The Falcon's Claw groaned under Zahra al-Nur's hands, its aether-crystals sputtering as it limped through the dawn sky. Coral Bay's turquoise lagoons faded behind, but the Water Isle armada loomed, their coral-crested ships fanning out like a fisherman's net. Zahra's jaw clenched, her fingers tight on the helm, the crystal's hum in her satchel a restless drumbeat. Yasmin's betrayal—her first mate, her friend, spying for Prince Samir—burned hotter than the cut on her arm. The crystal's song, sharp as a desert wind, promised power, but Zahra trusted it about as much as she trusted a souk vendor's smile.
"Cannons ready?" she called, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest.
Yasmin, at the starboard cannon, didn't meet her eyes. "Ready," she muttered, her hands quick but her face tight. Malik, hunched over the crystals, shot Zahra a nervous glance, his sixteen-year-old bravado fraying.
Jafar, the old sailor, leaned against the railing, his salt-crusted beard catching the sea breeze. "Samir's playing you," he said, his voice rough as coral. "He'll lock you in Coral Bay till he gets that shard."
"Tell me something I don't know," Zahra snapped, her eyes on the armada. Samir's flagship led the chase, its silver-armored prince a distant glint. She'd heard his scheming—planning to steal the Heart of the Sands' fragment—and Yasmin's voice agreeing. Trust was a cracked hull, leaking fast.
The Claw's deck shuddered, a cannon shot from the armada splashing close, spraying saltwater across Zahra's boots. "They're herding us," she muttered. "Malik, push those crystals harder!"
"They're half-dead!" Malik yelled, his hands fumbling with the glowing stones. "We can't outrun them!"
"Then we don't," Zahra said, her grin sharp as a scimitar. "We fight dirty." She reached into her satchel, the crystal cool against her palm, its song flaring like a spark in dry grass. She'd used its wind once, on the reef, and again to escape the Water Isle skiff. Jafar's warning—jinn don't give gifts for free—rang in her head, but she was out of options.
She closed her eyes, letting the crystal's hum guide her, reckless as a sailor chasing a siren's call. The air thickened, a gust swirling around the Claw, rattling the sails. "Hold tight!" she shouted, and the wind roared, shoving the ship forward, its hull scraping the waves.
Yasmin gripped the cannon, her eyes wide. "You're doing it again!"
"Don't sound so surprised," Zahra shot back, though her own heart pounded. The wind was hers, but it felt like a borrowed blade—sharp, but not fully hers to wield.
The Claw surged, dodging another cannon shot, but the armada adjusted, their ships closing like a noose. Then, from the clouds above, a new shadow dropped—a sleek skyship, its sails black as midnight, unmarked by any island's crest. Sky pirates.
"Brace!" Zahra yelled as the pirate ship fired, not at the Claw but at Samir's flagship. The shot clipped its mast, sending splinters flying. The armada faltered, cannons swiveling toward the new threat.
A figure swung from the pirate ship, landing on the Claw's deck with a thud. A woman, tall and lean, her hair a wild cascade of black curls, a curved blade at her hip. Her grin was all teeth, like a jackal sizing up prey. "Zahra al-Nur," she said, her voice sharp as flint. "You've got something everyone wants."
Zahra's hand went to her scimitar, the crystal's hum spiking. "And you are?"
"Layla, captain of the Storm's Fang," she said, nodding at the pirate ship. "Heard you stole a shard of the Heart of the Sands. My crew could use that kind of power."
"Not for sale," Zahra said, her eyes narrowing. "And I don't trust pirates any more than princes."
Layla laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Smart. But you're out of sky, and Samir's got you pinned. Join us, and we'll get you clear."Jafar stepped forward, his scar creasing. "Storm Isle pirates answer to no one, girl. They'll take the shard and slit your throat."
Layla's grin didn't waver. "Old man, I'd slit yours first, but I'm feeling generous." She looked at Zahra. "Decide fast, smuggler. Samir's reloading."
Zahra glanced at the armada, then at Yasmin, whose eyes darted away. The crystal's song thrummed, urging her to act. She didn't trust Layla—those curls hid a knife's edge—but the Claw wouldn't last another volley. "Fine," she said. "Get us out, and we talk. No promises."
"Done," Layla said, signaling her ship. The Storm's Fang fired again, scattering the armada's formation. Ropes dropped, and Zahra's crew scrambled aboard the pirate vessel, the Claw abandoned to the waves.
The Storm's Fang was a beast—its deck scarred, its crew a mix of grizzled sailors and sharp-eyed rogues. Layla led Zahra to the helm, her stride confident. "That shard's waking," she said, eyeing Zahra's satchel. "You're no ordinary thief."
"Never said I was," Zahra replied, her hand on the crystal. Its hum surged, and a vision flashed—darkness, then a figure cloaked in wind, its eyes like storm clouds, whispering, You are the key, but the lock is cursed.
Zahra stumbled, her breath catching. The vision faded, but the words lingered, heavy as a storm. Layla's eyes narrowed. "What did you see?"
"Nothing you'd believe," Zahra said, her voice steady despite the chill in her bones. "Skies break, but I don't."
Layla smirked. "Keep that fire, smuggler. You'll need it."
The Storm's Fang climbed higher, the armada shrinking below. But as Zahra glanced back, a new light flared on Samir's flagship—a water jinn, its form rippling like a tidal wave, rising to meet them.