Shipwrecked on Carnage Cay!
Captain Alister Mourningstar finds himself stranded without a ship…
Captain Alister Mourningstar™ awoke face-first on a rocky, steaming beach.
The air hissed around him, thick with vapor and the stench of scorched wood. Waves crashed against the jagged shoreline, their rhythm broken and uneven, as if the sea itself were still reeling from the battle above. His senses felt duller. Everything seemed slower, including him. He tried to lift himself, but his right arm gave out with a sharp, sickening jolt. The pain from Deathmoid’s™ strike still lingered and seemed to grow more painful with every passing hour.
He groaned, rolling onto his side, and the horror of his surroundings came into focus. The Debt Collector lay in splinters.
Flaming pieces of the deck were strewn across the sand, some still smoldering, others half-submerged in the boiling shallows. Powder kegs, wet with condensation, lay cracked open like broken bones. A torn sail drifted through the wind, catching on a lone palm tree before both went up in flames—ignited by the heat still rising from the cursed water.
Alister’s breath caught. His eyes locked on the worst sight of all. The Beacon of Balance lay shattered against a jagged rock, its ethereal glass fractured, its light flickering in and out like a dying heartbeat. “No…”
He scrambled toward it, panic overriding pain. His hands tore through the sand, slicing open on the shards of glass as he tried to piece it back together. The light sputtered, then dimmed. A raw scream of desperation left him unbidden.
This had been his hope… His future… The only sign, or proof, that something greater had chosen him… And now it was gone. Tears welled in his eyes, hot and unrelenting. He collapsed beside the Beacon, his bloodied hands trembling. He gasped for air as sob after sob shook him. And still, the world continued to spin. The wind blew across his face, the moon cast long shadows across the sand, and the waves met the shore in a slow rhythm. He wondered how it was possible that his world seemed to have ended, but the rest of the world continued to go on.
What felt like hours may have only been minutes. Then the beach fell silent. The waves stilled. The wind stopped. Even the flames seemed to pause. Even within Alister, there was an odd sense of quiet. He looked up. The watery figure stood before him.
It had followed him for weeks—always distant and half-formed. But now it was clear. Its body shimmered like liquid glass, eyes burning orange, its form unmistakably humanoid. It stepped forward silently and extended a hand.
Alister’s tears fell into its hand. The figure studied them, then poured them gently over the broken Beacon. The light shimmered and pulsed like a dying heartbeat that was picking up speed. The pieces drew together, and with a blinding flash of light, it was made whole.
The figure met Alister’s gaze. Its eyes held no judgment… only compassion. It placed the Beacon in his hands, then leaned forward, pressing its forehead to Alister’s and its hands to his shoulders. For a moment, it held him. Alister couldn’t speak. He allowed the waves of peace to wash over him.
Mist slowly began to form. The figure whispered, “It is made whole. And you… are not broken.” Then it vanished into the mist. Alister gasped, drawing in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The Beacon pulsed faintly in his hands, its light weak but alive. He stared at it, stunned, until a shout broke the silence.
“Help! Someone—!” Alister turned, senses snapping back into place. Quarterdeck™ was trapped beneath a mass of rigging and shattered wood, tangled and panicked. Alister limped toward him, shouting his name. Quarterdeck’s eyes locked onto Alister’s faint silhouette, but he did not recognize his captain in the darkness. Raising a pistol with trembling hands, he aimed. Alister flinched away as the trigger clicked… But no shot rang out. The powder was soaked.
“Hold your fire!” Alister shouted, ducking under a large piece of wood and skidding to his knees as he reached his crew member. He cut through the rigging with a jagged shard of glass, freeing Quarterdeck and hauling him upright. Quarterdeck blinked, recognition dawning. “Captain—?”
A scream cut through the air and they snapped their heads in the direction of the sound with a jolt. Gunwale™ dragged himself across the rocks, leaving a trail of ash and vapor. His leg was burned… Badly. Charred and twisted beyond recognition. Alister and Quarterdeck rushed to him, pulling him onto the sand.
Gunwale couldn’t speak. His face was contorted in agony. Blood soaked the sand beneath him. Quarterdeck looked to Alister, grim. “We don’t have powder. If he’s dying…” “No,” Alister said, placing a hand on Gunwale’s chest. “Stay with me, Atlas. Stay focused on my voice. This is going to hurt.” Gunwale grunted, barely conscious. “What?”
Alister opened the Beacon’s latch. The flame inside flickered weakly, but it was enough. He held it to Gunwale’s leg, the energy cauterizing the wound as it sizzled against the raw skin. Gunwale screamed, then collapsed, breathing hard. When he sat up, the light of the moon showed them the damage… There was no foot left to save. They sat in silence.
Around them, the beach was littered with wreckage—timbers, treasure, torn sails. Quarterdeck picked up a coin, then dropped it with a hiss. It was still burning hot from the boiling water. He turned to Alister, whose glowing blue eye cast an eerie light across the moonlit sand. “Well now what?!” he shouted, grabbing Alister by the coat.
Alister flinched, instinctively reaching for his sword. Quarterdeck saw it—and let go. “You might as well do it,” he spat. “Just finish us off. You’ve already taken the rest of the crew to their deaths.” Alister hesitated. “I… I don’t… we don’t know that.” Gunwale looked at them both, despair in his eyes.
“If we’re still ali—” Alister began. Quarterdeck cut him off. “Look around you, Captain. We can’t even find the rest of Gunwale. Do you think you’re going to find the rest of your crew? They’re gone, and they might be better off than we are…” He slumped to the ground, sobbing, reaching for treasure he couldn’t touch.
“I followed you out of blind faith. I don’t know why. Just for a moment, it felt like maybe we were worth more than the sum of our plunder. Spoils you barely tolerated once you stepped into godhood. We were happy. Piracy was simple. Now it’s gone. All of it.” He looked up, eyes red.
“I was there when Arterious handed you the reins. I didn’t understand it then. I certainly don’t now. I didn’t sign up for this, Mourningstar.” Gunwale tried to stand. Alister caught him before he fell. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the wreckage in stark white. Gunwale met Alister’s gaze. Questions lingered in his eyes.
Alister looked scared. He had no answers. Gunwale nodded toward the jungle. “We need shelter.” Alister helped him up, then reached for Quarterdeck, who shoved him off and stormed ahead. They followed. Alister’s voice broke the silence. “Do you really think… they’re gone?” Gunwale didn’t look at him. “I don’t know, Captain. You’re the one holding the light.”
Alister looked down at the Beacon. It pulsed once. Then… the thunder rolled.
The Eye of the Storm.
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