章節 3: The Cursed Waters
The moon was pale barely breaking through the stormy clouds that whipped across the sky.
The wind howled, making the sea restless, waves crashing violently against the sides of the ship.
The Sea Vulture was a beast of a pirate ship, but even with Burning Island only 290 nautical miles off, the savage weather turned every mile into a fight.
Of the thousand men aboard, most were at their posts, battling the storm to keep her afloat.
Even though sailing grew more brutal by the second, the pirates couldn't be bothered.
They were creatures born from the chaos of the seas.
If they had to die, they would go laughing, drunk out of their minds.
Such were the three men, perched atop the crow's nest, sheltered beneath the black flag that fluttered fiercely in the wind.
Jack, Dawn, and Mantis passed around bottles of rum, their eyes half-glazed but fierce.
Their shirts hung open, revealing weathered skin, while their thick mustaches and beards framed faces so ugly and hardened they could stir a mutual disgust in anyone who crossed their path.
These men were so deep in their cups they'd lost all sense of place or consequence.
It's said a drunkard speaks truth or folly.
Tonight, they were the kind that thought themselves invincible, like they owned the sea.
Each swig of rum fueled their delusion, stoking a reckless fire in their veins, the kind that could blind them to danger until it was too late.
"Why the fuck are we still following that scum Vargo? That piece of shit thinks he runs the lot of us. You see these arms? You think they're made of piss? Fuck him!"
Jack, poured his heart out to his two fellow vultures.
Damn right, Jack. If it weren't for the Braavosi Sealord licking his boots, Vargo'd be dead in a ditch by now. The bastard can't even control a few slaves. Mark me...soon enough, we'll gut him and take his whores for ourselves."
Dawn also wiped his mouth, spoke while grinning wildly.
"We could slit his throat tonight. Take what's ours and be done with it. After that, we can find a small boat and sail our separate ways."
Mantis was the only sane one among the three, fully aware that if anyone caught wind of their bullshit, it could mean their heads rolling by dawn.
"It's not that I don't want it, but you know he'd gut you before you could even blink. The man's a demon, not even human."
After Mantis's warning, the three men fell into silence, sipping their rum. They were fools, but not entirely stupid; crossing a demon lord like Vargo could land them in a world of trouble.
But trouble always shows up uninvited, and today it felt like the lord of hell was in a good mood and wanted to meet his minions...
Something happened...
Suddenly, they spotted three coins appearing out of nowhere.
No one had put them there.
These coins didn't have any emblem; they were pure gold, and in their drunken eyes, they looked bigger than any bottle of rum.
This sight shattered the silence among them.
"Who the hell do you think owns those coins? Damn, it's like they fell right out of the sky!"
The three men stared, mesmerized, at the glimpmering gold coins.
"The coins?" Jack scoffed. "They're mine! I found them first!"
No matter how this fortune had come to them, it was time to seize it, and they were ready to brawl over it.
Dawn leaned in closer, fire in his eyes.
"No way, mate. I spotted them first!"
"You just snatched them while I was busy drinking!"
"Drinking? Screw you, ya gaff! I'm not giving you a damn thing!"
Jack shot back, shoving Dawn hard.
"You were passed out, drooling like a damn babe! I'm the one who saw them!"
Just as their argument threatened to explode into a fight, a young voice sliced through the chaos.
"Sir..Sir .... it's just three coins...don't hurt my father. We'll pay the debt"
Laughter died instantly.
The pirates exchanged wide-eyed glances.
"What the hell was that?" Mantis asked.
"Who the fuck let this little bastard ruin our fun?" Jack shouted.
They knew it was a child, but on a ship like this, kids were usually slaves, too scared to come near the crew, let alone demand gold.
"Get the fuck outta here, punk, before I fuck your mother!"
But before he could finish, a child's figure emerged from the shadows.
He looked like a boy, maybe five, with one eye dangling from its socket, black blood trailing down his cheek.
A sword jutted from his other eye, heading out from the back of his head, and where his hands should have been, there were only bloody stumps.
His mouth twisted into a sickly smile, half-sewn together, revealing bloodied teeth.
"Uncle, give me gold... Mother wants it... Do you have the gold coins?"
The boy asked sweetly, trying to make a cute face that only made him look more repulsive.
"I promise I won't tell Mother."
Dawn shouted, in anger.
"What the fuck is this? Some dead brat crawlin' out of the dark? Get lost before I tear your other eye out, you little shit!"
Maybe it was the rum talking, he didn't care about the boy.
He had killed enough of these brats in his life.
But in his drunken haze, he missed one crucial detail.
The boy was at the same height as the fluttering flag, appearing and disappearing with the wind.
He was floating.
And that, however, wasn't something a human could do...
"Give me the gold, sir."
The boy asked again, but this time his voice had turned into something that didn't sound human.
It was hoarse, unnatural, and sent chills crawling down their spines.
Men shuddered.
They all turned.
Slowly...
Their hearts pounding harder than before.
Mantis froze.
The boy stood right in front of them.
No one had seen him climb up, no footsteps, no noise.
"Ahah! Y'all see this hahahaha!"
"This ain't real.We're drunk, that's all..."
Mantis chuckled.
But the boy stepped closer, his tone soft, begging for what was owed.
"Give me the gold... it was mine."
Soon...
The boy's head moved slowly, as if he was listening to voices from a place beyond their grasp.
Something far away, dark, and unreachable.
"They are here,"
The boy's smile twisted into a cruel declaration.
"My mother. She's kind. My lovely mother."
He giggled softly, the sound not belonging to him, not fitting anywhere near the living.
"Uncle, I have thousands of brothers and sisters too. And they always find thieves. Always."
His voice dropped, the giggle turning into a vicious grin. Maybe it was because his sewn mouth and eyes dangled from the socket; he looked menacingly cold.
"You stole our gold... Thieves... and Mother knows."
These were men who feared nothing—not the captain, not death itself, nor the extravagant and noble Westerosi lords.
But tonight, sweat trickled down their faces, even though the cold should've frozen them solid.
Then they came.
Countless figures, thousands of them, malformed, twisted from the depths.
Half-bloodied, half-transparent.
They didn't crawl from the sea; they rose from it, clawing their way from the storm, from the darkness itself.
Silent but screaming with every step, every twitch.
They were nothing human—bleeding, half-decayed, some with bones showing, others with no faces left at all.
They surrounded the ship like vultures circling the dead.
Mantis stumbled back, his legs turning to jelly.
"Holy... hell..."
Dawn was pale too, his hand frozen over the hilt of his sword.
He didn't dare pull it out.
"No... no way this is happening..."
They'd heard the tales of the cursed waters, the dead trapped here forever, doomed to hunt and kill. Their captain had warned them not to wander around at night; better to take a drug and fall asleep, but it was too late.
That time, no one believed it.
Not until now.
"No... this can't be..."
Jack was the one who was most scared.
But it was.
A headless woman floated closer, her body jerking unnaturally, black blood trailing from her neck.
The three pirates were statues, their hearts thundering, the rum long forgotten.
They were no longer drunk.
The only thing left was fear.
The boy's voice slithered through. His smile faded, his eyes darkened. "Give me the gold."
Mantis, trembling like a child, dug frantically into his coat, pulling out one of the coins.
"Take it! Here! Take the damn gold! You bastard!"
He threw it at the boy, desperate.
The coin passed through the boy's hand, dissolving into nothing.
"Too late,"
the boy whispered, his voice dropping to a deadly rasp.
"She doesn't want the gold anymore... She wants your blood... Sorry, uncle."
Then...
Countless spirits rushed forward like wolves, their gaping mouths ready to tear into flesh, hollow eyes glowing with hunger.
They were predators, and the living were their prey.
Jack, Dawn, and Mantis couldn't move; their courage drowned in terror.
The sobering truth hit them harder than any wave.
Their time was up.
"The sea is hungry for our bones."
Jack whispered, his legs giving out, crumpling to the deck.
The headless woman raised her hands, black blood dripping.
They didn't need weapons.
Fear was the blade.
Without a single wound, the pirates collapsed, their bodies glowing red, as if their souls were being ripped out, piece by piece.
They died not with screams but with silence.
Then the dead men opened their eyes again.
Cold.
Empty.
The same smile carved across their faces.
"We want gold. Mother wants gold."
Then their voices became like that of the young boy, repeating with the hoard of countless spirits.
"Give us gold back.. Mother...punish you."
"We want gold"
Maybe a few minutes had passed.
Finally...
The crew on the ship sensed the threat.
The storm roared, rain cutting like blades as thunder rattled the hull.
Lightning flashed, revealing a nightmare.
Undead spirits with hollow eyes coming through the downpour like hungry ghosts.
Their wails clawed at the night, merging with the storm's fury, freezing the blood in the crew's veins.
They stood paralyzed, trapped in a wooden tomb, while the whispers of the dead promised a reckoning.
The Sea Vulture rocked violently on the waves.
The shouts of panic echoed through the ship as the pirates stumbled out of their quarters, their faces pale, eyes wide with fear.
"Where's the gold?"
A voice howled from the darkness, a shadow flitting between the beams.
"Give it to us... we're owed what's rightfully ours!"
Another spirit wailed, its body twisted and dripping with black ichor.
"Your gold is soaked in our blood! You will pay!"
They chanted, their voices slithering like smoke, cold and sinister, wrapping around the hearts of the living.
Hearing this, a few pirates stumbled back, some collapsing to their knees, trembling before the vengeful spirits.
"We're all going to die!"
One man screamed, clutching his head as if trying to keep his sanity intact.
"Shut your damn mouth, you coward!"
Roared another, swinging a sword at the shadows.
"Stand your ground! They're just ghosts!"
But the chaos was infectious.
Dread seeped into their bones, and men who had faced storms and death alike now quaked, their courage evaporating like mist in the night.
Above, in the control room, Captain Vargo slammed open the door and strode onto the deck,
"You whoresons! They're just half-dead spirits! Don't you dare show any fear! If you let fear take hold, you'll be lost to them!"
The crew looked at him, their captain, the mighty demon lord of the seas.
But their eyes betrayed them, darting between the gruesome creature and back to him.
"Bastards! There's wealth to loot in the ocean!" Vargo shouted.
He wasn't some weakling.
Even the gods themselves didn't frighten him.
What could a bunch of dead bastards do?
But the others weren't as brave.
They needed a reason to fight back.
"There are women to plunder when we succeed! Why the hell are you afraid of rotting trash? I'll hunt down the Sealord and seize his wealth! No more aimless sailing."
"Just a stable life filled with gold and women. You cowards are willing to throw that away?"
He stepped forward, swinging his sword, longsword glinting in the pale moonlight.
"Bastards, be courageous! They can't do anything to you! Don't fear!"
But even as he shouted, fear rippled through the ranks.
A young pirate stepped forward, shaking uncontrollably.
"Captain, I... I don't think I can handle this!"
Before Vargo could respond, the boy fell to his knees, pissing himself in terror.
With a feral snarl, Vargo yanked the young pirate up by his hair, lifting him off the ground.
The boy's legs quaked beneath him, and urine dripped uncontrollably onto the deck, pooling at their feet.
Disgust roiled in Vargo's gut.
And then...
He slammed the boy's head against the wooden rail.
The crack of bone echoed like a thunderclap, splattering blood across the deck like a burst watermelon.
The other pirates recoiled, their faces turned pale with horror.
It's true that they feared the spirits in the darkness.
But more than that, they feared the wrath of their captain, the demon lord.
"A dead man is better than a half-dead coward!"
Vargo declared with cold gaze.
"What kind of scoundrel is scared of the dead? If you're afraid, you don't deserve to be on this ship. I'll send you to the underworld myself!"
Vargo's eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the spirits fluttering around him. He didn't give a damn.
Then came his ruthless order...
"Listen up, you bastards! Kill anyone who's backing down. Kill anyone whose legs are shaking like a coward. Kill anyone whining like a damned whore! Hunt down those bastards who'd rather be dead to haunt us! Kill, kill, kill them all!"
The captain had spoken. And his order sparked chaos.
The pirates turned on one another, desperation twisting their minds.
The sound of blades clashing were heard as men slaughtered those too terrified to fight back.
"Don't just stand there! Kill them!"
A burly pirate swung his axe, lopping off another man's head with a brutal crunch, blood spraying everywhere.
The stench of sweat and fear combined with the salt of the sea, a heady mix that drove them all into a savage frenzy.
Only the strong would survive.
The weak were quickly becoming nothing more than fodder for the blade or the spirits.
Tonight was a night of carnage, and the ship was destined to be painted red.
Below deck, in the rowing hold.
The pirates who thought they were strong felt fear grip their guts, and the slaves? They were even worse.
The real reason they were slaves wasn't circumstance, after all, they had two hands and two feet.
They could've fought back.
But fear kept them in chains.
And that same fear made them easy prey for the spirits.
The only thing keeping them alive was that, for now, the spirits' attention was elsewhere.
But that didn't make things any better for the slaves.
They were chained and shackled, struggling frantically, their wrists bleeding as they fought against iron that wouldn't budge.
Their minds teetered on the edge, some already slipping into madness, becoming something worse.
"What's going on, Uncle Gerrold?"
Mira clung to Jarek, her small hands shaking.
She had courage, yes, but this was beyond anything she could comprehend.
It was her first time encountering something that didn't feel human at all.
"Why is everyone screaming?" she asked again.
"I don't know, Mira," Jarek spoke, holding her close.
They were in a place sealed from three directions, leaving them blind to the horrors unfolding beyond.
"How could I know what's happening?"
Then a memory clawed at his mind.
"Oh, remember ....I know this place," Jarek whispered.
"The old man warned us it was cursed... said it would drag us down into the depths."
"But?... I'd rather die than keep living like this. At least then, I wouldn't have to wake up to this hell every day."
Hearing him, Mira punched him in the chest.
"JAREKK..Why the hell are you so hopeless?"
On other hand...
Gerrold was leaning against the wall with calm mind, he wasn't surprised by the madness around them.
"This is the curse of these waters,"
The old knight said, with tone steady as stone.
"Everyone who sails through must face the test of courage. The weak will perish. The strong will move forward."
"And those who perish will become spirits. Undead. Haunting these seas for all eternity, trapped between this world and the netherworld."
Mira shook her head violently.
"No... no! I won't become one of those things! I won't!"
Her voice wavered, panic bubbling under every word.
"I'm already ugly... if I turn into one of them, how could I ever marry Jarek?"
Jarek groaned, rolling his eyes.
"What?"
He didn't know she had such thoughts about him.
"No, Jarek! What I mean is that....we both have to live!"
Unlike Jarek, Mira hadn't lost hope.
She wasn't ready to give up, not on her dreams, not on escaping this nightmare.
She wouldn't let herself become just another ghost among the damned.
"Uncle Gerrold," she asked the old knight.
"Is there a way for us to survive?"
The old knight's face darkened.
"There is."
Mira's heart skipped. "Then tell us! Please!"
Jarek frowned, suspicious.
"Old man... where do these spirits even come from—"
Gerrold didn't let him finish.
His hand shot out like a blade, striking both Mira and Jarek sharply at the neck.
They crumpled instantly, unconscious.
"Sleep until, its over" Gerrold whispered.
Meanwhile.
Pirates and slaves alike faced chaos in their own ways, some dying, others killing.
Time marched.
Night wore on, the violence rising and falling like the tide, but the spirits attack remained brutal, claiming souls without mercy.
The Sea Vulture became a scene of horror.
Broken limbs lay scattered, blood stained the deck, and the stench of death hung in the air.
Exhausted men labored with hands, cutting through flesh as the corpses piled up around them.
This night marked a calamity for the pirates.
Just a day ago, they had been over a two thousand strong, with eight hundred slaves in tow.
Now, their numbers dwindled to barely two hundred.
As saying goes...
Misfortune never strikes alone.
While Vargo managed to control the chaos above deck, he had neglected one crucial detail.
No one was steering the ship.
It float aimlessly into the unknown, venturing into treacherous waters.
And now, it would be uncertain whether they were destined for fortune or another nightmare.
Soon...
First light of dawn approached.
The spirits began to fade, becoming nearly transparent.
Chaos ending.
Then...a boy appeard.
One eye dangled from its socket, and his half-sewn mouth twisted into a grin as he watched the ship slip away.
"Mother says thank you"
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