Rian Tidewell had always believed he could tell what kind of day it would be by the first sound he heard when he woke up.
If it was the gentle hissing of waves brushing the hull, the day would be calm.If it was the screech of gulls overhead, the day would be busy.If it was the thunderous slam of something heavy hitting wood—
Well, that usually meant trouble.
And today, the sound was definitely the third kind.
BANG.
Rian jolted awake so hard he nearly fell out of his hammock. His shoulder smacked into the wooden pillar next to him as the bottle of lamp oil on the shelf rattled. The crew cabins were dark except for a small lantern swinging from a beam, swaying with each wobble of the ship. The faint scent of gunpowder lingered in the air, though he couldn't tell if it was real or just his imagination.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up, listening. The ship gave another shuddering groan, as if something had slammed against its side.
Rian grinned.
Definitely trouble.
He loved trouble. It was exciting.
He hopped out of the hammock, landing softly on bare feet. The ship was warm this morning, unusually warm, and the wooden planks under his toes seemed to vibrate with the heartbeat of the ocean. He grabbed his boots, shook out a family of dust motes, and tugged them on while trying not to wake the older crewmen snoring nearby.
The Sea Raven might have been patched in a hundred places, and the sails might have been a little torn if you looked closely, and the anchor might have been replaced three times last summer alone… but to Rian, she was home.
He tightened his bootstraps, grabbed a rope coil for later, and climbed the ladder to the main deck.
The world outside was painted in soft morning colors—pinks, silvers, and golds spreading across the sea like spilled treasure. The air was cool and fresh, carrying a hint of breakfast from below decks. Rian took a deep breath and smiled.
A good pirate always appreciated the sea in the morning. It was like greeting an old friend.
The ship rolled smoothly, cutting across a wide stretch of open water far, far east of the shipping routes. Rian had always found the eastern seas peaceful. Vast. Open. Free.
But today, there was something off.
The air felt heavier. Like the sea was waiting for something.
He spotted Captain Mara standing alone at the bow, arms crossed, coat sweeping around her in the wind. Her long braid hung down her back like a rope of black ink. She had the kind of posture that told you she'd already been awake for hours.
Rian walked over, boots thudding lightly across the planks. "Morning, Captain!"
"Morning, boy," she replied, not taking her eyes off the horizon. "Sleep well?"
"Like a sea slug in sand."
"Sounds unpleasant."
"It is," he admitted. "But warm."
That got a small smile out of her. Mara wasn't the sort of woman who smiled a lot, but Rian always felt like he earned something when she did.
He leaned against the rail beside her. "You're staring at the water like it owes you money. What's wrong?"
"Feel the air," she said quietly.
Rian inhaled.
Salt. Early morning wind. A faint scent of Grinner's cooking. Nothing unusual.
"It smells like eggs," Rian said. "Burnt ones."
"No," Mara said. "Listen deeper."
Rian frowned and closed his eyes. The ship creaked. Waves lapped. A gull somewhere overhead let out a curious caw.
"Everything seems normal," he said.
"That's the problem," Mara murmured.
Rian blinked at her. "You… don't like normal?"
"I don't trust it." Her sharp eyes narrowed as she scanned the fog on the horizon. "Not out here. Not in the open waters. It's too still."
Rian didn't argue. Mara had a sixth sense for danger—everyone on the Sea Raven knew that. She could smell storms before clouds formed, feel when a rope was about to snap, and tell when a merchant ship's crew was armed before they were even close enough to see.
If she said the sea was hiding something, it probably was.
Before he could ask more, a shout rang out from above.
"SHIP ON THE HORIZON!"
The lookout's voice cut through the morning calm like a blade. Every crewmember on deck froze, heads snapping upward.
Rian's pulse leapt. A ship? Out here?
"What direction?" Mara bellowed.
"East! Dead ahead!"
She stepped closer to the rail, eyes narrowing. "Colors?"
"No flag!" the lookout shouted. "It's coming in fast!"
Too fast.
Mara's expression hardened. "Rian. Spyglass."
He sprinted across the deck, dodging crew rushing to their positions. He burst into the captain's cabin, grabbed the long brass spyglass from its hook, and raced back.
Mara snatched it from his hands and extended it, aiming toward the haze. Rian held his breath.
The silence that followed was terrible.
Finally, Mara muttered, "Hunter ship."
Rian felt his stomach drop. "Pirate hunters? Here?"
She lowered the spyglass. "They're not just any hunters. That ship belongs to the Empire."
Rian's eyes widened. "But the Empire never comes this far east."
"They don't," Mara said. "Not unless they're hunting something worth the trip."
Rian swallowed. "Hunting… us?"
Mara didn't answer.
Which was an answer.
Another shout came from the crow's nest. "They're closing in! They'll reach firing range in minutes!"
The crew burst into action. Sailors rushed for the cannons. The ship swung sharply as the helmsman adjusted their course. The deck rattled as ropes were hauled into position.
Rian grabbed a line and began anchoring the closest sail. His hands moved quickly—training under Mara had given him calloused fingers and reflexes sharp enough to work even half-awake.
But his mind was racing.
Why the Empire? Why now?
The Sea Raven wasn't famous. They weren't the biggest or the fastest crew on the sea. Yeah, they'd stolen a few crates here and there, but nothing worth a whole Imperial hunter ship coming after them.
Unless—
BOOM.
A cannon blast tore through the morning air.
Rian dropped to the deck as the water behind them erupted in a spray so high it drenched the sails. The ship rocked violently.
Mara didn't flinch. "They're warning us. Trying to scare us into stopping."
It was working on everyone except her.
She spun toward the crew. "FULL SAIL! GET ME THAT WIND!"
Rian scrambled to the rigging. He climbed fast—faster than the older crew could—and began loosening the ropes to open the top sails. His hands burned from friction as the canvas snapped sharply in the strengthening wind.
The Sea Raven surged forward.
But the hunter ship surged faster.
Rian looked back and saw the sleek black hull cutting through the waves. Its deck bristled with uniformed soldiers, helmets gleaming like polished silver. Cannons lined its sides, already being reloaded.
Another boom.
This one hit.
The ship jolted. Rian was thrown off the rigging—his stomach flipped as he plummeted—
Strong hands grabbed him midair.
Bosun Kreeg held him up with one hand like he weighed nothing.
"You fall again," Kreeg growled, "and I'll tie you to the mast."
"Thanks!" Rian wheezed.
"Not praise," the burly man snapped.
But he set Rian down gently before charging to the cannons.
The hunter ship drew closer—so close Rian could see the sharp beaks of metal bolts loaded into their crossbows.
A voice thundered across the water, amplified by a speaking horn:
"CAPTAIN MARA TIDEWELL! SURRENDER YOUR SHIP!"
The voice was cold. Imperial. Harsh enough to make the water ripple.
Rian clenched his fists. Mara only crossed her arms.
"AND WHY," she shouted back, "WOULD I DO THAT?"
The Imperial commander answered:
"YOU HAVE SOMETHING THAT DOES NOT BELONG TO YOU."
Rian blinked. "What? What do we have?"
Mara's jaw tightened, but she didn't respond.
"TURN OVER THE MAP," the voice boomed, "OR WE WILL RETRIEVE IT FROM YOUR BROKEN HULL."
The map?
What map?
Rian stared at Mara, but she kept her eyes on the hunter ship. Something flickered in her expression—fear? Regret? She rarely showed anything more vulnerable than a raised eyebrow, but right now she looked… troubled.
It made Rian's stomach twist.
Then she shouted to the helmsman, "TURN FOR THE REEFS!"
Rian nearly dropped the rope he was holding. "The Razor Reefs? You can't be serious!"
The Razor Reefs weren't just dangerous. They were legendary. A maze of jagged coral and hidden stone. Whole ships had been sliced open like fruit trying to pass through them.
"We'll die!" Rian yelled.
"No," Mara said, eyes blazing. "They will."
The Sea Raven veered sharply, angling toward the shimmering line of stone teeth rising from the sea.
The hunter ship hesitated.
Just a heartbeat.
Mara seized the wheel herself. "Rian! Rig those sails tight or we'll clip a pillar!"
He scrambled up the rigging again, heart pounding. The water churned as the Sea Raven shot toward the reefs.
The first coral spires loomed—massive, shimmering pink and silver in the sunlight.
"Hold fast!" Mara shouted.
The ship skimmed between two towering blades of coral. Rian could hear them scraping the hull. Every fiber of his body tightened as they zig-zagged deeper into the maze.
The hunter ship followed—but slower, more cautiously.
A cannon blast erupted behind them, but the ball smashed into a coral tower instead. The whole spire collapsed, crashing into the water and blocking the hunter ship's approach.
The crew cheered.
But Rian didn't. He looked at Mara.
Her knuckles were white around the wheel.
She wasn't worried about the reefs.
She was worried about the map.
Rian climbed down, breathless, and approached her. "Captain… what map are they talking about?"
Mara didn't answer right away.
Instead she stared straight ahead, weaving the ship through the razor-like pillars with terrifying precision. When the path widened, she exhaled—slowly, like someone preparing to say something heavy.
"Rian," she said softly, "there is something I should have told you a long time ago."
His heart thudded.
"This map," Mara continued, her voice low, "it isn't treasure. Not gold. Not jewels. It's something far more important."
A massive shadow passed under the ship—dark, swirling, impossibly large—but before Rian could look over the edge, another wave smashed against the hull.
The Sea Raven bucked violently.
Rian stumbled. Mara grabbed him with one arm, steadying him.
"We're almost through the reefs," she said. "Listen carefully."
He swallowed, nodding.
"The map…" She hesitated. "It concerns you."
His blood turned to ice. "Me? Why? I'm just a deckhand."
She shook her head. "No. You're not."
He stared at her, his breath shallow.
"Rian Tidewell," Mara said, "you are—"
CRACK.
A coral spire sheared past the hull, ripping off part of the railing. The ship lurched sideways. Crew members shouted as water sprayed over the deck.
Mara cursed and spun the wheel. "Hold on!"
The conversation was ripped away as the Sea Raven burst out of the reef maze and back into open water—leaving the hunter ship trapped behind collapsing coral.
But Rian hardly noticed.
His thoughts were spinning, louder than any cannon.
You are… something. Someone.
"But what?" he whispered.
Mara didn't answer.
Not yet.
But her eyes said everything:
This was only the beginning.