Kael walked across the raggedy docks, a bag strapped on his back and lute in his hands.


    The wooden boards creaked below his feet as he looked around at the docked ships, trying to figure out which one belonged to captain Veyla’s crew. Most of them didn''t look like treasure hunter ships, and he stayed far away from the ships flying the pirate flags.


    He didn’t want to draw the ire of any pirates.


    It was still a few minutes away from dawn, but he was getting anxious. He didn''t want to be late but she hadn''t told him which ship to go to.


    He approached one of the few dockworkers mulling around. “Sorry, do you know where Captain Veyla’s ship is docked?”


    “Don''t know a Captain Veyla. Must have given you a fake name,” the dockworker replied, grabbing a crate. “Sorry, kid.”


    “Maybe someone else signed up? Did you see a tall, muscular, brown haired woman dressed like a captain- and uh- she carries a lot of weapons?” Kael asked, walking in step with the dockworker. “Or a big, filthy man that smells of stale ale and gunpowder?”


    The dockworker stopped for a moment, thinking about something before setting the crate down. “Big guy? Looks like the seediest motherfucker around and has the manners of a rabid dog?”


    “Yeah, him,” Kael agreed, leaning against one of the posts. “I''ve been invited on a job by his captain.”


    The dockworker squinted at Kael, suspicion clouding his features. “That’d be Hargan, if I’m thinking of the right scum. But you don’t want to get tangled with her crew. Dangerous lot. Their ship’s the Widow’s Promise, moored at the end of the pier.”


    Kael’s stomach sank as he followed the dockworker’s pointed finger. The Widow’s Promise stood out like a black stain among the other vessels. Its hull was painted a deep, weathered gray, almost blending into the predawn shadows. The ship bore an air of menace, its figurehead a skeletal woman clutching a tattered veil that streamed ominously in the breeze. A pirate flag fluttered in the wind at the top of the mast.


    “Of course it’s that one,” Kael muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the lute strap. He took a steadying breath and nodded to the dockworker. “Thanks.”


    “Don’t thank me, kid. Just hope you come back in one piece,” the man said, hoisting his crate and disappearing into the gloom.


    Kael made his way to the end of the pier, each step slower than the last. As he approached, he noticed a few crew members moving about on deck, their movements precise and quiet despite their rough appearances. The scent of brine and tar hung heavy in the air, mingling with an unshakable sense of foreboding.


    He hated the smell of tar.


    At the gangplank stood Hargan, his massive frame silhouetted against the faint light of dawn. He spotted Kael and barked a laugh, his grin revealing a row of yellowed teeth. “Thought you’d chicken out, bardling.”


    "Careful now, thinking too hard might strain something you can’t afford to lose," he replied, his voice braver than he felt.


    Hargan stepped aside and gestured grandly toward the gangplank, smiling broadly. “Welcome aboard the Widow’s Promise. Cap’s waiting for you in her cabin. Don’t keep her waiting.”


    Kael hesitated for a moment before stepping onto the gangplank. The wood creaked ominously under his weight, but he pressed forward, focusing on the rhythmic crash of waves against the hull to steady his nerves. As he set foot on the deck, the crew barely spared him a glance, each focused on their tasks. He swallowed hard, the weight of their indifference somehow more unsettling than open hostility.


    “Cabin’s that way,” Hargan growled, jerking his thumb toward a heavy door at the stern. “Good luck, birdie.”


    Kael squared his shoulders and made his way across the deck. The air felt colder here, sharper, as if the ship itself was alive and watching him. He reached the door and hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle. For a fleeting moment, he considered turning around, but the memory of Veyla’s threat- and the hope of a better future- pushed him forward.


    He knocked twice, the sound echoing hollowly, before the door creaked open on its own.


    Inside, the captain’s cabin was dimly lit by a single lantern swaying from the ceiling. Charts and maps covered the walls, the table, and even parts of the floor. The faint scent of tobacco mingled with the ever-present tang of salt. At the far end of the room sat a desk but the chair behind it was empty except for a bottle of rum.


    Veyla lounged in a hammock strung up in the corner of the room, her boots crossed at the ankles. Her tricorn rested on her head, hiding half of her face as the copper accents glinted in the morning sun. With the sleeves of her shirt rolled up enough to reveal more of her scars, her shirt hung loosely from her broad shoulders.


    Kael tugged at the collar of his tunic, suddenly uncomfortably warm despite the chilly breeze.


    "Morning, birdie," she drawled, her voice carrying an edge of mockery. She didn’t bother to move from her hammock, one hand resting behind her head while the other casually gestured for him to come over. "You’re early. Didn’t think you’d have the guts to show up.”


    “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” he asked, closing the door behind himself.


    He looked across the room, searching for a way to cross the room. It was a lot easier for him than focusing on Veyla.


    Veyla chuckled softly, the sound warm and yet somehow intimidating. "Good to see you keep your word. Not bad for a landlubber.”


    She swung her legs out of the hammock in a single fluid motion, landing between two stacks of books and meeting him halfway across the room.


    Up close, her presence was even more overwhelming. Her height forced him to crane his neck slightly, and her sharp grin didn’t help his racing thoughts. She looked him over, her eyes lingering on his lute before flicking back to his flushed face.


    "You nervous, birdie?" she asked, her tone teasing. She reached out, gently tilting his chin up with her knuckle when he tried to avert his gaze. "Or is it something else? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”


    Kael opened his mouth to respond but found himself momentarily speechless. He cleared his throat and forced out “Hah, not right now. Let''s- Let''s focus on the job, alright?”


    Her laugh rang out, genuine and loud enough for a few of the crewmembers outside to hear. "Good answer," she said, stepping back and folding her arms. "Just don’t lose that tongue of yours when we’re facing real danger. We’re paying you for stories, not stammers."


    Kael managed a shaky nod, gripping the strap of his lute as if it were a lifeline. "So, uh, what’s the first step?”


    “First step, birdie?” she asked, letting go of his chin. “You follow orders. Do you know anything about the Wailing Isle?”


    Kael frowned, wracking his brain for any mention of the name. “I’ve heard bits and pieces- mostly rumors. Supposedly cursed, right? Sailors say you can hear the dead wailing in the fog.”


    Veyla’s grin widened, sending a shiver down Kael’s spine. “That’s the place. Beneath the wailing and the fog lies a treasure- a map leading to something ancient and powerful. Problem is, the map’s guardian isn’t keen on letting it go.”


    Kael raised an eyebrow. “Guardian?”


    “The corpse of a captain who died clutching it. Problem is, every time someone tries to take the map, they end up joining him in death.” Veyla’s voice dropped, her gaze piercing. “That’s where you come in. You’ll talk to the old bastard, get him to give us the map, and then we’ll be on our way.”


    Kael shifted uncomfortably. “And if he refuses?”


    “Then you get creative,” Veyla said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re the bard. Make him believe it’s in his best interest. Sing him a lullaby if you have to, just get that map.”


    Kael stared at Veyla, her sharp grin making his stomach churn. “You’re serious?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly despite his attempt to sound composed.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    “Dead serious, birdie,” she replied, the word dead carrying just enough emphasis to make him uneasy. “That’s what you signed up for, isn’t it? Adventure, treasure, maybe a little danger?”


    Kael rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “I signed up to tell stories, not… sweet-talk undead captains into handing over cursed maps.”


    “Stories,” Veyla repeated, her tone amused. “Well, this is shaping up to be a good one, don’t you think? You’ll thank me later when you’re famous for convincing a ghost to cooperate.”


    He opened his mouth to protest, but the sound of boots on the deck outside made him pause. The door creaked open, and Hargan stuck his head in.


    “Cap, we’re set to cast off,” he grunted, his eyes flicking to Kael with a mixture of skepticism and faint amusement. “You still want the bard on board?”


    “Oh, he’s staying,” Veyla said, her grin widening. “He’s just been promoted to official negotiator. Start thinking of a good song to woo the dead, birdie.”


    Hargan snorted, shaking his head. “Good luck with that,” he muttered, disappearing back onto the deck.


    Kael shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I don’t suppose there’s a second option?”


    Veyla leaned back against the desk, crossing her arms. “Sure there is. You could turn tail and run, but then you’d miss out on the gold… and your life.“


    He groaned, realizing there was no easy way out. “Fine. I’ll do it.”


    “That’s the spirit!” Veyla said, slapping him on the back with enough force to make him stumble forward. “We’ll reach the Wailing Isle in a few days. In the meantime, settle in, get to know the crew, and work on that charm of yours. You’ll need it.”


    As Kael turned to leave, Veylas voice stopped him. “Oh, and Kael?”


    He glanced back nervously.


    “Welcome to the Widow’s Promise,” she said, her grin sharpening again. “Try not to die before the real fun starts.”


    Kael swallowed heavily, quickly leaving the captain''s quarters.


    Hargan, true to form, wasted no time in making Kael’s life miserable and threw a mop at Kael, ignoring his flailing attempts to catch it.


    “Every crew member earns their place,” he growled, “That includes you, bard. Get scrubbing.”


    Kael grimaced but didn’t argue. The swabbing left his arms aching and his knees bruised, but he quickly discovered the real challenge wasn’t the work- it was dodging the crew’s taunts.


    “Didn’t know bards could mop,” Lira quipped as she passed by him, her voice dripping with mockery.


    “Think he’s tryin’ to charm the deck,” Someone else piped up, earning a round of laughter.


    Kael forced a smile, silently vowing to outlast their jibes. “Joke all you want, I am the only one here with a reputation.”


    “Never heard of the captain before?” Lira asked, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin on her face. “She''s our secret weapon, a self-taught mage strong enough to take out ships on her own.”


    “She''s a mage?” Kael asked loud enough for the others currently on deck to hear.


    Lira slapped his arm, bringing her arm back around to pull his head down to huddle up. “Not so loud dumbass. Cap doesn''t appreciate us talking about it. She''s got a dark past.”


    “Dark in what way?” He whispered back, clutching the mop close.


    Lira looked around, making sure that Veyla couldn''t hear or see them as she pulled him to the edge of the ship. “She used to be a marine, one of the most ruthless ones out there. Her control over her magic allowed her to infiltrate pirate ships and kill every single crewmember before anyone even noticed her.”


    “W-what can she do?” he asked, his mind racing with some of the most ludicrous tales of mages he had heard.


    Lira inhaled deeply, preparing herself mentally. “She… she can-”


    “Lira, stop messing with the birdie,” Veyla warned, suddenly towering over the two of them.


    Lira yelped, pushing Kael overboard as she turned around to look up at Veyla. “Am not!”


    Kael tried to grab the railing but his fingers slipped off of the damp wood. A scream tore from his throat as the wooden planks of the ship rushed through his vision before the freezing water engulfed him. The shock of the cold hit him like a punch to the chest, stealing the air from his lungs.


    “Drag him back up,” Veyla commanded, turning back around.


    He flailed, trying to right himself as the heavy bag on his back threatened to drag him under. The salty water burned his nose and throat as he struggled to keep his head above the surface.


    And then, like the water itself decided he was not worth the trouble, he floated to the surface, a soft splash coming from next to him as Hargan threw the lifeline down.


    “Grab the rope,” Hargan ordered.


    Kael heard chanting from above but ignored it, flailing momentarily to grip the rope only for Hargan to immediately start pulling.


    The crew hauled him back up with surprising efficiency, though their laughter continued unabated. Kael coughed and sputtered as he was unceremoniously dumped back onto the deck, water pooling around him. His bag hung awkwardly off one shoulder, and his lute, miraculously, seemed unharmed but soaked.


    “Why?” Kael asked Lira, groaning in annoyance, “She heard you anyway.”


    “Call it initiation,” Lira said with a grin, holding the mop he had lost on his way down. “Every recruit gets embarrassed.”


    As Kael dragged himself to his feet, water still dripping from his clothes, he frowned and glanced back over the side of the ship. Something had been strange about his fall- and his rescue. The waves around the ship were unnaturally calm.


    “Was it just me,” he asked, wringing out the edge of his tunic, “or did the water suddenly… stop?”


    Lira, who had been leaning casually against the mast, perked up with a sly grin. “Good catch, Fish. Not everyone notices that.”


    Kael raised an eyebrow. “Notice what?”


    Lira stood straighter, twirling the mop in her hands like a staff. “That I saved your soggy hide, obviously. Those waves weren’t going to be kind to a landlubber like you.”


    “You?” Kael asked, incredulous. “You stopped the water?”


    “Didn’t stop it,” Lira corrected, tossing the mop back to him. “Just told it to hold still long enough for Hargan to fish you out. Don’t get too excited, though- it’s not like I could’ve kept you afloat forever.”


    Kael''s mind reeled. A mage? He thought. There were plenty of stories of mages he had told before, but this was the first time he had met one. “You''re a mage?”


    “Since the day I was born,” Lira shrugged, walking over and leaning on the railing to peer out at the now rolling waves lapping at the shores. “But don''t expect me to pull that trick every time you decide to take a swim. It''s rough, it''s messy, and frankly, it''s exhausting.”


    “Rough is right,” Hargan muttered, walking past with a coil of rope. “Last time she tried ‘controlling’ water, we ended up with half the galley flooded.”


    “Hey!” Lira snapped, glaring at him. “That was one time, and it wasn’t my fault. The barrels were loose.”


    “The barrels were loose because you broke the ties,” Hargan retorted without slowing down.


    Kael pinched the bridge of his nose. “So let me get this straight: I almost drowned, but then you- barely- saved me, using water magic you’re not even good at?”


    Lira smirked, crossing her arms. “Pretty much.”


    “You’re welcome, by the way,” she added.


    Kael groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Great. Just great. How is it that everyone on this ship seems to be some kind of terrifying force, and I’m just the guy with a lute?”


    “Everyone starts at the bottom, Fish- some end there as well,” Lira said.


    “Fish?” Kael repeated, scowling. “That’s the best you could come up with?”


    “It suits you,” Veyla called from the quarterdeck, her arms crossed as she watched the scene with amusement. “You swim as well as a beached trout, and you look just as pathetic when you’re wet.”


    Kael glared up at her, his pride taking another hit. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent swimmer- just not when I’m carrying half my weight in gear.”


    “Excuses won’t keep you alive out here, Fish,” Veyla replied, smirking. “Learn to adapt, or you’ll be chum for the sharks.”


    “Fine. What’s on for tomorrow? More swabbing?”


    “Nah,” Lira said with a mischievous grin. “You’re on galley duty tomorrow. Better hope you can cook, Fish.”


    “Galley duty?” Kael groaned, his shoulders slumping. He had always hated cooking in the tavern. “What happened to being the bard? The one who tells stories and sings songs?”


    At least this was something he could do.


    “Being the bard doesn’t exempt you from work,” Veyla said, descending the steps to stand in front of him. She leaned in close, her eyes gleaming with challenge. “Earn your place on this ship, and maybe you’ll get to play your lute instead of scrubbing decks. Until then, you’re just another recruit.”


    Kael opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. Instead, he straightened his shoulders and met her gaze. “Fine. I’ll earn my place. But don’t come crying to me when I’m the only one who knows how to keep a ghost entertained.”


    As the Widow’s Promise pulled away from the docks, the creaking of the ropes and the rhythmic slap of the waves against the hull signaled the start of their voyage. Kael stood at the railing, clutching his lute with one hand while wringing out his soaked tunic with the other. The faint glow of dawn painted the horizon, casting an amber sheen across the restless sea. He watched the shoreline shrink into the distance, his stomach twisting with both anticipation and dread. Whatever lay ahead on the Wailing Isle, he had a sinking feeling that no song in his repertoire would prepare him for it.


    But that didn’t have to be bad.


    Maybe he’d finally have a song written about himself.