บท 139: The Departure into Chaos
The evening sky unfurled a breathtaking palette of orange and pink, spilling its hues across the quiet town and the endless expanse of the sea. Yet, the beauty of the dusk did little to ease Erebus's tension. The day of departure had arrived.
Erebus had made arrangements with the ship's captain—a tradeoff that left him weaponless in exchange for safe passage. It was a sacrifice that meant little to him, especially in light of his wife Luciana's suffering. For Erebus, sacrifices were worth making if they could ease even a fraction of her pain, though he doubted she noticed his efforts.
Luciana's silence over the past week had been deafening. She spent her days staring vacantly out the window, offering only a nod or the briefest of murmurs in response to the doctor's inquiries. Her eyes, once filled with life, now seemed like empty voids, as if she were quietly awaiting the embrace of death. It was Erebus's deepest fear.
Even her appetite had withered. Erebus often tried coaxing her to eat, holding out spoonfuls of soup to her lips.
"Mama! Ahh!" Nemesis, their young son, mimicked his father's efforts, opening his mouth wide in encouragement. To Erebus's relief, Luciana occasionally accepted a few spoonfuls, her maternal instincts stirred by her child's innocence.
On the morning of their departure, the family slipped out of the hotel under the veil of discretion. Erebus had sold what few belongings they had during a hotel auction to gather enough money for the journey. He packed modestly—some clothes and the medication prescribed for Luciana.
Luciana clutched Nemesis tightly, her fear of losing him more vivid than ever. She spoke no words, but her protective embrace and the distant look in her eyes spoke volumes. Nemesis, sensing her unease, clung to her skirt, seeking comfort in her proximity.
At the docks, the ship loomed ahead—a hulking black vessel with ghostly gray sails, ominous yet sturdy. Its dark, foreboding appearance was designed to deter pirates, but Erebus knew all too well that nothing was truly safe. The city around them buzzed with unrest—soldiers marched briskly while others rushed about with grim determination. Erebus's unease deepened as he considered the news that might have sparked this agitation.
As they approached the ship, Erebus produced the seal given to him by Black Shark, the enigmatic figure who had orchestrated their escape. The ship's name, Black Hull, felt fitting for the perilous journey ahead. After tense negotiations with the captain, Erebus ushered Luciana and Nemesis aboard.
The respite was fleeting. A deafening cannon blast shattered the fragile calm, signaling the arrival of pirates. The chaos onboard was immediate. The crew scrambled, barking orders as the looming threat of imperial naval forces compounded the danger.
"Drop the anchor!" a sailor shouted.
"Man the cannons! Prepare to defend!" another bellowed.
Erebus shielded Luciana and Nemesis, holding them close as the ship swayed violently on the churning waters. The towering waves seemed determined to swallow them whole.
"It's an attack!" a lookout cried, peering through a spyglass.
The captain's voice boomed over the pandemonium. "We're departing! Full speed ahead!"
The ship lurched forward, cutting through the treacherous waters. Families huddled together, their faces pale with fear as the sounds of gunfire echoed across the waves. The flickering lights of battle illuminated the night, casting eerie shadows on the thick, black clouds above.
The storm had yet to come, but the oppressive air hinted at calamities far worse than what they had already faced. As the barrier of safety cracked, Erebus braced himself for the trials that awaited them, knowing full well that survival demanded every ounce of courage he had left.
The cannon's thunderous echo had scarcely faded when the captain barked new orders over the chaos.
"Signal the other ships! Let 'em know we're gettin' outta here!" he roared, his voice cutting through the din.
A crew member quickly loaded a flintlock pistol and fired twice into the night sky. The sharp cracks were answered by the distant movements of neighboring vessels. Erebus watched as the surrounding ships, shadowy outlines against the dim horizon, sprang into action, adjusting their sails and preparing to flee the danger.
As the Black Hull lurched forward, Erebus guided Luciana and Nemesis toward the cabin below deck. The lower quarters were cramped, dimly lit by flickering lanterns that cast long, wavering shadows. Families huddled together in fear, their faces pale and gaunt.
Luciana glanced around, her expression impassive but her eyes briefly flickering with recognition. Some of the passengers whispered prayers to Iblis, pleading for his protection in the stormy chaos. Others muttered devotions to the Omnipotent God, their voices a soft undercurrent to the cacophony above. The air was thick with dread, and Luciana instinctively held Nemesis closer, shielding him from the despair that hung heavy in the room.
The cabin reeked of waste, sweat, and fear. The ship's constant rocking stirred the bile in many stomachs, and the sound of retching punctuated the uneasy silence. Luciana's face grew pale, her hand trembling slightly as she pressed it against her lips to steady herself.
Midnight brought an eerie stillness to the waters. The violent rocking subsided, replaced by a subtle sway that hinted at calmer seas—at least for the moment. Seizing the opportunity, Erebus stood and peered out of the small, circular window embedded in the wooden wall. The faint moonlight glinted off the distant waves, their surface an endless, rippling black.
Behind him, Luciana's soft groan of pain pulled his attention away from the window. He turned sharply, his heart sinking at the sight of her pale, sweat-dappled face. Her condition was worsening. Without hesitation, he reached for the leather bag containing her medication. He poured a dose into a wooden flask filled with clean water and knelt beside her.
"Drink this," he urged, his voice steady but laced with worry.
Luciana hesitated, her gaze lingering on him as though she were assessing his intentions. Then, without a word, she accepted the flask, sipping slowly as Erebus supported her trembling hand. When she had finished, she leaned against him, her weight light yet heavy with unspoken exhaustion.
Erebus froze for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. She hadn't willingly leaned on him in months, let alone accepted his help without protest. Now, her frail state had stripped away her defenses, forcing her to rely on him.
The realization sent a wave of conflicting emotions through him—relief, sorrow, and a profound helplessness. He tightened his arm around her, steadying her as she rested her head against his chest. Her breaths were shallow, her fragile body trembling with the effort of simply existing.
Nemesis, nestled beside his mother, reached out to touch her hand. His small fingers wrapped around hers in a gesture of comfort.
Erebus swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him—the vulnerability of his wife, the fragility of his son's understanding, and the uncertain fate that awaited them all. The storm outside was no longer his only concern. The storm within—the quiet battle waged by the woman he loved—was far more terrifying.
As the ship creaked and groaned around them, Erebus whispered a silent vow to himself: no matter what dangers lay ahead, he would protect them. Even if the seas rose to swallow them whole, even if the heavens unleashed their wrath, he would not falter.
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