I had two hours to midnight. Sunrise would be six hours and a bit after that. Autumn had brought me a night long enough to get the killing done. If I did not dally, that was. I was a whisper in the wind, a shadow in the night. I ran, silent steps swallowed by the noise of the waterfall.

He sat on a crate on the pier, his comrades snoring in the dinghy behind him, protected by the light of a lantern both stern and bow. He was bored and was carving something with a small knife. He did not look up once. I pressed my hand on his mouth and gripped his head, while Zero bound his arms and strangled his windpipe. He went down grunting, smelling of fear.

The lanterns snuffed out.

The sleeping Wyldlings never woke up again. A knife in the heart was a better way to go than to be strangled by cold, spikey metal. You are welcome. I kicked the dinghy off the pier. Nothing but darkness around me, faint starlight above. Not enough to illuminate the night. The moon was somewhere hidden behind a cloud. Wanderer, bring me clouds. Bring me all the clouds.

Three dead Wyldlings slipped into the dark waters of the harbor with a slight splash. Immediately the waters began to churn and boil as the creatures of the waters smelled their feast. I grabbed a paddle and left. This was the only distraction I was going to get for the dangers of the night. Wanderer, let that be enough.

I had to work hard to leave the currents that once had pushed all those ships together onto the Needle. I knew nothing about boating, so I was more than surprised how much effort it took for one man to handle a boat. But I got the rhythm after some time. The current wasn’t what it used to be, with the piers and the bay and all, and I could do it if I learned fast.

I paddled hard, along the pier, spending an hour of exhausting work to circumnavigate the frigate and reach the open waters. There was no way the guards on the frigate could have seen or heard me over this distance. I was on open water, my boat dancing on the waves, as calm as they had seemed from dry land. The current took me and I drifted on. Without a sound but a stroke here and there to correct my course. The current took me and pressed me back towards the Shipwreck bay. Towards the frigate.

I let the boat go, drifting off into the darkness. Cold water embraced me, tying up my lungs, prickling on my skin. [Eyes to Pierce the Darkness] let me see the anchor chain, taut under the forces of the sea. The frigate bobbed on the waves, singing and ringing in the wind and the waves. The deck was lit up with lanterns and torches. Light was shining through flaps and lids. The anchor chain was leading up to a hole under the figurehead and the forebeam. I swam. Oh, how the endless darkness under me terrified me. I expected wales, sharks, and krakens to just rise up under me, open endlessly giant mouths, swallowing me whole. But nothing did in the 5 seconds it took me to reach the metal. I hurried out of the water with panicked unease, climbing the chain as fast as I could, never looking back down on the waters. I just relaxed when I was well over the surface. I felt like I had cheated death somehow. I had been sure the sea would be my end. I had imagined it to be so much more dangerous. I could have touched the figurehead above, no skull but a plump bird, wings opened in flight. But I did not climb up.

I hung at the side of the ship like a spider, making my way aft. There were a lot of things, of which I knew neither word nor function, I could use to climb, even if the hull itself was slippery and smooth. But there were the opened flaps behind which I imagined the war ballistae to be, and I could swing between them, just hanging on my fingertips, using [Airwalk] whenever I missed the next target. It was a miserable climb, a wet and tired man exposed to the elements and the wild movements of the ship. If the unstable wall wouldn‘t get me, it would be my freezing fingers losing their strength.

Finally, I reached the aftercastle and rested, which meant I was gripping something with my hand and not my fingertips. There were a couple of windows in the back. And a balcony, brightly lit from the inside and beautifully carved. The wind was loud, and the noises of the ship were as well, but I could hear voices. Wyldlings.

One of them came out of the cabin, laughing and shouting something back inside. He stopped at the railing of the balcony, looking out. Then he started to piss into the sea below.

Zero snaked up, precariously swinging on the first few feet, as he lifted himself through the air. He entered a gab in the railing of the balcony. Slowly, ever so slowly, he rose behind the pissing and whistling Wyldling, his clanking noise just one of many on the ship. Then he shot forward like a striking snake, snapping and slamming around the neck and face of the Wyldling. [Fetter] and [Constrict]. The Wyldling grasped the chain, grunting and trying to get his scream out, stumbling around. Too much commotion. I cursed inwardly. I pulled. Nothing, not enough lever in my awkward position.

I grabbed Zero in both hands and jumped. The Wyldling slammed down, his head hitting the gap of the railing, as I pulled him down with all my weight. I jerked up and down, hanging on the chain, hearing a desperate gurgle whenever I threw my weight back into it. His neck snapped with an audible crack.

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I swung myself up on the balcony, Zero already curling around me again. From the side, I could not see into the cabin, but I would be visible if I just made one step more. The voices were still talking, seemingly ignorant of the desperate struggle their friend had just lost here. How many? I waited for a heartbeat. Three or four.

I crouched under the window, on all fours, sneaking up to the door, which was wide open. Control your breath. It raced in exhaustion and anticipation of violence. It was a big cabin, but even those had not much room to swing a weapon. I gripped my hammer and Zero. He crept into my hand until I had him free and rolled up, ready to throw or swing him. Breathing. My daggers were loose in their sheaths. Breathing. Breathing.

Breathing.

I jumped through the door, my left hand swinging hard already, whipping Zero into the room. He cracked as he uncurled with the power of [Chain Lash], the spiked metal ball of his head slamming into the face of a Wyldling that sat at a table, drinking from an earthen mug. The mug exploded as the face just caved in under the force of the blow. Brain, blood, and shards of ceramic and skull splattered over the ceiling. I let Zero go and smashed the blunt side of my hammer on the skull of another. The skull cracked like an egg.

Two more Wyldlings flipped the table, ducking and falling at the same time, as flasks, mugs, and glasses rained over me before the table itself hit me in the chest. I tumbled down with the corpses and the chaos.

I lost my hammer somewhere. I saw a Wyldling leap over the table, claws stretched, his carnivorous fangs snarling in rage. I saw the other jumping as well, but he fell down hard before he could reach me, as Zero tripped him and entangled his legs.

The Wyldling slammed into me, claws parting skin, teeth snapping after my face, saliva flying. I managed to get my forearm under his chin, keeping those teeth away, but his claws raked over my breast and shoulders. [Stonehide]. Better, but not good enough, This man was strong. I hissed and rammed my stony forehead into his teeth. Blood splurted out. Mine or his? Again. Again. Something cracked. My Skin was broken. But so was his nose. His teeth found my neck as my arm slipped away. He started ripping at the stone. I couldn‘t breathe.

I slammed the dagger into his ear. Drove it deep and deeper. Turned it. All strength left him in an instant. I ripped the dagger out and cut his throat, kicking him away from me. I struggled to my feet, looking around wide-eyed, ready for more blood. All I saw was a man bound by a chain with [Constrict], bleeding from hundreds of little cuts and holes, were Zero‘s many many spikes and blades cut and pierced his flesh. His struggle was weak already.

Thirteen men and women were bound and gagged, sitting around the walls of this mess hall, fettered to one another with a thick rope. They stared at me with wide eyes. Fear, Shock, Hope, Satisfaction, Surprise...the looks were all over the place. These were the officers of the ship.

There was one more. But he was not bound, he was chained in a painful position, hands behind his back in manacles, those chained to the feet he was kneeling on. And he had an iron mask, smooth surface with a few holes for air, around his head, locked and chained to the wall as well. Was that a captain‘s uniform under all that metal?

I looked at the bound men and women, catching my breath, pressing my hand on the open wounds that beast had inflicted upon me. One of them caught my eye. A woman, resolute and muscular, with a shaven head, the one with grim satisfaction in her eyes. She threw me a meaningful look, then jerked her head to the chained captain. Then she pointed with her chin to one of the fallen Wyldlings.

I was spent. I had not enough energy to unchain that man. I wanted to lie down and sleep. But I could do something.

I cut her free. I sawed through the rope around her ankles, that connected her to the others, and through the one tying her hands on her back. As she ripped off the rest of her bindings, I collapsed as stars began to dance in front of my eyes. Blood ran through my fingers on my neck in frightening amounts. [Reinvigoration]. But the bleeding did not stop.

Someone grabbed me with strong and callused hands. "[First Aid].“ My hands were pulled away from my throat. I opened my eyes and looked into the stern eyes of the bald woman. Her head was tattooed. Huh. I saw a needle flashing, my wound burned as alcohol was splashed on it. Her hands were bloody, her face a mask of concentration. I lost a bit of consciousness. Just a second. But they stood over me as I came to me again, looking at me with concern and respect. All fourteen of them.

"You alright, young man?“ The captain asked with a voice used to command, cutting like a knife. One of his men gave him a weapon, a richly decorated and beautiful cutlass, which he buckled to his belt. He was a lean man, already holding himself with impeccable posture, even if his uniform had been roughed up, and he had scars on his face where the iron mask had rubbed off the flesh. He had a salty beard, and grey in his short and unkempt hair, but you could tell that this man took care of himself, or would, if you gave him a razor, a brush, and five minutes in front of a mirror. He was reserved and professionally cool, but there was an edge in his gaze, seething rage meeting a calculating mind.

Was I alright? It felt like it. I touched my throat, which was bandaged. I could already feel how [Reinvigoration] replaced my lost strength. It coursed through my veins, burned the tiredness away. "I can fight.“ I croaked. It hurt as if I had to swallow needles and razor blades to speak.

"No. Thank you for what you‘ve done. But the Albatross is mine. You rest, while I take back my ship.“ He turned to his officers. "Number One, take the bosun and get the doctor out. Bring him here. The rest with me. Blades only.“

There was a series of "aye captain“ and "aye-ayes“ and I was alone again. The tattoed woman and a man in uniform I had not looked at properly had exited immediately, while the others had grabbed what weapons they could and followed the captain, who had walked out of the room with the posture and confidence of a man inspecting his ship on parade. His eyes betrayed the kind of violence he would bring to the scum that had seized the Grinning Skull - or was it Albatross? He was contempt. That was it. He would root out the vermin that dared to infest his ship, as sure as the sun would rise again, and he knew it to be true.