Kane took his first step down the stairs from the forecastle. His balance was unsteady, his knees wobbly, but he took it all in stride. After all, after being dragged out of an ocean made of blood, it made perfect sense for him not to be in perfect fighting form.

He’d live. Maybe.

What he couldn’t make sense of was how he’d ended up in that sea in the first place. His memory prior to a mere few minutes ago was all but erased. He remembered the basics, of course — speech, walking, his name (at least his first name), etc. — but that was it.

Not necessarily a great start. But Kane knew that if he gave up now, he’d never make it — he’d be down for good.

So he stumbled down the stairs, which swayed back and forth to the murderous rhythm of the sea. He had no idea how Tal and the captain had remained so steady earlier, as if gravity wasn’t threatening to reverse itself at any and every moment. Kane clutched to the railing, every step proving a great reminder that his clothes were beginning to chafe.

He made it down to the main deck to watch Tal and another man seated on two small wooden barrels, arguing about an item placed on a third between them.

This new man was wearing a black tank top, cargo shorts, and no shoes or socks, the skin on his dark, muscled arms covered in spiraling black tattoos like flames. Seeing him essentially made Kane’s brain hard-reset — Tal was pushing it with the comfy-looking hoodie, but apparently on a pirate ship like this one, any style and article of clothing went.

Which meant that out of the three people he’d seen, it was the captain who was dressed strangely, with his cloak and tunic getup.

Additionally, it struck Kane that this new man didn’t seem to be cold at all, despite the inexplicable near-freezing temperatures aboard. It didn’t add up.

But it wasn’t like anything had so far.

“Are you sure we can’t just have him cut it open?” Tal said with a frown. He was sitting as comfortably as one could on a barrel: criss-cross applesauce and hunched over.

“And have him risk destroying what’s inside? You know he’s good for nothing except killing things.” This new man was leaned over the item on the third barrel: a small wooden chest, painted with intricate red and black designs. It was wrapped in rusted chains, and a keyhole was located squarely in the center.

Tal nodded half-heartedly. “You’re not the most careful person around here either, you know,” he mumbled. Kane noted the man’s accent carried a sadness that could only be described as slightly European and hard to place.

The other man ignored him, snapping his fingers. A tongue of flame appeared above his thumb, and he pulled out a spliff, lighting it and placing it in his mouth. After taking a deep inhale, he snapped his fingers three more times, the motion like the turning of a crank, and with each snap, the flame grew brighter, fiercer, until it burned a bright blue.

Kane felt like he should be surprised. But he truly wasn’t. For all he knew, he was in Hell — of course motherfuckers would be able to start fires with their fingers and their minds.

The flame hopped from the man’s thumb to his index. He looked up to Tal inquisitively, angling the flaming finger like a gun and pointing it towards the chains. “50-50 is what we agreed on, right?”

“I could honestly care less, Esau. I doubt there’s anything good in there anyway.” Tal sniffed, rubbing his nose. “Well. What are you waiting for?”

It was then that Kane noticed that Esau’s eyes were directly on him. The eyes in question glowed a fiery red-orange, but only for a moment, as if fight-or-flight had kicked in before Esau had realized that Kane was hardly a threat at all.

He turned to Tal. “New arrival?”

Tal nodded, staring up at the clouds overhead, as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Unlucky.” He didn’t even dignify Kane with a greeting. Rather, the flame on his finger became more refined, like a sort of beam of fire, and he moved it across the chains wrapped around the chest with delicate, precise motions.

Kane wasn’t even offended — curiosity overtook him entirely. What the hell was in the chest?

He also finally noticed the inane amount of rings Esau was wearing. Ten entirely unique, gold and silver ones at the bases, and several thinner assorted ones above. It had some aesthetic appeal, but surely they couldn’t be comfortable to wear.

Kane figured, if these two didn’t care about Kane’s presence, then surely he could walk up and witness the unboxing up close, sating his growing curiosity. He began to close the distance between himself and the strangers, but out of nowhere, he bumped into… into something, getting knocked back down onto his ass.

Dumbfounded, he whipped his head around, only to see there was no wall or object in sight. He could, however, see a small smirk of schadenfreude sliding onto Esau’s face as he continued to pass his makeshift blowtorch over the lock.

Kane got to his feet and tried to get closer again, his motions more cautious this time, but once again, he bumped into this invisible wall. He placed a hand onto it, feeling a sort of electrical tingle on the surface of his palm, yet seeing absolutely nothing.

“Am I stupid or is there a wall here?” Kane called out to the pair.

“Keep in mind that it could be both,” Tal answered, feigning disinterest towards any and all events, although he kept one eye open and fixed on the chest.

Kane paused. “Are you doing this?”

Tal didn’t answer, and Kane couldn’t tell if it was because the man didn’t care enough to, or if it was because Esau had finally melted the lock off, stealing his attention entirely.

Both Tal and Esau got to their feet and stepped away from the chest, backing up a good distance, up just in front of Kane. Kane leaned against this invisible wall, cupping his hands around his eyes and pressing them against the barrier — he had to see what was in this chest.

And then, Tal raised a hand towards it, and lifted — slowly, gingerly. The lid of the chest opened with his gradual motion. Esau watched intently, fingers curling and uncurling, fingertips dancing with intermittent licks of fire. Kane could feel the wall tingle with more and more electricity as Tal moved.

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Finally, the lid fell back with a dull clunk. The world stood still as all three men peered at the open chest.

Hm. No explosions. No fanfare. Nothing.

Esau breathed a sigh of relief, running a hand over his buzzed head. “Not like the last one. You know, there can be luck down here after all,” he said with a warm yet off-putting smile.

“For sure,” Tal said, no heart in his words as if he didn’t believe them. “Don’t reach in without looking.”

Esau walked up to the chest, taking a knee. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a good feeling about this.” Tal shook his head as Esau reached a hand in without looking. In as in, in. Way too far in. As if there were extra space inside the chest, space that wasn’t geometrically possible. Darkness swallowed the man’s arm up to his tricep as he leaned in further and further.

And all at once, his face lit up — literally and figuratively— grinning as an orange glow was cast onto him from within the chest. Esau reached his second hand in, given his first one was seemingly aflame, and searched through whatever was inside. “Looks like another journal,” he called back to Tal.

Tal nodded, expression thoughtful. “Yeah?”

“… and some Russian dolls.”

Tal frowned. “Weird.”

Kane mimicked his frown, but not intentionally. What were Russian dolls? What was… Russia? That was a thing, right? It sounded familiar.

Esau continued to rustle through the impossibly deep chest. “Oh, sweet, we’ve got a ceremonial dagger and a couple gemstones. And as usual, a shitton of coins. This guy was a hoarder.”

“And you hate hoarders, don’t you?” Tal murmured, clearly hinting at something Kane was too new around here to understand.

Esau shrugged. “Hey, if I’m profiting, I’m not complaining. Both are highly demanding tasks — so I do one at a time.” He stroked the hair on his chin in contemplation. “You said you couldn’t care less about any of the stuff in this chest, yeah?”

Tal, for the first time since Kane had laid eyes on him, smirked. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“You piece of shit.” But it didn’t sound like Esau was surprised.

The man steepled his hands. “Hear me out: Lucian will translate the journal. And Saul can try out the dagger. Hell, I’m not even asking for anything for myself.”

“No chance I’m giving Saul the dagger, that prick.” Esau pulled out the implement in question and shut the chest firmly. It was short and rusty; didn’t look like much of a gift in the first place.

“Grow up. He’s the only one who can make use of it.”

“Lucian could. Hell, even Fresh Meat over here could.” Esau’s eyes landed on Kane, like a shark’s eyes on prey. “Hey Fresh Meat, think fast!”

He pitched the dagger at Kane, tip first.

Shit.

Time seemed to slow, enough for Kane to see the trail of red flames that followed behind the carved hilt of the weapon. Between one blink and the next, the tip of the blade was a hand’s width away from his nose.

Kane imagined that it was at this point his life would flash before his eyes or whatever. But unfortunately, he had no life to look back on. All there was was the wooden deck, the tricorn hat, and the surprisingly aerodynamic dagger. Ultimately, no life at all.

And then, Kane felt that feeling once again. That strange sixth sense. That feeling of being watched.

Was this a test?

Kane could feel the eyes on him, expectant and hungry. But what was he meant to do? Five minutes in, and he’d already been doomed by a man who didn’t even know his name.

A fire of his own burned within the pit of his stomach. Indignance.

All anyone on this ship had done in the past couple of minutes was mock him, threaten him, and try to kill him. He hadn’t even had a single proper introduction. He was appalled at the idea of having to survive this bloody voyage to who-knows-where with these enigmatic pricks. Not to mention, he was the only one with no special abilities, and he had no goddamn hat!

And then, all at once, the anger folded in on itself like a raging ocean wave, emotional energy sublimating into physical motion, and Kane had somehow ducked down into a crouch, and time restarted once again.

The dagger hit Tal’s barrier and fell flat to the deck with a harmless clatter.

Tal whirled on Esau, eyebrows knitted together. “Did you wanna kill him?”

“Relax, I knew you had the barrier up,” he said with a sly smile. He glanced down at Kane and pursed his lips. “And he somehow managed to duck in time regardless.”

Tal folded his hands into his hoodie’s pocket. “And if the dagger was — is — cursed? If it broke through my barrier? This guy could be useful, you know.” He squinted his eyes. “Maybe.”

Esau chuckled at that. “Not to worry, my friend. I can’t explain it, but we’re invincible, Tal. We’re invincible.”

As if in response to Esau’s bold, cocky claim, footsteps sounded from the side as the captain approached.

Tal sighed, and Esau looked the captain up and down as he held up a hand, ceasing the conversation. “Did you want to see the new journal we found, Lucian?”

The captain — Lucian, apparently — shook his head, looking at Esau. “Not yet. I actually just came to laugh at you.” He then turned to Kane, and when he spoke, his tone was serious as stone and cold as ice. “Pick up that dagger, Kane.”

Kane, feeling uneasy, slowly bent down and picked up the dagger. It was hot in his hands — likely the result of Esau’s mighty pitch.

Esau raised a brow. “Make fun of me? What are you talking—”

A thud sounded from the other side of the ship. In unison, four heads snapped towards the port side, taking in the horrifying sight of a massive tentacle of pure darkness having crashed onto the ship, obliterating the railing and causing cracks and splinters to spider across the dry black wood. The ship itself keeled to the side, and suddenly all four men were swept off their feet, sliding down the deck.

Kane felt his heart fly into throat as his legs fell out from under him. He found himself sliding down fast, towards the hungry red waves and the unshapely black mass of something writhing underneath them.

All he could do was scramble for something to grab onto, but all he had was the dagger that had nearly killed him seconds prior.

In a burst of inspiration, Kane stabbed the dagger into the wood of the deck with all his might, and his fall slowed to a halt, just short of a horrifying fate.

Hanging from his makeshift handhold, he looked up to see Tal and Esau seemingly faring better. Esau was laid flat down against an invisible barrier, having sustained only a minor fall before being saved by Tal. Tal, meanwhile, seemed to shirk gravity altogether, still standing upright on the deck, hands in his pocket, looking down at the creature and the scene with tired eyes.

But that still meant one person was missing.

Kane looked about wildly for Lucian, first above, and then inevitably below. He only had time to see the captain’s downward slide end before he latched onto a piece of the railing on the port side, legs dangling over a blob of certain death.

But, as if it were all planned, he carried his momentum with him into a swing. The piece of wood he’d grabbed onto snapped like a twig as he followed through with the motion, and he arced through the air, unsheathing and brandishing a sword, a rapier glittering like gold.

He spun with unworldly precision in an aerial somersault, shifting into a blur of motion, and in doing so, sliced cleanly through the tentacle of shadow. A massive roar, unlike anything Kane had ever heard (probably — he couldn’t be sure), resounded through the sea and the wood and the air, and suddenly the ship moved to right itself.

The ship keeled in the other direction before becoming more stable, and when he stumbled back to his feet, he saw Lucian already upright on deck, eyeing the damage left by the beast’s first attack. All the wood that had been touched by the shadow was slowly turning gray, as if the life was being sucked out of it.

Oddly enough, Kane’s jaw should have been on the floor after Lucian’s maneuver. But frankly, all he could bring himself to think was, “I could totally do that.”

Lucian was still in the air, projected to land in the ocean — which would surely mean certain death. However, some unknown force yanked him backwards towards the ship, and he landed on the deck in a roll, offering Tal a quick nod before turning back towards the beast.

Kane looked at Lucian’s glittering golden rapier, which he had yet to sheath. He then looked down to his own dagger — or rather, “his own” in loud air quotes — a rusty gray with intricate but likely meaningless carvings.

Kane clenched his fist around the hilt, knuckles white.

Esau struggled to his feet, holding a hand to his head. “Are you still going to make fun of—” Clearly, he didn’t count falling on his ass as something to be mocked.

“After,” Lucian said, backing up towards the group as another tentacle waved about in the air, accompanied with an eardrum-shattering roar. “We have a beast to kill.”