The Silver Girl glided into the bustling port of Gard, a Pride Kingdom stronghold in the Outer Islands, the island clusters that lay unclaimed between the Pride Kingdom and the Ssslssss Kingdom, its silver hull cutting through the harbor's choppy waters, the sea's restless gray lapping at the docks. Three days out from the Lion's Teeth, the crew was weary but alive, their fur and scales matted from storms and battle, craving restock and trade after Leago's chaos and Jack's ambush. The docks teemed with cats unloading fish and trade goods, their sleek fur glinting under the midday sun, while the city sprawled beyond—stone walls and wooden spires rising from cliffs, a fortress of order amid Athena's wild sprawl. Hanna Calico stood at the helm, her tricorn hat tilted against the salt breeze, her tawny cat fur ruffled, whiskers twitching as she guided the ship to moor.

  William Dearborn paced the deck below at his bunk, his skin itching under the sea's confines. For all the days he'd been cooped up—brig or not—had him restless. His "sea legs" was something he hadn't mastered yet and the ship's sway from the waves was a constant nag at his bones and soreness in his muscles. He was a doctor, not a sailor and he needed to feel solid land under his feet, at least for a little bit. He grabbed his cloak that he was given and headed to the poop deck where he knew Hanna would be.

  He pulled on the cloak and brought the hood up as he stepped out onto the main deck. He looked around and saw Hanna right where he thought she would be. He approached Hanna as she stepped off the helm, his voice edged with a plea that cracked through his usual sass, hands fidgeting like they missed a scalpel's weight, "Captain," he begged, "Hanna, please, I'm begging you, let me go ashore. I'm feeling trapped down there and going stir-crazy. I need to stretch, feel solid ground under my feet, even if it's just for a moment."

  Hanna's tail flicked, green eyes narrowing, her whiskers twitching as she sized him up, her voice a low growl tempered by the days of watching him stitch and scramble, "Gard's no stroll, pinky—yer a freak here, plain as day. Cats'll stare, dogs'll growl, reptiles'll hiss, birds'll try to dissect ya, and them vermin? Hells, they'd nick ya for a laugh or a sale. Ain't safe for somethin' like ya, William—too bare, too odd."

  Sslsistar slithered up, her reptile scales glinting in the sun, whip coiled at her side, her tongue flicking as she fixed him with a hard stare, "I'll babysit him, Captain," she said, "keep the softskin safe, won't let him bolt or bleed. My word on it—ya know I don't break it."

  William grinned, hands up, his tone light but his eyes pleading, a flicker of that smartass spark breaking through, "Aww, that's awfully sweet of you, Sslsistar," William said in jest as he places an arm over her shoulders, "I thought I was just a pink pi?ata you rather swing at. I must be growing on you."

  She snorted, a smirk tugging her snout, her voice dry as a desert wind, "Like a barnacle," she said as she elbows William in the ribs knocking some air out of him causing him to grab his belly and let out a "oof," "Don't get too mushy, Smoothskin, you just do a great job scrubbing me deck and ya can stitch us up pretty well, I'd hate to lose that. Other than that, it's a waste o' my time, that's all."

  William straightens up and inhales trying to get his breath back, he waves a finger at Sslsistar, "You can't fool me, Star," William said between breaths, "You just can't get enough of me," he waves his hands up and down as if showing himself off, "and who can blame you."

  Sslsistar rolled her eyes, smiled and shook her head.

  Hanna sighed, rubbing her temple with a claw, her ears flicking as she weighed the risk, her voice grudging but firm, "Fine," she finally said, "disguise him good. The cloak, hood is a good start, but ya need somethin' to hide that bare face o' his. Titus, Cornell, yer with us too—no chances, no slip-ups."

  The patched cloak was a good start with its hood shadowing his face, but it was Cornell that came up with the idea of masking William's strangeness under rough fabric that they used as gauze. Cornell knew that injuries were common on a pirate vessel and that William could easily pass as a small feline that had taken heavy damage to his face.

  With William fully covered Hanna led the shore party into Gard's crowded streets, boots and claws clacking on cobblestones worn smooth by trade and time. Cats hawked fish from carts, their voices sharp and haggling; dogs bartered hides and meats with growls and barks; reptiles hissed over coils of rope and herbs; bird scholars in feathered robes scribbled in ledgers, muttering theories and keeping track of coin spent and earned; vermin rapscallions darted through, pilfering coins and scraps with sly paws, their thief's eyes glinting with mischief. William's eyes darted under the hood and wrappings, drinking in the bustling streets, the air thick with salt, sweat, and the tang of smoked fish and cooking meats—until a glimpse stopped him cold, his breath catching like a hook in his throat.

  A human woman, fleeting in the throng—her bare skin like his own, her form a ghost weaving through the furred crowd, gone in a blink. His heart slammed, a jolt of hope and dread—he bolted, shoving through the bustle, cloak flapping, his voice a sharp yelp, "Wait—hey, wait!"

  Hanna cursed, her tail lashing as she spun, green eyes flashing, "What the Hells!" she cried out surprised at William's running form, "Damn it, pinky! Ya bloody idiot—get back here!"

  She chased William with Titus lumbering behind, his grizzly bulk parting the crowd with growls, Cornell and Sslsistar scrambling to keep up, their shouts swallowed by the din—cats yowling, dogs barking, birds squawking, vermin cackling as they dodged.

  The woman darted into a shadowy alley, William on her heels, her form vanishing around a corner, his boots slipping on damp stone as he panted, cloak snagging on a crate. At the alley's end stood a large tent, its weathered fabric swaying, flaps rippling in the breeze like a living thing. Slowly he walked up. He stopped at the doorway and looked it over, "Yeah," he said, voice thick with sarcasm, "I've seen this movie before," he turned to leave when he heard a whisper float to him on a breeze lighter than a baby's sleeping breath.

  "William..."

  He spun around and looked to the tent. It came from in there. He knew it, as sure as he knew every mistake he's ever made and apparently the ones he was going to make.

  "Fuck," he muttered in annoyance to himself as he pushed inside, breath ragged, and froze—candles flickered in a dim circle, their flames casting eerie shadows, incense thick and cloying, curling in the air like whispers made solid. An old female rat sat hunched on a stool, her gray fur thin and patchy, her eyes milky but piercing, whiskers twitching as she regarded him with a knowing stare that sank into his bones.

  She rasped, her voice a low, creaking whisper that seemed to echo beyond the tent, a sound older than the stones of Gard, "William Dearborn."

  "You know me?" William asked suspiciously.

  "Aye," she said, "I do, and I've been waiting for you, thread of the unmade weave—knew you'd stumble here, drawn like a tide to the shore, a moth to the flame in the darkness."

  William stepped closer, his cloak dragging, voice shaky but insistent, he reached up and pulled off the gauze, "How," he asked, "who are you?" William pointed out the doorway, "That woman—I saw her. She was human. She led me here. Where is she?"

  The rat's claws tapped the stool as she leaned forward, her milky gaze boring into him, her whiskers quivering with secrets, "No woman, my lad. I'm sorry but she was just a flicker, a shadow I cast to pull you in, a lure for the lost. I'm a seer, older than these cliffs, older than the songs of Chaos and Decay—seen threads twist and snap afore you were a spark in your world's dust. You're the stranger, the breach in the veil, ain't ye?"

  He frowned, confusion warring with a creeping dread and under that, anger, his voice rising as he pressed her, "Stranger? Yeah, you could say that, considering I got yanked into the mad house world of yours from my own and now I find myself on the run from a Draco-Lich, whatever the fuck that is, sailing the ocean with a furry convention and facing down mad hyenas. So, yeah, yeah, I'm the stranger, here. What I want to know is why the hell am I here? Why the fuck me and how the fuck do I get home?"

  The old rat chuckled, a dry, rattling sound that scraped the air, her grin widened, toothless and eerie, her voice dropping to a cryptic murmur, each word heavy with unseen weight, "So many questions," she laughed, "That's good. That's good," her smile faded as she lost all mirth becoming serious, "Listen well, William Dearborn, and understand, your life depends upon it. Athena's a lie wrapped in a riddle, a tapestry whole but torn and rewoven, stitched with blood, shadows and lies. You're the key, though you don't see the lock—yet. Chaos and Decay are dead, but the gods watch—some with wrath, some with hope but all are waiting for the thread to pull. The gods' truth sank with their bones—seek it where the sea forbids. Danger stalks you as a storm brewing in the deep, but discovery and truth awaits beyond the waves, where the Forbidden Sea drinks the lies and spits out truth."

  He shook his head, frustration boiling, his voice cracking as he leaned closer, the incense stinging his eyes, "Forbidden Sea? Truth? Lady, you sound like a damn fortune cookie—what's all that mean? I'm not a hero. I'm not even a sailor. I'm just a doctor trying to not die in a world that seems pretty keen on killing me! Who are you really and what do you want from me?"

  She cackled, a sound like dry leaves scattering, as she reached into her tattered robes, pulling out a scroll—parchment cracked with age, edges frayed like whispers of the past, "Names ain't for the likes of me, lad—I'm a weaver of fates, a watcher of threads. What do I want? I want nothing—you're the one who's wanting, seeking, though ye don't know it yet. The world's turning, and you're the pivot," she held out the parchment, "take this, thread-bearer, and seek the dark where answers drown."

  She pressed the scroll into his hands, her touch cold and bony, her voice a low hiss, "Your path twists here—your friends come, and the dark follows. Go afore it catches you standing still."

  William clutched the scroll, his mind reeling, his voice faltering as he grasped for sense, "What am I supposed to do with this—where do I even—?"

  She cut him off, her whisper sharp, her milky eyes glinting, "No time, lad—they're here. Out with you—the weave waits for no one."

  William stumbled out of the hut, scroll in hand, his hood slipping as Hanna and the others barreled up, her cat face a storm of fury, green eyes blazing as she grabbed his cloak, claws digging through fabric, "What the hell were ya thinkin', William!? Runnin' off like a damn fool—gonna get yerself skewered, nabbed, or worse! I oughta chain ya to the mast and have Sslsistar whip ye—explain, now, afore I lose my temper proper!"

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  He stammered, holding up the scroll, words tumbling out in a rush, his breath ragged from the chase, "I saw a human woman—like me, Hanna—chased her here, I swear it! Found this tent, an old rat inside—she knew me, called me by my name, she told me a tale about Athena's truth and how it was a lie. Gave me this scroll," he held it out to Hanna, "Look."

  Sslsistar's scales rippled, her tail twitching as she stepped closer, her voice sharp and skeptical, "What tent, softskin? Ain't nothin' here—just a dead end to an alley. Ya gone daft?"

  William turned, his jaw dropping—the alley was empty, no tent, just damp stone and the echo of his own breath. He gaped, confusion twisting his gut, then unrolled the scroll, it was a map, its lines curling into a place marked to an Island far from where they were.

  Cornell looked over William's shoulder, his eyes narrow at the map, "That's The Forbidden Seas, a place whispered in dread among sailors, its name a shiver on the tongue." His eyes ran over the map, following the route to...he quickly turned to Hanna, "Captain!" Cornell said with shock, "this map looks like it might lead to," he paused not really wanting to say it but knew he had to, "to Blackmore."

  Everyone looked at Cornell then to the map.

  Titus crossed his arms not impressed, "That's bilge rot, if I ever heard it."

  Hanna looked at Titus, then to Cornell then back to William's map. She rubbed her face with frustration, "Chaos be damned," she sighed.

  Before anyone could say anything else, Maggie appeared, a translucent magical image shimmering before them, her squirrel tail twitching, her voice urgent and high-pitched over the wind, "Captain! The Draco-Lich ships—here, now! They're comin' fast!"

  A voice boomed in their heads, a grating roar that dropped them to their knees, clutching skulls in pain—Hanna snarling, stumbling forward grabbing William and holding on to him, William gasped in pain and held her back. Each using the other for support. Titus growled as he held on to his head as he leaned against a wall for support, Cornell squawking went to his knees, Sslsistar hissing, placed a hand on Cornell's back to steady herself and to make sure Cornell was okay. The Gard crowd outside the alley crumpled too—cats, dogs, reptiles, birds, vermin—all reeling from the pain in their head, "Give us the human, and your town will be spared. Refuse, and all will die."

  Hanna staggered up, her cat fur bristling, her voice a defiant snarl as she steadied herself, but still held on to William, "No chance, ya rottin' bastard," she said more to herself and her crew then to the Draco-Lich, knowing there's no way it could hear her, "we fight, and we'll carve ya to dust!"

  William shook his head, reached up and pulled her face towards him so he could look into her eyes, "No, Hanna, stop," his voice firm, "I can't let a whole town of innocents burn for me. I can't risk the crew; I can't risk you." Hanna could see the determination in William's eyes, "The Silver Girl's risk enough for me as it is. There's been too many deaths already." William pulled away from Hanna, "I'm going and it's my call."

  She grabbed his arm, claws digging deeper, her tail lashing, her voice a fierce growl that cracked with something raw, "Yer not theirs to take, William!" she said with concern in her voice that even surprised her, "We've hauled ya through hell—I ain't losin' ya now, not to them damn corpses!"

  He gently pulled her hand free, stepping back, his eyes hard as steel, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands, the crowd outside the alley staring, "I am if it saves this place. There's too many lives, Hanna. I've seen enough blood in my world—I'm not adding another town's worth here."

  The crew watched him go. William pulled up the hood and left the alley. Titus stepped up to Hanna, "Captain?"

  Hanna said nothing as she watched William's back disappear into the confused crowd. Titus could see her almost shaking with rage and something else, loss? No, not loss, but something...

  Hanna turned back to her crew, "To the ship!" she ordered through clenched teeth. She muttered low, "Order damn his fool heart." Her crew said nothing but moved fast and out of the alley they flew.

  William strode to the pier and as he approached the dead ship at the end of it, he tossed his cloak's hood off with a flick, revealing his human face—gasps rippled through Gard's Athenians like a wave.

  Cats froze, their ears pinning back, one yowling, "What's that thing—some shaved beast?"

  Dogs stopped, barking threats, a burly mastiff snarling, "Looks like prey—weak!"

  Reptiles hissed in shock, a salamander pointed, "Strange—not of us."

  Bird scholars stared in fascination, scribbled furiously, one muttering, "Unknown species—must document!"

  Vermin thieves cackled, a rat eyeing him, "Bet I could sell him high!"

  The lead Draco-Lich ship loomed—rotted, skeletal—the floating death ship, its black sails dripping rot, flanked by two Leago wrecks groaning with the town's living dead, their eyes hollow, flesh peeling under tattered rags. Undead Athenians shuffled forward, their claws cold on his skin as they grabbed him and hauled him up a gangplank slick with decay, the wood bowing under their weight, the stench of rot and seawater choking his lungs. The pier crowd surged—cats yowling, dogs growling, birds flapping, vermin skittering.

  Hanna watched intensely as William got dragged aboard the dead ship, Titus stood next to her, "Captain, Orders?"

  Hanna waited a moment, watching, "Push off from the pier and hold up in the bay," she ordered.

  "Aye, Captain," Titus responded.

  "Tell Gunnie and Maggie to be ready."

  Titus looked down at Hanna whose eyes never left the Draco-Lich's ship, a smile crept to his lips, "Aye, Captain," he nodded and left her to make ready. This was going to be a glorious battle.

  Aboard, the Draco-Lich stood at the helm, its dragon-like skeletal form towering, eyeless sockets glowing with cold fire, its tattered cloak billowing like a shroud, bones clacking with each step. The deck creaked under undead paws—cats with matted fur and broken fangs, dogs with jaws hanging loose, their groans a low dirge as Leago's dead shuffled beside them, their stolen bodies lurching, hands clawing at nothing.

  William faced the Lich, his voice steady despite his racing heart, hands clenched at his sides, "Here I am, you D&D reject. You got me now leave the town. A deal's a deal."

  The Lich's rasp cut the air, a hollow laugh echoing off rotted timbers, its claw tapping the helm as it loomed closer, its voice a grating hiss that scraped his ears, "Deal? You assume much, human—surrender is yours; mercy is not ours. You are the prize, but the town? A feast for the fire."

  William's gut twisted, his voice rising, sharp with defiance, "What? No—You said you would spare them!"

  The Lich laughed louder, a sound like breaking bones, its claw gesturing wide as the fleet sailed out, turning slow and deliberate, cannons swiveling toward Gard, "Spared? No—spared from us, perhaps, but not from ruin. Watch, human—watch it burn."

  The cannons roared—fireballs slammed Gard, piers splintering, moored ship halls busted, wooden stalls erupting in flame, screams rising as the harbor blazed—cats fleeing, dogs howling, reptiles slithering, birds scattering scrolls, vermin looting the chaos with gleeful cackles. William lunged, fury blazing, aiming for the Lich's skull, his fists swinging wild, "DAMN YOU!"

  Undead pinned him—claws dug into his arms, a dog's broken jaw snapped near his throat, a cat's skeletal paw shoved him back, their grip iron as he thrashed, boots slipping on the slick deck, the stench of decay choking him. He kicked, a claw raking his leg, drawing blood, his voice a raw scream.

  The Lich loomed closer, its laugh a grating rasp, and slapped him—bone striking flesh, the sting sharp, his head snapping aside, stars bursting in his vision as he staggered, tasting blood on his lip. "Fool—rage feeds us, human. You are ours, so watch and weep."

  "Why?" William said, trying to shake off the slap's pain, "Why are you after me? Why are you doing this?"

  The Draco-Lich looked almost surprised by this, "Do you really not know?" it asked in earnest.

  William shook his head, to answer no, but to also shake the last of the cobwebs out of his rattled head.

  The Draco-Lich grabbed William's head and forced William to look at him. His touch was cold as death, and it had William's teeth chattering. The Draco-Lich leaned in close, "Because you are not supposed to be here, human," it said with a hiss of hatred, "You are an infection to this perfect world, and I must cut you out. I must destroy anyone that knows of you and make sure that you are erased from the face of Athena," it let go of William's face and looked down at him, "Once this town is gone, your friends are next, then that annoying Jack. When I am done, it will be like you were never here, as it should be."

  Rage flared within William as he glared as his vision went red. Go after The Silver Girl? After Hanna and the others? No, he didn't think so. Pure hatred burned within him as he looked at the smirking Draco-Lich, a heat flared in his chest, sharp and alien, his breath ragged as he strained against the undead grip, their cold claws unyielding, his muscles screaming. Without warning, explosions rocked the ship—decks erupted in fiery geysers, flames licking rotted wood, barrels bursting in searing sprays that lit the night. The Leago ships blazed too, their undead crews staggering as fire spread fast—chaos unexplainable, unstoppable, wood splintering, sails igniting like tinder. The Lich's sockets flared, its rasp cut off as timbers shattered around it, a howl ripping from its bony maw as the wood it stood on broke and he fell into the burning ship. William broke free, shoving a clawing cat aside, its fur sizzling, and leapt into the sea, the inferno roaring behind him, heat searing his back as he hit the frigid waves.

  He swam, coughing, saltwater burning his throat, his arms aching as he dragged himself to The Silver Girl, a rope ladder was thrown down to him. He grabbed the ladder and started climbing when the rope ladder was hauled up with him hanging on. Titus lifted him up as easy as he would have a child and sat the soaked and exhausted William on the deck. Hanna ran to him, her green eyes flashing relief—gone in a blink as she masked it, but William still caught it, her voice a sharp bark over the chaos as she grabbed his arm, "What by Chaos's dick happened, William? Ya surrendered—then it all went to blazes!"

  Titus looked down at the wet human, Cornell fluttering beside him, Sslsistar slithering close, Maggie scampering in—all demanding answers. William panted, his voice ragged, hands shaking for adrenalin as he wiped blood from his lip, "No idea," he said shakily, "gave myself up, damn thing it hit me, laughed at me, told me it was going to kill everyone—then everything just... blew up. Fire everywhere—don't know how, don't know why."

  Gunnie grunted at Hanna for orders, Hanna snapped to captain mode and yelled, "Set sail—now, ye louts!"

  The crew sprang—cats hauling ropes, dogs trimming sails, reptiles coiling lines—Maggie darted to the rail, her squirrel paws raised, her voice a chirpy shout, "Let's fly, Captain!" She unleashed her wind magic—gusts blasted around, snapping the sails taut, shoving The Silver Girl forward with a lurch so fast Maggie stumbled, nearly toppling over the rail, her tail flailing as she caught herself with a squeak, "Oopsie—too much!"

  The ship cut away from Gard's burning docks, as fast as her sails could carry her, the crew watching as the three ships sank—flames swallowing the Leago wrecks and well as the other ships that were at the pier, their undead thrashing in the blaze, the Draco-Lich had pulled itself out of the burning ship and stood on bowsprit as the rest of the ship burned and sank. It glared at William with burning hate as it went under, its skeletal form swallowed by waves, a final hiss fading into the roar.

  From a distant cliff, Laughing Jack watched, hyena grin wide, his coat flapping in the wind as he muttered to himself, his voice a gleeful cackle under his breath, "Oh, Hairless, what a mess! What a fine mess! Fire from nowhere—chaos, giggles, FUN! FUN! Somethin' wild in ya, eh? This'll be a riot—a dance fer the ages!" He rubbed his paws, plotting his next step, his laugh drifting on the wind as he headed away from the burning town and towards his own ship, safely tucked away on the other side of the island.

  Hanna stood by the helm as Titus handled the wheel, her arms crossed, her foot tapped, and her tail swung with frustration and annoyance as she kept glancing her green eyes at William. He'd surrendered. He left her and just surrendered. This... man... was willing to die for the lives of strangers that he owed nothing to. To her it didn't make any sense, his actions of self-sacrifice confused her. Never has she ever met someone so...selfless. Gard burned anyway for his actions though, but her crew was safe, and he stood here on her deck, dripping and defiant still trying to help where he could. Something shifted, a pull beyond relief—him leaving made her feel something she didn't want, nor ask for, but these things were hers to reckon with, a spark she buried under her bark for a later time, "Keep her steady—course ahead," she growled at Titus, as he steered for the horizon.

  "Aye, Captain," he said.