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The hull creaks as they rise and fall with the waves, tied down crates groaning against the strained ropes. The portholes are dirty with muck and algae, metal rusty from ocean misted air.
Jisung runs into the wall trying to get to the stairs, hands reaching out to catch himself. He grips at a support, righting himself and aiming toward the railing. He shuts his eyes, feels the ocean rocking beneath him. When the ship lurches to the left, he flings himself in tandem.
He catches the rail, clambers up the steps, old boots squeaking on the wet wood.
He pulls himself up onto the deck, still holding the railing as long as he can, until he's locking eyes with Chan.
Chan nods at him, curtly, and Jisung staggers forward to grab the helm, Chan only letting go once his hands are on it. He white knuckles the wood, body tensing with effort as he steadies them, then begins to turn, slow but sure, until they're SSE.
When he looks up, the Captain is gathering the rope from the railing, moving in slow but heavy steps. He wraps the rope around Jisung's waist, tightening it until it burns. And then he looks him in the eye, nods once more.
"I'll get us outta here alive, sir," Jisung has to shout over the winds. Chan's grin tells him he heard.
The Captain climbs the stairs down to the main deck, scanning the rest of the crew present.
Two quick figures work on the sails, while a sturdy one stands beneath the main mast, staring up at them. He has a hand on the ropes, barely swaying as the ship fights the waves.
"Changbin!" He bellows, earning the man's attention, "Get below deck."
Changbin gives the two up above one final glance before obeying, moving from mast to mast until he's at the steps, clutching the railing briefly, meeting Chan's gaze steadily.
"Double check the stores. Everything important's been tied down - we've got more rope, tack down whatever's left." Then, "I trust your call."
Changbin nods, vanishes down the steps.
Chan looks up at the two on the ropes - the last sail's been raised, Minho and Hyunjin now climbing back down. On the deck, the last of the crew step away from the masts, glancing at Chan.
But before anyone can move further, before Hyunjin's foot can find the rope beneath him, the ship is tipped forward, prow catching the waves sharply. Water drenches the deck, hits Chan harshly. He white knuckles the railing, a foot catching behind him onto a step down to stop from falling.
The two on the netting find flight briefly before being flung abruptly back into the ropes.
"Get down!" Chan shouts, "Come down, now!"
The rest of the crew hurries, sliding when they try to run, staggering when they take slow steps.
Minho's hand slips, and for a second he's dangling by one arm.
The ship tips again, portside reaching for the stars until an argumentative splash sends them back down. Chan's breath is pure salt and adrenaline.
Two crew members make it below deck.
There's a rumble, like thunder croaking up from the depths. When it continues, and the sky stays dark, Chan casts his gaze away from his crew.
And then he sees it.
A hand, dark like the night and too sharp at the fingertips, palm big enough to break his skull with a slap. And then another, amidship, and two more. It grasps at the bowsprit, breaking it off like it were a common twig.
"Get down," Chan repeats, as the crew staggers, shouts echoing across the deck. "Get down!" He looks at the men around him, "Arm yourselves!"
The hands try to drag the ship down, tipping it this way and that like it were a toy. And then, as Hyunjin is low enough to dare a drop to the deck, glowing eyes appear from the depths.
"Aelinoth," Chan whispers, breathless.
She was supposed to be a myth. She was supposed to be a devil.
Swaths of void sprawl out along the backdrop of the stars, clouds parted just enough to let the moonlight expose her face. Sharp bones draped in round flesh, scaled to a point, features like blades. Her arms jut out from her shoulder blades like dislocated wings, gripping at the boat where they can reach, tugging at the beams when they can't.
The netting catches at Minho's leg, trapping him. Chan's gaze flits from him to her; she looms like a watchtower, too close to his boys for comfort.
Aelinoth laughs; a clap of thunder dragged along a rocky road.
"Hold your fire!" Chan shouts, eyes his men. The one closest has a blade. Chan grabs his gaze, tells him, "Changbin, Seungmin, Jeongin - grab them and arm yourself." He turns back to Aelinoth, his blood slowing to a stop under her grey gaze.
She's a legend; the Abbess of the Salsevain Pass; the forgotten goddess, left to rot where mer and man dare not go.
Hubris, he thinks. This is hubris.
"We're only passing through!" He shouts, "We mean no harm."
"Of course not," she laughs, sharp teeth and sharper eyes. The crew readies their guns, aiming at her arms and stepping farther from the ledge. "But my dear, my silly little human, you have something that is not yours."
Chan swallows. Was is the chest in the stores, full of jewels and pearls and abandoned trinkets? Was it the armour, unearthed from the strait down south? Or was it the vial of black blood in the medical ward, hidden behind lock and key?
He doesn't know. The rules above the waves are different from those beneath it. He should have asked more questions. He should have cared more, sooner, before they faced a devil.
"The law of the sea says that what's not yours, can so easily be mine." Aelinoth grins, rows and rows of teeth flashing yellow in the dark. "And it's been so long since I've gotten a gift."
"What?" Chan asks, breathless. He sees Hyunjin in his peripheral vision, swallows tightly. He's not climbing down. He's looking at Minho. "We'll give you your gift, in exchange for safe passage."
"Will you?" Aelinoth asks, the skin on her face stretching in a curious expression. She slinks down, leaning her body over the deck. Her upper half is at least as long as the mainmast - Chan doesn't want to think about the strength that must be hidden beneath the waves, keeping her afloat.
She rises up, arms articulating in a grotesque display. She lifts a long finger from the beam on the mainmast, brings it down to cut the rope around Minho's ankle.
Chan shouts, a chorus with the rest of the crew's panic - but he's only mid-air for as long as he gasps, before Aelinoth has him dangling by the jacket, too far away to grab at the ropes. He's too high up. The fabric tears once, twice, and Aelinoth laughs as Minho shouts, reaches out uselessly for something to grab.
"No," Chan lets go of the railing, rushing forward enough to grab at the mizzenmast. The ship creaks, too slanted and the winds too harsh for him to risk free standing. "No, you can't have him."
He hears footsteps, condensed and then dispersed behind him - a familiar formation. In his peripheral vision he sees Seungmin aiming a copper-tinged gun dead ahead.
"I was promised my gift," Aelinoth rasps, voice like an echo stuck in a cave.
"He's not yours!" Hyunjin yells, bounds up the ropes with a sudden, strong swing. He steps onto the lower beam, uncaring of the water slipping off of it. He tips his head up, meets her eyes. "He's not yours."
Aelinoth smiles at him, loose flesh exposing the meat of her mouth.
"Don't be silly, skybound-one," she croons, "The sea always reclaims what is hers."
She twists the wrist holding Minho, slowly curling her finger up. Minho rises, shouts out a curse.
Before she can take him any further, Hyunjin screams, voice rattling deep within his throat.
Chan grimaces, the sound angry and pained, his ears narrowly ringing from the blowback. Hyunjin's shoulder sets, fingernails sinking into the mast at his side, hair billowing behind him. His mouth drops open, a crack as the bones separate.
They have a second to react, Chan's shoulder rising where he can't let go of his support, barely covering his other ear as the shriek tears through the air, cutting through the air and adding a new gust to the winds.
Aelinoth roars, arms recoiling from the ship to press over the holes in her head, the boat rocking without the added weight. The hand holding Minho tenses, slams him into the mainmast with a force.
She grips him there, holds the mast like the hilt of a blade.
"Hyunjin!" Chan bellows, but it's nothing beneath Hyunjin's voice. Chan looks at Seungmin desperately.
Seungmin's face sets, body steady despite the rocking of the sea. He lowers an arm from his ear for just long enough to fire silver at Aelinoth. It lands in her ribs, a brief glow of heat in the night. Her eyes snap to Seungmin, and Hyunjin falls silent.
Chan takes a breath: "Fire!"
A barrage of light illuminates the deck, hell brought to Earth as gunpowder and silver slices the air, burns his nostrils. Aelinoth howls in pain, sharp nails digging into the rails, snapping them off and sending them flying.
A body gets pinned against the focsle. Another falls overboard.
There's no time.
"Hyunjin!" Chan shouts, through the battle. He's fallen onto the beam, arms curled around it as he struggles to find his footing on the netting. The ship is unsteady, even in Aelinoth's grip; waves still hitting the deck relentlessly. The winds are too strong, and Aelinoth is a threat he can't predict.
They need to get down. They need to get down now.
Something moves in Chan's peripheries and he turns portside, sharply aims at the darkness. The smaller arms move quicker, but are higher up; this one is long, lean and muscular, with a hand curled like a claw and nails sharp as blades.
Separated from the rest, Seungmin staggers, aim focused on Aelinoth's body - tunnel-visioned while the rogue arm rises, raises, swings in-
And tenses upward instead, the faint glow turning to soot as water sloshes up, soothes it.
Chan fires a second shot through the palm, reloads for a third when he's knocked off his feet by proxy - a body hitting him, then the deck, red seeping into the wood.
Fingers twist into his coat, and Chan's half-hoisted, half-assisted upright.
Changbin shoves his gun back into his grasp, then aims at Aelinoth's shoulder. He fires, hurries to reload.
Chan surveys the crew - the ship is held almost still by three of Aelinoth's arms. There are more men standing than fallen, all but two armed with guns. Everyone is holding their ground, enough of them that Aelinoth's attention is always being dragged this way and that.
He turns to the stairs, finds the closest men there: "We're injured - check if we're taking on water and empty her out. I want all men working!"
"Yes, Captain."
The three hurry below deck.
Chan's eyes dart up to the mainmast. Rain pelts his vision, wind staggering him back.
Hyunjin staggers from the beam, grappling at the ropes until he's beside Minho. He pulls a blade from an ankleholster, cutting the netting to reach him. He pauses for the briefest moments - eyes locked with Minho's, and then down to Chan.
"No," he breathes, then shouts, "Don't," into the rain.
But there's distance, thunder and howling and gunfire. Or perhaps, he was never asking permission to begin with.
The blade sinks into Aelinoth's wrist, loosens enough for Minho to drop. Hyunjin grabs him by arm, free hand grasping at the ropes left. His voice echoes in a pained howl through the night. Minho's legs scramble to find purchase in the netting, hands catching wherever they can.
"No," Aelinoth roars, rears up to swing.
"Fire!" Chan shouts, quick, "Protect the mainmast!"
Six shots ricochet through the air - three hit, two miss; one hits her in the cheek, instead. Her arm wavers, weakened - and then the ship shudders, a hand starboard-side pulling downward.
The ship lists, and Chan staggers, grabs at the mizzenmast for support.
"Mine," Aelinoth growls. She swings toward the mast, toward where Hyunjin and Minho are still dangling, bloody portholes in her flesh, letting seamist through.
"Brace!" Chan shouts, as the crew hurries. Water splashes up and hits the boat.
And then Aelinoth shrieks, each and every grip on the boat falling away at once. Her arm raises up toward the sky, as if reaching for the heavens with the bone that remains, yellowed and singed - black blood rains on them, the smell of burning flesh and rotten scales almost making him gag.
Her body arches back, sharp fins moving rapidly in the air. Her body seems endless, long lines getting greener and greener, yet darker than the night all at once. She falls into the sea, the waves kicking up and cascading about.
The moment lasts a lifetime.
And then-
The ship tips portside, and the crew not holding anything slide. The netting provides safety, hands quickly catching on.
Chan's arms scream in agony, and he bites his tongue as he tightens his grasp.
There's a scream, and his head snaps down. Jeongin falls forward, slips down - he grabs at the coil of rigging near the rail, hands tightening as he picks up speed. His gun falls overboard, his body following suit.
Chan shouts - a wave hits portside, knocks them upright. The rigging strains, and the masts creak. His shoulders protest and he deflates once he can loosen his grip.
Changbin stands first, half-crawling until they're horizontal enough to stand. Water and blood washes onto the deck, and he slips near the railing, falling into it with empty hands.
He drops to his knees, wrought-iron grip tightening around Jeongin's wrists. He pulls, dragging him up - Jeongin's elbow finds the deck, face coming into view. Changbin throws his weight backward, and Jeongin comes aboard in a frigid wet heap.
He's trembling, hair soaked and stuck to his face. He pushes himself to his hands and knees, Changbin grabbing at his shoulder to keep him from face-planting.
Chan looks from him to the others - the rest of the crew in various states of drenched and delirious, everyone some degree of disheveled. And then his gaze shoots up, finds Hyunjin and Minho amongst the netting, lower down than before and continuing suit.
They reach the deck as two, Minho falling to his knees once Hyunjin lets go.
"Get below deck," he tells them, stern.
Hyunjin nods, rubbing his aching arm. He grabs it by the elbow, grimaces and shoves the limb back into its socket with a pop. He grabs Minho after, indiscriminate of his arms as he tugs him along.
"Seungmin," Chan calls, finding him standing over Jeongin. His coat billows in the wind, hair sticking to his forehead, masking bloodshot eyes.
"I'm fine," he says, pulling Jeongin up with blackened palms.
"Thank you," he says, steadies the youngest between them. He nods at Changbin, watches him reroute up the steps to check on Jisung instead.
Seungmin nods, smiles tightly before focusing on Jeongin, grabbing his chin in his hand, turning his head this way and that.
"Go," he says, when he's done with his appraisal, and Jeongin nods.
He staggers, though, but dismisses Chan's outstretched hand. He makes a detour to the steps up to the helm, dizzy or maybe just off-kilter. Jeongin grabs at the railing, leaning into the wall with shut eyes.
The ship sways in the dying storm, the winds still kicking up mist into a thin fog at their feet.
"How far is the nearest port?" Seungmin asks.
"Last I checked, couple days," Chan shakes his head. "We have injured, do we have the suppli-"
The ocean tears apart, all at once, waves from hell gushing into the sky, falling worse than the rain. They duck down, covering their heads only to let their hands fall forward to catch themselves against the deck.
Chan meets Seungmin's gaze for half a second before he's looking up, staring at Aelinoth.
Her eyes glow like clear-skied moons, arms extended out like the wings of a bat.
"No," Hyunjin growls, letting go of Minho.
"Go downstairs," Chan orders, not looking away. "Now."
But Hyunjin steps forward anyway, forces his hand. Chan pushes himself upright, walking right into him, grabbing him by the collar.
"Down," he hisses.
Hyunjin's eyes are wild, skin pale from the cold and gaunt in the night. He sets his jaw with a too-loud click, then shoves at Chan once, twice to get him off. His fingernails leave tears in his shirt, red marks rising up on the skin.
Chan watches him, hand resting on his gun uneasily.
"You insolate brat," Aelinoth hisses, towers over the ship. Her bloody arm stains the deck, splatters up and onto Hyunjin's clothes. The glow from the moon splays past her in dull bars. "You have no right, no claim to the gods' playthings."
Hyunjin steps past Chan, too determined, too foolish, too close.
The air is unbreathable, tense and heavy.
Jeongin's half collapsed over the railing, glaring up at Aelinoth. Seungmin grips tight, blackened fists, decisions weighing heavy behind his eyes. Changbin hovers his hand over his gun.
"Cover your ears," a voice croaks, from the focsle, barely audible.
Those closest obey.
The crew farther freeze - react in varying degrees of speed when they recognize the notes hitting the wind, the melody dancing along in a slow, unsteady rhythm. Hyunjin's body tenses, slowly relaxes. He turns, looks past them, over Chan's shoulder.
Minho's eyes glint, body hunched over where he stands, the song tense and pained - a morbid melody. He sways, indiscriminate of the ocean's whims and waves. His eyes are unfocused, beneath the glow, and his chest falters with the effort. His face twists as his song grows in volume, quickens in pace.
Aelinoth's eyelids lower, and her expression falls to something looser.
But it isn't enough.
She reaches for him, a desperation that Minho echoes; the song stutters when he flinches, yet gets louder when he falls. His lips turn blue and his eyes drip dry.
A noise pulls itself from Aelinoth's body, something akin to a cry, anguished and angry. Her mouth tugs until her teeth and bloody gums tear into a grimace.
And then, once more, Seungmin lowers an arm from his ear, pressing it palm out. The light is dim and flickering, a fraction of the power from before. But his element was never destruction, and the warmth that floats from him is strong and calm; a fragment of a soul.
It cascades gently along Minho's breeze, lands like a fallen petal between Aelinoth's eyes, succumbing to her scaled flesh.
Seungmin covers his ear once more, eyes swimming as he blinks through the song.
Not a soul breathes.
Aelinoth's eyes flutter shut, mouth moving in a soundless whisper. Minho's face twists, and Hyunjin scowls away.
And then Aelinoth sinks back below the sea, tail flicking up near the surface for long enough to be visible. The waves hide her retreat, not a drop arguing her claim.
The world goes silent, and the rest of Minho's body drops to the deck.
Slowly, arms lower.
Chan becomes conscious of the remnants of the storm slowly - the pitter-patter of the rain washing the deck of its stains, the wind whistling as it flies through the netting and rails. It smells of sea breeze and metal; blood and death.
He looks among the crew, at who remains.
Dazed faces look back at him.
He gives himself one breath. And then he settles himself.
"Get the injured downstairs," he says, voice carrying through the air. Bodies straighten at attention, eyes sharpening as the delirium expels itself with each passing breath. "If your name isn't Kim Seungmin, I want you working on repairs."
Hyunjin walks past him, head lowered as he goes. There's something there; something that isn't shame, isn't guilt, but may as well be. He holds himself like a foe, unspent energy causing his fingers to tremour.
"Hyunjin," he says, and the boy stops. "You're injured."
He stands still for a moment. Chan takes it, abuses his hesitation, giving Changbin the go-ahead. He moves, grabbing Minho before Hyunjin can with strong arms, a sturdier grip.
It's only then, only once Minho's brought down, that Hyunjin sets his shoulders, follows him below deck.
Someone has Jeongin supported under the arm, already headed toward the medical quarter - Chan gives Seungmin a curt dismissal; he's done more than enough, that's for certain - and will go ahead and do even more, below deck.
Soon enough, the deck is cleared, and Chan can take in the stains of battle marking the wood. The black blood will need to be scrubbed out; gods know if it'll clear any quicker than the red. Pieces of the railings are missing, torn and exposed wood splintering up like an open wound. The masts will need the repairs. The rigging should be handled carefully.
The clouds begin to part, the sun daring to rise over the remnants of the Charmer. Chan sighs, the weight on his chest growing.
He throws the bodies overboard himself, a quiet prayer on his lips with each one. He has to tear a tattered post from the focsle wall; a splatter of blood hits his face in the process. He lets the wood fall with him, shutting his eyes once he's finished.
There was only four of them. It's four too many.
With bloody hands and a tarnished soul, he climbs the steps up to the helm.
His palms stain the rope as he unties it, yet his hands come away pristine once he's done.
"South-south-east?" Jisung asks, quietly. Redness sprawls up his waist, where his shirt rides up. Chan tugs it down for him, patting high up on his back, as if it's any sort of reassurance.
He hums in affirmation, glancing up at the masts, the empty crow's nest. He's not sure if the sails will hold, doesn't want to risk it if they're to face strong winds anytime soon.
But, despite it all, the ship is still in one piece.
"Head below deck," Chan decides, as the first whispers of the morning peak past the horizon. He looks at Jisung, and they talk with their eyes.
Jisung, ever the witness. Jisung, ever the steady presence.
He nods, and hands off the wheel with minour reluctance.
"Thank you, Captain," he says, before he goes.
Chan doesn't know what he's thanking him for - for relieving him of his duty? For guiding them through battle? He doesn't think he should be the one thanked, for the latter. It wasn't him, who sent Aelinoth careening back down to her Locker.
The waters steady as the sun rises, and the winds slow down, glide against the ship, breaking away at the prow. He expects her to emerge, with every slight lilt to the ship. The song can only last so long, and they can only go so fast without winds.
The peace of the morning brings tension to his form. There's little relaxation, in the sunlit warmth, not even the slightest kindness to the spray of sea breeze onto his skin.
The calls of seagulls are too sporadic, too harsh.
The creak of the hull feels like an omen.