She woke up from a flickering light above her head, its source a swaying lantern that hung from a dark ceiling that creaked and groaned. Around her were walls of soft cotton that were rocking her with the rhythm of a calm breeze. The Holy Words said that the Heavenly Halls smell of rain after a hot summer's day, but in this air hung a damp yet sweet spicy scent.

Licking her chapped and salt-crusted lips, she muttered to herself, "Gods of Virtue, I'm alive."

A wave of exhaustion washed over her, the God of Sloth pulling at her eyelids. She let Him.

When she opened them again, she was standing by the rail of the Acedia's Revenge restored in all its glory, the three deep-green sails billowing in the wind. Billy was standing by her side, and in her hand, the letter of King Thomas that had been wiped from existence.

When she dropped it a second time, the sea didn't take it. The scroll remained floating on the waves, then it bounced back up, a hundred times the size it was before, and swallowed her.

There was a moment of darkness before it spat her back out, her body rolling over frozen ground. As she pushed herself up, the huge letter dissolved into thin air. Wisps of white smoke swirled from familiar chimneys. Her stomach clenched—she had returned to a Laneby that had never been burnt down.

Here and there strolled faceless people, carrying bags of coal and stacks of freshly cut wood on their backs. The villagers went straight to her, as if she were the one who had died all those moons ago.

She followed the sandy path she had cursed so often when the rain had turned it into a second pigsty but was almost tempted to kiss now. As she approached the familiar straw house at the corner, she found herself skipping, running even.

When a lanky, cloaked figure with a longbow and quiver strapped to his back stepped through the wooden door, she halted. Her heart filled with a forlorn sadness that nailed her to the ground. Though his face too was blank, there was no doubt whose unkempt dark brown hair curled from the hood: Father.

As he turned around to close the door, a young girl with a long braid and a quiver on her back stood in the doorway. Her face wrinkled into Wrath's grimace. "I don't care what anyone says. I'm coming with you and Lord Brandon—show him girls can hunt too."

"Next time, little monkey. I promise." He pressed her to his chest, the hug she had treasured every day for the last four years. The last hug before...

Had she known what she knew now, she would have squeezed him tight instead of rolling her eyes at him. "You always say that. Your promises mean nothing."

"But my love for you is that much stronger." He grinned and departed. 

While nine-year-old Alex remained sulking, her arms crossed, Father walked right through her.

He paused, their bodies aligned for a split second. Yet as she tried to wrap her arms around him, he vanished.

Or had it been her? 

Suddenly, she was standing on a thick branch, her back against the trunk. Two cloaked figures passed below her, ploughing through the melting snow. She recognised the voices of Father and Lord Brandon. Despite the bows on their back and the swords in their hand, they were bickering louder than one would do when hunting.

"But a pirate, Vanya. How could you ever sink so low? It's like I don't know who you are anymore," Lord Brandon sneered. 

A swift gust of wind blew through the withered canopy, making Alex stumble. As she reached for a branch for support, the wood beneath her fingers cracked so loudly she missed her father's reply.

"I don't care that it was fifteen  years ago." Lord Brandon's blank face was close to Father's. "You used me to get out of a sticky situation. If you hadn't messed up, I would have never known you once murdered my people for coin."

"Your people, Bran? They were never yours," Father said, his Jade Islandic accent shining through the final s.

"They were Greenlanders. I was their Prince."

"And I was a young man, in need of money, and the Gilded Foxes offered a job. One day I was scrubbing spilt Palm Tears off the deck, the next they put a sword in my hand. Yes, Greenlander soldiers died—a handful of commoners too. I told you from the start I was running from my past." Father shrugged. Nothing was ever his fault.

"A horrible family, a clingy woman you didn't want to marry, maybe some thievery or a master you accidentally killed. Not voluntary raids on my fellow countrymen." Lord Brandon snorted, air coming out of his cloak in a cold fume. "How many, Vanya? How many did you kill?"

"I didn't keep count."

"You keep track of how many times the baby kicks Elly's belly. How many?"

A silence that only swords could cut through fell between them. Alex jumped from tree to tree as she followed the two men walking deeper into the forest. Part of her was convinced this was a dream. The other clung to the faith that the Gods were allowing her a glimpse of the past, to get the answers she needed.

"How many, Vanya?" Lord Brandon repeated his question.

"Fourteen," Father said finally, not a hint of remorse in his voice. "Once I had hit that holy number, it was a sign to get out. The next day you walked into the tavern I was hiding in, like the Gods had led you to me."

"Who better to hide you than a Greenlander Prince?" Lord Brandon turned his head away. "I should have killed you."

"But you didn't."

"Because I didn't know, but now I do. I—" Lord Brandon was interrupted by a deep, lengthy roar that came from the small hilltop and chilled Alex to the core. 

Out of the winter fog rose a monster with sharp teeth and sharper claws. It reared, pounding its paws into the ground and shaking its enormous head from side to side.

The bear.

It had been real.

Could it be that King Thomas had lied, and that Father had not been murdered by Lord Brandon, but by an actual bear? That bear that came charging ahead with a mad frenzy, white foam drooling from its mouth.

With lightning speed, Father grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow onto it. Lord Brandon drew his sword and readied himself to strike. The two men looked at each other.

Alex held her breath as Father shot, the arrow flying in a perfect arc before piercing the creature's shoulder. The roar that followed was that of a God, mighty and thunderous. The animal was a hundred feet away from them. A hundred feet away from death.

"We have to get out of here!" Father shouted.

"It's a bear—We'll never outrun it, replied Lord Brandon.

"Then what do we do?"

Fifty feet. Thirty feet. Twenty...

"The only thing I can do. The thing I must do."

Lord Brandon turned his body and threw his weight against Father, pushing him into the bear's face. Father was but a doll compared to the humongous size of the beast. The animal clawed at her father, snapping and biting him. 

Alex fought to keep the contents of her stomach down. Not because of the cruelty or Father's heart-wrenching screams, but the sheer cowardice with which Lord Brandon acted. Her former Lord had killed him after all. While the bear tore off a lump of meat from her father's shoulder, Lord Brandon used the moment of distraction to yank his sword down the monster's brain.

Midway through the animal dropping to the ground with a final growl, she woke up with a start, gasping and her head spinning. She clenched her arms against her chest as a terrible pain shot from below her breast to the tip of her chin.

It took three more breaths for her to realise that it had all just been a dream, a stupid nightmare. She was no longer in the Forest of Lane, but lying in a dirty brown hammock in a long nightshirt that was not her own. It was grey in colour, frilly and ruffled, and covered her from neck to knee. Though one shoulder was bare, and she had no blanket, she wasn't cold at all. Her skin was sweaty, slightly burning even.

The fiery smell became stronger as she lifted her shirt, revealing seven rows of bandages around her ribs. Whoever had rescued her had applied a thick ointment to the wound that Billy's panicked frenzy had caused.

Billy... the pain in her ribs was but a fraction of the guilt settling in her heart. How could she ever face Nick?

If she ever got to see them again. There were more pressing matters at hand. She had no idea where she was; her only clue the rows of hammocks slung to wooden bars below the ceiling, all with that same ornate iron lantern swinging from side to side. Though most beds were filled with bags and clothes, only a few of them carried sleeping men and women. Jade Islanders, by the tone of their skin and the chiselled shape of their eyebrows. Which of the twelve islands they were from, she could only guess.

"Well... well... look who returned from her slumber. Welcome back to the land of the living," uttered a raucous female voice behind her.

Alex turned her head to meet its owner, the ring through the woman's nose the first thing she saw. Her hair was wild and unkempt, as though she hadn't brushed or washed it for moons. One dirty strand of hair was covered in wooden beads in black, light green, and red.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Alex asked. Her throat ached as she spoke.

"You're on board the Kraken's Kiss, and I'm Kaisa."

Alex bit her lip, a fresh sweat breaking out. Not only had she survived a storm and a shipwreck, but the name of the ship also transported her back to King Thomas' parlour when General George had drawn out the map of the Jade Islands, preparing her for this mission. Though the Kraken's Kiss didn't belong to the guild from Mora that had been pillaging the south-western coast of The Greenlands, the Loccians didn't shy away from the occasional Greenlander raid either.

Now that she was facing the pirates, she realised just how unprepared she was. "Why did you save me?" she said, fearing a longer silence would make the pirate grow suspicious.

"Not out of the good of our hearts, Greeny." Kaisa scratched the scar on her cheek, an old cowpox wound or perhaps a battle wound. "Dag and I were up in the next and saw you floating. He thought you were dead. I told him he was dumber than bait. Long story short, you won't see me scrubbing the deck for a fortnight."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome, I guess."

Kaisa showed her a stone bottle with a short neck; it bore no crest, stamp, or name. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah." Alex's eyes trailed across the hammock, then the parts of the floor she could see: Seb's dagger was gone. She swallowed the dread away, then turned back to the woman. "But how do I know you're not going to poison me?"

"Greeny, if I had wanted you dead, you would be some fish's dinner by now." She tossed the bottle, which Alex only just caught. "Drink up. I tried to give you some before, but I didn't want you to soil yourself in here as you choked on it."

Not feeling more comfortable, Alex put the bottle hesitantly to her lips. The bitter liquid slid through her throat, slightly burning yet refreshing. There was a reason the Gods had saved her. Had they wanted to kill her, they would have done so already. So she drank and drank until the last drop had been drained, yet in the end, her throat was still dry.

"Do you have more?" she asked.

"More... more... more. You greedy Greenies always want more, don't you?" Kaisa mocked her.

"My father was a Jade Islander—he was a pirate too." The words came out of her like the arrow that had soared towards the bear in her dreams.

They didn't miss their target. Kaisa twisted her black lips into a smile of intrigue. "Is that so? What flag did he sail under?"

"Err..." She had read King Thomas' letter so often, yet at this moment, her brain failed her. She could only remember the name mentioned in her dream. "The Gilded Foxes."

Kaisa let out a boisterous laugh, the kind that boomed and bellowed through the entire sleeping quarter. "The Gilded Foxes." Tears of laughter lashed to her long eyelashes. "Foxes... a fox on the Islands. That's a good one—Dag will have a fit too. Such a Greeny answer."

"But my father really was a pirate, I swear," Alex argued, her blood starting to boil. "So I may not remember the exact name of his guild, but he was one. He killed people—Greenlanders. I want to be like him."

"And where is he now?"

"Died when I was a child, as did my mother." Alex felt more confident. Convincing this woman was easier when she could blend the truth with little lies, as General George had instructed her to do. "I sold my horse to a merchant for a spot on his ship. They were taking me to Mora, where he was born and raised. But the ship hit a storm, and it sank. I'm the only survivor."

Kaisa pursed her black lips, her dark eyes scrutinising her face, then she let out a sigh. "Fine. I'll discuss with the Captain if we can make a small detour—drop you off on a Morian coast."

"Or you could let me stay here," Alex tried. She wasn't going to leave before she had that dagger back. It may have belonged to Lord Brandon, but it was the only weapon she still had. Travelling without it was like travelling naked. "I can scrub the deck, mend clothes, fight..."

"It's only the start of the hunting season. Don't think the Captain is looking forward to paying another soul."

"But he doesn't have to pay me. I'm happy with a hammock and some food. I'll even sleep on the floor and eat the scraps."

"It's not my decision to make, Greeny." Kaisa turned away.

"Alex. My name is Alex," she shouted, but the pirate woman was already gone.

You had to wait two weeks for this update, but I have some good news. It will be a two-parter. The next part will be published tomorrow.