The Rum and The Wreckless
Teak Isle (Haven’s End)
Chapter One: The Wink That Wrecks
The sun hung lazy over the horizon, spilling molten gold across the tide. Teak Isle—known in hushed tones among sailors as Haven’s End—slept under swaying palms and the scent of spiced rum. But the island was no paradise. It was a mirage with teeth.
Ships passed by often: merchant vessels heavy with goods, navy cutters keeping to their patrols, and lately—loud little jet boats ridden by rogue bikers who’d swapped wheels for waves. Today, among them, a ship with tattered black sails limped through the strait. The Black Tide, fresh from its hellish voyage through the Sea Beast's domain, sailed unnoticed by most… but not by her.
Ruby lay curled in a hammock slung between two twisted palms, sipping from a cracked goblet of something too sweet and far too dangerous. Her fingers absently played with a string of pirate rings—trophies pried from the cold hands of her many suitors and victims. Some came willingly. Some drank the poison she laced into the bottom of their mugs. All of them left something behind.
She watched the horizon. Watched the ships. Watched for something… interesting.
And then, she saw it. A sleek vessel skimming closer than the rest. Not Black Tide. Not Royal Navy. Something in between—bold and unaware.
Ruby sat up, eyes narrowed, lips curling with curiosity. She turned to Bella and Lucy, two equally wicked souls lounging nearby with knowing grins and empty glasses.
With a sly wink, Ruby whispered, “This one’s coming ashore.”
No traps. No cannons. Just a look. A lure.
The ship, almost as if bewitched, began to angle toward the white-sanded cove, drawn by something it couldn’t name. Drawn by her.
A modern-day siren in sun-drenched skin and poison-tipped kisses, Ruby watched her next guests arrive—unknowing, unlucky, and already a little too late.
Teak Isle (Haven’s End)
Chapter Two: The Ship That Shouldn’t Have Come
The prow of the ship cut the waves with practiced ease, its dark hull whispering secrets to the current as it neared the shore. It was a trimaran—fast, modern, and sleek—with reinforced hull plating that suggested it had sailed through worse places than this. A blue flag flapped lazily at the mast, stitched with the silhouette of a griffin mid-screech.
On the upper deck, a man leaned on the railing with the casual grace of someone who never planned to crash into the unknown. His coat was deep red leather, etched with celestial patterns, the color of old blood and bold intentions. A navigator’s scope swung at his hip, glinting in the sun.
“Bearclaw the Butcher,” murmured Ruby, rolling the name on her tongue like a flavor she hadn’t tried yet. “Didn’t think he’d be so... pretty.”
From her hammock throne, she watched the crew lower anchor. Only a dozen souls on deck. Light for a ship that size. Either fools or hiding something.
Beside her, Bella stretched, bones cracking like old driftwood. “He’s not the usual kind. No fear in his face. No greed either.”
“Yet he still came,” Lucy purred, holding a tarnished spyglass to her eye. “That means something called to him. And if it wasn’t us…”
“It was me,” Ruby corrected, tapping a finger to her temple. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
The ship’s gangplank extended, kissing the sand. Three figures stepped off. Bearclaw led them, boots crunching against coral dust, gaze scanning the shoreline like he half-expected to be ambushed. Behind him, a woman with a shaved head and silver-threaded scarf walked with silent precision. Her fingers twitched near her belt—too close to a blade that looked too old to shine like that. And the third, a young man with nervous energy, carried a trunk between both arms, dripping seawater and something darker.
Bearclaw halted a dozen paces from the jungle fringe. “We’re not here for trouble,” he called out, voice level. “Just need a day’s rest. Repairs. Maybe trade.”
Ruby laughed—a low, velvety sound that floated on the wind. She didn’t rise. She didn’t need to. “Everyone says that. Right before they lose something they weren’t willing to risk.”
The woman beside Bearclaw unslung a satchel and held it up. “We’ve got coin.”
Ruby finally stood, stepping out of the shade and into the shimmer of sun and menace. Her crimson sarong fluttered like blood on a breeze. She walked barefoot, silent, until she stood ten feet from them. Close enough for her scent to unsettle.
“What’s your name, red-coat rogue?” she asked, eyes flicking from his collar to the scar just below his jaw.
“Bearclaw the Butcher,” he replied, wary now. “Of the Skylark’s Wake. And you are?”
She grinned. “Ruby.”
No last name. None needed. The other two stiffened. They had heard it before—perhaps in a tavern warning, or a half-sane whisper from a sailor who’d made it out with one eye and no voice.
“Didn’t know this was your island,” Bearclaw said slowly.
“It’s not,” Ruby said. “But it listens to me.”
Behind her, the palms shifted though there was no wind. From the shadowed tree line, eyes opened—feral and low.
Bearclaw's hand hovered near the scope at his hip. Not a weapon, but something older. Something forbidden.
Ruby saw it. And for the first time in weeks, her grin faded.
“Oh,” she whispered. “You brought something cursed.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
The jungle began to murmur. The sea retreated an inch too far.
And Teak Isle—Haven’s End—opened one hungry eye.
Teak Isle (Haven’s End)
Chapter Three: Cherry Lies & Creamsicle Eyes
The jungle shivered behind Ruby. Not from wind, but from something older—something curious. But she didn’t look back. She never looked back.
Instead, she turned slightly, just enough to catch the subtle movement of two figures lounging just beyond the fireline.
Sweet Boots Bella twirled a dagger between her fingers, eyes half-lidded in boredom. Her catlike ears—real ones, not some costume—twitched as if swatting away gnats, though they were tuned to every heartbeat on that beach.
Beside her, POG Leg Lucy stretched her leg—a gleaming construct of bronze and crystal—in the sand and let out a long yawn. She was lounging like she was on a beach holiday, the scent of pineapple guava and orange creamsicle curling lazily around her like a summer mirage. Even the jungle beasts gave her a wide berth. They’d learned better.
“Any of this feel off to you?” Bella asked, not even pretending to whisper.
“Mmhm,” Lucy nodded, plucking a hibiscus blossom and threading it through her braid. “Ruby’s putting on the velvet gloves again. Making 'em think they chose to come here.”
Bella smirked. “Shame they don’t realize the island always chooses them.”
“But you smell it, right?” Lucy’s voice dropped, serious now. “Her scent’s off. Too rich. Like she’s been burning through her reserves.”
Bella sat up. Her own scent—cherry chai and storm-drenched leather—shifted around her like a warning. She wasn’t immune to Ruby’s charm because of her bloodline or her training.
She was immune because she’d once drunk straight from the same well Ruby kept hidden.
“We give it a day,” Bella muttered. “Let her play queen of the sand. Then we follow her back. Wherever she’s recharging—it’s not natural.”
“And if she catches us?”
Bella licked her lips. “Then we stop playing nice.”
---
Meanwhile, Ruby moved like oil on silk, circling Bearclaw and his crew with that low, endless smile.
“You say you’re here to rest,” she purred, “but you’ve brought something foul. You sure you didn’t come for something else? A deal? A secret? A kiss?”
Bearclaw didn’t flinch, but the woman with the scarf subtly positioned herself between him and the treeline. The trunk the boy carried had begun to whisper, though only Bella and Lucy seemed to hear it clearly.
Lucy frowned. “That trunk’s breathing,” she murmured.
Bella didn’t look at it. She looked at Ruby.
And in that exact moment, Ruby looked back—not with her eyes, but with whatever else was riding inside her. Just for a blink.
Bella’s pupils narrowed. “There you are,” she whispered.
---
Later that night, a fire crackled on the beach. Ruby sang to it, a tune older than the isle, in a voice that shimmered like sun on rum. Her crew swayed and laughed, drunk not on grog but on her. Her spell.
Except two.
Bella and Lucy danced too—but their steps were deliberate, mocking. They let Ruby think she’d caught them. Let her believe they were under her sway.
Lucy even leaned close once, breath against Ruby’s ear. “You wear power like perfume,” she whispered. “Heavy. Cloying. Almost desperate.”
Ruby blinked, faltered just slightly. “You always talk in riddles?”
Lucy kissed her cheek. “Only when I already know the answer.”
---
Back at the campfire, Bella tugged Lucy to the side.
“She’s cracked, but not broken. Something’s feeding her. Something deep.”
Lucy nodded. “We follow her at dawn. She’s not sleeping tonight. She’s feeding.”
“And if she’s not?” Bella asked.
Lucy smiled, savage and sun-warmed. “Then we ask politely.”
---
In the shadows beyond the firelight, the jungle whispered back to itself. Roots twitched. Coral bones stirred in the sand.
And somewhere beneath Teak Isle, something listened.
Teak Isle (Haven’s End)
Chapter Four: Rum & Resistance
A violet dawn threatened the stars over Teak Isle as Sweet Boots Bella knelt at the jungle’s edge, cat ears flicking in every direction. Beside her, Pog Leg Lucy was busy scrawling something in the sand with the toe of her bronze leg—a swirl of symbols that might’ve been a map.
Bella squinted through the fronds at the campfire beyond. Ruby’s laughter curled like incense, winding around the men and women gathered in the flickering light. But one figure sat apart—arms crossed, eyes as flat as hammered steel.
Bearclaw the Butcher.
He was big as a bull whale, shoulders broad under a battered crimson coat. A jagged scar split one brow, and the black curls in his beard gleamed with tiny beads of seawater. He didn’t touch the rum Ruby kept pouring.
Bella’s ears twitched. “She’s working hard tonight.”
Lucy snorted. “He’s the only one she can’t reel in. And she hates it.”
---
By the Fire
Ruby leaned in close to Bearclaw, her voice as soft as silk dragged over skin. “Come on, Captain. A drink’s the price of hospitality. You’ve crossed half the ocean for rest—you deserve a little… sweetness.”
She lifted a cup toward his lips, the liquid inside shimmering like liquid amber. The scent hit the air: rich molasses, cloves, a burn of spice.
Bearclaw didn’t move. His gaze lingered on the cup, then drifted up to Ruby’s eyes. “Appreciate the offer, lass. But no.”
Ruby blinked. “No?”
“I’ve lost enough time to drinkin’.” His voice was quiet, but hard as iron. “I’d rather keep my head.”
A flicker of something sharp twisted Ruby’s pretty smile. “Suit yourself. But you’ll find this island’s more pleasant when you loosen up.”
Bearclaw shifted in his seat, folding his arms like a fortress. “I reckon the island’s honest enough. It’s the people I’m wary of.”
---
At the Jungle’s Edge
Lucy grinned. “Oooh, he’s good.”
Bella’s claws slipped out briefly, clicking against each other. “She’ll push harder. She won’t let him stay outside the net.”
“Then we keep him outside,” Lucy said. “Whether he wants help or not.”
---
Firelight Games
Ruby turned away from Bearclaw and addressed the crowd. “Games, then!” she cried, flinging her arms wide. “Truth or Dare. Secrets or sins. Who’s brave enough?”
A few pirates whooped and gathered closer.
Ruby’s eyes darted back to Bearclaw. “Captain, your turn. Tell a secret—or drink.”
He leaned forward slightly. “Secret, then.”
Ruby’s eyes glowed in the flames. “Why’d you really come here?”
The fire cracked loud. Even the jungle seemed to hush.
Bearclaw held Ruby’s gaze. “Because there’s darkness gathering in these seas. And your island smells of secrets.”
Ruby’s grin froze. For a heartbeat, something cold and calculating slid over her features. Then she laughed, tossing her hair. “Boring!” she sang out. “Come, drink instead!”
She shoved the cup toward him again.
Bearclaw’s jaw tightened. “I said no.”
Ruby’s voice dipped lower. “Refusing my hospitality is rude.”
---
Lucy & Bella Step In
Lucy stepped between them, smiling sweetly. “Ruby, love… we’re all friends here. No one has to drink if they don’t want to.”
Ruby’s smile thinned. “And no one has to speak for him either, Lucy.”
Bella strolled up, cat ears angled forward. “Besides, I thought you liked secrets. And Captain Bearclaw’s are the tastiest sort—the ones you never get.”
Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, kitten.”
Bella’s grin widened, sharp as a blade. “You first, Ruby. Truth or dare?”
For a second, Ruby looked like she might spit venom. Then she flung back her hair. “Dare.”
Lucy crossed her arms. “Walk away from Captain Bearclaw for the night.”
Ruby’s mouth twitched. “That’s not a dare—that’s exile.”
“Then it’s a good dare,” Bella purred.
---
A Standoff
Ruby’s eyes turned glassy. For a moment, the flames cast shadows across her face that didn’t quite match her movements. The jungle around them seemed to hush in a single held breath.
Then she dropped the cup into the sand.
“Very well,” she said softly. “Enjoy your solitude, Captain. But remember—this island has ways of finding out what it wants to know.”
She turned on her heel, skirts swirling like smoke, and vanished into the trees.
Bearclaw exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Thanks for the rescue.”
Lucy winked. “We like your head just where it is. Clear.”
Bella flicked her cat ears and sniffed the air where Ruby had stood. “She’s angry. And she’s planning something.”
Bearclaw stared into the fire, eyes troubled. “Aye. And I reckon we’ve only seen the start of it.”
---
Beyond the Firelight
Somewhere deeper in the jungle, Ruby paused, chest heaving. Her fists clenched around invisible strings as the surf pounded the distant cliffs.
“No one says no to me,” she whispered.
Above her, the palms rattled, as though something unseen was laughing.
---
Teak Isle (Haven’s End)
Chapter Five: The Siren’s Threads
The jungle breathed around Ruby as she stalked deeper into the shadows, skirts brushing wet leaves. Moonlight sliced through the canopy, silvering her eyes. Her fingers flexed like claws, and every step was paced to some silent rhythm only she could hear.
Above, hidden in the tallest palms, shapes shifted. Black wings rustled. And something whispered:
> “Loose the tide. Loose the tide.”
Ruby lifted her chin. “Soon,” she hissed. “They’ll learn no one denies a Siren’s gift. Not even Bearclaw.”
---
Meanwhile at the Fire
The fire crackled low as dawn threatened the stars. Bella and Lucy lingered close, speaking in hushed voices.
“He’ll be a target now,” Lucy said. “She’s not done with him.”
Bella, eyes shining catlike, nodded. “She’ll try to break him. Or turn him. Either way… she’ll come harder.”
Bearclaw had gone silent, staring into the embers. At last he rumbled:
> “She won’t break me. But there’s more at stake here than my sobriety.”
Bella tilted her head. “Then talk, big man. What secrets does this island hold that you’ve sailed halfway across the sea to find?”
Bearclaw glanced at Lucy. Then at Bella. His jaw tightened.
> “I’ve heard rumors of a hidden harbor… a place deeper inland, where a black ship sits dry-docked in a salt cave. Some say it belonged to Captain Vex.”
Lucy’s bronze leg scraped the sand as she shifted. “Captain Vex? He’s a ghost story.”
Bearclaw gave a humorless snort. “So’s half the ocean—and yet we keep findin’ ghosts.”
---
In Ruby’s Lair
Ruby burst into a hidden glade draped in flowering vines. Lanterns glowed in clusters, lighting seashell charms and talismans dangling from branches. The scent of salt and jasmine hung thick in the humid air.
She strode to a basin carved from coral, filled with shimmering water. Bending low, she whispered:
> “Show me his fear.”
Ripples spiraled outward. Images flickered—a roaring storm… blood on wood… a black ship’s sails burning under lightning. And then Bearclaw’s face, streaked with rain and grief.
Ruby smiled. “Perfect.”
She closed her eyes, murmuring ancient syllables. The talismans around her began to sway as if caught in a wind that no one else could feel.
---
At the Fire
Lucy suddenly shivered, though the air was warm. “Did you feel that?”
Bella’s ears flattened. “She’s doing magic. Right now.”
Bearclaw growled. “Then we need to move. If she’s lookin’ into my head, she’ll find truths that’ll doom more than just me.”
Bella narrowed her eyes. “Then let’s make sure she sees what we want her to see.”
Lucy blinked. “A decoy?”
Bella grinned, baring sharp little teeth. “Exactly. Let her sniff false secrets. Lead her off the scent.......”
Teak Isle (Haven’s End)
Chapter Six: The Decoy Plan
By sunrise, Lucy was crouched beside a tidepool, mixing powders from pouches hidden in her prosthetic leg. Sparks fizzed green and gold as Bella added herbs from her belt.
“We’ll make a dream-scent,” Bella purred. “Something Ruby’s magic will follow like a gull to fish guts.”
Bearclaw eyed them both. “You two are dangerous.”
Lucy winked. “You’re just noticing that?”
Bella tossed a final pinch of silver dust into the swirling mix. “Now… let’s feed Ruby a vision. Of a different ship. A different threat.”
Bearclaw crossed his arms. “And if she sees through it?”
Bella’s grin was savage. “Then she’ll find me waiting.”
---
In Ruby’s Vision
As Ruby chanted, the water in her coral basin shimmered anew. She saw a ship—a sleek vessel painted bone-white, sails marked with red spirals. A crew of masked pirates moved silently aboard. A symbol glowed on their flag: a kraken coiling around a compass rose.
Ruby’s breath caught. “The Spiral Corsairs… They’re coming for Teak Isle?”
The water churned, showing glimpses of black powder barrels, secret maps, and gold enough to blind the sun.
Ruby’s eyes blazed. “Then I’ll give them a welcome they’ll never forget. And Bearclaw… he’ll help me do it.”
---
Back at the Camp
Bella straightened from the tidepool, looking smug. “She took the bait. She’s chasing ghosts.”
Lucy rubbed her hands together. “So… what now?”
Bearclaw’s gaze grew distant. “Now we find Vex’s ship. If it’s real, there’s more power there than any siren’s magic.”
Bella flexed her claws. “Then we’d better hurry. Because Ruby’s going to start hunting the Spiral Corsairs… and if she figures out they’re fiction—”
Lucy finished grimly, “—she’ll come for us instead.”
---
Deep in the Jungle
Ruby swept from her coral glade, determination burning in her blood. Around her, shadows slithered and twisted into vague shapes with eyes like green coals.
“No one fools me for long,” she whispered. “And when I find the truth… I’ll make them sing.”
---
Chapter 7: Shandy’s Gambit
The Coral Glade
Ruby stalked the shifting shadows of the jungle, eyes gleaming like starfire. Leaves rattled overhead as something slipped through the canopy, trailing a scent of salt and citrus.
> “Who’s there?” Ruby hissed, fingers curling to summon a pulse of siren magic.
A figure stepped from behind a palm, hips swaying, hair shining like sunlit ale. Her voice was as smooth as a seaside breeze.
> “Easy now, Ruby. It’s me.”
Ruby’s jaw unclenched. “Shandy Sandy. About time you showed up.”
Shandy Sandy dipped into a theatrical curtsy, the wind teasing her linen tunic and the gold hoops in her ears. As she rose, Ruby caught the tang of coastal ale, grapefruit, and a bright spark of lemon drifting from her skin.
> “You smell like a tavern on the beach,” Ruby said dryly.
Shandy grinned. “And that’s exactly the point. I’ve been mingling with the pirates, slipping them drinks, slipping them secrets. Bearclaw’s crew has loose lips after a few pints.”
Ruby narrowed her eyes. “And Bearclaw himself?”
Shandy waggled her brows. “He’s only human. I’ve planted the idea that he’s better off under your sails than chasing shadows.”
Ruby tilted her head. “And will he come to me willingly?”
> Shandy’s grin turned sly. “Not yet. That’s where you and I make magic, love.”
---
Back at Bearclaw’s Camp
The jungle echoed with parrot calls as Bearclaw slashed vines from his path. Lucy and Bella hurried behind him, arguing in hushed tones.
> “We can’t just walk into Ruby’s trap,” Bella snapped. “She’s probably conjuring sea monsters as we speak.”
Lucy flicked her braid over her shoulder. “I’d rather fight sea monsters than face her if she figures out our illusion.”
They burst into a clearing—and froze. Standing in the center was Shandy Sandy, leaning casually against a boulder, a flask dangling from her fingers.
> “Well, well,” she purred. “Look at the scallywags I’ve found.”
Bearclaw’s eyes went cold. “Sandy. What game are you playing?”
Sandy took a slow swig, letting the scent of ale, yuzu, and sea salt swirl into the air. “No game. Just an offer. Ruby’s ready to forgive and… embrace those who pledge loyalty.”
Bella growled. “We’d rather swim with sharks.”
> Shandy’s eyes sparkled. “That’s adorable. But Ruby has bigger plans now—the Spiral Corsairs have her all stirred up. And she’s thinking, maybe Bearclaw should be her personal corsair.”
Bearclaw’s jaw tightened. “I’d sooner gut myself with my own cleaver.”
Sandy gave a breezy shrug. “Think it over, big man. You help Ruby crush this ‘new threat,’ she’ll reward you handsomely. And I mean handsomely.”
Lucy scowled. “There is no Spiral Corsairs threat!”
Sandy’s grin widened. “Exactly. But Ruby doesn’t know that yet, does she? So… whose side do you want me on?”
---
Later, Deeper in the Jungle
Ruby traced swirling runes on her coral staff, seething with frustration. Shadows coalesced around her, whispering secrets.
> “They think they can fool me. Bearclaw will be mine. And when I learn who spun this Corsair lie—”
She was interrupted as Shandy Sandy approached, lips parted in a wicked smile.
> “Ruby. Darling. I just came from Bearclaw’s camp.”
Ruby’s eyes blazed. “And?”
> “He’s rattled. The Spiral Corsairs lie is working. But… he’s still loyal to his crew. We need to sweeten the deal.”
Ruby raised a brow. “Sweeten… how?”
Shandy Sandy stepped closer, scent swirling—a bright blast of bergamot, lemon, and golden amber.
> “Let me seduce him for you.”
Ruby blinked. “You’d do that?”
> Sandy laughed softly. “Honey, I live for that.”
Ruby’s lips curved into a predator’s smile. “Then go, my little wave. Bring me Bearclaw. And if he resists… drown him in desire until he begs to serve.”
Shandy Sandy winked. “Aye-aye, Captain.”
---
Chapter 8: Crimson Currents
The Coral Glade at Dusk
The air thickened as night crept over the Coral Glade, the jungle hum replaced by the low, unearthly song of distant sirens. Ruby stood at the edge of the glowing tidepool, her reflection broken by the rippling water. She was deep in thought, trying to twist Bearclaw’s stubbornness into her favor, when a voice cut through the night.
“You called for reinforcements, my Queen?”
Ruby turned.
A figure emerged from the treeline like a secret carried on the wind. Her hair spilled in waves of crimson and gold, catching the dim glow of fireflies. She wore loose silks that whispered against her skin with each step, bracelets of driftwood and coral clinking softly on her wrists. Her bare feet left no sound on the moss, yet her presence demanded attention.
“Crimson,” Ruby said, her sharp expression softening only slightly. “I wondered when you’d show yourself.”
“I arrive when the moment is right,” Crimson Plunder replied, her voice a smooth melody, both calming and dangerous. She stepped closer, tilting her head toward Ruby. “I hear you’ve been struggling to bring a certain butcher into your fold.”
Ruby’s gaze sharpened. “Bearclaw’s loyalty is a cage. Sandy is working on breaking it.”
Crimson’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Sandy is talented at turning men’s heads. But Bearclaw doesn’t want to be seduced. Not by her.”
From the shadows, Shandy Sandy bristled. “And you think you can do better?”
Crimson didn’t spare her a glance. “This isn’t about me. It’s about leverage. His loyalty is his weakness. Break the hold he has on his crew, and you’ll have him. He won’t kneel for you out of desire, Ruby. He’ll kneel because you’ll leave him no other choice.”
Ruby tapped her coral staff against the earth, considering. “And you think you can bend the rest of his crew?”
Crimson nodded once, confidence unshakable. “By morning, they’ll whisper your name like prayer. And when his crew is yours, Bearclaw will follow—whether he wants to or not.”
Ruby leaned back, intrigued. “Do it.”
Crimson smiled, a shark’s smile. “Consider it done.”
---
Bearclaw’s Encampment
The campfire crackled, casting orange light across weary faces. Pirates lounged with mugs of grog, their laughter thin and forced. Bearclaw sat at the center, his great frame hunched forward, eyes fixed on the ground. Across from him, Lucy leaned against a tree, sharpening her blade with casual precision, the sparks catching in the night.
Shandy Sandy draped herself over a nearby log, fingers trailing along the rim of her flask. “You really should consider Ruby’s offer, Bearclaw. You’d look good under her colors.”
Bearclaw grunted, unmoved. “I don’t take orders from sirens. Or their lackeys.”
Sandy pouted, leaning closer, her perfume mingling with the smoke. “Oh, come now. You’ve resisted me this long. What are you really after, big man?”
Bearclaw’s eyes flicked past her, landing on Lucy. “Nothing you can give.”
The sting of rejection burned Sandy’s cheeks. She opened her mouth for a retort, but the sound of soft footsteps silenced her.
Crimson Plunder walked into the firelight.
Every head turned. The camp grew still. She didn’t speak at first, simply letting her presence fill the space. The scent of her—ripe fruit, warm rum, and something deep and earthy—wove through the air like a spell.
“Well,” she said at last, her voice a velvet caress. “What a sorry lot this is. You’ve all been drifting in the dark, wondering if your captain will keep you alive through whatever storm’s coming.”
A few of the pirates shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m here to tell you,” Crimson continued, “that Ruby isn’t your enemy. She’s your salvation. The Spiral Corsairs? They’re coming for every one of you. And if you want to survive, you need a queen who can crush them before they strike.”
Murmurs rippled through the crew.
Bearclaw stood, towering over her. “You speak bold for someone who walks into my camp uninvited.”
Crimson stepped close enough for him to feel her breath, her gaze unwavering. “I speak truth. And by dawn, your men will see it.”
She turned, addressing the crew with outstretched arms. “You don’t have to die for his pride. Follow Ruby, and you’ll live to see another day.”
Some of the men nodded, others whispered to each other, the seeds of doubt already planted.
Crimson gave Bearclaw one last glance, her smile both mocking and inviting. “The tides are changing, Butcher. You can sink with them… or rise with us.”
She walked back into the jungle, the firelight painting her silhouette in gold and shadow.
No one spoke for a long time.
Bearclaw’s jaw worked as he stared into the flames, knowing that for the first time in years, his crew was slipping through his fingers.
---
Chapter 9: Whispers in the Rum
Bearclaw’s Encampment – Nightfall
The fire burned low, casting long shadows across the camp. The men huddled in clusters, their laughter strained, their eyes darting often to the jungle. It wasn’t fear of Ruby’s wrath that silenced them. It was the woman who had walked into their camp as if she owned it.
Crimson Plunder stood at the edge of the firelight, her back to the glow, swaying slightly as if moving with a tide only she could feel. Her bracelets clicked softly, her gaze sweeping over the crew like a net.
“You poor things,” she purred. “Still clinging to a captain who can’t even promise you tomorrow. Tell me, how many of you actually believe the Spiral Corsairs won’t gut you in your sleep?”
The words landed like hooks. A few of the men shifted uncomfortably.
A wiry deckhand named Pike spoke up, his voice low. “They’re just a story.”
Crimson smiled, slow and dangerous. “Stories can kill, darling. But a siren? She can save you.”
She stepped closer to the men, letting the warmth of her presence, that sweet, heady aroma of fruit and spiced drink, wrap around them. “Pledge yourselves to Ruby, and you’ll have her protection. Her magic. Her wrath at your back instead of at your throats.”
One by one, their eyes softened, their postures slackened. It wasn’t just her words. It was the invisible pull of her — a lullaby of temptation, a promise of safety and indulgence all at once.
Across the camp, Bearclaw sat rigid, his hands clenched around his cleaver’s hilt. He could feel his crew slipping from him. Every whisper of agreement, every nod in Crimson’s direction, was another nail in the coffin of his authority.
Lucy leaned against a tree beside him, arms crossed. “She’s good,” she muttered.
“She’s poison,” Bearclaw growled. But even as he said it, he knew poison had its uses.
---
The Coral Glade
Ruby sat cross-legged in the center of the glowing tidepool, her staff balanced across her knees. Her eyes were closed, but her lips moved, whispering words in no tongue of the living. The water around her pulsed in time with the low hum of the jungle.
Crimson entered silently, watching her for a moment. Something in Ruby’s stillness unsettled her.
“Ruby,” Crimson said softly.
The siren’s eyes snapped open. They glowed faintly, like bioluminescent coral.
Crimson didn’t flinch, but her smile faltered. “The crew is leaning. Soon they’ll be yours. Even the stubborn ones.”
Ruby tilted her head, but there was no recognition in her gaze, no warmth. “Good,” she said, her voice distant, as though spoken through her by someone else.
Crimson felt it then — a coldness beneath the words, a current that wasn’t Ruby at all. It was ancient and deep, like the ocean’s darkest trench.
“I’ll… leave you to your meditations,” Crimson said, bowing slightly before slipping back toward the trees.
As she disappeared into the night, Ruby’s reflection in the tidepool shifted, the shape in the water no longer matching her form. A shadow with eyes like black pearls stared back up at her before vanishing into the ripples.
---
Back at the camp, Crimson returned to find the men drinking from Sandy’s flasks, their laughter louder, looser. Shandy Sandy leaned against a log, smirking as Crimson approached.
“You’ve got them eating out of your hand,” Sandy said.
Crimson plucked a flask from Sandy’s grip, taking a slow drink before flashing a grin. “That’s the idea.”
But even as she laughed with the men, the image of Ruby’s glowing eyes lingered in her mind. And for the first time since pledging herself to the siren, Crimson wondered if the woman she served was truly still Ruby at all.
---
Chapter 10 – Rum & The Wreckless
Bearclaw’s Encampment – The Next Morning
The jungle mist still clung to the camp when the sound of bootheels on gravel cut through the quiet. Muddle Mae stepped into view like a storm rolling in off the sea, mint and lime drifting in her wake, sharp and cool as a fresh-pressed mojito. Her braided hair swung behind her like a whip, and the look in her eyes made men straighten or shrink without a word spoken.
Two of Bearclaw’s krewe didn’t get the hint.
“Who’s this little lime leaf think she is?” one sneered.
Mae didn’t answer. She closed the distance, twisted the man’s wrist until bone popped, and drove his own dagger between his ribs. His partner barely had time to draw before Mae’s pistol cracked, sending him face-first into the dirt.
Silence fell over the camp, save for the soft clink of her brass bracelets as she holstered the weapon. “Anyone else feel like calling me little?” she asked.
No one did.
---
From the treeline, two more figures appeared. DreamFloat Delilah, smelling sweet and strange like root beer fizz over orange creamsicle, and Farah Violet, her floral-and-fruit perfume drifting like a siren’s sigh, tiaré flower laced with raspberry tea. They moved with the easy confidence of women who knew their worth and their weapons.
“Mae,” Delilah drawled, surveying the camp, “you always know how to make an entrance.”
“Only way to get their attention,” Mae replied, not bothering to look at her.
Farah smirked. “And here I thought Ruby wanted them alive.”
“Ruby wants them loyal,” Mae corrected. “Dead or breathing makes no difference to me.”
---
Bearclaw emerged from his tent, Lucy at his side. The two locked eyes with Mae, an unspoken understanding passing between them. She was not here to negotiate. She was here to conquer.
“We can end this the easy way,” Mae said. “Bearclaw, you and yours swear fealty to Ruby, and you will walk away with coin in your pockets and your throats uncut.”
Lucy stepped forward, fire in her voice. “Or you can keep your freedom and not become another pawn in Ruby’s little game.”
Delilah’s laughter was low and honeyed. “Freedom? In this jungle? You will be dead in a week without her.”
“That is still better than selling ourselves,” Lucy shot back.
---
The Split in the Krewe
Mae’s words slithered into the minds of the weary and the wounded. Half of Bearclaw’s krewe looked to their captain, the other half toward Mae and her companions. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
They want to turn him, Lucy realized. Break him, then bend him.
But Lucy and Bella, quick with a blade and quicker with a plan, moved through the crowd, speaking low to the loyal ones, stoking their faith in Bearclaw, planting seeds of resistance.
By the time Mae realized what they were doing, the line in the camp was drawn.
---
Under the Palms – Nightfall
The day ended in stalemate. Mae, Delilah, and Farah withdrew to the far side of the camp, their eyes sharp as hawks. Ruby would want a report. Bearclaw and Lucy sat close to the fire, speaking in low voices.
“You didn’t have to step in like that,” Bearclaw murmured.
“I wasn’t going to let them take you,” Lucy replied.
He reached for her hand, rough and scarred, and for a long moment neither spoke. The firelight danced in her eyes, and he realized something had shifted between them. Amid all the danger, the betrayal, and the jungle’s quiet threats, they were falling fast and deep.
Lucy squeezed his hand. “We will keep them from you. All of them.”
Bearclaw didn’t say it aloud, but in that moment, he knew she wasn’t just part of his krewe. She was part of him.
Chapter 11 – Knives in the Night
Bearclaw’s Encampment – Midnight
The jungle breathed like a living beast—its insects hissing, fires sputtering, shadows coiling. Sleep was a fragile thing, for everyone in Bearclaw’s camp knew a single spark could ignite the powder keg beneath them.
Lucy lay awake, hand on her cutlass, listening to the slow, shallow rhythm of Bearclaw’s breath. He sounded like a man at peace, but she knew better. Storms raged behind his calm façade.
Across the clearing, Muddle Mae honed her dagger by lantern-light, steel flashing like lightning. DreamFloat Delilah and Farah Violet sat whispering in the dark, perfume drifting over the smoke—sweet nostalgia and sharp bloom, veiling venom beneath beauty.
Ruby’s shadow lingered. None could ignore it.
⸻
A Whispered Betrayal
A crunch in the brush snapped Lucy’s attention sharp. She rose, silent as a cat, following the sound until she spotted two of Bearclaw’s krewe skulking toward Mae’s circle.
Her stomach twisted. Doubters.
“Silver for swearing to Ruby,” one hissed.
“And our lives,” the other muttered. “Better slaves than corpses.”
Lucy’s grip tightened on her hilt. She could have ended them there, bled treachery out beneath the palms. But that would only prove Mae right—that Bearclaw’s camp was splintered and desperate. No, this truth was sharper saved. She slipped back into the dark, carrying betrayal like a hidden blade.
⸻
The Confrontation
Morning bled gray through the canopy. Mae stood tall beneath the palms, voice as sharp as broken glass.
“Choose, dogs. Ruby’s banner, or Bearclaw’s grave. There ain’t room for both.”
Bearclaw rose, shoulders as wide as oaken trunks, axe gleaming. “My krewe stands free. No chains. No crowns. We bow to no queen.”
Half the camp roared. The rest shifted uneasily.
Delilah’s lips curled in a smile like a trap snapping shut. “Free? Or already doomed? Even your men whisper against you.”
Before Bearclaw could speak, Lucy stepped forward, fire in her eyes.
“Lies. The whispers belong to cowards who already sold their souls for silver. Men who’d slit their own captain’s throat for a few coins.”
Gasps scattered like musket sparks. All eyes turned. Two men by Mae’s side paled, guilty as stormclouds.
Mae only smiled wider. “Then let the rest follow.”
Steel flashed in the dawn.
The First Clash
The jungle erupted. Muskets cracked, steel screamed, men roared. Palms trembled as fire and fury tore through the camp.
Mae was a storm, dagger and pistol carving through loyalists. Delilah wove through chaos, laughter haunting her every strike. Farah moved like ghost-mist, her blade whispering death with every perfume-slick step.
At the camp’s heart, Lucy and Bearclaw fought back-to-back, blood and fire binding them together.
“We can’t hold,” Bearclaw growled.
Lucy’s eyes burned. “Then we break them first.”
⸻
Under the Blood-Red Sky
By dusk the palms dripped blood, the camp a graveyard of smoke and ruin. The krewe was broken—some slain, some fled, the rest cowering beneath whichever blade spared them.
Mae stood at the jungle’s edge, streaked crimson, her smirk tempered but not shattered.
“This ain’t over,” she spat. “Ruby don’t lose.”
With Delilah and Farah at her side, she melted into the shadows, leaving silence heavier than the dead.
Bearclaw lowered his axe, chest heaving, eyes finding Lucy across the carnage.
“You saved me,” he rasped, voice half in awe, half in confession.
Lucy shook her head. “Not saved. Chosen.”
And as the blood-red sky burned above them, Bearclaw understood—he had found the one soul he could trust, even in the ruin Ruby left behind.
⸻
To be continued…
