Chapter 14: Storms Beneath the Skin

The sky was a boiling bruise of purple and gold, the air thick with an unnatural stillness. The Widow's Fang hovered too close, a predator circling, her dark runes still glowing faintly along the metallic sails. Silence pressed against the Stormrider's deck the kind of silence that came just before the first strike.

And yet, the true storm wasn't in the sky.

It was standing beside Alistair Von Wolfenstein.

Seraphina Blackthorn's dagger spun idly between her fingers a flash of silver, a flicker of danger. Her dark hair clung to her skin, still damp from the mist, and though she stood steady as ever, Alistair hadn't missed the way her other hand ghosted over her side the fresh wound from the earlier skirmish clearly troubling her more than she let on.

She was a woman of fire burning bright, unyielding.

And next to her, Isolde Greaves was a study in ice.

Her rapier rested lightly at her side, its edge still catching the last dying rays of the sun. Her midnight hair hung loose now, a rare break from her usual, meticulous braid but the cool detachment in her gaze, the sharp angle of her jaw… that remained untouched.

Fire and ice.

And Alistair stuck in the heart of the storm.

"Varik's not here to barter," Alistair muttered, breaking the silence. "He's here to bleed us."

Seraphina's smirk was a dangerous curl of her lips. "Then let's bleed him first."

Isolde tilted her head, her voice soft but laced with steel. "If you don't die from that wound before the fight even begins."

Seraphina's dagger stopped spinning. "I'm fine."

Alistair's jaw tensed. "You don't look fine."

Seraphina shot him a glare a spark of something beyond defiance. "Stay out of it, Captain."

Isolde's smile was thin, almost amused. "He's already in it."

The tension didn't just crackle it burned.

The ghost of last night still lingered in the air between them.

The kiss Seraphina had stolen.

The kiss Isolde had taken.

The silent battle of who would claim Alistair first or hardest.

And now, with death knocking at their door, it only seemed to fuel the flames.

Alistair's voice was a low growl. "If you two are done tearing into each other, maybe we could focus on the people currently aiming cannons at our heads."

Seraphina stepped closer to Isolde not in retreat, but in challenge. "We can handle both."

Isolde didn't back down. "Try me."

Alistair swore under his breath. "Saints above, you're going to be the death of me."

Seraphina smiled. "You'd die happy."

A Signal from the Enemy.

Before the moment could spiral any further, a crackling bolt of blue energy shot into the sky from The Widow's Fang.

Not an attack.

A signal.

Alistair's stomach knotted. "He's waiting for something."

Seraphina's fingers tightened around her dagger. "Or someone."

Then a second figure appeared beside Captain Varik.

Elira Duskbane.

She stood like a queen of ghosts, her dark hair braided into a crown, a serpent tattoo curling up the side of her neck. In her hand, a blade of shimmering silver not quite metal, not quite magic pulsed with a faint glow.

Isolde's breath was a whisper. "Elira."

Alistair's jaw ticked. "You know her?"

Seraphina's voice was like flint against steel. "Everyone in these skies knows Elira Duskbane."

Isolde's gaze darkened. "She captained The Siren's Vengeance. They said she died in the storm."

"Clearly not."

Alistair's mind raced. If Elira had survived the Siren's Vengeance's fall if she'd aligned herself with Varik this wasn't just about the Iron Tempest anymore.

It was about power.

Ancient, deadly power.

Varik Speaks.

A booming voice echoed across the sky.

"Von Wolfenstein!"

Alistair stepped forward, his cutlass at his side. "Captain Varik," he called back, the weight of the moment curling around his words. "Couldn't stay away?"

Varik's smile was a cold slash across his scarred face. "You have something that belongs to me."

Alistair grinned, though his heart pounded harder than the storm in his veins. "I have a lot of things that don't belong to me."

Elira's voice, smooth as silk, followed. "And now, Captain, we've come to collect."

Seraphina bristled. "You can try."

Isolde's grip on her rapier shifted subtle, but Alistair noticed. "We're not surrendering."

Varik's clockwork eye gleamed red. "Who said anything about surrender?"

The sky darkened again.

And this time there would be blood.

The Battle Begins.

Without another word, The Widow's Fang roared to life.

Cannons blasted steam-powered shots across the sky, lighting up the twilight like bolts of lightning. The Stormrider bucked under the force of the first volley, wood splintering as a cannonball grazed the starboard side.

"Return fire!" Alistair barked.

Rogan's voice bellowed from the engine room, and the Stormrider's cannons thundered back striking the Widow's Fang's hull and sending a ripple of smoke through the air.

The ships twisted around each other a deadly dance of steel and flame.

Alistair fought to keep the wheel steady. "Rogan, push the engines we need to outmaneuver them!"

Seraphina, already at his side, flung a dagger into the neck of a sky pirate attempting to board their deck. "I hope you have a plan, Captain."

Isolde joined them, her rapier a flash of silver as she cut down another pirate. "He never does."

Alistair's grin was fierce. "And yet, I'm still alive."

For now.

Because somewhere, in the thick of battle, Elira was watching.

And Varik…

Varik wasn't just here to kill Alistair.

He was here to destroy everything and everyone Alistair cared about.

Including the two deadly women at his side.