The Chase
The Spanish fleet was gaining on them, the faint pale sails of their galleons visible in the distance, drawing nearer with every gust of wind. Helena stepped away from the bow, her boots clicking against the polished oak deck, her mind racing for a strategy. Her crew—an eclectic mix of castaways, criminals, and dreamers—moved with a mix of fear and wild loyalty, fixing the rigging and readying the remaining cannons.
“We need more speed!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the clamor. “Loosen the top gallants and angle them to the wind. Now!”
Her first mate, Céline DuMont, a fiery-haired woman from the French West Indies, leaned in close. “Helena,” she rasped, her accent heavy and lyrical, “we cut it close at Cartagena. We’ll not outrun them with this much treasure weighing us down.”
Helena’s lips curled into a wry smile, though doubt flickered briefly in her eyes. “Then we’ll dance with them, won’t we?”
The Haunting
Helena’s reputation as the "Sea Witch of the Crimson Tide" preceded her, a name whispered in hushed tones by noblemen and mercenaries alike. Some said her ship was cursed, that it could vanish into the mists and reappear leagues away. Others spoke of her uncanny ability to predict storms and ambushes, attributing it to dark dealings with ancient maritime gods.
What only Helena knew, however, was the secret locked within the sapphire pendant she wore. Legend held that the stone was the Eye of Orín, a relic ripped from the depths of an ancient Polynesian underwater temple. The gem whispered to her in dreams and visions, guiding her to treasures and away from doom—though the price for such guidance was growing steep. Every use of its power left her faint and haunted by distorted glimpses of a realm she dared not linger in: a city drowned by time, where shadowy figures moved through eerie light beneath the waves.
The Battle
The sound of cannonballs tearing through the air ripped Helena from her thoughts. Splinters showered the deck as one of the galleon’s masts groaned and snapped in two. The Spanish ships were upon them now, their hulls shimmering like ghosts through the spray.
“Man the starboard cannons!” Helena bellowed, her voice raw, her heart pounding like war drums. She unsheathed her rapier, its hilt ornately carved with silver serpents coiling around a ruby. Sparing a glance upwards, she muttered—no, demanded—a blessing from the sapphire pendant hanging heavy against her chest. It pulsed, faintly at first, then with a blinding flash that rippled through the air.
The ocean answered her desperate plea. The waves bucked violently, tilting the approaching Spanish galleons, forcing their cannons to miss their mark. The Scarlet Galleon seized upon the advantage, its crew roaring as they fired their own volley. Smoke and chaos filled the waters, but amidst the cacophony, Helena felt it: the familiar tug of exhaustion and the cold creep of something looking back. The artifact demanded more from her, and soon, she feared, its demands would surpass what little humanity she had left.
The Betrayal
Despite their resilience, the fight was taking its toll. Every frantic movement of the crew betrayed their growing fear. Céline grabbed Helena’s arm, her emerald eyes ablaze. “We need to summon it, don’t we? Use the gem again.”
Suspicion twisted in Helena’s gut. Céline’s hand lingered too long near the pendant. She had known since they pillaged the ruins in Polynesia that Céline’s loyalty wavered. The sapphire’s pull whispered to all who came near it, sowing dreams of power, of wealth—the eternal curse of greed. For Helena, it had chosen control; for Céline, rebellion.
A muffled explosion ruptured the scene—a lucky Spanish cannonball struck the lower decks, and a cacophony of screams and rushing water replaced the dread-filled silence.
“She’s taking water!” a crew member cried. Chaos erupted as the ship listed, her bold red sails threatening to doom her beneath the waves.
The Sacrifice
Helena moved quickly, turning from Céline and rallying the crew. “Toss the treasure overboard!” she commanded. “We can survive without it, but not if we sink!”
But then the sapphire pulsed violently, bending light as if the ship had been plunged under a wave. A voice—not her own, but ancient and guttural—echoed through Helena’s mind. “Do not abandon my gifts, child of the tide.”
She froze, the weight of the sapphire unbearable against her chest. Hands trembling, her mind raced. To obey was madness, but to resist… could she?
The voice roared again, and the sallow tendrils of something inhuman began curling at the edges of her vision. Loyalty, she realized with mounting dread, was a fragile currency, eroded by greed, fear, and ancient whispers.
Genre: Historical Dark Fantasy
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Singapore's Dynamic Future
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