Content Warning: This chapter contains themes of captivity, coercion, and trauma recovery. Reader discretion advised.

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Splash

Cough, cough. Gils snapped back to reality. Her face was drenched with seawater as her hair hung limply before her eyes. She blinked the seawater from her eyes, struggling to piece together her new reality.

“Hey, badass, the boss kept you alive. Be useful or be dead.”, a pitchy boyish voice said behind her.

Gils survived the takeover from the Sea Serpents. Now, she sat helpless in the serpent’s maw, waiting for it to crunch down on her. She was in the deepest recess of a Sea Serpent ship, of that she was certain.

“Why am I alive?” she questioned the voice.

The captain had fancied her, the scrawny, young boy said, before telling her to get free and start being useful.

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One Month Before Her Capture

Gilsonita had long left her Navy days, title and name behind.  Ever since the collapse of Kirsh, she drank herself into a stupor most days and most nights. As Kirsh fell, so too did her Kirshian name. She now went by the name 'Gils'. The days that she didn't drink away, Gils tried to string together odd jobs and worked as a hired hand to scrape together enough coins to pay for her next meal and room.

Gils enrolled at the Navy Academy at thirteen, pledging allegiance to the Kirsh Royal Family and the people of Kirsh. She swore to defend them against all evils and guide them to Kirsh free and proud. Gils graduated from the academy in two years and joined The Song of Stone. A massive warship commissioned to be the strongest vessel on the seas. When she turned eighteen, Kirsh fell.

Ten years since its fall. Ten years since Gils was out at sea. Ten years since Kirsh was robbed of its life. The Ol’ Red Robin Bar in Aero, the financial capital of Kirsh, was where she spent her days since the fall. Aero was on the west coast of Kirsh and faced the open ocean proudly. Mayra, the capital of Kirsh, was home to the Kirsh Royal family and was on the east coast facing Lacrifah directly.

A request in the Adventurers’ Guild for experienced sailors skilled in battle by a reputed Merchant company caught Gils’ eye. 

“How long has it been since I was out there?” Gils thought to herself. 

The request asked for interested parties to meet at Percival’s Harbour at first bell, two days hence. So Gils sobered up and paid off her tab at the Ol’ Red Robin Bar, much to the barkeep’s surprise. Over the next two days, she unpacked her navy gear from the chest where it had been hidden and forgotten.

Her Whistling blade lay in its sheath. Years of disrepair and neglect had left it collecting dust in the chest. However, Gils couldn’t bring herself to unsheath the blade; the shame of defeat loomed over her like a blessing from The Heavens. Her old uniform, still crusted with the salt of sea breeze, was pulled out from its hiding place to be looked at one last time. “Wearing it in public now would bring down the wrath of Lacrifah’s Sunwatchers”, Gils muttered softly.

Underneath all of her old gear was what she came here to find. The Flying Hook, the last innovation of the Kirsh Navy. The Flying Hook was an invention that helped Kirsh’s elite sailors combat pirates at sea. It launched a bolt from a modified crossbow that was strong enough to pierce wood, while the hook ensured that the bolt didn’t break free. Its hook was connected to the base by rope, which the elite sailors could use to swing from ship to ship, get distance from attackers and attack our enemies from unsuspecting angles. As far as Gils knew, she was the only one who received a Flying Hook to test for the Navy. She dusted off her blade and hook and packed it herself, leaving behind her old uniform and her past.

The job was supposed to be simple. Protect and safekeep the vessel, its contents and its staff. The job poster was for a merchant company called Lewis N’ Red. They had paid off the pirates on their shipping route to ensure they could transfer their goods from the west coast of Kirsh to Gadriel’s Arm in Lacrifah. Everything about the job screamed it was going to be easy.

The Sea Serpents sailed like salvation itself. A band of pirates working together under one flag, the Sea Serpents ravenously devoured everything in their path. The head of the snake had no fear and no goals, seeking destruction and misfortune wherever she went. This so-called Captain had turned her attention to a small and puny vessel with no redeeming features.

Before the captain of the merchant vessel could think of a comfortable strategy to employ, the Sea Serpents struck. They flanked on either side of the almost cute ship. Surrounding the vessel like a pack of hyenas, waiting for them to die. If there was going to be a chance for survival, it would need to be seized quickly, before the queen landed on the dance floor.

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3 Months After Gils’ Capture

Gils scrubbed the grime and mold from the floorboards. The salt clung to her skin like anchors, pulling her to the depths of the sea. It’d been three months since the flame of hope had died out.

Gils was working for a band of pirates. Low-life bottom-feeders whom she hunted down all those years ago. She had gotten herself caught up with the unforgiving scum that were the Sea Serpents. She couldn’t forgive herself for believing in her destiny and following the stars that Chekobiel had laid out for her. Every sailor and fisherman worshipped Chekobiel, the Angel of Constellations, as the guiding path that always led them home. Gils had believed that Chekobiel had set her on a path that she couldn’t yet understand. Even ten years after the Lacrifan empire had made Kirsh submit, she still held out hope. Deep within, where she dared not look.

The hope, now shattered, had broken her completely. She didn’t even flinch at the screams and death cries of the innocent. That was worse than the flinching. She saw the pirates kill, loot and commandeer innocent ships. She had even been forced to join in the capture of a vessel after she had earned the pirates’ recognition. The booze numbed her from her reality.

Something was different in the air today. The other deckhands spoke in hushed whispers among themselves. The washcloths slapped the planks rhythmically, the sounds of her new prison. Until the rhythm distorted as they gave way to the clanging of metal against wood.

Crachunk

Unmistakeable. Gils froze, fear freezing her blood before it could flow in her veins. 

It was the sound of Grimclaw’s metal leg clashing against wood. The other deckhands dared not raise their heads as the immense pressure from her presence pressed down on them. Gils, in a moment of fear, couldn’t move her body or bow her head. Beads of sweat trickled down the side of her face and down her forehead.

“The lashings will come”, Gils thought to herself. “Move! Please move!”

“Stand.” Grimclaw announced herself. Like a marionette, Gils body followed the command, each word pulling at her strings.

Grimclaw stepped in closer, looming a foot taller over Gils. Grimclaw raised her hand, mighty and unstoppable. Gils braced herself for what was to come, wincing as though the pain had already arrived. Grimclaw laid her palm on Gils’ neck gently, before tightening her grip like the jaws of a predator. Gils dared not mutter insolence. Grimclaw pulled her face in, just beside Gils’. Grimclaw’s breath caressed her ear now. 

Gils shut her eyes tightly, not wanting to confront her reality.

“I have a job for you”, Grimclaw commanded in a hushed voice, raspy and coarse.

Gils opened her eyes and locked in on Grimclaw.

“We’re offloading the goods. Get ready, you're going to the Land.”, Grimclaw ordered.

“Don’t disappoint me, Gils. Meet the Gold and Silver fence and come back home. Although...” Grimclaw’s lips curled into a hungry grin. “...I’d enjoy what’s left of you after you fail again,” she said through her coarse, grainy voice, almost taunting Gils to disobey. Grimclaw’s grip on her finally relaxed. Her fingers traced Gils’ neck, down her chest, before she turned around and walked up the stairs. Grimclaw’s words echoed in Gils’ mind as their implication haunted her very essence.

A week later, Gils stepped back onto the land for the first time in months. It felt almost as cold and unsteady as the seas. Kirsh stretched out before her; its expanse made it feel impossibly big. But, Gils knew she couldn’t escape. The chains that held her wrapped themselves around her chest, hands, legs and even her mind. 

She was on land, but she was as far from free as she could get. Gils imagined herself running towards the sunrise, and felt the tug of her chains pull at her neck.