Chapter 22: The Price of Fire and Frost

The air tasted of salt and magic sharp, electric, alive.

The Hollowfang's hooded captain stood at the heart of the Stormrider's deck, his runes burning brighter with each flick of his wrist. Blue tendrils of magic writhed around him, coiling like serpents, ready to strike.

Alistair Von Wolfenstein's cutlass was steady, but his heart thundered louder than the storm.

Not just from the fight.

From the two women standing at his sides.

Seraphina Blackthorn.

Isolde Greaves.

Fire and ice.

Both willing to bleed for him or perhaps make him bleed for them.

And the burning question hanging between them, unsaid but undeniable:

Who does Alistair truly belong to?

But there was no time for answers.

Not when death was circling the deck like a hungry wolf.

The Battle for the Stormrider.

The hooded figure's voice echoed low and inhuman. "The map, Von Wolfenstein. Surrender it… or watch your ship crumble."

Alistair's grip tightened on his cutlass. "I've never been good at surrendering."

The captain smiled. "Then you'll be excellent at dying."

A tendril of blue magic lashed out faster than Alistair could react.

But Seraphina was faster.

Her dagger shot through the air, severing the magical whip with a sharp snap. "Try harder," she growled, already moving a blaze of dark hair and bloodied steel.

The hooded captain hissed. "You first."

Another tendril slashed toward Seraphina

But Isolde was there.

Her rapier sliced through the magic mid-strike, her movements precise, controlled, deadly. "You'll have to kill me first," she said softly but her voice cut deeper than any blade.

Seraphina's gaze flicked to Isolde and there it was again.

That unrelenting tension.

As though the battle wasn't just with the Hollowfang.

It was with each other.

The Breaking Point.

Alistair forced himself to focus. "Both of you stay on him. We end this now."

But Seraphina didn't move.

Neither did Isolde.

Because the real fight wasn't just on the deck it was still simmering between the three of them.

Seraphina's voice was a low, dangerous whisper. "You always like standing at his side, don't you?"

Isolde's smile was ice. "Someone has to you're too busy bleeding."

Alistair's blood boiled. "Are you kidding me?"

The hooded captain tilted his head, the runes along his cloak flaring brighter feeding off their anger.

He smiled.

"Your storm will kill you long before I do," he murmured.

And then

He struck.

A blast of magic erupted from his hands not a tendril this time, but a wave of raw energy.

Alistair braced for the hit but it never came.

Because Seraphina threw herself in front of him.

The magic slammed into her, sending her flying across the deck.

"Seraphina!" Alistair roared.

She hit the railing hard, blood smeared across her lips, her dagger still clutched in her hand even as she crumpled to her knees.

Isolde's face normally calm, composed cracked.

For a split second, something like panic flashed in her eyes.

And then fury.

She didn't hesitate.

Her rapier struck like a bolt of lightning a blur of silver cutting straight toward the hooded captain's throat.

He barely managed to block the strike, magic twisting around his arm like a living shield.

But Isolde didn't stop.

Her blade was relentless, each strike sharper, faster a storm of her own.

This wasn't just a fight.

It was vengeance.

For Seraphina.

For Alistair.

For something deeper something older that none of them dared put into words.

The Fire Beneath the Frost.

Alistair rushed to Seraphina's side, his hand already reaching for the wound on her shoulder. "Let me see"

"Don't," she rasped, shoving him back with what little strength she had left. "I'm fine."

He didn't move. "You're not fine."

Seraphina's dark eyes burned. "This isn't the time to play hero, Alistair."

"Maybe if you didn't throw yourself in front of every damn blade"

Her laugh was raw. "Someone has to."

Alistair's heart cracked. "You think I need saving?"

Seraphina's lips curled but it wasn't a smile. "I think you don't know what you need."

Isolde's voice cut through the storm. "He never has."

Alistair's head snapped up just in time to see Isolde standing over the hooded captain's body, his blood already pooling around her boots.

She'd killed him.

Fast. Precise.

But the battle wasn't over.

Because the runes along the Hollowfang's hull didn't dim.

They burned brighter.

As though the captain's death hadn't weakened the ship.

It had fed it.

The Storm Within.

The magic lashed out again untethered now shaking the Stormrider to her core.

Alistair knew they had only moments before the Hollowfang unleashed something worse.

But the only storm he could focus on…

Was the one still burning between him, Seraphina, and Isolde.

Seraphina wiped the blood from her mouth, her eyes never leaving Isolde. "You killed him too quickly."

Isolde's smile was cold. "You were too slow."

Alistair stepped between them. "Enough."

The magic cracked again the Hollowfang's runes now spiraling, shifting, waiting.

But the true danger wasn't just the ship.

It was the fact that, despite the battle despite the blood

Seraphina still looked at Isolde like a rival.

Isolde still looked at Seraphina like a threat.

And Alistair…

He was still caught between them.

Between fire and frost.

Between two women who would bleed for him or make him bleed for them.

And he knew,

Knew...

That something had to break.