“So tell me about this man.” Odessa led West through one of the ship’s interior chambers. The room was narrow but deliberate in its design. Green walls caught the lantern light with a muted sheen. An oak table stood at the center, heavy and worn with use. A wide map stretched across its surface, pinned flat beneath several small carved totems. Odessa motioned toward the chair.
West sat and leaned over the table, studying the map. “He’s a man of the Ura. Strong, trained, and deceptive.”
“My eyes in the region informed me Dresdi was slain by a man from the Ura named West.” Odessa remained standing, watching him closely. “And here you claim to be West. The owner of the Red Dragon.” Her expression hardened.
“It’s all a misunderstanding.” West lifted his gaze toward her.
“Was he one of Dresdi’s bastards?”
“No.” West’s attention drifted back to the map. His finger hovered over the markings. “What is all this?”
“My kingdom.” The answer came with only half her attention. “What is his name?”
“Tyrus.” West pointed to a small blue heart carved from polished stone resting on the map. “Is that us?”
Odessa finally took the seat across from him. The chair creaked softly beneath her weight. “This boy broke your heart. Is that why you’ve become avoidant?” Her grin appeared as her hand swatted his fingers away from the piece.
“What!? NO! Nothing like that… It’s... complicated.” West rubbed his hand once against the table. “You see, Omni had a vision of Tyrus, and for a while I may have also...” His voice faded.
“You know Lord Omni?” Odessa leaned forward slightly.
“He was my master.”
A quiet interest passed through her eyes. “My mother used to say Lord Omni was the only legitimate lord left. Perhaps after all this, you can take me to him.”
West exhaled slowly. “He’s gone.” The words left him softer than the rest.
“Shame.” Odessa shrugged once, already turning her attention back to the map. “Show me then. Where is this Tyrus?”
West traced a path along the map with one finger. “I last saw him in Azure. I followed his trail through the farms of Roig and into Trigue, but the trail went cold there. Seems he’s avoiding the towns.”
“That will change.” Odessa studied the map without blinking. “The cold will force him in. Do we know where he is going?”
West tapped a distant marking along the edge of the parchment. “The walls of Evokia.”
Odessa studied West for a moment, then turned back to the map. Something in her expression drifted elsewhere. Her attention moved across the carved markers, then toward the shelves lining the wall. She crossed the room and pulled a dark bottle of liquor from its place beside two clean glass cups.
The liquid glimmered amber in the lantern light as she filled them halfway. She returned to the table and slid one of the cups across the wood. “Tell me about this vision Lord Omni had.”
West caught the glass before it tipped. “Oh, you know. Typical Kesh lord stuff.” He tasted the liquor and paused. It was smoother than anything he had expected to find on a ship like this. Another sip followed. “I suppose he thought Tyrus would one day become his champion.”
Odessa emptied her glass in a single swallow. The bottle tipped again. Another drink filled her cup. “A champion?”
West continued nursing the drink. “Yeah. Like I said. Typical Kesh lord stuff.”
Odessa leaned back in her chair, posture loosening slightly. “And what do you think?”
West slid the empty cup across the table. “Well… he did kill Dresdi. But I don’t know.” His eyes followed the bottle as Odessa filled the glass again.
“What is there to doubt? This Tyrus sounds like a stud.”
The cup returned to him, brimming.
“He is a man of the south,” West answered, lifting the drink. “Not driven by divinity. He is driven by revenge.”
Odessa finished her second glass and set it down beside the map.
“And?”
“How is he any different than the rest of these men?” West’s eyes drifted across the map as he drank. “How is he any different than the Evok Ossimo?”
Odessa watched him for a long moment. Then a slow smile appeared. “Then tell me. Should I get my hands on him? Should I kill him?”
West looked away. “No.” A breath escaped him. “I just want to find the Dragon. That’s it. I don’t want to hurt him.”
A pause.
“Well. Not anymore.”
“Well, you’ve certainly fired something up inside me!” Odessa exhaled softly and lifted the bottle directly to her lips. The liquor tipped back in a long swallow. She lowered it and began fanning herself lazily with one hand. “Excuse me.” A playful smile touched her lips. “But… oh baby… if you're lying to me, I am going to skin you from the balls up.”
The bottle slid across the table toward him.
“You're playing pretend Volta, and you want to accuse me of lying?” West tipped the bottle for another drink. “You’re really something, lady!”
“You know nothing.” Odessa rose from her chair. “I am Odessa. Daughter of Lithia the Volta Fox.” She stood tall beside the table, the lantern light catching the markings along her arms. “I have a pedigree that goes back five generations. One man’s decree does not change my blood nor my destiny.”
Her hand swept across the map. “Look at this.” Carved pieces shifted slightly beneath her finger. “I control the Cerulean Sea. I am what Ossimo fears. A return to order.” She straightened her posture with deliberate pride. “You know nothing, West.” Her eyes settled on him like a hunter watching prey.
West lowered his gaze to the map, carefully avoiding hers.
A knock struck the door. “Boss, we’ve returned.” Smoli’s voice waited on the other side of the wooden door.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Smoli stepped inside, closing it behind him with a quiet click.
“Smoli. Welcome back.”
Smoli offered a small bow before straightening. His eyes flicked briefly toward West, then returned to Odessa. “Boss, we’re all ready upstairs.” His gaze drifted to the bottle on the table. “The good bottle?”
Odessa crossed the room and clasped his hand in a quick slap of palms. “The fucking good bottle!” Her energy lifted as she turned back toward the table. “I want to bring in the clam. We’re going to the city of Minht.” She leaned over the map again, shifting several of the carved totems into new positions.
“We will send a group of scouts to meet us there.” One piece slid across the parchment beneath her fingers. “This is going to be a long, cold winter. If your friend plans to survive, he will have to stay near the towns and cities.” Her finger came down firmly on a marked port. “We will intercept him in Minht.”
West watched the movement of her hand across the map. “What does this mean for me?”
Odessa walked around the table toward him. Lantern light caught the markings along her arms as she stopped just within his reach. “If you help bring that blade to me, I will make you the richest man in all of Evokia.”
Her hand rose and gripped the side of his head, pulling him forward. West blinked once. Then his lips puckered in anticipation. Their faces moved close enough for their noses to brush. At the last second, Odessa stopped. A smirk spread across her lips as she shoved him back in his chair.
“But if you break my heart…” She turned away from him and strolled back toward Smoli, leaving West blinking at the empty space where the kiss had almost been.
“Is he a prisoner?” Smoli studied West carefully. “Should I chain him?”
Odessa glanced over her shoulder. “Nah. He’ll behave.” She pushed the door open and stepped out into the corridor.
“Hey, Smoli.” The man paused as West caught his attention. “Where is Jenny?”
“She’s in the deep with the rest of the cargo.” Smoli opened the door and stepped through after Odessa. “She’s fine.” The door closed again.
West remained at the table for a moment. His eyes drifted over the map one last time. Then his hand reached for the bottle. He took a long drink before rising from the chair and heading for the stairs.
By the time he reached the deck, the crew had already begun preparing the ship for departure. Lines were being pulled tight. Lanterns swayed in the rising wind. At the center of the deck, Odessa stood watching it all.
“Listen up, men! Everyone’s attention!” Odessa stepped forward into the center of the deck and lifted a hand.
The movement alone was enough.
Conversations died. Boots shifted across the boards as the crew gathered around her. Sailors, scouts, fighters. One by one, they closed the circle until the deck grew quiet beneath the wind.
Odessa studied the faces around her. “Do we have everyone here?” Her gaze passed through the ranks.
A few men nodded.
“Good.” She clasped her hands behind her back.
“I say this often. I repeat it because it is the only truth some of us may ever know.” Her voice carried easily across the deck. “We are all here for a reason. Each of you brings something to this ship that places you above the rest of the world.”
Her eyes moved slowly across the circle. “You are my generals. Sons of the Volta Suprema.” A few proud smiles appeared among the men. “Some of you have stood with me since the beginning.” She gestured lightly toward Smoli. “Smoli was with me before we even had a boat!”
“Let’s hear it for Smoli the prick!” The shout came from the edge of the crowd and laughter rolled across the deck.
Smoli tilted his head toward the voice. “Is that Turik the turd I hear?” The crew answered with louder laughter.
Odessa raised one hand again. The noise settled quickly.
“Let’s be serious.” Her voice lowered, and the men leaned in slightly. “We cannot forget who we are.” The lantern light flickered across her dark hair as the wind rolled through the deck. “We are prophecy! We are the inevitable!”
Silence followed. For a moment, only the creak of the ship and the distant groan of shifting ice filled the air.
“Things have changed, gentlemen.” Odessa paced slowly within the circle. “For the last three years we have lived the sort of lives that would make emperors and kings blush.” A few grins appeared again. “We worked for it.” Her hand swept toward the ship around them. “None of this was promised to us! We shared a vision. Through blood. Through sweat.” Her eyes lifted toward the frozen horizon. “And through a whole mess of water.”
The crew chuckled quietly.
“We made that vision real.” She stopped walking. “But now the time has come.”
The laughter faded.
“Her promise is upon us!” Her voice carried harder now. “It always has been. It was simply too large for any one of us to see.” She lifted her hand and pointed toward the sea beyond the harbor. “The Red Dragon walks this world again.”
The circle tightened slightly.
“The Evokian continental armies have already marched south to deal with the Rombo situation.” Her eyes burned with certainty. “The north stands exposed.”
No one spoke.
“Gentlemen.” She raised her fist slowly. “It is time.”
A breath passed through the gathered men.
“Prepare yourselves. Prepare your men.” Her fist rose higher. “And prepare your souls.” Her voice cracked across the deck like steel striking steel. “It’s war.” The fist tightened. “It’s fucking war!”
The deck erupted in cheers. Boots slammed the boards. Men shouted into the cold wind, their voices echoing across the frozen harbor. Odessa lowered her hand and let the roar continue for a moment. Then she gestured once.
“Go. Await my word.” The order moved through them like a current. “But be ready.”
The crew broke apart immediately, scattering across the deck to their duties.
Odessa turned and walked toward Brock.
West lingered on the deck a moment longer, watching the ship come alive around him.
Men moved quickly now. Lines tightened against the masts. Frozen ropes cracked as they were hauled into place. The harbor groaned under shifting sheets of ice while the crew worked with quiet efficiency.
West took it all in with open curiosity. Then the thought returned. Jenny.
“I should go find Jenny!” He spotted Smoli near the rail speaking with two sailors and made his way over. “Hey, Smoli! Can you take me to where Jenny is?”
Smoli turned slowly, irritation already written across his face. “I told you she’s fine. You don’t want to go down there, and Odessa doesn’t want her up here either.” His attention drifted back toward the crew.
“I don’t mind,” West pressed. “I just want to be near her. Please!?”
Smoli exhaled through his nose and turned away, clearly annoyed. Instead of answering, he crossed the deck toward Odessa. “Hey, Boss. The kid wants to go downstairs to see his ass.”
Odessa barely looked at him. “So take him down there. He’s the one who’s going to be cleaning after the disgusting thing.”
Smoli shifted his weight. “What about the big man?”
Odessa had already begun walking away. “I’m sure West will not mind.” Her voice floated back over her shoulder. “In fact, I’m sure he will find it very familiar.” She joined a group of crewmen waiting near the mast.
Smoli turned back toward West. “Come on then.” He started toward the stairwell without waiting.
The air changed the moment they stepped below deck. Lantern light faded quickly as they descended. Each level of the ship felt colder and heavier than the last. The sounds of the crew above turned dull and distant, replaced by the groaning wood of the hull and the slow slosh of black water somewhere deep beneath the boards.
Smoli led him down one final narrow ladder. The corridor below smelled foul. Old rot. Wet rope. Spoiled cargo. The thick sour scent of animals trapped too long in a place with no air. Smoli stopped beside a heavy wooden door and pulled it open. A thin beam of lantern light spilled inside.
The room beyond was little more than a storage hold. Crates stacked against the walls. Damp sacks piled in crooked rows. The air hung thick and damp, the sort of stagnant darkness that clung to the back of the throat.
Jenny stood tied to a post near the far wall. She lifted her head when the light touched her. Aside from the filthy surroundings, she looked perfectly content.
“Well, look what you got us into this time.” West stepped toward her and ran a hand along her neck. He glanced back toward Smoli, standing in the doorway. “What do you say about letting me take her up to the top deck for a little walk? She’s so scared!”
Smoli didn’t hesitate. “No.”
West looked around the room. “How am I supposed to see in here?” He pointed into the darkness.
Smoli answered with a swift kick to the back of his leg, shoving him fully into the hold. “I’ll go get you a lantern. Quit yapping already.” The door slammed shut.
Darkness swallowed the room again.
West sighed and leaned his forehead gently against Jenny’s neck. “No, I’m not worried,” he murmured quietly. “They would have killed us already…”
The hold fell quiet again. Only the slow creaking of the ship answered as the hull shifted against the frozen harbor.
“Worried about Tyrus?” West muttered under his breath while rubbing Jenny’s neck. “I think…I just got him in a whole heap of trouble, girl.” He leaned back against one of the wooden support pillars.
“Are you talking to the horse or to me?” The voice drifted out of the darkness. It was old, dry, and tired in a way that felt deeper than exhaustion.
West jerked upright. His boot caught the corner of a crate, and he nearly stumbled before catching himself. “She’s not a horse,” West answered cautiously, trying to locate the voice. “She’s a donkey.”
“They told me it was a horse.” The unseen man cleared his throat somewhere in the blackness. “And who do I have the pleasure of sharing this space with this time?”
“My name is West.” He stepped forward slowly, hands stretched out ahead of him. “Who are you?”
“West.” The voice sounded pleased with the name. “My name is Mo.” A quiet pause followed. “I am very hungry, son. Please tell me you have something for me?”
West followed the sound with careful steps until his fingers brushed cold iron. Bars. He slid his hand along them until he found the opening. “I got some good liquor.” His arm extended through the cage. The bottle disappeared from his hand almost instantly. The man inside drank like a starving animal. Loud gulps echoed through the small hold.
“HEY!” West leaned closer to the bars. “We’re supposed to share it!” His hand searched inside the cage but found nothing except air and the stale smell of unwashed skin. The drinking continued.
“My apologies,” Mo muttered between gulps. Before West could answer, the door creaked open again. A narrow slice of light cut through the darkness. Smoli stepped inside, holding a small oil lantern.
“West!”
West pushed past a stack of crates and wooden beams until he reached him. “This place stinks. I don’t want Jenny being down here.”
Smoli handed him the lantern. “Those were the boss’s orders. I’ll talk to her.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the cage hidden in the dark. “In the meantime, take this. Just don’t let the old man get his hands on it.”
“Can I get some food?”
Smoli glanced again toward the cage. “No.” The door shut behind him.
The sound of glass shattering exploded against the wood as the empty bottle smashed against the door. “Careful!” West lifted the lantern. “I’m walking on this floor!” He turned slowly back toward the cage.
The lantern light spread across the iron bars and finally revealed the man inside. Mo sat slumped against the back wall of the small cell. He looked barely alive. His frame was thin and crooked, clothes hanging loose over bones that had not seen proper food in years. Dirt and grime coated his skin in dark layers. His hair had grown wild and uneven, streaked with grey.
Yet resting against his forehead sat a small blue orb. Surprisingly, it looked polished. Cleaner than the owner. The same symbol worn by both Omni and Basil. The mark of a Kesh lord.
West stepped closer, lantern raised higher. The man’s face came fully into view. Nothing about it stirred recognition. “Who are you?”
“I already told you.” Mo’s head rolled lazily to one side. “I am Mo.” His lips curled into a crooked smile.
“Kesh Lord Mozam?” West leaned closer to the bars.
“Kesh Lord…Mozam…” Mo lifted his arms weakly, presenting himself like a broken king. “Look upon me! Your lord?” His voice filled with strange theatrical pride. “A vision of the promise manifested before you!” He began to laugh. The sound echoed strangely in the cramped hold.
“I heard about you when I was younger,” West murmured. “You were rumored dead.”
“Well.” Mo’s arms dropped back to the floor with a dull thud. “Here I am.” His head tilted toward the ceiling. “That black-hearted bitch Odessa has kept me captive for six winters now.” His arms sagged uselessly at his sides.
West lowered himself onto a small crate beside the cage. “So then Odessa isn’t lying about being a Volta,” he murmured while pulling a lantern closer and studying the labels stamped across the smaller cargo boxes.
Inside the cage, Mo watched his hands move across the crates. “You can read?”
“Yeah.” West wedged his fingers beneath the lid of a wooden box and tried to pry it open. The wood refused to budge. After a moment of effort, he lifted the crate and smashed it against the floor. The lid cracked loose. Inside sat rows of glass jars floating in cloudy brine. Not a single one had broken.
“You like pickled mushrooms?” West lifted one of the jars and held it toward the cage.
Mo leaned forward immediately and pushed his arm between the bars. “How does a young traveler like you seem so well learned?”
“I was a servant for Lord Omni.” West twisted open his own jar and breathed in the sour scent.
“Omni…” Mo rolled the name slowly in his mouth while struggling with the jar in his hands. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in years.” His fingers fumbled with the lid before finally giving up. “How is the old man?”
West took the jar from him, opened it, and passed it back through the bars. “He’s gone. The war has claimed him.”
“Wow.” Mo plucked a mushroom from the jar and swallowed it whole. “Me and him did not always get along. I don’t think he ever approved of my lordship. He thought I was undisciplined.” Another mushroom disappeared into his mouth. “I was younger then.” A crooked smile appeared. “Oh. He was not wrong.” Mo chewed slowly, lost for a moment in the memory. “So how did you end up here?”
West set his jar down beside the lantern. “I was looking for the Red Dragon. One thing led to another, and I bumped into Odessa.”
“The Red Dragon, huh?” Mo lowered the jar and leaned back against the cage.
The ship groaned loudly around them. Something heavy shifted beneath the hull. A deep metal scrape rolled through the structure as the iron runners beneath the ship began sliding across the frozen harbor. The whole vessel vibrated. Outside, the rails screamed softly as they cut through the ice.
“You have allowed yourself to be drawn into the destiny of a woman who plans to burn the world for a promise she made to the dead.” Mo’s eyes drifted toward the lantern flame. “You have allowed yourself to be fooled.”
“Fooled how?”
“Odessa has big plans.” Mo wiped brine from his fingers onto his shirt. “She intends to restore the old order. A new emperor in the north. Trained by her. A descendant of the Voltas.” Another mushroom vanished into his mouth. “Endorsed by me. A Kesh lord.” His voice carried no pride. Only dull resignation.
“The idea that the Red Dragon now moves through her territories only feeds the fire.” Mo inhaled slowly. “It took the hand of a cruel woman to make me truly believe in our faith as something more than ancient lessons and prayers.” His head lowered. “This reality frightens me.” A quiet prayer slipped from his lips in broken murmurs.
West sat in silence for a moment, letting the words settle.
Mo spoke again without looking at him. “She’s a beautiful woman. Easy to talk to.” His eyes lifted lazily toward the ceiling. “Before you know it, she has you telling her your life story.” His gaze dropped back toward West. “Including where you keep the family gold.” Mo spat the words into the darkness. “That fucking bitch.” Another mushroom followed.
West turned toward Jenny. She stood quietly in the lantern glow, chewing without concern, her ears flicking at the strange noises of the ship. Only then did the weight of it settle over him. He had stepped into something far larger than himself. And somewhere above them, Odessa was steering it. The iron runners beneath the ship screamed through the frozen harbor as the Blue Heart began its long journey north.