Cold.

  It hit me like a thousand knives, stealing the air from my lungs as I plunged into the black water. The sea swallowed me whole, dragging me down in a violent whirl of salt and shadow. I kicked, trying to break the surface, but the current pulled hard, wrapping around my limbs like unseen hands.

  For a moment, I thought I saw something in the depths. A shape. A flicker of movement.

  Then Mira’s hand gripped my wrist, yanking me upward.

  We broke the surface together, gasping.

  The ship was burning above us, a black silhouette against the storm-lit sky. The battle raged on, but from here, it looked like chaos—a tangle of figures clashing on the deck, flashes of steel and gunfire, bodies toppling overboard into the churning sea.

  Mira turned, her breath ragged. “We need to swim. There’s wreckage—over there.”

  I followed her gaze. A cluster of wooden debris floated nearby—barrels, shattered planks, the broken remains of a lifeboat. We struck out toward it, each stroke burning through the cold in my veins.

  I reached for a half-sunken piece of hull, gripping its slick surface as I pulled myself up. Mira climbed on beside me, shivering violently.

  For a moment, neither of us spoke.

  The rain pounded down, the wind howled, and the ship that had been our prison sank deeper into the storm.

  Mira broke the silence first.

  “Weasel was supposed to meet us.”

  The name sent a dull ache through my skull. I didn’t know why, but it felt… familiar.

  I shook my head. “I still don’t know who that is.”

  She gave me a hard look. “You do. You just don’t remember.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Then maybe you should explain.”

  She let out a slow breath. “Weasel was our contact. He got us onto that ship in the first place. The plan was simple—we sneak in, sabotage the cargo, and get out before the Fleet knew we were there.”

  Her fists tightened against the wood. “But something went wrong. He turned on us. Left us locked in that damn brig while the Fleet set sail. If we hadn’t escaped when we did…”

  I exhaled. “They would’ve thrown us in with the drowned.”

  Mira nodded.

  The weight of it all pressed against my skull. If this was true, then I’d been on that ship for a reason. A mission. But I had no memory of accepting it. No memory of Weasel. No memory of who I was before waking up in that room.

  I stared at my reflection in the water—long, dark hair clinging to my face, shadows under my eyes, exhaustion clinging to every inch of me.

  Who the fuck was I?

  Mira watched me carefully. “You really don’t remember anything?”

  “Just flashes,” I admitted. “Nothing that makes sense.”

  She hesitated, then said, “Do you at least remember the Drowned King?”

  The moment the words left her mouth, my body reacted. A sharp pain split through my skull—images, voices, something old stirring inside me.

  A dark shape beneath the waves.A throne, half-sunken, covered in coral and rot.Eyes like abyssal trenches, peering into my soul.

  I gasped, gripping my head. The pain faded just as quickly as it came, but the feeling remained—that name meant something.

  And it terrified me.

  Mira didn’t press me for an answer. She only stared out at the horizon.

  “We can’t stay here,” she said. “We need to find land before the Fleet’s ships come looking.”

  She was right.

  We scanned the darkness, searching for anything—a silhouette of land, a sign of safety. But all I saw was open sea.

  Then, something new appeared.

  A ship.

  Not the Fleet’s. Not burning.

  A shadow cutting through the waves, its sails barely visible in the storm. It was moving fast, heading straight toward us.

  Mira cursed. “Tell me that’s not the Fleet.”

  I squinted through the rain. The ship was different—older, its hull lined with carvings I couldn’t make out. It flew no colors, bore no visible flag.

  And as it drew closer, I heard something.

  Not the wind. Not the storm.

  A whisper.

  Low. Ancient. Calling from the depths.

  My stomach turned.

  “I don’t think that’s a normal ship.”

  Mira reached for the knife at her belt, even though we both knew it wouldn’t do much against whatever was coming.

  The ship slowed as it neared us, its prow cutting through the water with unnatural silence. A heavy mist curled around it, swallowing the light.

  Then, a voice rang out over the waves.

  “Adrift in the storm, are you?”

  A figure stood at the bow, draped in a tattered captain’s coat, his face hidden beneath the shadow of a wide-brimmed hat.

  I couldn’t see his eyes.

  But I felt them.

  Watching.

  Knowing.

  My grip tightened on the wood beneath me.

  Mira whispered, “Ethan… I don’t think we have a choice.”

  The ship loomed over us now, ropes already being lowered.

  The captain tilted his head.

  “Climb aboard, if you value your lives.”

  Something in my gut twisted. Every instinct screamed at me to run—but where? There was nothing but open sea.

  Mira met my gaze.

  “What do we do?”

  The storm howled around us, the sea churned, and the whispers from the depths grew louder.

  I took a breath.

  And reached for the rope.

  The storm was easing, but the cold stayed buried in my bones. Mira and I clung to the wreckage, the sea stretching endlessly in all directions. The burning remains of the Drowned Fleet’s ship drifted further away, flames hissing as they met the waves.

  I tried to focus on my breathing, but my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

  Everything felt wrong.

  The flashes of memory. The whispers in the dark. The way my body remembered how to fight, but my mind didn’t.

  And now, a ship had appeared from nowhere, its sails untouched by the storm, its captain speaking like he’d been waiting for us.

  Mira gripped my arm, her voice low. “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I.”

  The ship loomed over us now, ropes dangling like nooses. The mist around it thickened, curling over the water, seeping into my skin.

  The captain stood still at the bow, hat low over his face. Behind him, figures moved along the deck, shadowed against the lantern glow.

  Mira squinted up at them. “I count at least ten—maybe more. Armed.”

  I exhaled. “Pirates?”

  “What else?” she muttered.

  The captain’s voice cut through the wind. “Decide quickly. The sea does not wait for the lost.”

  A shiver crawled up my spine.

  Something about him unsettled me. It wasn’t just his presence, or the eerie calm of his ship—it was the way he spoke. Like he knew exactly who I was.

  Mira’s fingers tightened around my wrist. “I don’t trust this.”

  “Neither do I.”

  But what choice did we have?

  I glanced at the empty horizon, then back at the ship.

  Even if we survived the night, the Fleet would send out search ships by dawn. And if the drowned were truly waking up…

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “We climb.”

  Mira hesitated, then gave a sharp nod.

  We grabbed the ropes. They were damp and coarse against my hands, but sturdy. With aching limbs, I pulled myself up, the wood of the hull slick beneath my boots as I climbed. The ship barely moved beneath me, steady as stone—too steady for the storm that had just passed.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  When I reached the top, strong hands grabbed me and hauled me over the rail.

  I hit the deck hard, rolling to my feet out of instinct. Mira landed beside me a second later, her dagger already in her hand.

  I got my first good look at the crew.

  They were pirates, no doubt about it—tattooed and scarred, armed with pistols and cutlasses. But something was off. Their faces were shadowed, their eyes dark and unreadable. Some wore masks, others had bandages wrapped around their hands like they were covering wounds.

  And then there was the captain.

  Up close, he was taller than I expected, broad-shouldered beneath his tattered coat. The hat still obscured most of his face, but what I could see was sharp—his jaw lined with old scars, his skin tanned and weathered.

  His presence was heavy, like the weight of a storm before it broke.

  I met his gaze—or at least, where I thought his eyes should be.

  His voice came slow. “Ethan.”

  The way he said my name made my stomach drop.

  Mira tensed beside me. “How do you know him?”

  The captain ignored her. He took a step closer, and the mist thickened, swirling around his boots like smoke.

  “You don’t remember, do you?” he asked.

  The whispers in the air returned.

  I clenched my jaw. “Should I?”

  He studied me for a long moment. Then he exhaled, almost like he was disappointed.

  “No,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

  The crew shifted behind him, watching, waiting. They weren’t acting like pirates who’d just picked up strangers at sea. There was no laughter, no jeering. No sizing us up for what we were worth.

  They were expecting us.

  I swallowed. “Who are you?”

  For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer.

  Then, he reached up, tilting his hat back just enough for me to see his face.

  His eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen—black as the abyss, but not empty. There was something inside them, shifting, moving.

  Like the depths of the ocean itself.

  He smiled, slow and sharp.

  “I am Captain Rhaegor Vale,” he said. “And this is my ship—The Black Tide.”

  Mira took half a step back, grip tightening on her dagger.

  I exhaled, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Never heard of you.”

  His smile didn’t fade. “No. But you should have.”

  The wind howled, the ship creaked, and somewhere deep in the hold, something scraped against the wood.

  I didn’t know if it was my imagination.

  I really, really hoped it was.

  Vale turned away, waving a hand. “Bring them below. They need rest. We have much to discuss.”

  The crew moved. Two men stepped forward—one of them missing an eye, the other with a jagged scar down his throat. Their grips were firm as they led us across the deck.

  Mira shot me a look, but didn’t resist. Not yet.

  As we moved, I glanced back at Vale. He stood at the bow again, watching the sea like he was listening to it.

  Or maybe… speaking to it.

  A knot of unease settled in my gut.

  Who the hell was this man?

  And why did I have the sinking feeling that he knew more about me than I did?

  The crew led us below deck, the air growing heavier as we descended. The wooden stairs groaned under our weight, and the deeper we went, the stronger the scent of salt, damp wood, and something else—something metallic.

  Blood.

  I exchanged a glance with Mira, but she said nothing.

  The passage opened into a dimly lit corridor, lanterns swaying with the ship’s movements. The walls were lined with storage crates, some marked with symbols I didn’t recognize—jagged runes, almost like claw marks.

  The crew members guiding us stopped at a heavy iron-banded door. One of them, the man with the scarred throat, unlocked it and pushed it open with a grunt.

  “Inside,” he rasped.

  Mira crossed her arms. “And if we say no?”

  The man with the missing eye grinned. “Then we toss you back in the drink.”

  I clenched my jaw. We were outnumbered, outmatched, and exhausted. Fighting now was a good way to end up dead.

  I stepped inside. Mira followed reluctantly.

  The room was small but not cramped, with a low ceiling and a single lantern hanging from a rusted chain. A pair of hammocks swayed gently against the walls, and in the corner, a small wooden table sat beside a locked chest.

  The door slammed shut behind us. The lock clicked.

  Mira exhaled sharply. “Great. Now we’re prisoners on a different ship.”

  I ran a hand through my wet hair, glancing around. “Doesn’t feel like a brig.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Feels like a cage.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  I sat on the edge of the table, flexing my aching fingers. Every muscle in my body felt bruised, but exhaustion wasn’t going to help us.

  Mira paced, her expression tight. “They know you. That captain—Vale—he knew your name, Ethan.”

  I nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  I had no answer.

  Something about him was wrong, though. Not just the way he spoke. Not just the way the crew followed him like ghosts.

  The ship listened to him.

  I had seen it in the way the mist curled when he moved, how the storm had calmed just before they arrived. The Black Tide wasn’t just a ship. It was his ship.

  And it felt… alive.

  Mira dropped into the hammock across from me, rubbing her temples. “This was supposed to be simple.”

  I looked at her. “Was it?”

  Her jaw tightened. “Weasel was supposed to get us in. We sabotage the cargo. We leave. That was the plan.”

  I frowned. “And the cargo?”

  She hesitated. “People.”

  I froze.

  “They were transporting prisoners,” she said, voice quieter now. “Not just any prisoners—ones with black eyes. The kind that don’t speak. The kind that don’t scream.”

  A chill crept down my spine.

  I had seen them. Locked in the brig of the Drowned Fleet’s ship, staring through me.

  The whispers returned, crawling under my skin.

  Mira leaned forward. “That’s why we were there, Ethan. To stop it.”

  I swallowed hard. “And what were they?”

  Her expression darkened. “You don’t want to know.”

  The ship creaked. A heavy footstep sounded outside.

  We went quiet.

  The lock turned.

  The door swung open, and Captain Vale stepped inside.

  Up close, he was even more unsettling. His presence was too large for the room, like the walls might pull back just to make space for him.

  He took a slow step forward, then another. His coat trailed behind him, damp from the sea, and when he exhaled, the lantern light flickered.

  Mira stood immediately, hand on her dagger.

  Vale didn’t seem to care.

  His eyes—those abyssal, shifting depths—fixed on me.

  “You still don’t remember, do you?”

  My throat felt dry. “Remember what?”

  He studied me. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached into his coat.

  Mira tensed.

  Vale pulled out a knife.

  Not a cutlass. Not a pistol. Just a simple, old knife.

  And he tossed it onto the table in front of me.

  I stared at it.

  The blade was worn, but the hilt… the hilt I recognized. Dark leather, wrapped and knotted. A small engraving near the base.

  It was mine.

  I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why.

  But I had held this knife before.

  I swallowed. “Where did you get this?”

  Vale tilted his head. “You gave it to me.”

  I stared at him.

  He said it like it was obvious. Like I should remember.

  Mira shot me a sharp look, but I barely noticed.

  Something was wrong inside my head. Gaps. Missing pieces. And now, this—this knife, this ship, this man who spoke like I was supposed to know him.

  Vale watched the realization settle in. Then he leaned down, placing his hands on the table, his voice quieter now.

  “Ethan,” he said. “You were one of us.”

  The air left my lungs.

  My body felt like it had turned to stone.

  Mira muttered, “What?”

  Vale didn’t even glance at her. His abyssal gaze stayed locked on mine.

  “You sailed these waters,” he said. “You fought beside me. You knew the stories of the drowned and the gods beneath the waves.”

  His fingers tapped against the wood.

  “But then you vanished.”

  I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

  My voice came hoarse. “That’s not possible.”

  Vale’s smile was cold. “Isn’t it?”

  Silence.

  The ship creaked again. The whispers in the air grew louder.

  I gripped the edge of the table, my head spinning.

  Mira glanced between us, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

  Vale straightened, taking a step back. “You don’t have to believe me.”

  He turned toward the door, but before leaving, he paused, glancing over his shoulder.

  “The sea doesn’t forget, Ethan,” he said. “And neither will you.”

  Then he was gone, and the door locked once more.

  I stared down at the knife.

  Mira swallowed. “Ethan… what the fuck is going on?”

  I had no answer.

  Only the feeling in my gut that something old was waking up inside me.

  And it terrified me.

  The door clicked shut behind us, and the sound rang through the small room like a tolling bell. The iron lock was thick, the kind that spoke of more than just a prison. It felt... deliberate.

  Mira exhaled sharply, her hands running through her hair. “Alright,” she muttered, pacing in tight circles. “Okay. Let’s just—just go over what the hell just happened.”

  I hadn’t moved. The knife sat in front of me, its weight feeling like a magnet pulling at my chest, dragging my thoughts back into places I didn’t want to go. My fingers twitched toward it, but I hesitated. Something about it made my skin crawl. I knew it, and yet I didn’t. I wanted to grab it, to hold onto it, but a part of me feared what it might unlock.

  Mira stopped pacing, narrowing her eyes at me. “First off, you apparently used to be part of his crew? That’s new. Kind of an important thing to forget, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t forget,” I replied, my voice grating, as if my throat was lined with gravel. “I don’t remember anything.”

  She scoffed, a small bitter laugh escaping her. “Yeah? Then explain the knife.” She pointed at the blade, still lying on the table between us, like some kind of calling card I hadn’t asked for.

  I stared at it. The knife.

  The grip was worn, familiar. The engravings on the hilt—a mark I recognized as my own—looked like a fragment of a past life. Yet, that life felt like someone else’s. I could almost hear the ghosts of memories, half-formed, clawing at the edges of my mind.

  I clenched my jaw. “I can’t.”

  Mira’s eyes flashed, her brow furrowing in disbelief. “You can’t or you won’t? Because I’ve been thinking, and I have a feeling you’re not telling me something. Something about who you were. Something about this.” She jabbed a finger at the room, the ship, the storm outside—everything.

  I rubbed my temples. The headache had come back full force. “I don’t know who I was before, okay? I don’t know what Vale meant, or what the hell happened on that ship. But I’m sure as hell not the man he thinks I am.”

  Her gaze softened, but only slightly. “Then tell me this: why does this feel like we’re all part of some sick, twisted play?” She crossed her arms, her voice dropping into a more serious tone. “You remember anything else? Even a tiny thing?”

  I swallowed, eyes drifting to the knife again. “Flashes. Images. A storm, a ship… a voice.” I let the words hang in the air for a moment, my chest tightening. “It wasn’t… human.”

  Her eyes widened, and I could see the calculation in her mind—the same one I’d seen too many times before, like when she was picking apart an enemy's strategy. “The voice.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Is that what I think it is?”

  I nodded slowly. “I don’t know what it was, but it… it wasn’t of this world. And whatever Vale thinks I am, I’m not that.”

  Mira ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. “I don’t care what you think you are. But I do care what you’ve done.” She paused, her expression hardening. “The Drowned Fleet isn’t just some ragtag group of pirates, Ethan. They worship something. Something beneath the waves.”

  I felt a chill run down my spine.

  She continued. “Some say there’s a king down there—The Drowned King—and his followers have been dragging men to the depths for centuries.”

  I recoiled slightly, the image of that broken, submerged ship flashing in my mind again. The crew—those with the hollow, empty eyes. The whispers.

  “The Drowned King isn’t a myth,” Mira said, her voice darker now. “And whatever Vale is, he’s not just a pirate. He’s something else.”

  My mind raced, but nothing made sense.

  I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. “So why the hell did Vale say I was part of them? That I was one of his?”

  Mira’s gaze was sharp. “I don’t know. But if he’s telling the truth, then it means you were once part of this damn cult.” She spit the word out like it tasted foul. “And if you don’t remember, maybe that’s part of the curse.”

  My breath caught. Curse.

  “Maybe,” she added, “the sea itself is trying to keep you from remembering.”

  I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. “This is insane.”

  Mira shot me a hard look. “Is it? The ocean doesn’t forget, Ethan. And it’s not just the Fleet. It’s the gods. The ones they worship. The ones beneath the waves.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t remember… anything. All I know is that I’m here. On this ship. With you. And Vale…” I paused, my thoughts scattering. “Vale is using something—something dark.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So you think you can just walk away from this?”

  I hesitated. “What are we supposed to do? We’re outnumbered and trapped. Vale doesn’t want to talk. He wants to use me. He wants to make me remember something. But I don’t know what.”

  “You really don’t remember anything?” she pressed, her voice tight with urgency. “No past, no mission, no plan?”

  I shook my head. “No. Just pieces. And none of them fit.”

  Mira’s gaze softened slightly, but the worry still lingered in her eyes. “Okay. Fine. Then we’ll figure this out together. But you need to understand something.” She leaned closer, her voice low. “Vale and the Fleet aren’t just pirates. They’re devoted. To something older than time. To a god that takes its due from those who wander too close to the deep.”

  I swallowed, feeling my skin prickle. “I don’t care what they are.”

  She met my eyes. “You should. Because they don’t care about you. And if Vale knows you, he’ll want something from you. Something you’re not ready for.”

  I didn’t know what I was ready for. I didn’t know what was coming. But the weight of the knife against my side—familiar, yet strange—made it clear that whatever happened next, the answers weren’t going to come easy.

  The door creaked again, and we both froze.

  Mira’s eyes shot to the door, and I followed her gaze. The lock clicked, turning on its own. I braced myself for whatever came next.

  The door opened slowly, and the dim light from the corridor crept inside.

  Vale stood there, his figure silhouetted against the shadows, his eyes glinting like twin pools of ink.

  “You don’t remember, do you?” Vale’s voice was smooth, like velvet, but it carried a weight that pressed against my chest.

  I didn’t respond. What could I say?

  “Don’t worry,” he continued, stepping inside. “You will.”

  I gritted my teeth, watching as he moved toward us. His presence seemed to fill the room, suffocating.

  “Because the sea doesn’t forget, Ethan.”

  The words hit me harder than I expected.

  The sea doesn’t forget.