Chapter 23: What Burns, What Breaks
The Hollowfang wasn't dying.
It was awakening.
The runes along its obsidian hull blazed brighter now, feeding on the magic released by its captain's death. The blue veins pulsed alive, hungry and the air around the ship vibrated like a plucked string.
Alistair Von Wolfenstein gripped his cutlass, his knuckles bone-white against the hilt. "It's not just magic," he growled. "It's feeding off the fight."
The Stormrider groaned beneath his feet, as if the enemy ship's magic was seeping into the very sky itself.
But the storm on the deck…
That was just as dangerous.
Seraphina Blackthorn was still breathing hard, blood smeared across her cheek, her dagger slick with whatever magic-tinged ichor had poured from the captain's body. She didn't look at the ship.
She looked at Isolde.
"You didn't have to kill him," Seraphina said, her voice low, dangerous. "Not like that."
Isolde's rapier still dripped with blood, her hand steady. "He was a threat. I ended him."
Alistair stepped between them again his voice a ragged growl. "In case you haven't noticed, the ship didn't die with him."
But neither woman moved.
The battle wasn't with the Hollowfang now.
It was with each other.
And Alistair was the spark between them.
The Storm Beneath the Skin.
Seraphina's voice was a sharp whisper. "You did it for him."
Isolde's jaw tightened. "Don't flatter yourself."
Alistair's pulse thundered. "Not now"
Seraphina's dagger spun in her fingers, a nervous tic or a warning. "You think if you save him enough times, he'll pick you?"
Isolde's smile was a blade. "Better than throwing myself between him and death like a lovesick fool."
It struck too close.
Seraphina's cheeks flushed with rage or something darker, Alistair couldn't tell.
But before he could speak
A bolt of blue magic exploded from the Hollowfang, striking the Stormrider's railing and sending a shockwave through the deck.
Wood splintered. The air howled.
And Seraphina staggered.
Alistair caught her before she fell his arm curling around her waist, the heat of her blood soaking through his shirt. "You're hurt"
"I'm fine," she hissed but she didn't pull away.
Not immediately.
And Isolde?
Her grip on her rapier tightened, her gaze flicking from Alistair's hand on Seraphina's waist to Seraphina's lips still parted from the shock.
The tension wasn't just a spark now.
It was flames.
The Moment That Breaks.
The Hollowfang loomed closer, its magic twisting the air, but the three of them were locked in their own battle silent, burning, unresolved.
Alistair's voice cracked. "We don't have time for this"
Seraphina's fingers curled into his shirt. "Then stop standing between us."
Isolde's voice was ice. "He likes it there."
Alistair's head snapped toward Isolde. "This isn't the time."
Her lips curved, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Isn't it?"
And then Seraphina kissed him.
Hard. Fierce. Like a brand against his skin.
The world blurred the storm, the battle, the ship until there was only the heat of her lips, the fire of her fury.
But the kiss wasn't just for him.
It was a claim.
A message.
For Isolde.
And the moment Seraphina pulled away, her breath ragged, Alistair barely had a chance to speak before
Isolde grabbed his collar and kissed him next.
Colder. Slower. Controlled but no less intense.
Where Seraphina was fire, Isolde was ice and Alistair was the blade caught between them.
When Isolde finally pulled back, her voice was a whisper against his mouth. "You can't have both of us."
Seraphina's dagger pressed into Alistair's chest just enough to make a point. "So choose."
And the Hollowfang's magic screamed louder.
The Storm Collides.
The battle outside raged.
The battle between them burned hotter.
Alistair's heart pounded not just from the fight, but from the impossible choice now hanging between him and the two women who were tearing him apart.
Seraphina fierce and wild, a firestorm.
Isolde cold and deadly, a winter gale.
And him standing in the eye of their storm.
The Hollowfang's runes flared one final time
And the sky erupted.