The sky ignited.
The Stormrider and The Widow's Fang spiraled through the clouds, locked in a violent dance brass cannons roaring, steam hissing, and blue skyfire splitting the heavens like a jagged scar. The air reeked of smoke and blood, and the wind howled like a wounded beast.
Alistair Von Wolfenstein's grip tightened on the wheel, his cutlass swinging at his hip, the storm not just beneath his boots but burning behind his ribs.
Because this battle wasn't just against Varik and Elira Duskbane.
It was against the two women standing beside him.
Seraphina Blackthorn.
Isolde Greaves.
Fire and ice both as likely to kill him as kiss him.
And as the battle raged around them, the war within was only growing fiercer.
The Battle Unfolds.
"Another blast incoming!" Rogan roared from below deck.
A flash of blue light surged from The Widow's Fang, a bolt of unnatural energy slicing through the sky and grazing the Stormrider's bow. The ship groaned beneath the impact, the wood splintering as smoke curled into the air.
Alistair swore under his breath. "Rogan, push the engines if they land a direct hit, we're done for!"
Seraphina was already moving a deadly blur of dark hair and flashing steel. She flung a dagger across the deck, striking a boarding pirate clean between the ribs. "We can't outrun them forever, Captain."
Isolde didn't miss a beat, her rapier carving through another sky pirate who dared set foot on their ship. "He doesn't have a plan he never does."
Alistair grinned despite the chaos. "My charm is the plan."
Seraphina's laugh was sharp. "Then we're doomed."
But beneath the banter beneath the violence the tension simmered like an ember refusing to die.
The stolen kisses.
The unspoken rivalry.
The way both women fought not just for survival but for dominance.
And Alistair caught between them could feel the fire building again.
The Duel on the Deck.
A sudden figure emerged from the smoke a tall, sleek shadow cutting through the chaos.
Elira Duskbane.
Her serpent tattoo glimmered along her neck, and the silver blade in her hand seemed almost alive its metallic surface rippling like liquid mercury. She moved like smoke, graceful and deadly, her dark gaze fixed not on Alistair but on Seraphina.
"Elira," Seraphina growled, her daggers glinting.
Elira's smile was slow and poisonous. "Hello, Blackthorn."
The air crackled not just with magic, but with something older. Something personal.
Alistair's gut twisted. "You two know each other?"
Seraphina didn't take her eyes off Elira. "She's the reason I have this scar."
Elira's smile deepened. "And the reason you still breathe."
Then they struck.
Seraphina moved like fire, her daggers a blur of quick, brutal slashes. Elira countered with liquid precision, her strange blade weaving a silver arc through the air, deflecting every strike with infuriating ease.
The battle was a dance not just of blades, but of history.
Of hatred.
Alistair moved to intervene but Isolde stopped him.
"Let her fight," she said softly, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
Her touch was cold but the heat it sent through him was anything but.
Alistair's heart thundered. "She's going to get herself killed."
Isolde's grip tightened not possessive, but a silent dare. "Or she'll kill Elira."
And for a single breath, Alistair wasn't sure which outcome Isolde wanted more.
Passion Ignites Amid the Chaos.
The battle raged but the fire between the three of them only burned hotter.
As Seraphina clashed with Elira, Isolde stayed close to Alistair too close her shoulder brushing his, her breath steady despite the storm of violence around them.
"Why does it feel like you want her to lose?" Alistair muttered, his voice rough with more than just the battle.
Isolde's smile was a slow, dangerous thing. "I never said that."
"But you didn't deny it."
Her gaze flicked to his lips. "You think too much, Captain."
And before he could respond
A dagger flew past his face, embedding itself in the mast beside him.
Seraphina still locked in combat with Elira smirked from across the deck. "Eyes on the enemy, Captain," she purred. "Not on your distractions."
Isolde's smile sharpened. "I'm hardly a distraction."
Alistair, heart pounding, could only laugh rough and ragged. "You're both going to kill me."
Seraphina's reply was a growl as she dodged another strike from Elira. "Not before I kill her first."
The Final Strike.
Elira fast as a viper suddenly twisted her blade, slicing too close to Seraphina's wounded side.
Seraphina staggered.
Blood blossomed through her shirt.
"Seraphina!" Alistair roared, charging forward but Isolde was faster, her rapier clashing against Elira's blade in a flash of steel.
Elira's smile didn't falter. "Two against one? How charming."
Isolde's voice was ice. "She's mine to kill."
Seraphina, pressing a hand to her bleeding side, sneered. "I don't need your help."
Alistair's fury boiled over. "For the love of the gods can we kill her first and fight later?"
But the lines were already drawn not just between them and Elira…
But between each other.
The battle on the deck was only a shadow of the one burning beneath their skin.
And as Elira's blade hissed through the air again, Alistair realized
The true war wasn't with The Widow's Fang.
It was with the fire and frost standing at his side.
And one of them was bound to burn him alive.