The Marchand Legacy

Lily's breath came in ragged bursts as she pressed herself against the cold metal wall of the cargo hold, the ledger clutched to her chest like a shield. The air was thick with brine and decay, each inhale a reminder of the ship's rot. Her grandmother's words echoed in her mind— "He's in the brig"—a directive that felt urgent and perilous.

She forced herself to move, fingers trailing damp walls as she navigated the labyrinthine passages. The ship groaned around her, timbers creaking like the voices of the drowned. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, fleeting and formless, but she was too scared to peek.

The stairwell descended into deeper darkness, steps slick with algae and salt. Moonlight seeped through cracked portholes, casting jagged streaks. The air grew colder, frost feathering the railing beneath her palms. At the bottom, a corroded sign hung askew:

BRIG.

The door groaned as she pushed it open. Water sloshed around her ankles, bitter cold seeping through her shoes. The brig stretched into shadows, cells lining the walls like skeletal ribs. At the far end, a figure stirred.

"Dad?"

James Marchand lurched to his feet, chains clanking. His face was pallid beneath streaks of grime, eyes wild. The locket around his neck—a match to Lily's—swung loosely from a snapped chain, its surface tarnished.

"Lily?" His voice cracked. "What… where are we?"

She gripped the rusted bars, fingers numb. "A ship. The Midnight Star. Grandma… she left clues."

James touched the broken chain. "This… she gave it to me years ago. Said it was important." His laugh was hollow. "Now it's just… broken."

Lily's hand brushed the pendant. A vision surged—

James, age fourteen, stood in Élodie's study, storm winds rattling the shutters. She clasped the locket around his neck, her fingers icy. "Never remove this," she said, her voice low. "Not even in sleep."

"Why?"

Élodie's eyes flicked to the window, where the horizon churned with black clouds. "The sea has a memory," she murmured. "This… disrupts it."

"Disrupts what?"

She cupped his face, her smile sad. "A cycle. One I pray you'll never understand."

—The memory dissolved, leaving Lily breathless.

"It was important," Lily murmured. "She was… hiding you."

James frowned. "From what?"

A boot scraped stone.

The captain emerged, barnacles crusting his coat like armour. His face hid beneath a hood of seaweed and chainmail, but his locket glowed—a larger, ornate version of Lily's, its chain unbroken, the metal blackened.

"The Debtor's patience ends," he intoned, voice echoing through water. "The cycle demands balance."

James stepped forward. "What cycle?"

The captain's locket flared, casting jagged light over tally marks etched into the walls:

ALOÏS – 1789 | CÉCILE – 1832 | HENRI – 1916 | ÉLODIE – 1983

Lily's throat tightened. "You've been tracking us."

The captain's hood tilted. "The Marchands choose this path. Gold for blood. Blood for gold." He raised a barnacled hand. Seawater erupted through the floorboards, swirling around their knees.

James gripped Lily's arm. "The ledger—what did it say?"

She thrust the book at him. "Théodore's pact. The ship's tied to the captain's locket. If we destroy it—"

The captain roared, the sound shaking the brig. "The cycle is eternal!"

Water surged to their thighs, icy and relentless. Lily's locket burned, pain sharpening her resolve. She met the captain's hidden gaze. "Why?"

For a heartbeat, he stilled. His locket dimmed, the barnacles on his coat cracking like dried bone. "I once asked the same," he said, his voice fraying into a whisper.

Then the shadows behind him moved.

A wave rose from the flooded floorboards, engulfing him in a shroud of brine and seaweed. When it receded, only the echo of his laughter remained, dissolving into the creak of the ship's timbers.

Water surged to their thighs, rising steadily. James yanked at his manacles, the rusted metal biting into his wrists. One shackle snapped loose with a spray of corroded iron.

"The locks are brittle," said James, strain tightening his voice as he tested the remaining chain. "It'll give soon. Go—find the captain!"

Lily hesitated, her fingers whitening on the cell bars. "But—"

"Lily." James met her gaze, his own sharp with resolve. "I'll follow. Go!"

"The port side!" he shouted, nodding to the higher wall where the water rose slower. "Stay close to the bulkhead—it's safer! I'll follow once I'm free!"

She waded against the current, glancing back once. James braced his foot against the cell wall, heaving at the last shackle. The chain screamed—but held.

The captain's laughter echoed. "Run, little heir. The Debtor always collects."

James strained against the chain, veins bulging. "Go!"

Lily waded toward the door, the current tugging at her legs. She glanced back once—James braced his boot against the cell wall, heaving at the shackle. The chain screamed but held.

"I'll find you!" he called.

Lily fled, the water clawing at her knees as she climbed the stairs, her grandmother's plea echoing.

Break the cycle.