“Well, well,” a man’s gruff slur sounded over the docks with a chuckle, “Look at everyone that’s come to see me. What’s the occasion?”

Cira stood behind her head captains and observed the skeevy pirate. Another man followed behind him accompanied by a woman who wore a nervous expression looking over the docks. Jimbo and Shores were silent, as were the many others present. They looked like they were watching a man arrive at his own funeral procession.

“Why’s everyone givin’ me that look?” The one who must have been Kieran approached Cira’s crew, “Hey Jimbo, who’s that broad?”

He jerked his head toward Cira, and she watched her men grow pale, still holding their breath.

“Seriously, what’s the friggin’ deal?!” His expression only grew more confused as he looked between familiar faces around him.

Finally, Captain Shores broke the silence, “You, watch your mouth…” His tone was cold.

“Huh?!” Kieran stared at him aghast, then the man behind him spoke up too.

“Seriously, what’s this church-nut talkin’ big for?” Perhaps his first mate, the guy posed his question at Jimbo who now couldn’t seem to contain his laughter. “Isn’t Captain Shores the Lost Cloud’s biggest joke?”

He looked around and no one responded. The silence was almost eerie given how many were present.

“Alright, ya’ wench.” Kieran walked up to Cira with the leisure of a man who wasn’t in danger. “You’re the only one not lookin’ at me funny. Where’s Wick at? I take it you’re his newest consort?”

“Hah!” Cira laughed in his face, “No, no… I’m no consort. Wick sent me here with his favorite lackeys to pick up any glowstone you have left. We got a big deal rolling in, so he needs a ledger of how much you dropped off where.”

The man snootily twirled his mustache, “Ohoho…” Then his eyes passed over her slowly from head to toe, “Then that must make you a bonus.”

Captain Shores tried to draw his sword and Cira subtly restrained him with sorcery. Oblivious to Kieran, the mood had grown cold around him.

“Based on my last interaction with Captain Wick, I believe the nature of our relationship is sorely dependent on that ledger.” Cira did her best to offer a friendly smile, but it was difficult to hide her amusement.

As a perfectly reasonable sorcerer, Cira liked giving people the benefit of the doubt when possible, but even she had to admit this fellow was making a poor first impression. Most men with that look on their face were after her enchanted treasure pouch—the one hung from her waist between the medicine and weapon pouches—but her defenses were so thorough that these situations were never at her disadvantage.

“You’re a lively one, ain’tchya?” Kieran asked with a smirk, “We’re all out of glowstone, but I’ll have one of my guys grab the reports for ya.” He searched the crowd and found someone he knew, “Hey, Dutchy. Why don’t you head on back to the Dutchess and clear a table for me and this lass?”

“Uh…” She had turned white as a sheet looking back and forth between the two.

Kieran shot them a confused look then turned back to his ship, “Pita! The hell’s takin’ you so long? Get down here!”

“Y-yes, Captain.” A timid boy crept down the ramp as Cira failed to hide her surprise. I know that kid… don’t I? It was hard to get a good look at his face as he kept his eyes glued to his feet. The girl looked at him with soft eyes, but Kieran’s mate saw him as a bug buzzing around. “How can I help, Captain—”

He froze when he locked eyes with Cira, and she looked much the same. Why is he here? And with a man like that…? A tense few seconds went by as Cira tried to work it out in her head but couldn’t think of anything good.

“Pita…?”

“It’s you…” The boy’s hopeless gaze lit up, but his body shook. “The magic lady—”

Slap!

“Don’t ever let me catch you lookin’ at my guest like that!” Kieran held another firm backhand at the ready in case the boy had something else to say.

Without thinking much about it, Cira planted her left foot back and stepped forward with her right. She thrust her hand forward with an open palm. Mana ripped through the air as the dock splintered and a pained cry rang out—shortly followed by his crew’s audible shock, then silenced as Kieran disappeared. Cracking wood echoed and a cloud of splinters exploded from Cira’s newest ship’s hull.

“You two.” Scornful cerulean mana illuminated the mist of Acher and brought Kieran’s two companions to their knees. Meanwhile, Cira had reached Pita and pulled him away with an arm around his shoulder, “What have you done to this boy?”

Cira’s anger was palpable. It blew on the wind, and it shook the earth. The red-haired concubine appeared in a display of tact and ran a hand through Pita’s hair before giving Cira a nod. The boy would be safe, so the angered sorcerer took a step forward. Kieran’s first mate looked at her with horror and disgust while a cutlass shook in his hand. He slowly drew a pistol from his coat as she got closer.

“Shoot.” Cira demanded, but he didn’t even try to move a muscle. Perhaps he needs a little help… Much to his terror, his finger lifted from the pistol’s grip and found the trigger before squeezing with little resistance.

But Cira’s hand was raised in front of her chest with a flat palm, slightly angled.

“Gyahh!!!” The man collapsed to the ground pouring blood from the knee. “You bitch! How—”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

A carefully tailored silken boot was stained with blood as it passed through the man’s jawline. Teeth rolled across the crooked dock and fell to the cloudy abyss. He was left unconscious.

“I asked a question.” Cira turned her gaze to the young woman standing alone at her island’s dock. The rest of Kieran’s crew stood awestruck up on the deck, too scared to come down or interject whatsoever.

“I—please don’t… I can explain. I never wanted to—” She looked between Cira and the boy in such shock she couldn’t even get a full sentence out.

“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” The pressure only increased as Cira got closer, bringing the girl closer to the ground. Cira was about to reach out and grab her collar when a shout came from behind her. Before she knew it, the kid ran past her and threw his arms out.

“No, don’t!” he was defending the girl. “Please don’t hurt my big sister!”

Cira felt herself deflate, “What… This is your sister?”

The girl collapsed to the ground as she was released from the violent furls of mana. Cira thought for a second maybe she had overreacted. Even her own crew was watching this like some kind of spectacle.

“Well, no…” The boy’s eyes looked guilty, “But she took care of me—please don’t hurt her!”

He knew he was powerless, but the resolve in his eyes was strong as he spread his frail arms out in her defense. The girl on the ground simply looked between them like she had no idea what was happening.

“Okay, I won’t hurt her. But, Pita… What happened?” Cira knelt down to eye level and looked at him with concern. “Why are you with these people?”

In a moment, Pita’s expression fell apart. Cira also watched guilt glaze over the girl’s eyes.

Pita began to shake as his gaze grew distant. “They—they burned it all down… Again!” His face crumpled as tears fell. The boy let out an anguished cry that Cira could tell was pent up for a long time.

She held him as he sobbed on the boardwalk, casting cold eyes to the girl, “Please explain, Sister.”

The blood drained from her face before she eventually hung her head, “The… island this kid came from... We burned it down.” To her credit, she raised her head and looked Cira in the eyes while admitting to her crime. It appeared she was remorseful, but that didn’t exactly change events.

“For whatever reason, Pita is fond of you, but your captain and that other guy will have to join Wick in prison. James will figure out what to do with the rest of your men.” James didn’t bother complaining after seeing Cira’s face. Somehow the girl looked even more confused. “Go fetch me those reports and we’ll speak further.”

The petrified girl rightly fucked off, leaving Cira and her hundreds of lackeys alone with the crying kid and two unconscious men.

“All of you.” Cira scanned her eyes over her closest pirate pals, “I would appreciate if you could deal with this and send those two to the dungeon. I need to speak with the boy.”

___

It appeared Kieran’s ship was the type on which people didn’t think to bathe. There was some solace to be garnered in that she didn’t have to take on any sponge maidens, but Pita was rancid, so Cira took him up to Breeze Haven to let him get cleaned up. Once they arrived at least some of his worries were replaced with wonder.

Cira had cleaned his clothes and patched them up while she waited for him to return from the baths. He took a fair deal of time to himself, but eventually came out spick and span, looking sullen as could be.

The first thing he said when he lifted his head was to ask if his big sister was okay—Ulyssa apparently, or Uly for short.

Over the last few months, Pita had apparently lived in constant fear of being thrown to the clouds. A fear which actually came true a couple time. On many occasions, Uly had literally caught him by the ankle and pulled him back up—one time with a rope. She had to drag him up the hull against battering winds and it actually explained a few of the bruises on his face and arms.

They were much more apparent after he was all cleaned up, but didn’t seem to bother him much.

Though he didn’t mention anything, the kid looked lighter than last time Cira saw him. She could practically see his bones and his shirt hung loosely, revealing a pallid complexion. Pita was still worked up, and Cira listened intently as he recounted countless details about how horrible his life had become.

While he vented freely, Cira decided to go ahead and cook him a meal. One of her favorites, and chock-full of all the nutrients a growing boy clearly lacked, she got to grilling some wormwiches. Cira even busted out the Elder Cheddar.

Pita said he wasn’t hungry at first but couldn’t resist once it sat before him. He practically inhaled it as his complaints slowed. The boy got it all out and calmed down from the hostile environment that had become his life, Cira thought it was safe to pry just a little, “Did Kieran take you from Heron Village?” She asked softly, sitting down with her own wormwich at the next seat over.

“N-no… I was away from the village that night…” His voice was full of guilt, “By the time I came back everything was already on fire again. I didn’t—” His voice cracked and he held back a sob, “I didn’t even check on them! I ran straight to the ship and hid!”

The boy clenched his fists so hard Cira thought they might bleed. The dizzying remorse in his eyes was like a storm of doubt had been brewing all this time. There were dark bags under his swollen eyes and the pain in his cry resonated with Cira.

For all he knew, both his parents and everyone he knew was dead. Cira knew what it meant to feel guilty, and while she couldn’t impart Tawny’s profane wisdom upon this child, she thought something ought to be said. Cira put an arm on his shoulder and made him look at her.

“There’s nothing you could have done even if you had returned.” His eyes went wide as she spoke. Cira thought he must have his reasons for becoming a stowaway, especially for the ones who destroyed his home, but that wasn’t the matter at hand. “I’m sure anyone in Heron Village would be happy to simply know you’re alive. Everyone must walk their own path. Those you used to know did as much, and you have only just stepped onto your own. There is no reason to feel guilty about that.”

Cira went blank for a second.

“Just as you will walk your own path, I have already walked mine.” Cira’s father said on his final day in a frail attempt to make her feel better, “All paths have their end, but yours has hardly reached its first step. One day I hope you will realize why I worked so hard to find it.”

To this day Cira still didn’t know what he meant. As much as she liked the kid, she knew she couldn’t adopt him and teach him the ways. That wasn’t in the cards, though she bet he would accept it happily. She certainly wouldn’t deliberately destroy herself to rid him of a curse or something dangerous if she knew the outcome from a mile away.

Her father was perhaps a better sorcerer than she could ever be, but this also meant his hopes could not be realized yet. She simply couldn’t understand why anyone would work so hard to give up their life.

“Is… is it okay?” Pita looked at her with dried tears, “to be happy I left?”

It wasn’t her strong suit, but Cira did her best to muster a reassuring smile, “Do you see the island on which this house is built? On which we share brunch? My father once enchanted this clump of stone from the land of his birth and flew away with complaints not so different from your own. He never once regretted leaving home to forge his own path on the wind. Perhaps your destiny is not so different.”

Hopefully minus the imminent death.

Pita lit up like… something other than the festival at this anecdote. Eyes again full of wonder like the day he showed off his carvings, “He… just like that? Do you really think I could do that one day? I-I’ve been practicing!”

“You’ve… been practicing enchantments?” Cira couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Yeah! It’s all thanks to you—I’ve been using that chisel you gave me!” He was so excited he spilled juice on Cira’s dinner table, not that he noticed.

"Hold on..." All I left in Heron Village was a sundial and an ordinary iron chisel. Certainly not an artificer’s needle, “You’ve been enchanting things… with a chisel?”