit. Above, a rusted catwalk beckoned.
Lily climbed, her breath ragged. Below, the crewmen dissolved into puddles, only to reform on the stairs, their milky eyes tracking her.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound pulsed in her temples now, a magnetic pull. She followed it through a maze of corridors, unaware that James descended toward the same rhythm, the captain's locket glowing hotter with every step.