Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jinx remembers having died at the ocean. She drowned, the water filtering into her system, replacing her blood, and the waves shattered her body. And then, she died.

The memory came to her like an icy wave, splashing her mind with disconnected fragments. Death... yes, she remembered that. The salty water, embracing her with the ferocity of a jealous lover, filling her lungs with a promise of aquatic eternity. The ocean had claimed her, stripping her of her breath, her life, her being. Her body, a toy at the mercy of the currents, had swayed between the surface and the abyssal darkness.

Nothingness. For an instant that felt like an eternity, only absence existed. A cold void, as pure as frost, where pain and fear dissolved into the immensity. It was a promised oblivion, an endless dream on the ocean floor.

But then... she felt it. An unknown extension, a symphony of scales and cartilage unfurling from her waist. A tail. The ocean, which had taken her life, granted her a new form, a new existence. And with it, the ability to breathe, to dance in the depths, to be part of the unfathomable mystery.

That was the pact sealed in salt. The ocean, executioner and benefactor, had transformed her. It had swallowed her and spit her out, reborn from the waves as a creature of legend. And then, it had guided her, like a blinking beacon, to the shores of Piltover.

Everything behind her death is a mystery.

"Jinx"

Silco's voice pulled her from her aquatic daydreams.

She turned slowly, the water dripping from her hair like salty tears. Silco was there, at the edge of the beach, with the dawn light painting dancing shadows on his face. His figure, despite the serenity he radiated, seemed burdened with the weight of ancient secrets hidden beneath his Father’s robe. One of the highest authorities of the Convent.

Jinx emerged from the sea, her movements graceful and fluid, as if she still felt the sway of the waves within her. The cold sand clung to her skin as she crawled toward the shore, reaching the sandy beach where her tail shimmered. She took the towel Silco offered her and dried herself slowly, enjoying the soft warmth of the fabric against her skin. The sea breeze caressed her, bringing with it the promises of the depths. Silco watched in silence as she shook off the water still dripping from her body, a whisper of the sea remaining in each movement. She was too close to the shore, the waves touching her ankles, the water shining under the first rays of the sun.

“Jinx,” his voice resonated like an echo in the vast landscape. Silco did not lift his gaze from the horizon, where the sky began to tint with a warm orange, almost as distant and cold as his soul. “You’ve been swimming too close to the shore. They could see you.”

Jinx let out a low laugh, filled with amusement, the same one she had heard before, just before chaos was to come. She looked at him, her expression full of mischief as her fingers slid through her wet hair, as if she had not a care in the world.

“I’ll be fine, Father,” she replied, shaking her head, gracefully taking a towel Silco had extended for her. “Relax! No one comes here at this hour. And if someone does... well, let’s just say they won’t be the first curious one to get lost among the waves, right?”

Her tone, irreverent and playful, deeply contrasted with Silco’s tense calm, who showed no signs of despair. In his gaze, however, something else could be seen: a concern that was not easy to hide. Without taking his eyes off her, he stepped back, observing how Jinx played with the water between her fingers.

“It’s for your own safety, Jinx,” he replied, this time with more gravity in his tone. “Remember what you are; people won’t forgive you. And sometimes, you forget that you are a sin.”

Her laughter slowly faded into an inner chuckle, almost complicit with her own chaotic nature. But beyond the shore, toward the horizon, something still called to her, a feeling that could only come from the ocean, from that vastness she had left behind.

“That’s why I’ll be a nun,” she repeated softly, still smiling, as she shrugged. “Father, don’t you think God needs me? If not, why has he blessed me with a new life and a tail?”

The way she said it, with a spark in her eyes, gave it an honest tone that made Silco look at her for a moment with a strange mix of exasperation and affection.

“The Lord acts in mysterious ways.”

“I believe he is guiding me toward something,” Jinx insisted. “Something great.”

Silco observed her in silence but said nothing more; he didn’t need to. His words were always few, and in his silence, there was more than any lengthy declaration.

The siren set the towel aside, and with an agility befitting her aquatic nature, she rose from the sand, beginning to dress in a tunic she had brought. Silco diverted his gaze toward the horizon behind her, not showing his usual discomfort when Jinx transformed from the creature of the sea to the austere figure of a nun, a shadow that represented a strange contrast to the person she had been, to the one she still seemed to be inside.

She approached him, her dry clothes wrapping around her. Silco, in his characteristic silence, nodded, and began to walk toward the convent, his steps measured, as always. Jinx followed him, watching the great waves sliding toward the shore, feeling that each step took her further away from that world she once knew so well.

“Did you know I painted something new?” she asked, as if the silence between them didn’t exist. Her voice was a mix of enthusiasm and something deeper, something that seemed out of place for someone who knew her only as a creature of chaos. “This time I used colors from the ocean. It’s... it’s a blend of calm and storm, with shapes that dissolve. Would you like to see it?”

Silco walked without responding, his expression impassive, as if Jinx’s words were merely part of a background noise. He was used to her dialogues, to her stories, which always shifted from one thing to another. But deep down, in the depths of his thoughts, a strange feeling of affection enveloped him as he listened to her. He didn’t respond because he didn’t need to. He didn’t understand everything she was, but he had cared for her like a daughter, and deep down, that connected him to her more than he dared to acknowledge.

Jinx continued talking as they walked, her voice filled with imagination, describing impossible scenes from her restless mind: an ink storm on canvas, a sea overflowing onto the walls of a ruined city, impossible creatures made of light and shadow. Silco did not pay her much attention, but he didn’t mind. The sound of her voice, the rhythm of her speech, gave him a strange sense of peace. It was the noise he had always had nearby and, for some reason, never found bothersome.

Upon reaching the doors of the convent, Jinx looked back one last time. The foam of the waves gently touched the sand, and in her chest, a pang of melancholy invaded her for a moment.

“Do you think anyone will miss me?” she asked suddenly, as if it were unimportant, as if it were just one of those questions that came to her in moments of absurd reflection. “Or will they forget me, like everything that is lost beyond the sea?”

Silco stopped upon hearing her, and for a brief second, he looked at her face, where the usual expression of amusement had now softened with something more serious, something he could not fully comprehend. But he said nothing. He simply opened the door of the convent and let her enter.

The siren paused for a moment, looking one last time at the ocean that had brought her, the ocean that would always be part of her, no matter how far away she was. Finally, she let out a soft, almost sad smile.

Maybe someone beyond the sea would miss her.

Chapter Text

JINX WAS STANDING IN FRONT OF THE CONVENT KITCHEN SINK.

The water splashing furiously on her face as she scrubbed an endless pile of greasy, dirty dishes with her hands covered in muck. The other novices moved around the kitchen like shadows, circling and murmuring among themselves, throwing quick, mocking glances at her as if they were sharks stalking their prey.

Every time one of them passed by, they would drop another plate into the pile, or worse, splash some water intentionally onto her habit. They would even leave the most disgusting food or in the most repugnant way, dropping everything on her. Jinx frowned as the drops fell onto her tunic.

Jinx gritted her teeth. She knew what was coming; whenever it was her turn to wash dishes, suddenly all the plates were magically dirty, even with mud. She was perhaps the most hated of all, but it was a sin. She was Jinx. And she didn’t help much with her reputation.

With a swift movement, she plunged her hands back into the soapy water. But at that precise moment, a scream made her jump in fright. A high-pitched, terrified female voice pierced the air. The siren lifted her head, her heart racing at the sound that accompanied it: "Jinx!"

The voice came from one of the older novices, three years her senior. The girl who had been looking at her disdainfully, the same one who had recently passed by mocking her hair, threatening to cut it, and had thrown one of her paintings to the ground, now appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her face was completely distorted, pale with wide, terrified eyes.

"You’re a demonic spawn! You put a rat in my bed! A rat!" she screamed, glaring at the siren with a mix of fury and fear. "You are a creature of the devil!"

The kitchen filled with gasps and muffled screams, tense at the mention of that dark being. The other novices, who had been mocking Jinx until that moment, now stood watching expectantly, some with their hands on their chests, others with a mix of astonishment and contained amusement. The echo of the scream continued to reverberate off the walls, and Jinx, who frankly had done that, knew that her only reaction could be to flee.

"I thought you would like it," Jinx mocked. "Finally, a cute and nice creature in your room."

"You will pay for this!" 

The venom in her words made the other novices let out small nervous giggles. Jinx couldn’t help but shrug, as indifferent as always. But before she could respond, something else made her react. The footsteps of Mother Pim echoed from the hallway. A sound that Jinx recognized all too well.

"Jinx!" came Mother Pim's stern voice from the doorway. Her presence filled the kitchen like an elongated shadow.

Jinx quickly turned toward the exit, fear and adrenaline coursing through her body, making her heart race faster. Without thinking, she began to run through the hallways, her long nun’s habit fluttering behind her. The other novices began to whisper among themselves, but she no longer heard them. Her mind was focused on one thing: escape.

The water still soaking her dress dried slowly as she ran, but it didn’t matter; she could control when and when not to transform. Only on a full moon was it mandatory to be in the water as she truly was. What mattered was not being caught by Mother Pim. The woman was strict and harsh, and her patience with Jinx was always minimal.

Well, only Father Silco had patience with her.

Jinx dodged the nuns crossing her path, her breathing rapid but controlled. She needed time, just a little more to reach the small corner where she could be alone. But as she turned a corner, she felt a tug on her arm with all the strength of the world, making her stop and face Mother Pim.

"Have you learned nothing?" Mother Pim repeated, her voice a whip in the silence of the hallway. Her eyes, cold as granite, pierced Jinx, scrutinizing every ounce of rebellion on her face.

Jinx swallowed hard. Her mind raced a mile a minute, searching for a way to justify her behavior, to explain the rat in Lucy’s bed. But before she could articulate a single word, Mother Pim raised a hand, silencing her with an authoritative gesture.

"Silence. I don’t want to hear a word. Your actions speak for themselves, Jinx. What did you expect to achieve with this... this vulgarity? To humiliate Lucy? To terrorize her? To sow discord among my novices?"

"But..." Jinx tried to interrupt, feeling the injustice burning in her throat. "She provoked me first. She mocked me, threw my paintings in the mud, and I told you..."

Mother Pim let out a bitter laugh.

"Provocation? Jinx, do you really think that justifies your behavior? We are nuns, dedicated to the service of God. Revenge, resentment, bitterness... all of that is sin, weapons of the Devil. Is that what you want to be, Jinx? A tool of evil? More than you have already been marked?"

Mother Pim's words echoed in the hallway, each syllable like a stone thrown against Jinx's soul. The young girl felt the heat of anger replaced by a glacial cold, a fear spreading through her veins.

"No... I don’t want to..." Jinx murmured.

"But you act as if you do," Mother Pim shot back, her voice rising. "From the day we found you, you have been a constant source of trouble. A whirlwind of disorder and chaos. Do you know why we tolerate you, Jinx?"

Jinx shook her head, confusion painted on her face.

Mother Pim sighed, a gesture of exasperation.

"Because Father Silco still sees a spark of goodness in you, a small flame that we believe can be kindled. But day by day, that flame weakens by your own hand. You refuse to embrace discipline, obedience, humility. You delight in mischief, in confrontation." The nun stepped closer, her cold breath on Jinx's face. "You are a sin, Jinx. A stain on the purity of this convent. You arrived here as an offense, brought by the waves on the Day of the Devil during Holy Week, naked, on one of the most sacred dates of our calendar. Do you think it was a coincidence? Do you think God sent you? No, Jinx. Your arrival was an abomination, a test for our faith."

Mother Pim's words were like daggers, piercing Jinx's heart. Each syllable resonated with deep contempt, an unshakable conviction of her own wickedness. She felt her world crumbling, the small spark of hope still burning inside her extinguished under the weight of condemnation.

"Maybe I am... a jinx," Jinx whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mother Pim showed no sign of compassion.

"What matters is what you choose to be. Will you surrender to your dark impulses, yielding to the temptation of chaos and destruction? Or will you fight against it, strive for redemption?"

Jinx did not respond. She was paralyzed, her mind clouded by disbelief and pain. She could not comprehend how Mother Pim could see her with such aversion, how she could consider her an evil creature. Though it was already clear that everyone else saw her the same way.

"Enough," said Mother Pim, releasing Jinx's arm. "Return to the kitchen. Collect that rat and dispose of it in an appropriate place. And reflect on your actions, Jinx. Reflect on the pain you cause, on the damage you inflict. Stop being a problem for all of us; it is not what the Lord would want; rather, it is what He detests."

Jinx nodded slowly, her head bowed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Without saying a word, she turned and walked back to the kitchen, feeling the weight of Mother Pim's gaze on her back.

She found the rat, a small creature with bright eyes, trembling in the bottom of a room, scared. She picked it up gently, feeling its small heart beating strongly. Then, she left the convent, crossing the garden until she reached the small church that stood on the hill and there she let the little rat go.

She entered the somber silence of the sanctuary, sitting on one of the benches, the rat curled in her hands. She looked up at the crucifix hanging over the altar, tears blurring her vision.

"God," Jinx whispered. "If you are there... why did you save me? Why do they hate me so much? Am I really a creature of the Devil?"

The silence of the church was the only answer. Jinx closed her eyes, feeling the weight of loneliness and despair crushing her. Maybe Mother Pim was right. Maybe she was a curse, a mistake that should never have existed. But even in the darkness, a small spark of hope refused to be completely extinguished.

"I know I’m not a saint, but you saw, they ruined that painting of the girl with pink hair, and you know it was leading me to something!" she exclaimed, closer to the figure of the Lord. "Why did you save me? What do you want me to do? I try, I really do, but... I don’t know if this is the path you have decided for me, or if it is? Just answer me, please."

The silence remained as Jinx sighed, lighting a candle that had gone out, observing the figures of crucifixes, God, and His son. Sometimes she thought she was a lost cause, but she didn’t want to be; she wanted to be good, and maybe, just maybe, she could still find a way to change, to prove that she wasn’t the evil creature everyone thought she was.

"Is it because I don’t pray and just talk to you like a friend?" she asked, kneeling in front of the candles. "I already told you that it’s not that I don’t like praying, but I feel it must be lonely for you... just hearing the same thing over and over, requests and not trivial things; I think you enjoy what I tell you. I hope so, but... one day you could answer me, give me a sign, just one."

Jinx remained silent for a long time in front of the altar, the church enveloping her with its solemn and cold air. The candles flickered with the breeze that entered through the gaps in the window, their soft light illuminating the statues, creating shadows that seemed to dance on the walls. She sat on the bench, her body hunched, her eyes fixed on the crucifix. But Mother Pim's words and the feeling of being constantly condemned continued to echo in her mind.

It was true that she was not a saint. She had never been. And, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t succeed, as if she were branded with fire on her soul. Was she a creature of the Devil? Was there really something good in her, as Father Silco believed, or was she just doomed to be a stain on the convent, as Mother Pim said?

Jinx sighed and got up from the bench, watching how the candles flickered before her. She decided that if she was going to be there, she might as well do something. She approached the altar, arranged some fallen candles, wiped away some of the dust that had accumulated on the edges of the wood, and took a deep breath. Perhaps that was all she could do: to tidy up, to care, even when no one else did. She could try to be good, in that small corner of the church.

It was then that a distant noise interrupted her concentration. Jinx stopped in her tracks when she heard the commotion from the hallway. The sound of hurried footsteps, the agitated voices of the monks, and the stuttered orders floated in the air. It didn’t take long for her to realize that something serious was happening. The young girl’s heart raced in her chest as her curiosity instincts urged her to walk toward the source of the noise.

The murmurs grew, and she reached the corner of the hallway, where the monks were crowding around something. Jinx approached silently, pressed against the wall, and managed to hear fragments of the conversations.

"It’s a pirate, they’ve captured him!" said a trembling voice.

"The royal guard has succeeded!" replied another. "He was wounded; we found him in the hills, and although we surrounded him... there’s something strange about him. He won’t let us help."

Jinx frowned, confused. A pirate was usually taken to the gallows almost immediately when caught; however, they were treating this one. Her curiosity pushed her further, and without thinking much more, she veered toward the small side door that led her to the room where she usually found Father Silco, in his office at the church.

Upon entering the room, a sigh of relief escaped her chest. Father Silco was there, in his usual calm posture, tending to the injured man. This individual, a fierce-looking person, lay on a bed, his face covered in sweat and blood, breathing with difficulty. His brown skin contrasted with the whiteness of the paint covering his face, and his hair, thick and white as snow, fell in disheveled locks over his forehead. The room was filled with palpable tension, and the man writhed, clearly reluctant to accept any help.

"Father?" Jinx whispered, approaching cautiously.

Silco looked up, no surprise on his face. It seemed as if he had expected her to arrive, though Jinx didn’t understand why.

"Jinx, I need your help; come."

The pirate thrashed on the table, murmuring incoherently, his body tense like a string about to snap. Father Silco tried to place his hands on his chest, intending to calm him, but the man reacted violently.

"Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!" the pirate shouted, his voice hoarse and filled with rage. "You won’t save me; I’m not a dog you can take care of!"

Jinx approached the man carefully, observing his wild eyes, filled with pain and fury. Something about him intrigued her.

"Who is he?" Jinx suggested quietly, not taking her eyes off the man. "I think his wound is infected."

Silco studied her intently before nodding slightly, giving her the space to approach the pirate. The man tried to pull away when she leaned closer, but she gently touched his shoulder, not taking her gaze from his wild eyes.

Father Silco moved closer to the wounded man, extending his hands, trying to calm him, but the pirate, in his desperation and pain, rejected him with a fierce growl.

"Father Silco, the prisoner must be brought to justice," interrupted an armored official with a sword, surrounded by two equally armed men. "The decision has been made; whether he survives or not. The king has ordered that he be taken to the gallows as soon as he recovers enough."

"This man is a human being, not an animal, and he has the right to live," Father Silco replied. "We will not allow him to be killed just like that, no matter what he has done. We will heal him."

The guard, however, remained unconvinced.

"Let him die; don’t waste medicine on a sea rat like this."

"He is still a man."

"The crimes he committed are too serious. If he survives, he will go to the gallows. That is the will of the crown."

"Life is not just a judgment of the crown," Silco said firmly. "There is more to a man’s fate that can be changed; my faith does not allow me to let anyone die. And if you do not save him, Jinx, there will be no peace for any of us. The past cannot be undone, but the present can be altered."

The man replied, but his words faded into a distant echo, and Jinx stopped listening. She was left alone with the pirate who was fighting for his life. His body still tense with uncertainty, she approached cautiously, as if each step could unleash something she didn’t understand. As she leaned over him, her eyes fell on the necklace hanging from his neck: a small silver amulet, whose circular medallion had been marked by the wear of years and the hands that had caressed it in countless moments. On its surface, two figures intertwined, a girl and a boy, their faces captured in a blurred silhouette, like the memory of a forgotten dream.

The necklace felt vaguely familiar, as if its presence were etched deep within her memory.

The pirate, who had been writhing in pain, suddenly lay still, his eyes shining with a feverish light that defied death itself.

"Powder?" he murmured, his voice broken as if he were pronouncing a name lost in the shadows of time.

The echo of those words reverberated in Jinx's mind, a strange and fleeting sensation washed over her, as if something deep within her being was trying to surface.

"No..." she instinctively replied. "Is she your wife? Who are you?"

"Powder..."

The pirate extended his hand, as if he wanted to touch her face, but Jinx recoiled, as if that gesture were a veil separating her from something she still didn’t understand. In that moment, the pirate's will seemed to be reborn, as if the name he had uttered had given him a new reason to keep fighting. And that renewed strength awakened in Jinx a curiosity that pulled her beyond what she expected.

Without thinking any further, her gaze focused on the wound, on the torn flesh that already showed signs of infection. Her hands trembled slightly, but she made an effort to calm herself. She knew what she had to do. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and began to sing. The melody that emerged from her throat was not human; it was a whisper from the ocean itself, low and guttural, laden with ancient energy, like a secret invocation from remote times. Her voice floated in the air, ethereal and vibrant, creating an atmosphere that seemed to distort time and space.

As the song slipped from her lips, something in the pirate began to change. His breathing, once erratic, became calmer. His muscles relaxed as if the melody had unraveled the knots of pain that held him captive. And his eyes, which had struggled to remain open, slowly closed, succumbing to sleep, or perhaps something more.

"Powder..." he whispered again.

The wound, which had seemed an unbreakable curse, began to heal. A faint glow, almost imperceptible, emerged from the wounded flesh, slowly mending it, closing the injury with a gentle whisper of energy. The pirate's body stopped trembling, and Jinx, seeing that her work had borne fruit, ceased her song. The man was now deep in a slumber, his wound now more closed and less severe.

"Who's Powder, pirate?" Jinx whispered, her voice an echo of curiosity floating in the air, as her eyes remained fixed on the necklace that still hung from his neck.

With a careful gesture, she tore it off, holding it between her fingers. As she lifted the medallion, she noticed that the figures engraved on its surface faded into shadows, as if the memories they represented were slipping through her hands, unable to be fully grasped. The silhouette of the boy and girl were not just figures, but shadows of a blurry past, a distant connection that unsettled her.

It was so familiar, yet so disconcerting.

Before she could reflect further on it, the door swung open abruptly, and the guard and Mother Superior Aimee entered. Quickly, Jinx stepped aside, her mind caught in the enigma of the necklace. Without another word, she moved away, the medallion in her hands, and cast one last look at the pirate, whose life had been saved not by mercy, but by the weight of the crimes that would still haunt him.

Chapter Text

"SO, WHO'S POWDER?"

The question was barely registered by the pirate as he began to wake up. Jinx watched him closely, like a predator observes its prey.

"Is she your wife? Do pirates have wives?" Jinx continued asking, moving with agility, like a predator to its prey, her arms gesturing with the flexibility of tentacles, her smile still floating on her face in a carefree manner. "Are you Catholic? Not to be rude or reckless, though I am, but you don’t seem baptized: are you baptized? Did you ask a priest to marry you in a church or was it at sea?"

He completely ignored her. He sat up, but before he could fully settle, Jinx reached out with a slap, earning herself a direct death threat sent through those brown eyes.

"Since when are nuns so angry and talkative?"

"Since when does a pirate let himself be captured by the royal guard?" Jinx retorted with a challenging look, as sharp as a knife's edge. The pirate looked at her as if he was about to curse her, but he held back, the rage in his gaze barely concealed. "So, what’s your name?"

"If I tell you, will you shut up?" he replied, his voice laden with impatience, a whisper of danger lurking beneath each word.

"More or less."

"Only if you shut up."

"And you call me angry," Jinx scoffed, but a smile appeared on her face, full of amusement. "Well, fine, tell me, what’s your name?"

"Ekko."

"And that’s it?" she continued, as if nothing he said had any impact to scare her. "And your pirate name? Blackbeard? Roberts?"

"You said you would shut up."

"But you haven’t told me your name."

"I’m called Ekko, that’s all you need to know, and now shut up."

Jinx, amused, growled but did so reluctantly. She was about to say something more, but Ekko’s fury was palpable. With a quick glance, she observed him. That kind of look could crush you, and for a moment, Jinx fell silent, defying the torrent of anger emanating from Ekko. He was a pirate, a natural hunter of sirens, but now she had saved him, and not only did that please God, it also made her feel vaguely superior to him. He was not like the other sailors she had bothered at times. He was darker, drained of life. And that intrigued her.

Unaware of having a mermaid beside him, he began to look around as if the place smelled bad, even when Jinx had cleaned everything she could out of boredom while taking care of him at night. It was then that he brought his hand to his neck, a gesture that unleashed even more tension.

"Where is it?"

Jinx watched him without saying a word, a dense silence that only fueled the pirate's fury, but she just observed him, as she did in the ocean with every sailor she had ever seen. Ekko repeated, his voice now charged with palpable resentment.

"My medallion," he repeated, the word coming from his throat like a roar. "Where is it? Tell me or..."

Jinx gestured as if she was going to speak but mocked him, making it impossible for him to talk. The air between them became even denser. Despite the threat emanating from him, Jinx did not step back, enjoying being a siren teasing pirates. Ekko rolled his eyes, nodding in a growl that could have left the bravest of men trembling.

"You told me to shut up."

"I'm asking you something."

"Well, think better about your instructions before saying them."

"The medallion," he growled. "Where is it?"

Jinx had the necklace in her tunic pocket, but something, a strange spark, urged her not to give it to him. It was the first thing in her life that truly felt familiar to her, beyond the prayers and the nuns of the convent; it came beyond the sea. It had to be a sign from God.

"Over there."

"I'm going to kill you if you lost it," Ekko threatened, his tone fierce, but Jinx simply looked at him with a mischievous glint. "Give it to me."

"You’re not very devout, are you?" Jinx joked. "Threatening to kill someone is a sin."

"Where is the damn medallion?"

"Yes, you’re definitely not devout, so Powder is not your wife."

Ekko tensed instantly, the muscles in his body rigid as if he might explode at any moment. Jinx couldn’t help it. She was too good at irritating people; it was a gift, and he was so close to breaking that the game became even more fun, so she wasn’t surprised when the pirate lost his temper, ready to leap at her but being stopped by the shackles that held him to the bed.

"Orders from the royal guard," Jinx added, standing up for precaution. "So, where is the necklace from? Is it a treasure? A pirate's pact?"

"Where is the medallion?"

"You’re not very talkative," she continued pointing out. "Was it an emblem? Is it from a family? Is it from a particular place?"

"Could you just tell me where the damn necklace is and shut up for once?"

Jinx had been yelled at many times in her life, at least once by every nun in the convent for something she had done. Father Silco hadn’t, he was good to her. But she had always been yelled at.

However, this was the first time someone had yelled at her with such fury.

His voice reverberated in the room like a furious wave crashing against a rock, giving the impression that he could move it if he wanted to; it made her fall silent, watching. The pirate was still injured, a lot; his song had only brought him to the side of the living to fight against what remained, and he had done nothing to avoid suspicion, but his state was little more than deplorable, and still, he only cared about that medallion.

His story must be very important if it was his anchor to the world of the living.

Jinx fell silent for a moment, not so much because of the pain in Ekko's words, but because inside her began to feel a small spark of curiosity. She didn’t care at all about the medallion, nor what it represented for Ekko, but there was something in the desperation of his voice that held her back a bit. Something that made her wonder why something that felt familiar to her was so precious to him.

But not enough to give in.

"Cursing is a sin."

Ekko looked at her, his face twisted in fury, and his body tense with impotence.

"You’re the most unbearable nun I’ve ever met."

"Don’t worry," Jinx adjusted her tunic with a mocking smile. "I know."

Silence began to fill the room, and just then, the door swung open abruptly, interrupting the ongoing battle of glances between them. A tall man, with a serious face and an imposing aura, entered the room. It was Father Silco.

"Jinx," he said in a deep and calm voice, but one that carried the authority of someone who wouldn’t accept disobedience. "It’s time for you to attend to your duties, please leave."

"But father..." she began to protest, enjoying the opportunity to unleash her sarcasm.

"This is not the time, my daughter." Silco interrupted her with a firm gesture, his hand rising with authority. "You will follow what I assigned you, now."

Jinx, without saying a word, glanced over her shoulder at the pirate, who had a furrowed brow, his face partially covered by the face paint that was already fading, as if he were losing his identity. Without further ado, she walked away, leaving Silco alone in the dim light, watching the man from a distance. The Father stood there, still as a statue, his gaze fixed, silently assessing whether the situation required a further response, but for now, he said nothing.

"I didn’t know you had such... grumpy nuns here."

"I think you’ve made her a little angry."

Ekko chuckled under his breath, despite the discomfort.

"And I didn’t know you saved a pirate who was to be hanged."

Silco observed him in silence, his eyes following the young man’s wounds with an attention that did not go unnoticed. That magic... he recognized it, but kept his face implacable. Oh, Jinx... he thought, although he didn’t allow anything of that to show on his expression, partially covered by a patch that concealed his own pain.

"Before God, we are all His children."

Ekko, still irritated, almost let out a bitter laugh.

"So, are you going to kill me anyway, Father?"

"No."

"Are you going to hand me over?"

"No. The royal guards are guarding this door." Silco’s voice was soft, almost inaudible. "But you still need to rest. I’ll be back in a while."

"My medallion," Ekko suddenly remembered, as if it were the only thing he could cling to at that moment.

"It seems to be a valuable object."

"Are you going to interrogate me, Father? Have you never seen a necklace in this convent or what?"

"I’ll tell Sister Jinx to bring it to you as soon as possible."

"Sister Jinx..." Ekko frowned. "What kind of name is that for a nun?"

"A very special one."

Meanwhile, in the garden, Jinx watched the horizon. The novices around her murmured, as if the sunset had unleashed something within them.

"Did you see him?" one whispered.

"He’s handsome," said another, her tone ringing with admiration.

"He’s muscular," added a third, almost in a sigh.

Jinx watched from a distance, without a word. She wanted to tell them that he was a pirate sentenced to hang, a man marked by his crimes, but she held her tongue. She knew her words would only bring another punishment, and besides, the women there didn’t need to know the truth. Many of them, although under the protection of the nuns, already had their futures arranged; their families had sealed their destinies, expecting to marry someday, perhaps to men of higher positions, or at least with notable surnames.

And she, Jinx, had none of that.

No surname.

No nothing.

Suddenly, her hand brushed over the medallion, spinning the chain between her fingers. She examined it closely, feeling an inexplicable connection. Something familiar. But she couldn’t remember why. There was no reason to have it, but still... something in her chest stirred with the feeling that, somewhere, someone had wanted it. Or desired it. Maybe the pirate just wanted it for the diamonds it hid.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she let the medallion spin freely in the salty breeze.

"Then," said a familiar voice behind her, Father Silco. "You’ve annoyed our visitor."

"And every one of those who live in the convent."

"Not me."

Silco sat down next to her, catching her by surprise. Calmly, he picked up a stone he found beside him, letting it roll between his fingers. Jinx let the medallion fall into her lap as she gazed at the horizon. The golden light of the sunset reflected her slender silhouette, almost like a specter.

"I already know what you’re going to say, but I thought that if I want God to answer me, I must do good, right? And I saved a pirate!" She said quickly, almost defensively. "I saved my natural adversary; that should... that should make some noise. Maybe He will answer me."

"You know how dangerous it is," Silco murmured, his voice serious. "If someone finds out..."

"No one will find out."

"Sometimes you’re very impulsive."

"I try to make God notice me."

"He has already noticed you."

"Yes, but then He forgot about me." There was a sadness, something deep in her words, something she said without really wanting to, letting it escape into the air. "Like most people."

"I haven’t forgotten you."

"You’re not most people," she murmured, almost nostalgically. "You’re different."

"Then why do you desire the most people?"

"I don’t; it’s complicated," she replied, frustrated. And in the silence that settled between them, she let her fingers play again with the medallion that the sun caressed the silhouette of the young. "I wish someone, beyond the sea, would miss me like that pirate misses this piece of silver."

Both watched the horizon, the one that tormented Jinx's heart like the tide that rose and dragged the stones from the bottom to the shore with each wave.

"Tomorrow..." she began, her voice trembling, almost like a prayer. "Tomorrow I will take the test to become a nun."

"You don’t sound very excited."

Jinx sighed, and again spun the medallion between her fingers. The light of the sunset caressed her face, but her eyes showed infinite doubt.

"I am; it’s just that..."

"What you hope for is what lies beyond the sea," Silco said softly, almost as a warning.

Jinx looked at him, surprised by the clarity in his voice. She let out a sigh and, without further ado, dropped the medallion into the palm of her hand. Silco accepted it without haste, his fingers caressing the cold silver surface.

"If it is God's will," she murmured, "what more can I do?"

"Remember, don’t swim too close to the surface," the Father warned her, as the medallion's shine reflected in his eyes. "A storm is coming. Return soon."

"Is it a pirate emblem?" Jinx asked softly, as if the question arose without thought, but with a hint of curiosity.

Silco looked at her for a moment, his face impassive.

"No. Why did you take it from the pirate?" he inquired, his voice grave and calm, as if he knew Jinx was not just asking about the necklace. "Is there something you’re not telling me?"

Jinx hesitated for a second, looking at the medallion with a small fraction of emotion that she quickly concealed.

"Nothing. It’s just... it interfered with his wounds," she said, bringing a hand to her neck and lightly touching one of her wounds, as if that were the reason behind her curiosity. "I forgot to return it."

Silco watched her in silence, with a look that seemed to pierce her, but he did not insist. His face remained unchanged, like an ocean of calm, showing not the slightest hint of what he thought. And Jinx knew she had sinned, but this feeling of familiarity she had never felt before, she wanted to keep it to herself and hoped God would understand.

"Be careful at sea," he said softly, almost as a reflection.

Jinx smiled faintly and began to walk down the hill towards the beach. Silco remained in his place, watching her, holding the medallion delicately in the palm of his hand. In an act of apparent carelessness, he removed the patch from his eye, letting the afternoon light illuminate the scar hidden beneath it. His eyes fixed on the figures engraved on the metal of the necklace, a kind of nostalgia that seemed to come from a distant time.

And darkness closed in on the hill, while the distant sound of the waves continued to drag secrets to the end of the world.

Chapter Text

THE DAWN BURST THROUGH THE STAINED GLASS OF THE REFECTORY, TINTING THE LONG WOODEN TABLES WITH PATCHES OF CRIMSON AND GOLD.

The bland aroma of boiled oats floated in the air, mingling with the faint scent of incense that permeated every corner of the convent. Jinx, in her immaculate robe, sat at the table, but her mind was far from the frugality of breakfast. The novices around her whispered, their murmurs buzzing like bees in a hive. Jinx tried to ignore them; she hated this part of the day, sitting at the end of the long table without engaging in conversation, concentrating on her meal, but the curious glances, mixed with a pinch of envy, were impossible to ignore.

"Is it true that you spent the night tending to the pirate?" whispered a novice with blue eyes and rosy cheeks, her voice laced with venom. "They say that ugly nuns bring good luck to pirates."

"Poor man, he was probably more scared of you than of the gallows," added another, with a barely concealed mocking tone. "With that face, it’s no wonder they haven’t found you a good marriage."

"They say you’re cursed," murmured a third, making the sign of the cross. "That’s why you’re so mean and no one loves you. Maybe your a pirate too."

Jinx felt her blood boil. She dropped her spoon with a sharp clatter, trying to control her rage.

"At least my father didn’t send me to marry an old man," she shot back, biting. "And I’m not... I’m not mean."

"At least Maria has a father."

The novices exchanged malicious glances. The atmosphere thickened with palpable tension.

"What are you going to do about it, Jinx?" mocked the first novice, a cruel smile on her face. "Cast us a curse? Or maybe scare the pirate away with your face?"

"Yeah, I’m sure the pirate thought you were Death herself disguised as a nun," added the second, laughing with bravado.

Jinx clenched her fists under the table, fighting the urge to leap at them and claw their eyes out. Patience, which had never been her strong suit, was running thin. She tried to keep eating, but their looks were severe, mocking, turning breakfast into silent torture.

When she crossed the threshold into the courtyard, the fresh morning air hit her, but it didn’t calm her. She needed an escape, something to pull her away from the curious stares and sharp words of the novices. Then her gaze turned toward the entrance of the building where they kept the pirate.

She approached the guards with firm steps, looking at the Royal Guard men as if they were mere obstacles. She stared at them, hoping they would understand without her saying a word.

"Can I see the prisoner?" she asked, her voice leaving no room for argument, even though she knew she had to find a convincing excuse. Deep down, all she wanted was to escape the gossip wheel of the novices, and if that meant talking to the pirate, she would do it.

The guard looked at her, puzzled.

"Why?" he asked, his tone skeptical.

"He’s infected," Jinx replied without missing a beat. "His wound... It needs to be cleaned again. If I don’t do it, it could become dangerous." Jinx tried to sound as convincing as possible, her voice dropping to a more somber tone, as if she were speaking about something that couldn’t be ignored. The guards exchanged brief glances before one of them nodded.

"I’m sorry, Sister," one of the guards replied. "We have strict orders not to let anyone into the cell."

"But it’s urgent," Jinx insisted, her tone urgent. "If the infection worsens, he could die. Do you want that to happen?"

"It would be like a blessing."

"It could be contagious," Jinx continued.

The guards exchanged doubtful looks. Jinx seized upon their hesitation.

"Besides," she added with a mischievous wink, "Father Silco gave me permission. Or do you doubt his word?"

"Alright, Sister," one of the guards said. "But don’t take too long. And don’t get too close to the prisoner."

Jinx nodded, pleased. She had managed to persuade them with her cunning and a touch of audacity.

"Thank you, guards," she said with a triumphant smile.

The cell door opened, and Ekko's figure appeared in her line of sight. He was leaning against the wall, his wrists in shackles, his eyes fixed on the wall. The silence that enveloped them felt charged with something dark, like a storm on the horizon. His face, despite being covered in bruises and wounds, emanated an intensity that Jinx found intriguing.

Jinx walked toward him, her steps light, until she stopped in front of his bed. He looked at her with disdain, a grimace on his face, but he said nothing. The atmosphere remained thick with tension.

"What do you want?" Ekko asked with a grunt. His voice sounded hoarse and tired.

"I just came to change your bandages," Jinx replied with feigned indifference. "It seems your wound is getting infected."

Ekko looked at her with suspicion, but he seemed as drained of life as the last time. It was as if, after calming down more than accepting his fate, he had embraced it until it became part of him: a hollow man.

"I’m sentenced to death, nun. What are you going to heal?"

"Well, you’re not dead yet," Jinx retorted with a mocking smile.

Ekko clenched his fists, frustrated. Jinx enjoyed his irritation; at least it showed some emotion. It was a way to keep him at bay, and with him, she could be sarcastic without consequences. At least he had a reason to hate her, even if he didn’t know she was a mermaid, but she found him better company than the other novices.

Jinx examined the dirty bandages covering Ekko’s wounds. They didn’t seem to be infected, but she decided not to mention it; her healing had been good, and she was proud of it. She began to cut the bandages carefully, revealing Ekko’s bruised and lacerated skin. He watched her attentively, saying nothing.

"Do you have any other annoying questions?" His tone was hostile, but Jinx shrugged, not losing her ironic smile.

"Just one," she said, leaning a little closer to him. "The medallion. Where did you get it?"

Ekko looked at her, his eyes brimming with anger, but he didn’t respond. Something about it seemed so alive yet so wretched when she mentioned the medallion, as if it were blood pumping through his body. Jinx couldn’t help but notice that the necklace was around his neck, softly glimmering in the daylight filtering through the window. It was the same medallion that had been in her pocket the night before. The same one she had touched and felt that strange familiarity.

"Don’t you have anything to say about that?" Jinx pressed, her tone now more curious, her fingers tracing the chain in her mind as if she were touching it again.

He didn’t respond. He turned to face the other side, looking for something to observe in the room. Jinx watched him closely, knowing something wasn’t right.

"Why is that medallion so important?" she asked, unable to suppress the curiosity consuming her, finishing removing the bandages and starting to clean Ekko’s wounds with a damp cloth. He shivered at the contact. "Does it have something to do with what keeps you alive? A pirate’s pact? A kind of amulet?"

Ekko clenched his jaw and sighed, as if the idea of talking more about the medallion was the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe if she talked about death, he would be more chatty. Jinx didn’t understand why he clung to something so insignificant, but it was clear that the medallion was much more than just an ornament for him.

"It’s none of your business," he replied sharply.

"Did you steal it? From where?" she continued. "Is it something related to mermaids?"

Silence filled the cell again, and Jinx leaned against the wall, in no hurry to leave. If she was going to be annoying, at least she could enjoy the company of someone who, at least, wouldn’t talk to her as if she were a curse.

"So you’re not going to tell me anything about the medallion, huh?" Jinx said after a while, her tone teasing.

Ekko looked at her with disdain, his face tense, but he shrugged.

"No."

Jinx sighed but finished cleaning Ekko’s wounds and started to place new bandages. He remained silent, staring at the floor. He didn’t speak anymore. So she simply continued working with the bandages while sighing. She was nervous, but not because of him, but because of her test to become a nun.

She looked back at the prisoner, who was still watching her with squinted eyes. Suddenly, the outline of his face seemed to illuminate in a different way, as if his anger had given way to something darker. She couldn’t help but see how empty that man was, so young and so wretched; she didn’t know the world, barely the convent and those who lived there, but she never thought she would see someone so sad. So condemned. And not because of the sentence; in fact, she was sure that man could escape, but he didn’t want to.

He was just there, being miserable. And that made her even more curious.

"Have you seen any mermaid?" Jinx asked, without much preamble, raising an eyebrow. "Pirates hunt them, right? Have you hunted any?"

Ekko looked at her, his face impassive.

"Mermaids?" he replied, with a tone so dismissive it almost made Jinx smile. "If I’m alive, it’s because I haven’t seen any."

"And what do you know about them?" Jinx insisted, wanting to gather more information for herself; she barely knew things about being a mermaid that she had discovered or that old legends told. She had never seen another like her. "Haven’t you heard stories? Pirates must have many tales; you must know something about them."

Ekko closed his eyes and snorted, clearly tired of the conversation. The atmosphere in the cell was as heavy as ever.

"No, I haven’t heard anything about mermaids. And, frankly, I don’t give a damn."

"You’re really bad at conversing."

"Neither do I care much."

"Ugh, how boring," she said, getting up to leave. She glanced back at the prisoner, observing his impassive face and chained figure. "You’ll stay alive for today, just that you’ll keep being as boring as always. Get better."

Jinx stood up, turning to leave, but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Thank you," he murmured, without looking at her, like a scolded dog.

"You're welcome, and..." she hesitated, "If one day you see a mermaid, don’t hunt her."

"Why?"

"I don’t know."

With one last glance at the shadows of the cell, Jinx left the room without looking back. Despite her apparent indifference, something inside her felt restless.

The test.

The morning sun was beginning to rise on the horizon as Jinx walked through the convent hallways toward the chapel. Her mind was occupied again with the thoughts she had left behind in Ekko’s cell, but now a much deeper sensation invaded her. The test to become a nun. Something she had awaited for years, or at least she had convinced herself of that as much as she could. However, that anxiety that usually accompanied her at these moments seemed to have evaporated, replaced by an unsettling feeling she couldn’t explain.

It was time. She stood before the enormous doors of the church, ready to close the cycle that had brought her here. And yet, upon crossing them, something strange took hold of her. She paused in the middle of the central aisle, with the altar ahead, the empty pews beside her, and light filtering through the colored stained glass. Suddenly, the air seemed to grow denser, as if there were something else in the atmosphere, something... alien.

She didn’t feel well.

God couldn’t have led her down this path.

Jinx took a quick glance at the horizon from the large windows, as if an impulse had guided her there. She couldn’t explain it, but something in the landscape called to her, something she couldn’t see clearly, but felt was there, just out of her sight. Beyond the sea. Beyond where the sky met the sea, there, at some point, she belonged.

Besides, a mermaid wasn’t a nun.

And she was so curious.

She needed to breathe, yes, take a breath before the test. In her chest, she felt something stealing her breath, an acidity that spread from the depths of her being throughout her body. She needed to step outside for a moment, just a moment to calm down, then she would turn back, take the test, become a nun, and her life would be sealed. Yes. The will of God.

She stepped into the open air, the cool wind hitting her face. She paused for just a moment, gazing at the sea in the distance. The sun was beginning to set, the horizon turning orange and purple, with the empty panorama.

Or at least it seemed so at first glance.

Something glimmered in the distance.

Jinx moved closer to the cliff, trying to see what it was, but she couldn’t distinguish it from that distance. Something was shining irregularly on the horizon; it wasn’t a star, and it wasn’t the sun. It was something more. And seeing it at that precise moment had to be a sign.

As she walked closer to the waves, the sound of water crashing against the rocks resonated in her ears, and the sea breeze caressed her skin. One step after another, closer and closer to the edge of that abyss that seemed to call her. And that glimmer was there, present, as the sun continued to set on the horizon.

When she reached the shore, she strained her eyes to see the glimmer beyond the ocean.

And beyond her test to become a nun.

"Come on, Jinx, don’t do something stupid," she told herself, squinting her eyes. "Be good, don’t curse, and obey."

But that glimmer.

"No, no," she shook her head, turning back as she walked toward the convent. "Don’t be stupid; be good. It’s what God wants: your life is here, in this convent."

But deep down, Jinx knew the words weren’t enough to silence the restlessness that pursued her. She stood at a crossroads, between what was expected of her and what her soul seemed to desire with all its being. The call was clear, like a distant song reaching her through the waves.

She glanced back at the stairs leading away from the sand. And she couldn’t continue; she had to see, a quick glimpse and she would return. Just one. To satisfy her doubts, and she swore she wouldn’t be so curious again. Just one step more, just one to see what lay beyond. Just a glimpse, and then she would return. She would return to the test, return to her life as a nun, and everything would follow its course. But she knew something inside her was telling her she couldn’t turn back. Something in her soul screamed to know the truth, something deeper than any vow she had made.

The temptation, like a shadow, embraced her completely.

"Jinx, you’re so impulsive," she reproached herself. "God... Do you have anything to say?"

But he, as usual, remained silent.

And hiding her clothes, she dove into the ocean, swimming deep beneath the surface to reach that glimmer on the horizon, moving away from the convent to find out what that glimmer was that called her.

Chapter Text

THE WATER WAS COLDER THAN JINX HAD EXPECTED.

The sun was already low in the sky, but she couldn’t see it well; she was in the depths of the ocean, avoiding being seen, moving with agility in the water, feeling every current that pulled her toward something she couldn’t quite define. Eventually surfacing to guide herself in search of that glimmer that was extending beyond the waters she knew, which weren’t very vast.

Twelve years of her life had been spent swimming the same stretch of ocean over and over again, without going further, without exceeding her limits, but now she was going beyond. The distance she had traveled felt much greater than she had imagined. The sun was sinking further on the horizon, tinting everything in golden and purple hues, when, finally, something appeared at the edge of her vision. A flash. So faint at first that she thought it might just be a reflection of light on the water. But as she swam closer, the figure began to take shape.

A ship. Large. Imposing. Somehow, much bigger than she thought could possibly exist. And not just any ship, but one with the elegance of the royal ships she had seen in her life, although she had never had the chance to get this close. In the distance, it seemed as strong and vast as a mythical creature, its bow rising toward the sky like the jaw of a fierce wolf.

Jinx paused for a moment, breathing heavily. She hadn’t seen many ships throughout her life. In fact, she had only watched them from the beaches of the convent, far away, in small boats gliding over the water like ghosts, always at a safe distance. Or while she was at the bottom of the ocean, watching their shadows pass over her without any idea that she was observing. Always hidden. But she had never allowed herself to feel the temptation to go beyond the known coast.

However, now that it was right in front of her, so close, so real, something inside her was asking for more. She couldn’t deny the attraction she felt, as if that great vessel was calling her, a mysterious song resonating in her chest. And if after that day she would be a nun, it was her only chance. The sun was sinking deeper into the horizon, illuminating the contours of the ship and making something shine at the bow, something that reflected light in a peculiar way.

Her gaze fixed on the detail, almost hypnotized. At the bow of the ship was a wooden figure carved like a wolf with ruby eyes. The sun reflected off those eyes, giving them a strange, almost supernatural glow, as if the rubies were living stones, blinking with their own light. Jinx felt fascinated, unable to look away, as if everything else faded away. For a moment, she was neither a mermaid nor a nun, just a young woman drawn to the mystery and beauty of a strange ship.

The temptation overwhelmed her. If only she could get closer.

Jinx held her breath, propelling herself forward. The wood of the hull was cold and covered in slippery algae. She clung to a thick chain hanging from the side, fighting against the waves that tried to pull her back into the depths. With tremendous effort, she managed to hoist herself up enough to peek over the edge.

The smell was intense, a mix of salt, tar, fish, and sweat. The deck was full of rough-looking men, hardened and wearing tattered clothes. They looked nothing like the royal guards she had once seen from afar on the coast. These men were more... brutish. Their faces were weathered by the sun and wind, marked with scars and faded tattoos. Some laughed loudly, others sharpened knives with slow, threatening movements.

Jinx hid a little more, watching cautiously. There was something in the atmosphere that made her nervous. It wasn’t just the appearance of the men, but a palpable tension in the air, as if something bad was about to happen. One of the men, the biggest and burliest of them all, walked toward the main mast. He wore a patch over one eye, and his voice boomed across the deck:

"Hoist the flag!"

Two sailors hurried to obey. Jinx held her breath as the black fabric slowly rose toward the sky. It was black, with a central figure composed of three interlocking equilateral triangles, forming a dynamic three-dimensional structure. The triangles intersected at the center, creating an effect of depth and movement. Each of the three triangles had a warm orange color, with different shades ranging from yellow-orange to red-orange. Each of the three triangles extended outward from the center, creating a dynamic and balanced composition. And the flag fluttered proudly in the sky.

A pirate ship.

But Jinx faltered at the sight of the emblem, slipping a little from the shock. It was as if something hit her; she recognized that emblem. She had seen it before, but she didn’t know where.

And it scared her.

A lot.

A scream of alarm echoed in her chest. The fascination she felt for the ship faded like mist in the sun, and a sense of danger ran down her spine. Were they there for Ekko? Was it his ship? Was it his crew? Why was this the first pirate ship she had ever seen in her life? She almost fell again, overwhelmed by the stabbing pain in her head as she let out a gasp.

At that moment, a figure emerged from the darkness below deck. A woman. With rich brown skin. She wasn’t as tall as the man with the patch, but she radiated an even more imposing presence. Her body was strong, muscular, covered in scars that told stories of battles and storms. And her hair, ranging from grey to black, bleached by the sun, was gathered in a thick, messy braid.

This woman was not just any sailor; she was the captain.

The captain strode across the deck with firm steps, watching her men with a penetrating gaze. Her eyes, a light brown, seemed to pierce the darkness, searching for something. Jinx pressed herself even closer to the hull, fearing being discovered.

"Is everything ready to set sail?" the captain asked, her voice rough like the creaking of old wood.

"Yes, captain," replied the man with the patch. "We’re ready to sail with the high tide."

The captain nodded, but she didn’t seem satisfied. She stopped abruptly, lifting her nose like a wolf sniffing the wind. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed. Her head was going to kill her, and her abrupt movements with her fin created a ripple that made the terrifying woman turn in her direction.

"There’s something...", she murmured to herself. "Something... out of place."

Jinx felt her heart leap out of her chest. Had she sensed her? Had she noticed her presence?

The captain walked toward the edge, right above where Jinx was hiding. The tension was unbearable. The captain inhaled deeply several times, looking toward the horizon. Her eyes scanned the surface of the water, scrutinizing the darkness. And Jinx held on tighter to the ship, hurting her tail and back, but doing everything possible to prevent her from looking down.

"I must be imagining things," she finally said, with a tone of frustration. "It’s just the wind." She turned away from the edge. "Prepare the sails! We’ll set sail as soon as the tide rises!"

Jinx waited, not moving, until the captain disappeared back below deck. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, every muscle tense. She knew she had to get out of there, and fast. But she had to take that symbol; it was familiar. More than familiar, it was something of hers. And without thinking of the consequences, she grabbed a small flag that was already flying from the masts. Without thinking twice, she took it.

Carefully, she released the chain and slipped back into the water. The current dragged her away from the pirate ship. She felt an urgent need to get as far away as possible, to never see that black flag again.

Jinx swam furiously toward the shore, the cold water crashing against her body as her mind repeated that symbol like currents filtering through her brain. The flag she clutched against her chest burned her hands, as if she were touching something forbidden, something that shouldn’t be in her possession. She felt that danger was still lurking, like a shadow chasing her with every stroke, the promise that she was not safe, not even upon reaching the beach.

The sun had completely disappeared, but the echo of the high tide continued to roar against the rocks. Jinx reached the shore, gasping, her heart beating in time with the fear that had taken hold of her. The water released her, but the sand was still damp and cold beneath her feet. She barely had time to straighten up and shake herself off, looking around like a cornered animal. The wind was icy and biting, but she didn’t even pay attention. All she could think about was the emblem, that damned flag she couldn’t forget.

She cursed softly as she stripped off her wet clothes, her trembling hands trying to free herself from the sense of danger that had accompanied her since she saw the ship. A few minutes later, with her clothes dry enough to move, she stood up and began to run, the piece of black fabric clutched against her chest.

She had to go see Ekko. She needed answers.

Her mind clouded again with fear at the memory of that woman, the captain, those light-brown eyes that had almost seen her. But something more important drove her. The emblem. That flag. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this symbol had something to do with her fate, with what had happened to her.

She arrived at the convent in a hurry, knowing the guards would be more distracted than usual due to the setting sun. She veered toward the back entrance, where the shadows covered her, and slipped between the walls. The cold stone tower welcomed her, although her heart raced at the sound of the guards near Ekko’s cell.

With the silent skill she had acquired over the years, Jinx slid down the dark hallway, passing behind the cells until she reached Ekko’s. When she saw him, he was sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling, just as she had left him. So empty, so... drained of life.

The echo of the entrance resonated in the hallway, and Ekko didn’t even look up, focused on the ceiling. He hadn’t even noticed her. Jinx said nothing at first. She just approached and quickly extended the flag in front of him. The black logo, the triangles faintly glowing in the dim light of the cell.

"Is it yours?" she said in a tense voice, her breath still agitated. "Are you a pirate from that ship? Where is it from?"

Ekko didn’t understand at first, as serious as when she bombarded him with questions. He frowned and looked at the flag, his expression unclear. But as he focused more, his eyes widened, and something in his gaze changed. He looked surprised... and a little scared.

"Where did you get it?" he asked in a whisper, his tone grave. "Where did you get it, Jinx?"

The question cut through the air like a knife.

"What does that emblem mean?" Jinx insisted, her voice tense, each word filled with a mix of anger and fear. "Who does it belong to? What have they done?"

Ekko didn’t respond immediately.

"Where did you get that flag?"

"Who cares?"

"Where did you get that damn flag?!"

Before Jinx could answer, a distant sound broke the silence. A deep explosion, followed by more. The ground trembled slightly. Ekko tried to get up, but the handcuffs held him back. Hearing the explosions in the distance, like a distant echo.

"What was that?" Jinx asked, looking around, panic replacing her anger.

"Your fuckin' flag."

"I have to go for Silco," she said without hesitation. "I have to go for him."

Without looking back, she took a quick step toward the door. Ekko watched her, bewildered, unable to comprehend what was happening as if for a moment, life had returned to his body.

"Jinx, wait! Where are you going?! Jinx!... Jinx!"

But she was no longer listening. She ran with determination, the flag still clutched to her chest, knowing the way to where Father Silco was. With the night already covering the convent, soldiers shouting and running through the halls in the face of danger.

Ekko was left behind, shouting her name, but Jinx didn’t stop. The sound of explosions grew closer, and in her mind, the figure of the captain, with her golden gaze, slowly faded, replaced by something even more urgent.

Time did not wait.

Chapter Text

"OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN..."

"They're here!" howled a novice, stumbling in her flight. The guards, once so imposing, now ran like headless chickens, their armor clanging awkwardly against the stone walls.

"To weapon! To arms!" one shouted, his voice cracked with fear. But his orders were lost in the pandemonium, drowned out by the roar of the pirate invasion.

In the midst of the whirlwind, Jinx stopped at a window, watching the cannons as the pirates began to infect the beach she had stood on just hours before. The sky darkened, now illuminated by cannon fire. And the flames, in the trees from the impact.

"Hallowed be thy name," she continued, murmuring to herself. "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven..."

The explosions shook the convent, each blast a lash against Jinx's already frayed sanity. The "Our Father" was now a thin thread trying to tether her mind to the present, but the chaos outside seeped in, distorting reality. As she stumbled down a hallway, a flash of fire on the horizon shot a memory through her, a blurry image of flames consuming more than just trees... faces screaming, an unbearable heat, the sensation of losing something valuable.

And drowning.

A sharp pain exploded in her temple, as if someone were trying to pierce her skull with a hot nail. She staggered, unable to move forward. Exhausted. The convent, the sound of fighting, all faded, replaced by the vague feeling of reliving a tragedy. Of drowning. Of falling into the water. It was like the memory that always came when she closed her eyes, but a thousand times worse.

She was suddenly drained, almost out of air, unable to breathe.

With trembling hands, she clutched the wall, trying to stay upright. The prayers spilled from her lips in broken whispers, a desperate babble to anchor herself to reality.

"Give us this day our daily bread..." In her mind, the plea transformed into a silent scream for what she had lost, for what had been taken from her.

Visions assailed her: a ship, no, a fire... a familiar face, disfigured by flames... who was it? Why did it hurt so much? She tried to focus her mind, but the pain was too intense. Gasping, overwhelmed, as if she hadn’t rested in years, she nearly fell to the ground. The pink hair. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, curled up, fighting against the storm raging inside her without the strength to rise.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes tightly. She had to keep going. She had to find Father Silco. With superhuman effort, she stood up, ignoring the stabbing pain in her head. She pressed the flag against her chest, as if it were a shield, and continued forward, swaying but determined to reach her destination as another explosion shook the place.

Finally, she reached Silco's room. The door was ajar, and a dim light filtered through the crack. Holding her breath, she pushed it open and entered. There he was, standing by the window, gazing at his bed with a cold expression.

"Father!" she exclaimed, her voice strangled.

"Jinx," he replied, turning around. "They're here."

"We have to go, Father," she insisted, moving closer. "We have to flee! The guards are fighting, there’s..."

"Are you alright?" he asked, stepping closer while taking her by the shoulders, noticing the flag in her hands. "Where did you get that flag?"

Jinx's words choked in her throat as she saw Father Silco's reaction. Color drained from his face, leaving a deathly pallor that highlighted the blue veins beneath his skin. His eye, usually cold and calculating, widened with a mix of surprise and... fear? It was an expression Jinx had never seen on him, and it deeply unsettled her.

"Where did you get that flag?" he repeated, his tone chilling. The question was not a simple inquiry but an accusation. "Jinx, where did you go?"

"I... made a mistake," Jinx stammered, feeling tears burning in her eyes. "I went to the coast, I saw a ship and it seemed to shine... I didn't know, I swear, I didn’t know..."

She over-explained, stumbling over her words, trying to justify the unjustifiable. She told him about the glimmer on the horizon, the curiosity that had consumed her, the pirate ship with its wolf figure, the captain with her golden eyes. She explained how fascination had turned to terror upon seeing the emblem, that symbol resonating within her like a threat.

"I didn’t want to do it, Father, I swear," she pleaded, clutching his sleeve. "I just wanted to see... I wanted to know..."

Father Silco didn’t respond, lost in his own thoughts as she continued speaking as fast as she could. His gaze was fixed on the flag, as if he were seeing a ghost. The silence became unbearable, broken only by the sound of explosions and the shouts of battle.

Suddenly, Father Silco reacted. His face regained its usual composure, but his eyes still shone with a feverish intensity. Without saying a word, he grabbed Jinx by the arm with surprising strength.

"We have to go," he said, his voice sharp.

And without giving her time to reply, he dragged her out of the room, through the hallways of the convent. He didn’t stop to explain, didn’t care about her headache or confusion. Silco guided her with surprising agility, navigating the debris, avoiding the fighting, as if he knew a secret path, a shortcut to a predetermined destination.

Jinx didn’t understand anything. Why was he taking her in that direction? Where were they going? But she didn’t dare to ask. As they stumbled through the dark, damp passageway, Jinx kept talking, pouring out a torrent of disconnected words.

"Who are they? Why are they attacking us? What do they want?" she kept asking. "They didn’t see me, I swear, the captain..."

"You saw the captain?" Father stopped, looking at her almost knocking her over with how abruptly he halted.

"Uh... Uh, yes, but she didn’t see me. I swear."

Silco didn’t respond, his silence weighing heavily. And with more urgency, he urged her to move faster. Each scream, each explosion that came from above fueled her desperation. The flag, still pressed against her chest, felt like a condemnation. Finally, they reached an iron door, hidden behind a faded tapestry. Silco opened it with a key he pulled from his pocket. On the other side lay the dungeon, dark and cold.

And there he was.

Behind the bars of his cell, the fear in his eyes had faded, and he sat where he had been for days. The trace of life he had shown moments ago had died with his own will. He was calm, almost waiting for death. And that made Jinx, forgetting everything for a moment, take the key left by the guards and open the cell to free him.

Barely a few seconds later, Ekko stopped her.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm saving you," she replied, matter-of-factly.

"I don’t want you to save me," he responded, almost obvious. "Run, you must run, there’s not much time if it’s Ambessa."

"And you?"

"Go."

"Let’s go!" Jinx insisted, pulling on Father Silco's arm. "I’m not leaving you here!"

Silco, until then a silent spectator, moved with sudden determination. With firm hands, he freed Ekko from his shackles. He pulled a bag of coins from his pocket, a small fortune gleaming in the dim light of the dungeon, and placed it in Ekko's hand, who wore a completely confused frown.

"Take her," he told Ekko, with an urgency that brooked no argument. "Take her to Bilgewater. Take care of her. Protect her."

Ekko stepped back, incredulity etched on his face.

"Bilgewater? Me? I’m not a smuggler. I’m not going to..."

"Please!" Father Silco interrupted, his voice breaking. "I know what crew you come from, and I beg you. She... she is all that matters now. Keep her safe. Do this for me."

"I’m not that kind of person, not anymore."

"Once more, I beg you."

Jinx, gripped by panic, looked from one to the other, unable to comprehend the logic of that desperate exchange. Her eyes shimmering with contained tears, fear reflected in every inch of her face. She couldn’t let him go. She couldn’t lose him. The pain in her head, the chaos around her, the violence, all faded when she looked at Father Silco. Everything she had in life was him.

"No! I’m not going anywhere without you, Father! I’m not leaving you!"

The chaos around them grew in intensity. The explosions shook the ground, the screams drew closer, and the convent crumbled around them. Silco knew there was no time for discussions. He approached Jinx, and with an unusual softness, he caressed her cheek while she had panic-stricken eyes, on the verge of tears.

"Listen to me, Jinx," he said, his voice laden with emotion. "Don't cry, you're perfect. And I... I’m sorry."

Before Jinx could respond, Ekko, without blinking as if it were something he did every day, lifted her into his arms. Jinx screamed, kicked, twisted, trying to free herself from his grip while scratching and pushing, trying to escape, but despite being injured, he remained a pirate, strong and tenacious.

"Silco!" she screamed one last time, with all the desperation in the world. "Don’t leave me!" Each word was a heart-wrenching cry that echoed in the dungeon, seizing the walls and filtering into her soul.

But Ekko wouldn’t let her go. With superhuman effort, he began to run, dragging her away from the cell, away from Silco, away from the only person who remembered that he had loved her, towards the exit of the dungeon. Jinx fought with all her strength, hitting him, scratching him, screaming Silco's name. But her efforts were futile. Ekko was stronger, more determined.

Silco watched them disappear into the darkness, with a mix of relief and desperation in his eyes. He knew he was doing the right thing, sacrificing his own safety for Jinx's sake. But the pain of letting her go, of knowing he might never see her again, was unbearable.

As Ekko dragged her through the labyrinthine passages of the crumbling convent, Jinx continued to struggle, cry, scream Silco’s name. The pirate flag, still pressed against her chest, now felt like a symbol of betrayal. It had led her here, separated her from her father, condemned her to an uncertain future.

But her screams were lost in the pandemonium, drowned out by the roar of war. And as Ekko pulled her farther away from the dungeon, Jinx knew that something had broken inside her. That nothing would ever be the same again. The echoes of the explosions throbbed like a frantic heartbeat, and the distant shouts of the fighters reached her like a faint whisper.

"Silco!"

The word resonated in the empty tunnel, a desperate plea she could barely hold with the breath she had left. Despite the escape, her mind kept returning again and again to that image: Silco, with his eyes fixed on the flag. The words he had spoken before they were separated... "Take it. Protect her. Keep her safe."

In the midst of her cries, something changed. Jinx, with a crazed look, saw a figure emerge from the shadows. A pirate. His eyes, cold and calculating, glinted with palpable malice as he approached, his saber shining in the dim light. Jinx barely had time to react, and she felt terror seize her once more.

Before she could scream, Ekko reacted. With astonishing speed, he lunged at the pirate, his fists flashing like lightning in the darkness. Quick, lethal blows, a couple of precise movements that sent the man crashing to the ground, unconscious without a sound.

Jinx, watching the scene with a mix of surprise and fear, barely processed what had happened before Ekko grabbed her arm firmly.

"We have to go," Ekko said, his voice tense.

"I’m not leaving without Silco."

Ekko stopped her just in time before she could rush off.

"There’s no time. It was his decision."

"I don’t care," she growled. "I’ll go for him, and I’ll die here."

"No, you won’t."

Ekko took her by the arm, guiding her as they ran through the convent’s hallways. The only thing she knew in life. They burst through the back doors of the convent, reaching the edge of a cliff that overlooked another hidden port. The salty breeze hit their faces, and Jinx barely noticed that the sea stretched out before her, darker and stormier than ever.

It was at that precise moment, as she turned for a second, that she saw something that stopped her in her tracks. A flash of light, a familiar figure... the captain. With a firm and majestic stride, the pirate captain advanced toward the shore, her silhouette outlined against the horizon, the wind blowing her long, unruly hair.

Jinx and the captain's eyes met, a fleeting crossing, a silent but intense connection. Something stirred within Jinx. There was something in that gaze, an echo of recognition, of a shared destiny. But there was no time. There was nothing more than the present, only danger and flight.

Ekko, seeing that Jinx had stopped, lifted her without warning, carrying her with effort, his feet racing across the sand, moving away as quickly as possible. Jinx tried to resist, but the pirate's words reached her.

"Let’s go!" Ekko shouted, not looking back, as his legs propelled him faster. "Don’t look back. Let’s go!"

But as Ekko dragged her away from the beach, Jinx couldn’t help but take one last look at the captain's figure, who was now watching the sea with the same intensity with which she had watched the siren. The sound of the waves mixed with the explosions and chaos, but Jinx knew that, no matter how much she wanted to understand it all, there was no turning back. There was only one direction: forward.

Ekko dragged her away from everything, not looking back, while the shadows of the convent faded into the distance. And all the life she had known since the ocean had swept her to that shore, now turned to foam as the waves crashed against the rocks.

Chapter Text

JINX WAS TRYING TO FREE HERSELF LIKE A FISH FROM A FISHING NET.

Sometimes she watched them from afar, moving and jumping, once she had been brave enough to cut the net, freeing hundreds of those fish while she fled. It was the time she had been closest to being seen if she had never gone with that captain. However, as Jinx she was, it was the food of many, so it was a time of scarcity, families that didn’t have much money that month, and as always, an irrefutable proof that she was bad luck.

She looked out at the ocean that stretched before her; the water seemed like an infinite mantle of darkness, as immense as her thoughts. Suddenly, a memory hit her, a distant echo, as if it were coming from the depths of the sea. The darkness. The screams. The sound of the waves thundering in her ears as she submerged, feeling the water burning her lungs, the cold embracing her until her body stopped moving. She had died that night when the shadows and the ocean swallowed her, and the only certainty was that she no longer felt pain. Because she was sure she had died at night.

But when Ekko pushed her toward the boat, all she felt was the rumble of explosions, the shadows lurking around her, and the laughter of the pirates who were already approaching the edge.

“Quick, get in!” Ekko ordered, his voice laden with an urgency that surprised her, but Jinx could do nothing but move like an automaton, her body exhausted, her legs trembling from the effort. In her head, the image of Father Silco floated, unreal and fleeting, like a whisper that faded before she could grasp its meaning.

A few steps behind them, two pirates appeared out of nowhere. With cruel smiles, they began to approach, wielding their sabers with the intention to attack. The moonlight reflected off the blades, the metallic shine illuminating their dirty faces.

“Don’t let them escape!” one shouted, his voice raspy from age, as his gaze fell directly on Ekko and Jinx.

Jinx's heart beat fiercely, as if it were about to escape her chest. Adrenaline flooded her, but at the same time, her thoughts faded. Her mind began to distort, her memories swallowing every part of her, like an ocean devouring her once more, recreating her death over and over, disconnecting her from the real world.

She disconnected from the world around her. She didn’t see the pirate approaching. She didn’t feel the danger, nor the threat, nor the urgency in Ekko. Everything was cloudy, distant, as if it were a shadow dragging her further toward the shore of her own disaster.

The man approached her, his gaze filled with lust and the intention to take advantage of the chaos that dominated the moment. He walked slowly, a few steps, until he was beside her. He stopped right in front of Jinx, who still didn’t seem to realize his presence. She could smell his sweat and the stench of salt that his soaked clothes left behind.

“How pretty you are, girl. Surely you’ve gotten lost in the dark…” the pirate murmured, with a cruel and twisted smile. “A nun, how fortunate, I’ve never tried one; it must be a true blessing from the Lord.”

Jinx barely glanced at him, her eyes clouded, her mind still trapped between the memories of her fall, of her own death. Inside her, everything was pain. The man’s words reached her like a distant echo, a distortion in her reality. But something in his tone, in his gaze, made her return to the present, if only for a moment.

A shiver ran through her body. That damn pirate was too close, pushing her limits of tolerance. But she couldn’t react. Her body was paralyzed by the memory of her death; it was the only thing she truly knew.

Before she could even blink, the pirate began to lean in to touch her, to bend over her. But just at that moment, Ekko appeared, moving with the speed of a shadow.

In the blink of an eye, Ekko was behind the pirate, his movements quick, lethal. There was no warning, just a brutal strike. With a force that seemed disproportionate, the pirate was knocked down, his face slamming against the ground with a dull thud. The crack of the impact resonated in Jinx's ears like a stab. The man’s body fell lifeless, like a sack of stones thrown by the wind.

The second pirate froze for a moment, astonished, and before he could react, Ekko was already at his throat, a dagger in hand, his voice firm as steel.

“Do you have anything else to say?” Ekko murmured, his tone almost impassive, but with a deadly coldness that made the pirate feel fear for the first time in his life. The man could barely make a sound before falling to the ground, his life ruthlessly taken. “I thought so.”

Jinx watched it all, almost unable to believe what had just happened. Ekko was not just fast; he was lethal, and the danger that had previously left her petrified disappeared in seconds. But as her mind tried to process it, Ekko's voice pulled her out of her trance.

“Let’s go! Get in the boat!” Ekko insisted, his tone unyielding, leaving no room for objections.

But Jinx, still dragged by memories, could barely react. Her body felt heavy, as if the weight of her own existence was sinking her deeper into chaos. She couldn’t lift her feet, nor feel that danger was about to snatch her life away. She looked ahead, where Ekko was gripping her arm firmly, as if he were the only rope keeping her attached to life.

“You’re going to die if you don’t hurry!” Ekko said, his voice strong, resonant. But Jinx couldn’t process it. She was lost, beyond words, beyond everything.

In an impatient gesture, Ekko lifted her with force, not caring about the weight of her body. There was no sweetness in his touch, only an absolute determination to keep her alive. He dragged her with him, almost as if she were a broken doll, offering her no space to resist, but also no space to fully comprehend what was happening.

“Get in!” Ekko ordered, more insistent than ever.

“No, I don’t want to be here. Let me go back! Let me go!” Jinx screamed, her voice filled with desperation. She struck furiously at his shoulders, with her hands, with her feet. “Let me die with him!”

He didn’t respond. He looked at her with a furrowed brow, fear and confusion waging an internal battle.

“What do you care? And why don’t you let me die?” she asked, the pain of losing herself behind those words. “You could have died!” she insisted, her voice laden with frustration.

Ekko stopped rowing and looked her in the eyes. His gaze was serious, almost sad.

“You couldn’t go back,” he said in a soft but firm voice. “You would die.”

Her response infuriated her.

“And what do you care?” Jinx spat, her eyes filled with rage. “You’ve just wanted to die since you arrived!”

Ekko didn’t give her the luxury of an immediate response. With a single shove, he pushed her into the boat, where the wind hit her face with the force of a reminder of what was at stake. The ocean roared around them, but the sea didn’t call her, didn’t attract her. There was nothing for her in those dark waters, only emptiness.

“No, I don’t want to be here. Let me go back! Let me go!” Jinx screamed, her voice filled with desperation. She struck furiously at his shoulders, with her hands, with her feet. “Let me die with him!”

But Ekko didn’t stop. Rage flooded her, but there was no turning back. He ignored her and took her to the bow of the boat, where he carefully sat her down. Then he returned to his seat and continued rowing.

“I hate you, you know that?” Jinx whispered through sobs. “I hate you for not saving him! I hate you for being here!”

Ekko slowly turned to her, his eyes fixed on the horizon. On his face was a grimace of pain, but his voice, when he responded, was serene, almost neutral.

“I did it for him. Because he wanted you to be alive.”

Jinx looked at the dark sea, at the ocean that had taken so much from her. Her breathing was heavy, and frustration reflected on her face.

“And you? Why didn’t you let me die?”

Ekko looked at her one last time.

“Because I don’t let die those I can save,” he murmured, his tone grave, almost as if he were apologizing. But in his gaze, there was something more: a burden, a responsibility that didn’t belong to him, but that he couldn’t ignore.

The wind blew strongly, and the waves seemed to devour the silence that had settled between them. Darkness surrounded them, but for the first time in a long time, Jinx felt as if she were being guided by something more than the chaos that had dominated her life until now.

The image of the fish trapped in the net returned to her mind. She always ended up trapped. She always ended up causing problems. She always ended up losing the people she cared about.

“You let die the only person who truly loved me,” she murmured, her words drowned by the roar of the ocean. Pain coiled in her chest like a knot difficult to untie. “I have nothing left in the world.”

Ekko didn’t respond. There was no answer that could calm the storm Jinx carried within. All he did was take her away, moving further into the sea, as darkness enveloped them completely.

With one last sigh, Jinx gave in. She had no strength to keep fighting. She let herself fall into the seat, her gaze fixed on the horizon, that beyond the sea she had always wanted to reach but now hated.

Jinx remained to one side of the boat, away from Ekko. She was silent, staring at the horizon with an empty gaze, as if the ocean could return something she had lost long before arriving there. The dark water offered her no comfort, only a distorted reflection of what her life had been. Her eyes followed Ekko, watching every one of his movements with a silent intensity.

Ekko didn’t seem to be aware of her gaze. His hands moved deftly as he rowed, each stroke of the oar cutting through the water with precision, as if he knew every corner of that vast ocean. However, Jinx noticed something. Small traces of blood on his clothes, red stains marking the minor wounds on his skin, memories of the pirates he had killed. The sight of his bloodied hands, though she wasn’t fully aware of it, made her feel something strange. A mix of admiration and revulsion.

“Why did you never escape?” Jinx suddenly asked, her voice cutting through the silence that enveloped them. “I always thought you could, but you didn’t want to. Why?”

Ekko didn’t respond. He continued rowing, as if the words didn’t matter to him, as if they were just noise. Jinx watched him with an eyebrow raised, waiting, but there was no answer.

“Why not?” she insisted, her voice softer now, almost like a whisper lost in the roar of the sea.

The question hung between them, suspended in the air, but Ekko didn’t turn his head or make any movement that indicated he had heard her. Jinx frowned, annoyed. Why wouldn’t he answer her? Was that what he did with her after saving her life?

“What crimes did you commit that you think death is the only forgiveness you can obtain?” she then asked, giving no room for doubt, a provocation in her words. Her tone was cold, calculating, but the pain beneath those words was evident, even though she disguised it with sarcasm.

Ekko kept rowing, impassive. The only response Jinx received was the sound of water hitting the sides of the boat. There was no sigh, no change in his breathing. Just nothing.

Silence rose again, heavy, like a slab falling on her, and Jinx stopped insisting. Her gaze returned to Ekko, but she no longer observed him with the same intensity. She analyzed his face, his eyes.

Deep down, Jinx knew she wouldn’t be able to extract anything from him. She wouldn’t. No matter what she tried. He was like the Ark of the Covenant, something so important that no one knew anything about it but that should be easy to know, a mystery she couldn’t solve, and that only frustrated her more. Her gaze slowly fell to the water, her mind beginning to drift away from the moment, dragged by the weight of her own thoughts.

Without thinking, she plunged her hand into the water. The cool touch surprised her, a comfort that only the ocean could offer her at that moment. The cold of the water pierced her to the bone, but for some reason, it made her feel something she hadn’t experienced in a long time: calm. She didn’t think about pain, she didn’t think about death. She just let herself be carried away by the sensation of the current caressing her fingers. Sometimes, the ocean offered answers that words couldn’t.

Her breathing calmed. Rage, frustration, everything faded away like a distant dream. She settled a little more in her seat, searching for the most comfortable position, although in reality, none was. She was exhausted, too exhausted to keep fighting, too tired of fighting against everything around her. Her eyes began to close slowly, without her wanting it, as if fatigue had won the battle her mind had waged. Her thoughts faded softly, like the waves breaking against the shore.

Finally, she fell asleep. She didn’t dream of the chaos or the explosions that had chased her so many times. She barely saw Father Silco's face, blurred, as if he were behind a thick fog, unable to reach him. It didn’t matter. The feeling of being safe, even if only in her mind, was enough.

Ekko watched her, but didn’t wake her. He continued rowing in silence, guiding himself by the deep knowledge he had of the ocean, of navigation, of how to stay away from the dangers lurking in the darkness. The waves rose and fell, but he followed his path with a serene calm.

In a small pause, his hand drifted toward the medallion hanging from his neck. He caressed it carefully. A gesture so simple, yet so full of meaning. He said nothing, did nothing but hold it between his fingers, allowing the weight of that small relic to anchor him in something more than the uncertainty of the present.

And with that, he resumed rowing. There was no need to do anything else. Just keep moving forward.

Jinx slept in an awkward position, her body bent strangely over the bench of the boat. The wind tousled her hair, and the position would hurt when she woke up, but Ekko wouldn’t do anything to change it. It wasn’t his place. He had done what he could do; he would take her to where he had said that Father was, and then he would see what would become of her life. It was just one last job.

With each stroke of the oar, they ventured further into the ocean, farther away from everything she knew.

Chapter Text

JINX WOKE UP WITH THE SENSATION THAT THE WORLD WAS FLOATING.

The movement of the boat was smooth, as if some creature asleep beneath the water was breathing very slowly. Jinx opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the pale light of a morning still in its bones, still forming. The first thing she saw was the sky. A worn-out blue, cloudless, barely trembling with the promise of a warm sun. Then she turned her head and saw Ekko.

He was sitting at the edge of the boat, rowing with a hypnotic cadence, his back to her. Every time he dipped the oars into the water, it seemed he split the mirror of the world in two. His body was tense, as if silence were a weight he carried on his shoulders. His shirt was soaked with sweat and salt, also stained with dried blood. Occasionally, he adjusted things with an almost mechanical precision: a sack, the rope, a wet rag. He hadn’t noticed her, even though she had been watching him for several minutes.

“Good morning,” Jinx said, her voice hoarse, almost instinctively.

Ekko barely nodded. He didn’t turn around.

She watched him for a few more seconds. The idea of jumping on him and scaring him crossed her mind. Or at least pushing him into the water. To see if that serious facade would crumble for a second. But her body still ached too much. And he... he looked like someone who had had enough of life.

Still, Jinx thought about jumping now that she was rested, showing her tail and leaving; going back to the convent. But when she looked around, all she saw was infinite ocean; she didn’t know where she was, couldn’t even orient herself. How pathetic, a mermaid who didn’t know the sea.

So she didn’t jump, although she wanted to. She just sat down, crossed her legs, and stayed there under the sun, watching him.

And then she started to talk. To ask him things.

“Where are we? How long did I sleep?”

Nothing. Ekko didn’t respond.

“You know? Thanks to you, you’re more or less the only thing I have left in the world; you could talk to me a little.”

There was silence. Jinx thought about jumping. At least a fish would be better company, but to her surprise, he just offered her a piece of bread.

“Thanks,” she added.

Ekko nodded.

So the day passed. The sun rose, then hid. The sky filled with colors that bled into each other. And then darkness fell like a wet sheet. Jinx slept curled up, with a rope loosely tied around her ankle, as if that were enough to keep her from getting lost in the sea.

The second day was the same. Questions. Silence. And a constant rhythm: the oar, the breathing, the nothingness.

“How do you know how to navigate?” Jinx asked, watching him as they paused for him to rest. “If you tell me, I can help you; you should sleep.”

“I already slept.”

“You're tired,” she countered, smiling; “you’ve already said two words. Hurrah.”

Ekko shook his head, as if dealing with a child that Jinx had seen in the convent. The orphans. Like her. And he continued rowing in silence.

That afternoon, when she coughed hard from her dry throat, he handed her a canteen without saying a word. He didn’t look at her. He just left it beside her and returned to rowing. She didn’t say thank you, but drank as if the water were a blessing.

That night, Jinx prayed softly. Part of her didn’t believe that God was listening, but it was the only thing she remembered clearly. Hail Marys mixed with words that no longer made sense. Fragments of litanies clung to her tongue like scars.

He said nothing, and she didn’t speak before sleeping.

It was at sunset on the third day when Jinx managed to catch some fish to eat that day, while Ekko did something with the fire that left her amazed; he used a crystal to create fire on a piece of wood.

She watched him as if it were magic. He did it in silence, without looking at her. But when serving the fish, he gave her the first portion. Jinx said nothing, but stared at it for a long time before eating.

“Do you believe in God?” she asked once, used to filling the void with her voice.

She was ready to continue asking into the air when Ekko’s voice interrupted her.

“No. Maybe I believed when I was a child.”

“I believe in Him,” she replied sincerely. “But sometimes I feel like God abandoned me. Or that He was scared of me. Did you know there’s a psalm in the Bible that says ‘the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous’?”

“And what does that mean?”

“That He only looks at the good,” she sighed, “maybe that’s why He doesn’t look at me. I think my eyes scared Him.”

Ekko looked at her, and for a moment, something in his gaze softened.

“Why do you call yourself Jinx?”

She blinked. She stared at her knees for a moment, as if she didn’t quite know where to start.

“It’s because of my eyes, because they are pink,” she finally said, her voice trembling a little, not from fear, but from weight. “A curse. A mistake that walks. You’ve seen them. You’re always looking at them.”

Ekko neither denied nor affirmed. He just waited.

“Nobody knows why. I never knew. The nuns said it was a sign of the devil. That something had touched me before I was born, or when I arrived at the convent. One sister said it was the reflection of hell in my pupils. Another said I was a fallen angel. But it was always something strange. Something that shouldn’t exist."

Ekko had stopped rowing. The boat moved slowly on its own, as if it were listening too. The breeze blew softly, and her hair waved like blue flames.

“Jinx. That’s what they started calling me. First it was a whispered word. Then, a scream. Then, a mark. ‘The little Jinx,’ they said. I guess... they were right." she confess. ". Otherwise, if I weren’t a jinx, Father Silco would be alive.”

He didn’t say anything more. The fire was now barely embers, and the cooked fish rested on a piece of wood like makeshift plates. Ekko passed her portion without looking at her, with that mechanical but undeniably human gesture, and Jinx took it with a small mocking reverence.

“Thank you, silent captain,” she said, dragging the words as if they were floating seaweed.

They ate in silence, with their legs hanging over the edge of the boat, their feet brushing the dark sea. The sky, now without light, looked like a dirty, cracked mirror. Only the moon, huge and white, illuminated them.

Later, while carefully picking up the bones, Ekko spoke. His voice was low, almost indistinguishable from the sway of the water.

“Were they always pink?”

Jinx raised her head. She didn’t understand at first. Then she realized.

Her eyes.

She blinked slowly, trying to remember. But there was nothing. Nothing before the nuns, the convent, Silco. Nothing before the fire, the scream, her death.

Then she lied.

“Yes. Always. And I’ve always been this pale, see?” She raised her arms as if showing a funny wound. “A little spectral creature, like a ghost that forgot to scare someone.”

She expected a smile, a gesture, a breath that would lighten the moment. But what she saw was something else. Something in Ekko seemed to fade away, as if he were crumbling inside, very slowly, without noise. He didn’t frown. He didn’t sigh. Just... something died in his eyes.

Here you are again, Jinx.

She didn’t know why. Maybe she had offended him. Maybe the lie showed more than she thought. Maybe he, too, saw her as a curse.

But then, Ekko stood up without saying anything and pulled a blanket from the sack. He handed it to her with a firm hand, without looking directly. She took it, without mockery this time. Grateful. It was their unspoken truce.

Silence fell again, but it was no longer the heavy, accusatory silence of before. It was a more spectral silence, almost like her little ghost joke, only much darker. Soon, Ekko returned to his place, rowing as if nothing had happened but with something dead on his shoulders.

Jinx wondered what she had said wrong. Did Ekko also see her as a curse? Or was it something deeper, something she couldn’t grasp? Worry drilled into her mind.

That night, Jinx couldn’t sleep. She watched Ekko, curled up at the bow of the boat, with his medallion hanging between his fingers. He caressed it gently, as if it were a sacred object. A pang of jealousy pierced her chest. Why did that piece of metal deserve so much devotion, so much tenderness, while she felt like a mere burden?

Ekko pressed the medallion against his chest, with his eyes closed, and finally, without a sound, lay down and slept.

Finally, resting.

Not for her, but for the medallion.

Jinx watched him for a long time. She felt jealousy. For that medallion. For whatever it held. For the way he cherished it. For the way he spoke to it in silence, as no one ever spoke to her, as only one person had loved her but was no longer there.

She thought of her name. Jinx. She thought of her eyes, of the nuns, of the fire. That maybe no one would ever want a curse. Not even someone who had saved her.

She turned her gaze to the sea. Black, vast, endless. She wondered if the ocean would love her; after all, she hadn’t heard of it saving others, but soon the idea died. If the ocean would love her, it would be with her, it would tell her something, but Jinx was like those things that once had a purpose and then got lost in the sea.

She stayed like that for a long time, with the sway of the boat like a song without lyrics. She didn’t sleep right away. She just thought. Thought about being a mermaid who didn’t know the sea. About Ekko’s silence. About the medallion that deserved love, while she didn’t even know who she had been before dying.

And then the wind changed. Like a warning. Like a premonition.

But Jinx was already used to premonitions. She just closed her eyes and waited for the world to float once more.

Chapter Text

THE FOG APPEARED WITHOUT WARNING.

It wasn't as thick as in the stories, but light, almost curious, as if the world had held its breath. The sea turned gray, then white, and the edges of things lost their shape. The boat glided like a memory, like a secret in search of land. Jinx didn’t know if they were moving forward or if the fog was taking them somewhere. Ekko didn’t speak. He only rowed with the same gentle stubbornness of the previous days, as if his body remembered a destination that his mind had forgotten.

Then she felt it: land.

Not with her eyes, nor with her nose, but with her body. A change in the current. The brush of shallower water. The seaweed tangled in the oars like fingers waving from the depths.

Jinx sat up and saw it. A line. It wasn’t exactly a coast. It was a border. A threshold. A nameless shore, where the trees bent toward the sea as if waiting for someone.

“Is that...?” she whispered, not finishing the question.

Ekko nodded. He didn’t say anything. But he made sure the landing wasn’t abrupt, even helping her sit and avoiding getting her wet. It seemed he had done this thousands of times, as if his body moved following a script written in muscle memory. His hands, calloused and weathered by the sun, held her with surprising gentleness.

She still felt like jumping overboard, swimming away.

But she was a coward. A part of her, the scared part, screamed that not everyone was like Ekko. He didn’t talk to her, but he had cooked for her twice a day, with a calmness and dedication that surprised her. If it weren’t for his silence, he would be decent company. I mean, she had fared worse in the convent when they played cruel jokes on her.

Though there would be Father Silco to turn to, to offer her a bitter comfort, a hug that smelled of incense and regret.

“There’s a village nearby,” Ekko said, looking past her, toward the dark mass of trees, while he hid the boat with grass. His voice, rough from the silence, sounded almost like a whisper. “If you want, you can take a boat to Billwater. If you want, I can take you. Or you can go on your own. Whatever you decide.”

“Are you... going to leave me?” The question came out trembling, vulnerable. Jinx felt a knot in her throat. The idea of being alone again, in a world that felt so vast and hostile, terrified her.

“I’m giving you a choice,” he admitted, focusing on securing the boat, avoiding looking at her. His fingers worked quickly, adjusting ropes and moving branches. “I’m not good company, but I can take you safely there. But if you don’t like me, I can leave you on the boat that goes straight there.”

“But why?”

“It’s the shortest route for you to arrive safe and…”

“Why don’t you want to live?” Jinx asked, blunt and direct. The question cut the air like a knife. She needed to know. She needed to understand the emptiness she saw in his eyes. Had she said something that bothered him? What had she done wrong? “Did I say something that upset you? What's wrong?”

Ekko stopped, his back tense, rigid as a statue. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at her. In his eyes, Jinx saw the reflection of the fog, but also something deeper, something dark and painful. She saw the wounded man he was, a man marked by loss and despair.

“There’s nothing left for me after I take you to Billwater,” he replied, honestly. The truth came from his lips like a lament. “Listen, I’ll get you there safe and sound, but after that, there won’t be more.”

“Am I forcing you to stay alive?”

“No.”

Jinx stared at him, trying to read him. She considered that he might be lying, but something in him told her that, although he was honest, there was a background that tested his answer. There was a shadow in his gaze, an untold story weighing on him like a slab.

A heavy silence settled between them. Jinx felt lost, trapped between the fear of loneliness and the uncertainty about Ekko. She looked out at the ocean, at the fog that enveloped everything, and a question arose in her mind, a question that had tormented her since she had escaped from the convent.

“ Where is the convent?” she asked softly, almost inaudible. She needed to know if there was a possibility of returning, even to a place filled with pain and regret.

Ekko frowned, surprised by the question. He looked out to sea, as if trying to locate a point on the horizon.

“It’s to the south. There’s a boat that would take you to the capital, and another that has a trade route that would leave you there; it would take days. But... I don’t think you want to go back there.”

In perspective, Ekko was a sad man. He didn’t doubt that she didn’t know sadness; she always felt it, the fact of not belonging anywhere, not having something of her own, or that everyone secretly feared her made her feel lost most of the time. Besides, she desperately sought everyone’s attention, even if it was yelling, scolding, or breaking her things; it was a sign that she was there, bothering, but she was alive.

“No, but... which direction?”

“To the south, following the currents and the southern star.”

Jinx looked where he pointed, but all she saw was fog and sea; nothing that could guide her.

“Why are you talking to me now?” she asked honestly. “You’ve had plenty of time not to.”

“I don’t usually talk much.”

“Now you are, apparently,” Jinx whispered, looking around, literally like a fish out of water. “And you? What are you going to do afterward if there’s nothing left for you after taking me?”

Ekko looked away.

“That doesn’t matter; you’ll be where the Father wanted.”

Jinx hesitated. She didn’t want to be a burden. She didn’t want to force him to do something he didn’t want to do. But the idea of being alone terrified her too much.

“I’ll stay with you,” she finally said, her voice trembling. “I’ll let you take me to Billwater.”

Ekko nodded.

“Then, let’s go.”

Ekko hid the boat as best as he could, making sure it was out of sight from the sea. He helped her down, and together they walked toward the forest.

The path between the trees was narrow, but the fog made it even narrower, as if the world compressed around them. The trees, tall and twisted, seemed alive, their branches intertwined forming a green and gray roof that let through only the light filtered by the thick white veil. As they advanced, Jinx couldn’t stop looking at the vegetation surrounding her. The ferns grew in clusters on the sides of the path, the leaves shining with intense moisture, and the roots of the trees intertwined like outstretched hands, seeking something to trap the steps of anyone who dared to cross.

“Does all this grow here?” Jinx asked, touching a leaf that seemed made of glass, slippery under her fingers.

Ekko nodded without turning. Only the trees were witnesses to their silence.

“Yes, it’s the oldest vegetation in the region. It’s something that grows without much help, just under the fog. The humidity keeps everything green; keep walking.”

“How do you know so much?” she asked without thinking. She looked up at him, but Ekko didn’t look at her. He kept walking, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

“I’ve been here before,” he replied, and that was all. His voice had been soft, almost distracted, as if that small revelation were something completely trivial to him.

The ground beneath their feet was soft, covered in damp leaves and pine needles. Jinx observed everything with amazement, her eyes shining with insatiable curiosity. Every twisted tree trunk, every strange-colored mushroom, every intricately shaped leaf was a wonder that needed to be examined.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a plant with large, shiny leaves.

Ekko stopped and looked at her.

“It’s an ‘elephant ear’; it’s not very common around here.”

“And that?” she continued, pointing to a bright red mushroom growing at the base of a tree.

“Amanita muscaria; don’t touch it; it’s poisonous.”

Jinx nodded, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she crouched down and examined it more closely, fascinated by its shape and color.

“Will this be permanent? You talking to me?”

“No.”

“Now you are talking to me,” Jinx teased, “ 'And I saw that the angel poured out his bowl full of the wrath of God into the sea, and it became blood.' Have you heard it?”

Ekko slowly shook his head, but he didn’t offer further explanation. The fog continued to surround them, as if trying to embrace them and not let them go. Jinx, however, couldn’t keep quiet.

“Mother Elizabeth used to tell that story. She spoke of the condemnation of the seas. Maybe it’s true. Everyone talks about the wrath of the gods, but maybe there are no gods left to protect us. Maybe it’s all just fog, sea, and land.”

She kept walking, with Jinx by her side. The path became steeper and rockier, and the forest grew denser. The sun could barely penetrate through the branches of the trees, creating a mysterious and silent twilight.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached the edge of the forest. Before them lay the village, a haphazard collection of rickety wooden houses and muddy streets. The smell of rotten fish and cheap smoke permeated the air.

Jinx stopped, amazed. She had never seen a place like this. The convent was austere and silent, while the village was noisy and chaotic. People moved back and forth, shouting and gesturing. Children ran barefoot through the streets, playing in the mud. Sailors drank and played cards in the taverns.

“Is the whole world like this, or just this?” Jinx asked, her eyes wide open.

Ekko nodded.

“Everything is this ugly.”

“It’s beautiful,” she admitted, marveling at the ugliness of the place. “Can we stay for a night?” she asked, her eyes shining with a glimmer of hope. After all, the fog had already swallowed the idea of loneliness, and now all that was left was to follow.

Ekko didn’t say anything at first, but his eyes scanned the place before entering.

“We have enough money for the basics, not to waste,” he said, almost as a warning.

“Can we stay in an inn?” Jinx asked, recalling the stories she had read in the convent’s books. “With a comfortable bed and clean sheets.”

“It’s expensive.”

“It’s my money.”

Ekko grunted, moving forward. They walked through the village streets, looking for a place to spend the night. Ekko seemed to know the place, moving confidently among the crowd. People looked at him with curiosity, some with respect, others with fear.

Jinx followed him, the sound of their steps echoing on the ground. Ekko stopped in front of a small tavern, its sign hanging from a rusty nail, as if gravity itself were about to make it drop. Jinx looked at the sign, not quite understanding what kind of place it was. It seemed like a refuge, but her instinct told her that something darker lurked behind those doors.

The tavern was dark and dirty, the air thick with tobacco smoke and alcohol. The faces of the few customers there were not pleasant: rough men, in worn clothes with empty eyes, who looked at the newcomers with indifference.

Behind the bar, a woman with short, messy hair watched them, her face covered by an ironic smile that didn’t go unnoticed by Jinx.

“What do we have here?” the woman said, eyeing Jinx with a curious glint in her eyes. Then she turned to Ekko. “A pirate and a nun? That’s new!”

Ekko frowned and stepped forward, uncomfortable with the comment. The woman didn’t seem worried.

“Wow, looks like the nun finally caught the attention of Captain Owl,” she continued with a mocking laugh. “What have you been up to all this time, Owl? Did she perform an exorcism or something?”

Ekko looked at her coldly, his hand tight around the coin pouch.

“Shut up, Mamma Liss.”

But the woman, Mamma Liss, didn’t stop. She continued, more persistent than before.

“What made the virgin captain finally decide?” she joked, her laughter resonating in the dense air of the tavern. “What does that little girl have, huh?”

Ekko growled, annoyed, and approached the counter firmly. He didn’t feel like playing.

“Shut up,” he said dryly.

Mamma Liss raised an eyebrow, amused by his bad mood, but finally pulled the keys from a drawer and placed them on the table.

“Take what’s yours, pirate. The room is upstairs. But you know, it’s not a convent.”

Ekko let out a heavy sigh and left the coins on the table. Jinx couldn’t help but notice the glances directed at her, eyes filled with disdain, curiosity, and perhaps a touch of envy. The woman behind the counter threw one last mocking look before returning to her work.

He went up the stairs first, with Jinx following him, the creaking of the wood under their feet echoing in the silence. Upon reaching the door, Ekko opened it without a word, and they both entered.

“What is this place?” Jinx asked cautiously.

“It’s... a place to spend the night.”

They arrived in the room. It was small and spartan, with a bed, a table, and a chair. The walls were covered in faded wallpaper, and the air smelled of dampness.

Jinx sat on the bed, feeling exhausted and confused. The day had been long and full of emotions. Ekko approached the window and looked out at the street. He seemed worried, as if he were waiting for something.

“What’s wrong?” Jinx asked.

Ekko shook his head, not answering her. At least they had returned to the routine. Ekko pulled back the grimy curtain and began to examine the room with almost obsessive meticulousness. He checked the window frame, felt the wood around the door, even lifted the thin, faded carpet to take a look at the wooden floor beneath. His movements were quick and precise, as if he were searching for something or ensuring that something wasn’t there.

Jinx watched from the bed, her eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Ekko didn’t respond immediately. He continued with his silent inspection, ignoring the question.

“Why are you helping me?” she finally asked, breaking the silence. Her voice sounded smaller than she had expected.

Ekko didn’t look at her. He closed the wardrobe doors and turned to the table, checking the drawer. He pulled out an old knife, examined it, and then left it on the wood with a soft clack.

“The father asked me,” he said tersely.

Jinx furrowed her brow.

“What does that mean? What did he do to you?”

Ekko didn’t respond immediately. He ran his fingers through his short hair, thoughtful, and then moved toward the window. He opened it slightly to let in the cool night air. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Jinx felt a knot in her chest. There was something in the way Ekko avoided her eyes, something that made her feel small and insignificant. But it also angered her. She wanted to insist, but she couldn’t find the right words. Instead, she let the silence stretch between them.

After a moment, Jinx took a deep breath and spoke softly.

“Thank you.”

Ekko turned toward her, surprised. Their eyes met for an instant, but he quickly looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to hold her gaze. He leaned against the table and lowered his head, his fingers drumming against the wood.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” he said, almost brusquely.

Jinx tilted her head, studying him. There was something broken in him, something reflected in the tension of his shoulders and the rigidity of his voice.

“You used to look into my eyes,” she said suddenly. “Always. Now... you talk to me but barely see beyond my lips. What happened?”

Ekko raised his head, surprised by her words. He stared at her for a few seconds that felt eternal. Then he looked away, turning toward the window.

“I got an answer,” he murmured.

Jinx frowned, confused.

“What answer?”

Ekko didn’t respond. He remained still, looking out at the street as if searching for something only he could see. Jinx felt a pang of frustration, but also something akin to sadness.

“Maybe you can just leave me on the boat,” she finally said, her voice heavy with resignation. “That way you can finish your path sooner.”

“Fine,” Ekko replied, without looking at her.

Jinx turned around in bed and lay down, closing her eyes. The blanket was thin and the room cold, but she was exhausted. The sound of Ekko’s footsteps in the room accompanied her as she drifted off to sleep.

Ekko took the chair near the window and sat in it, looking outside. The tavern was still bustling, but night had completely fallen. Finally, sleep overcame her, dragging her into darkness like a wave crashing against the rocks.

Chapter Text

THE SUN FILTERED THROUGH THE CRACKS IN THE WINDOW, PAINTING GOLDEN LINES ACROSS JINX'S FACE.

The light, warm and stubborn, pulled her from a deep sleep, a confusing labyrinth of incense, murmured prayers, and the stern voice of Father Silco reciting the scriptures. "...and the waters rose, flooding the earth, and all living beings perished..." The image suffocated her, the claustrophobia of a life she could no longer return to.

As she sat up, the real world greeted her with the harshness of the tavern. The rough blanket, the stale air, the dull pain in her temple. And, of course, the figure of Ekko, leaning against the door, with the exhaustion of patience etched into every line of his face.

"We have to go," he said, without even looking her in the eye. "The ship sails at noon."

Jinx blinked, trying to shake off the drowsiness. The promise of Bilgewater, of a new beginning, flickered like a wavering flame in the darkness. But before embarking on that journey, she needed a breather, a chance to wash away the dust and anxiety of the past few days.

"I need a bath," she announced, sitting up completely.

Ekko frowned.

"We don't have time."

"Nonsense. There’s always time for a bath. Besides," she added with a mischievous smile, "it's my money, remember? And honestly, I can't stand the idea of getting on a ship smelling like a stable."

Without waiting for his consent, Jinx got up and began to search for the bathroom. The "inn" was not what she had imagined. It smelled of musty dampness, and the corners were filled with dust and cobwebs. It didn't take long for her to find a small adjoining room with an old, rusty iron bathtub. The water, cold and murky, was hardly inviting, but it was better than nothing.

As she undressed, she noticed strange details. Roughly carved symbols on the doorframe, a sickly sweet smell emanating from the walls. The room was odd, filled with objects that seemed unrelated to one another. There was a collection of seashells on a shelf, an ancient map hanging on the wall, and an empty cage on the floor. It looked more like a dump where they took all the damaged and broken things from the convent than a bathroom.

But the need to clean herself was stronger than her apprehension. Then, she felt the change. A familiar sensation, a tingling in her legs, a transformation she had learned to control since she was a child. She opened her eyes and looked down. Her legs were merging, becoming a single scaly and shiny limb. Her mermaid tail moved gently in the water, revealing her true nature.

Jinx sighed, feeling both relieved and guilty. She loved her tail; it was part of her, part of her identity. But it was also a danger, a sign that marked her as different, as a creature to be feared and hunted.

She submerged completely, letting her tail float freely in the water, the only thing she truly owned.

The alarm shook her like a whip. Carefree thoughts faded, replaced by a cold, paralyzing panic as she remembered she wasn't alone in the place. She couldn't afford to be seen, to be discovered. Her secret was her greatest vulnerability, the key that could open the doors to her destruction.

With quick, silent movements, she straightened up in the tub, hiding her tail beneath the surface of the water. Her breath quickened, her heart pounding in her chest. Danger lurked in every shadow, in every corner of the room.

She hurried out of the water, trembling from cold and fear. She awkwardly dried herself with the frayed towel, rubbing vigorously to hide the wet sheen of her skin. Every second counted. She had to get out of there, back to the safety of the crowd, where she could hide in plain sight.

When she finally emerged from the room, wrapped in her damp clothes, she found Ekko at the door, his face even darker than before. Patience, it seemed, had completely worn thin, if there had ever been any in the first place.

"You took too long," he pointed out, frowning.

"I'm sorry," Jinx replied, trying to sound nonchalant, though her voice trembled slightly. "I got distracted."

They stepped out onto the street, where the bustling port was deafening. The cacophony of voices, the creaking of pulleys, the acrid smell of salt, fish, and tar. A whirlwind of sensations overwhelmed her for a moment.

Jinx took a deep breath, trying to orient herself. The world was vast and chaotic, filled with wonders and dangers lurking at every turn. But it was also a world full of opportunities, new experiences waiting to embrace her.

Ekko guided her through the chaos, not paying attention to her awe. His face remained expressionless, his eyes fixed on a distant point. It was as if he were disconnected from the world around him, absorbed in his own thoughts.

They arrived at a small counter, where a burly man with a patch covering his left eye was checking in passengers. His face, weathered by the sun and marked by scars, revealed a life full of adventures and dangers.

"A ticket to Bilgewater," Ekko said, dropping a handful of coins on the counter.

The man examined the coins with a critical eye, then counted them with nimble fingers. He nodded and extended a rough paper ticket.

"The Sea Serpent will sail in half an hour," he said, in a deep, gravelly voice. "Don't be late."

Ekko took the ticket, handing it to Jinx.

"Stay here," he ordered. "Don't wander off."

And without further explanation, he headed toward the dock, presumably to gather details about the trip, leaving her alone in the midst of the port's bustle.

Jinx sighed, feeling a bit disappointed. She wished Ekko were kinder to her, that he would share his enthusiasm for the world around them. But she knew she couldn't force him. Just him talking to her was like a miracle from the Lord, a sign that he hadn't completely abandoned her.

She sat on a nearby bench and watched the movement of the port. Sailors ran back and forth, loading and unloading goods. Fishermen cleaned their nets, singing sea shanties. Children played among the ropes and barrels, laughing and shouting.

While she waited, her gaze was drawn to a group of street performers putting on an acrobatic show near the dock. A young contortionist bent into impossible positions, a juggler tossed knives into the air with astonishing precision, and a fire dancer twirled gracefully, leaving a trail of glowing sparks.

Hypnotized by the performers' skill and courage, Jinx moved closer to get a better view. The music, movement, and colors of the show transported her to a world of fantasy and excitement. She completely forgot Ekko's warnings, letting herself be swept away by the magic of the moment.

In an instant, she lost herself among the crowd. The tide of bodies swept her away from the counter and deep into the human maze of the port. Voices, laughter, smells, and colors blended into a sensory chaos that completely disoriented her.

This was... mesmerizing.

Suddenly, something caught Jinx's attention. A group of men dressed in dark clothes and wide-brimmed hats moved through the crowd, observing people with scrutinizing looks. They looked like pirates, or something similar.

A chill ran down Jinx's spine. She knew she shouldn't draw attention, that she needed to remain invisible. But curiosity was stronger than fear. She got up from the bench and approached the group of men, trying to listen to their conversation.

"Are you sure it's him?" one of the men asked, in a raspy voice.

"Yeah, no doubt," another replied. "I recognized him right away."

"And who’s the girl?"

"She's here too. I saw her with him, I don't know."

"Good. Then we'll wait for them to board the ship. And then..."

The conversation abruptly stopped. Jinx felt a hand on her shoulder, making her turn around. It was one of the men, with a menacing look on his face, but the others didn't even turn to look at her.

"What are you doing here, girl?" he asked, in a harsh voice.

Panic seized Jinx. She tried to back away, but the man held her tightly. Before she could react, two more men surrounded her, preventing her from escaping. Jinx felt trapped, like a fish in a net.

At that moment, Ekko appeared beside her, his face tense.

"What’s going on here?" he asked, in a threatening tone.

The men released Jinx and turned to Ekko. Their faces lit up with cruel smiles.

"Long time no see," one of the men exclaimed, "Ekko."

"What the hell do you want?" Ekko asked, hand on the hilt of his dagger.

"We have an offer you can't refuse, man," the pirate continued, with a tone that left no room for doubt. "Our captain is very interested in seeing you back on our ship."

"We already talked about that, Scar."

"In that case, we’ll have to force you," the man replied.

Before Ekko could react, two of the pirates grabbed him by the arms, immobilizing him completely. He tried to resist, to struggle, but the strength of his captors was overwhelming. Jinx, for her part, couldn't stay still. She had spent her whole life dodging trouble, but now she couldn't ignore the threat looming over them.

Without thinking too much, Jinx lunged forward, tearing a loose board from a nearby barrel. With a stifled scream of fury, she swung it hard, hitting the arm of one of the men holding Ekko. He grunted in pain and let go, allowing Ekko to free his other arm with a quick movement of his dagger.

Scar, as Ekko had called him, finally looked at her. His gaze, fixed on Jinx, held a mix of disbelief and horror.

"Powder?" he said, almost whispering, as if he were seeing a ghost.

The world seemed to stop for Jinx. The word echoed in her mind, unfamiliar yet strangely full of meaning.

"Let her go, Scar," Ekko intervened, positioning himself between Jinx and the men. "She has nothing to do with this."

"Nothing to do with it?" Scar replied, pointing at Jinx with an accusing finger. "Who the hell is she? What is the ghost of Powder doing with you?"

"It doesn't matter who she is!" Ekko shouted, his dagger now glinting in the sunlight. "Just let her go."

But Scar shook his head, stepping toward them.

"Sorry, man. But I can't ignore this. She’s coming with us."

Before they could react, two more men approached from behind and grabbed Jinx tightly. She tried to break free, kicking and scratching like a cornered animal, but the pirates were relentless.

"Ekko!" she cried, her eyes desperately searching for her friend.

Ekko charged at them, a roar of anger and desperation escaping his throat. He managed to knock one of the men down, but before he could do more, Scar unsheathed a sword and pointed it directly at Ekko's neck.

"If you make another move," Scar warned, his green eyes flashing with warning, "you know how this will end."

Ekko froze, his fists clenching in helplessness.

"Let her go."

"You lost the right to give me orders a long time ago, Ekko." Scar gestured to his crew. "Take her too. If she is who I think she is, the captain will be... interested."

With those words, the pirates dragged Jinx toward the dock. Ekko was immobilized once again and taken along with her.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Jinx screamed, struggling with all her strength, but the men wouldn’t relent.

They dragged her forcefully toward an imposing, dark-hulled ship that loomed over the dock. The ship, painted black and adorned with skulls and crossed bones, emanated an aura of danger and death. It also had nonsensical white drawings of monkeys.

Jinx struggled, but the arms of the men holding her were like iron shackles. Fear throbbed in her chest, a mix of terror and confusion that made her tremble. Ekko walked beside her, his face tense, but his eyes avoided looking at her. It was as if he had already accepted his fate, but she couldn't allow herself to do so.

When they reached the deck, Scar ordered them to place both of them in the center, surrounded by the crew. There was an expectant silence, broken only by the creaking of ropes and the distant call of seagulls. The air was thick with salt and threat.

Scar stepped forward, his cruel smile now replaced by an expression of tension. He looked at his men and then toward the main cabin, where a figure began to emerge. Jinx, panting and terrified, felt a stab in her head, as if something were trying to break the surface of her memory.

The woman who stepped out of the cabin was imposing. She had short pink hair, her arms covered in tattoos that seemed to tell stories of violence and survival. She wore worn leather clothing, and her boots thudded heavily against the wood as she walked toward them. Authority radiated from her, like a contained storm. When her blue eyes finally landed on Ekko, they sparked with fury.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she spat, her voice a roar that cut through the air.

Ekko didn’t respond. He kept his head down, avoiding her gaze. The woman frowned and advanced until she was in front of him. She grabbed his face with a firm hand, forcing him to look at her.

"Don’t you even have the decency to look me in the eye, Ekko? After everything you did... after... after that..."

Ekko looked away again, completely drained of life. Jinx watched, praying he would speak, but he remained even quieter than with her.

"If you're going to kill me, just do it," he finally said, his voice low but firm.

The woman, whose tension had built up like a rope about to snap, released him abruptly and stepped back. Her laughter was bitter, almost like a strange sound.

"You won't see her even if you die, and you know it," she growled. "After all? After disappearing, not giving a sign of life for years? Suddenly you show up on my ship like nothing?"

Ekko didn’t look at her, completely drained of life. Jinx watched him, praying he would speak, but he remained even quieter than with her.

"And on top of that, you bring this," the captain pointed at Jinx, but still without looking directly at her. "What the hell were you thinking, Ekko? Bringing a nun who looks like the cursed portrait of my dead sister? What kind of sick joke is this?"

Jinx felt the woman's words pierce her like knives. Dead sister. Everything resonated in her mind like a painful echo. She wanted to speak, to explain, but her voice seemed to have vanished somewhere in her throat.

"Look at me, damn it! Don't you even have the decency to look me in the eyes, little man?"

"If you're not going to kill me, I shouldn't look at you."

The captain stepped back, as if his words had physically struck her. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes darkened with a mix of fury and pain. Finally, she let out a low growl.

"She would hate you for what you've become, she would..."

"She's not here," Ekko growled.

She looked at him with true malice, tensing every bone in his body. Then she turned to her crew, her tone now sharp and authoritative.

"Take him below. We’ll deliver him for the bounty. I don’t want to see him again until then."

She gestured to her men, who immediately began to drag Ekko into the ship. Jinx, still frozen in fear, tried to speak, to stop them, but the words died in her throat.

The woman finally turned her attention to her. The blue eyes that had once been filled with fury were now frozen, full of pure, almost inhuman hatred. Jinx felt the air escape her chest. Something in that gaze was painfully familiar, even if it was directed at her with pure hostility.

"And you?" the woman asked, with a coldness that froze the blood, approaching with slow but assured steps. "Who the hell are you?"

Jinx opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. The captain didn’t wait. She gestured to Scar.

"Do what you want with this... thing," she said, her tone dripping with disdain. "I don’t fuckin' care."

Panic seized Jinx as Scar took her by the arm and dragged her toward one of the ship's rooms. She tried to resist, pleading through sobs.

"Please, don’t kill me. I don’t know who's Powder is, I don’t know what’s happening. Just take me to Bilgewater, please."

Scar gently pushed her into the room and closed the door behind them. For a moment, he looked at her with a mix of compassion and disdain. His face, marked by scars and years of hard living, seemed to struggle between obeying his captain's orders or letting a spark of humanity take over.

"Calm down, girl," he finally said, in a much softer tone than he had used before. "I'm not going to kill you. But you have to stay here, out of sight. Don’t make me regret this."

Jinx, gasping, backed up against the wall, trembling with panic.

"Please, don’t kill me..." she begged, her voice broken.

Scar sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I’m not going to kill you," he repeated. "But you need to keep quiet and calm, understood? Things are already bad enough without you starting to scream."

Jinx looked at him, searching for any sign that she could trust him. There was something in his tone that sounded sincere, even though the situation remained desperate. Finally, she nodded, hugging herself as she tried to calm her breathing.

Scar sat on the edge of the table, watching her with a mix of curiosity and pity.

"You have bad luck, girl," he commented. "And I think you got yourself into something much bigger than you can handle. When the opportunity arises, I’ll let you off on solid ground."

Jinx didn’t respond. Her mind was still trapped in the image of the pink-haired woman, in that gaze filled with hatred and in the name she had pronounced: Powder. A word that meant nothing to her, yet at the same time, it meant everything.

Scar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Listen, girl. I don’t know who you are or what you did to end up with Ekko, and I hope he didn’t hurt you, but if you want to get out of this alive, you need to keep your head down. The captain... she’s not a woman you want to play games with."

Jinx swallowed hard, nodding weakly. Her body trembled, but her mind began to clear. She had survived worse things before. She had to find a way out of this. Scar stood up, walking toward the door. Before leaving, he paused and looked back at her over his shoulder.

"What’s your name?"

"Jinx," she whispered. "Please, I don't know who's Powder."

Something in his expression darkened, disappointed by her response. But he nodded. And with that, he left her alone in the room. Darkness closed around her, but instead of succumbing to fear, Jinx began to think. Her head still hurt, as if something were trying to emerge from the depths of her memory. And although she didn’t exactly know what all this meant, one thing was clear: she couldn’t just sit still and wait.

Chapter Text

THE METALLIC SMELL OF THE CELL HAD CLUNG TO HER SKIN.

Jinx had lost track of time; it could have been a day, maybe two.

Scar brought her food—good food, even—warm bread, fresh fish, clean water. But none of it eased the weight of uncertainty. The space was small, lit only by a high slit that sometimes let the sun filter through. The wood of the ship groaned with the movement of the waves, a constant sway that sometimes lulled her, sometimes reminded her she was trapped.

At first, she had tried talking to Ekko. She had run to him when they threw him into the cell, her heart in her throat.

"Are you hurt? What did they do to you? Are you hungry?" The words had tumbled out of her mouth. "What are we going to do, Ekko? What’s the plan?"

He didn’t answer. Not a word. He just leaned back against the wall, eyes fixed on some faraway point, as if he weren’t there at all.

And when he finally spoke, his voice was a dim whisper.

"At the next dock they’ll let you off. They’ll give you your money." He said it like he was telling her what he’d had for breakfast. "You’ll be able to reach Bilgewater."

"What?" Her disbelief pushed her voice higher. "And you?"

He looked away, eyelids heavy.

"They won’t hurt you," he assured, "You already won Scar over."

That both infuriated and confused her. Won Scar over? What the hell did that even mean? And why did he talk like he was already dead?

Since then, Ekko had stayed silent.

Neither her questions, nor her jokes, nor her provocations managed to draw another word from him.
And now, sitting on the rough floor of the cell, Jinx watched him in the gloom—the tense line of his profile, his slumped shoulders. Something in him was broken, beyond what she could see.

The ship rocked. Jinx pulled her knees up to her chest, the swaying churning her stomach. And then she spoke, not to him, but to the wooden ceiling, to the thick silence.

"You know, God," she began with sarcasm, her voice hoarse from so much quiet, "I thought the convent was the worst hell possible. Turns out I was wrong. This is worse. You know why? Because at least there they talked to me; they treated me like a demon that crawled out of hell onto that beach. Here? No. Here I only have this…" She raised a hand toward Ekko without looking at him. "…walking corpse."

Her laugh was hollow, broken.

"Look what you did, Lord. You gave me the worst company in the world. Even the nuns had more spark. And now I’m here, trapped, because of him, because of you, because of me. I don’t know. What kind of master plan is this, huh?"

Silence was her only answer. She went on, more bitter, more wounded.

"And the worst part is you don’t even talk to me. Not a little miracle, not a divine voice saying, ‘Don’t worry, Jinx, everything will be fine.’ Nothing. Not even a lightning strike to get me out of here. You could’ve just let me drown or something, instead of sending me here!"

The groan of wood, the murmur of the waves. Then, a rough voice cut through her soliloquy.

"Who the fuck are you talking to?"

Jinx blinked, startled. Ekko was looking at her, eyes half-closed, brow furrowed, as if he didn’t know what was happening.

"God," she shot back boldly, sitting up straighter. "He hears me just fine."

He raised an eyebrow, tired.

"And why the hell isn’t he here with you, then?"

"Have women ever talked to you?"

There was an awkward silence. Ekko looked away, a nervous tic in his jaw.

"Plenty, yeah."

She smiled, sharp, cruel.

"Then why isn’t a single one here with you?"

He shook his head, exhausted. Said nothing. But she was already burning, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You know what?" Her voice cracked with anger. "I’m not Powder. No, I’m not, or whoever she is. So stop treating me like it’s my fault I’m not her. Stop looking at me like it hurts you to breathe the same air as me. Who the fuck is Powder? Why is everyone so obsessed with her? Why won’t anyone tell me anything?"

Silence was a wall. Ekko closed his eyes, as if every word weighed on him. Jinx, however, didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The emptiness inside her demanded noise—any noise—to drown out the echo of her own despair.

"You know what?" she went on, her voice sharper, more unsteady. "I hate this ship, I hate this smell, I hate that fucking captain with her ‘I’m-gonna-kill-you’ face… and I hate this fucking medallion." She pointed with a trembling finger to Ekko’s chest, where the pendant rested like a nameless secret. "Yeah, that one. Like it’s some kind of holy relic everybody but me understands. What does it mean? Why do you wear it like it’s holding your soul together, huh?"

He didn’t react. Not even a blink. And that, that lit something darker in her.

"What? Too dead to talk to me? You’re not the first, don’t feel special treating me like that. Is that it? Or are you scared I’ll break your precious trinket?" She laughed, dry and bitter. "Wish I’d never washed up on that shore. Wish the waves had swallowed me instead. Twelve years… twelve years wasted just to end up here, with a walking corpse who only opens his mouth to tell me to get off the ship!"

Her words grew faster, rushed, as if she needed to fill the space before he could stop her.

"I should’ve died there, you know? Would’ve been easier. Cleaner. I wouldn’t have to carry this, this…" her voice cracked, frayed into a thread, "…this emptiness. I wouldn’t have to look at you and wonder if… if there’s someone th—"

The tremor in her body started as a subtle vibration, barely noticeable. But soon it was impossible to ignore. A sharp pain tore through her chest, like invisible claws sinking into her heart and dragging her toward the depths of the sea. She clutched her temples, fingers digging in desperately.

Then she heard it.

At first she thought it was the ship. A creak, a groan. But no. It was something else. A distant chant, low and resonant, rising from the bottom of the ocean. Barely a murmur, but enough to freeze her blood.

The pain hit instantly, like something had pierced her skull and wrapped itself around her brain.

"Jinx?" Ekko shot upright, alert. His voice was tense, worried, but she could barely hear him. "Jinx? Jinx!"

The chant swelled. Beautiful and terrible all at once. A lament calling to her, claiming her. Her legs buckled. She collapsed onto the floor, moaning.

"Make it stop…" she sobbed, raw and torn, "Please, make it stop…"

Ekko moved quickly, chains scraping with a metallic screech. He held her, firm but careful, while she curled against his chest, trembling. With clumsy, desperate hands, he covered her ears, as if that could silence the torment—even without understanding what was happening.

But Jinx felt like her skull was being split open. The pain was overwhelming, unbearable. Her ears felt like they were about to bleed; everything hurt, everything was too much.

"Jinx, look at me." His voice was low, steady. "There’s nothing. I don’t hear anything."

But she did. Oh, she did. The chant cut through her, seeping into every pore, every cell. And then, from her throat, a sound tore free when she could no longer hold it back. Not a human scream, but a shrill, piercing cry that seemed to split the air in two. A siren’s echo.

The whole ship shuddered.

Ekko didn’t.

He stayed still, frozen, as she clawed at her ears.

There was a heavy silence. And then, the chaos.

A gunshot. Then another. Shouts on the deck. Running footsteps. The screech of harpoons being loaded.

They were under attack.

The first shot cracked like dry thunder, reverberating through every plank of the ship. The second was closer—so close the cell walls shook, and dust rained from the ceiling in thin golden threads.

"What the hell…?" Ekko muttered, lifting his gaze toward the door, every muscle taut.

Jinx didn’t answer. Her world had shrunk to that chant, that pain drilling through her bones, coiling around her head like an anchor. She writhed on the floor, hands clawing at her ears, nails raking angry red lines into her skin—an animal trapped, desperate to escape.

"Jinx!" Ekko’s voice rose, sharp, trying to reach her. "Look at me! Look at me, dammit! Stop! You’re hurting yourself!"

She sobbed, lips trembling, her throat raw from the scream she’d torn out before.

"Make… it stop…" she whimpered, broken, "Please… make it stop!"

The ship lurched violently, as if something had rammed the hull from below. Ekko staggered but didn’t let her go. The chains tethering him to the wall yanked painfully at his arm, yet he leaned into her, catching her wrists with firm care to keep her from tearing herself apart.

"There’s nothing, Jinx," he whispered, with a calm he didn’t feel. "Nothing, you hear me? Just me. Here."

But she didn’t hear him. She couldn’t. The sound was still there, flooding into every cell, every drop of blood. A deep, resonant lament that seemed to shape her name without words.

The floor tilted again, hurling them both into the wall. The impact wrung a grunt from Ekko, but he didn’t loosen his grip. His heart hammered in his chest—not from the attack above, that would come later—but from the way she shook under his hands, fighting to break free, to rip her own ears away.

Above, the shouting grew louder. The snap of ropes under strain, boots pounding the deck, the metallic shriek of harpoons being loaded. And beneath it all—a guttural roar that belonged to no man.

Ekko swallowed hard, forcing calm. The cell was a coffin with no windows; all he could do was imagine the chaos above. What he could see was Jinx—curled in on herself, face streaked with tears, eyes bloodshot—battling an enemy he couldn’t hear.

"Jinx…" His voice dropped, almost a plea. He freed her wrists, pressing his palms over her ears instead, desperate to shield her from whatever had her in pieces. "Jinx, you’re gonna be okay."

She looked at him, just for an instant, and in those pink eyes he saw it: raw, unguarded fear. She whimpered through her pain, pressing her hands over his.

"Make it stop…" Her lips barely moved, but the plea cut straight through him.

"I’m trying."

"It hurts."

"I know, I know," he insisted. "Don’t listen to it, think of God or something—don’t listen."

"I don’t want to die," she sobbed. "I don’t."

"You won’t," he ordered.

The ship shuddered again, harder this time. Something slammed the hull, and the wood groaned in a long, tortured cry. Water began to seep through the cracks in the floor, cold and briny.

"Shit," Ekko muttered, glancing at the door.

Then he heard it: hurried footsteps pounding down the stairs, the rattle of metal, rough voices barking orders.

"Down below!" one of the men shouted, his voice muffled by the closed helm. "Two of ‘em in the aft cell!"

Jinx shuddered with a fresh sob, as if the sound itself had grown sharper at those words. Ekko pulled her tighter, the chain biting against his back.

"Shh…" he murmured, not sure if he meant it for her or for himself. "I’m here."

The first strike against the door was brutal, a sharp crack that spat splinters. The second tore the top hinge free with a metallic scream.

Jinx curled tighter against him, shaking, her fingers clutching at his shirt as if holding onto him could save her from the sound tearing her apart.

"Close your eyes," Ekko told her, voice low, soft—as if words alone could shield her from what was coming.

She obeyed, eyelids clamped shut, tears spilling anyway.

The third blow ripped the door clean off. The wood crashed to the floor with a dull thud, and light from the corridor flooded the cell. Framed in that glare stood three men in dark armor and iron masks. Each one carried a cold iron harpoon, its metal glinting with a muted, eerie blue.

The air filled with a sharp, acrid tang—salty, metallic—that burned Jinx’s lungs.

Ekko lifted his gaze, eyes burning, his body coiled tight like a spring. His hands still covered her ears, as if he could protect her from the world, but his shoulders squared, a barrier between the hunters and their fragile space.

"Step back," one of the men ordered, the harpoon aimed squarely at Ekko’s chest.

He didn’t move, staring at him without a flicker of emotion.

"I said step back!"

Jinx whimpered again, the chant climbing inside her skull to an unbearable pitch. Ekko felt her squirm beneath his hands, fighting something he couldn’t hear, and his fear hardened into rage.

"She’s not going anywhere," he growled, voice low and tight.

The man stepped forward, the iron of the harpoon rattling with every movement.

"We’ll see about that."

Ekko clenched his jaw. His whole body tensed, ready to strike, even though the chains anchored him to the floor. And then Jinx screamed again—a jagged, piercing sound that sliced the air, echoing off the metal and wood.

The hunters exchanged quick looks, one of them gripping the harpoon tighter, as if they had just glimpsed the monster before them.

"We take her. Now."

A guttural snarl rumbled out of Ekko, primal, as he braced himself to fight. The shrill song only Jinx could hear roared now like a storm. She, exhausted, could barely breathe, but her fingers clutched his shirt with desperate strength, begging him not to let go.

The tallest man stepped forward, the iron tip of his weapon glinting with that dull, heavy sheen that seemed to thicken the air. His voice, distorted through the helm, sounded like it rose from the bottom of the sea.

"You don’t know the monster you’re holding," he said, each word dragging heavy through the silence that followed. "That thing…" He raised the harpoon higher, its edge flashing in the damp air of the cell. "…is no girl."

Jinx trembled in Ekko’s arms, her sobs now shallow, ragged breaths. She barely understood the words, but she felt the edge of fear in them—as if the whole world was screaming it at her.

One of the men took another step, weapon poised.

"Step aside, pirate. You have no idea what you’re protecting. Not even God Himself could shield us from her wickedness."

The ship shuddered again, a long groan rippling through the hull like a warning sigh. Chaos thundered above deck. Water crept another few inches into the cell, cold, briny, inevitable.

Ekko ground his teeth, heart pounding against his ribs. He lifted his face just enough to meet the hunter’s gaze. And when he spoke, there was no rage, no fear. Only a dry, frozen certainty.

"God ain’t here." Ekko glanced down for a heartbeat at Jinx in his arms, then raised his eyes again, his voice flat and lethal. "But I am."

Chapter Text

THE SILENCE LASTED ONLY A HEARTBEAT.

Then came the chaos.

Or rather, Ekko.

The first hunter lunged forward with his harpoon raised, convinced he had the upper hand. He had no idea what he was about to face. No one on that ship did.

Ekko moved before the man even had the chance to blink. The chains that bound him ceased to be shackles and became a weapon: each link cracked through the air with the sound of a metallic whip, heavy enough to tear flesh and bone. The first one to dare step close dropped with his neck twisted, and the second barely had time to react before Ekko wrapped the chain around his arm and yanked him forward, slamming him against the wall with brutal force.

Metal sliced through the air, and in that same instant, the edge of the harpoon grazed past Ekko’s cheek by a hair’s breadth.

The blow he delivered in return showed no mercy.

The hunter collapsed backward, his neck bent at an impossible angle, a thin line of blood marking his fall until his body hit the wooden floor with a hollow thud.

The third hunter faltered, fear etched into every line of his body, into the pallor of his face, into the tremor in his hands. He raised the harpoon as if the gesture alone could protect him, as if any weapon could stop the demon standing before him.

"God have mercy on your soul," he whispered, his voice trembling beneath the helmet. "And on the monster you protect."

Ekko’s answer was silence—icy, bone-deep silence. His stare hollow, his steps steady. One forward. Another. Water already lapped at his ankles, cold, dark, stained with the first traces of blood, but he did not stop. His free hand shot out, swift as lightning, clamping around the man’s throat and lifting him off the ground in a single effortless motion. With his other hand, he ripped the harpoon from the hunter’s grip, stripping him of his last defense. The dull glow of the weapon caught the dim light of the cell, glinting between them for only a heartbeat before it plunged down with surgical precision. Ekko wielded it as though it were part of himself.

The sound was sharp, final. A muted thump followed by the heavy collapse of a body. The last hunter crumpled beside the others, staining the water with blood that spiraled outward in dark swirls, a growing stain of horror with every passing second.

Ekko said nothing. No breath of triumph, no curse, no word to shatter the sepulchral quiet. Only silence. A silence heavier than the clash of battle, heavier than the roar of the sea, heavier than the groaning hull of the ship.

Jinx tried to speak, but the pain still burned inside her skull, forcing her body toward unconsciousness. The song echoed still in the depths of her mind, though now it was only a distant murmur, like the ocean retreating as violently as it had arrived.

When at last the cell was quiet, Ekko turned toward her. His footsteps splashed through the bloodied water, and as he knelt beside her trembling form, his touch changed: the chain still hung from his wrist, but his fingers were soft, almost reverent, as they brushed against her. His hands, still stained red, slid carefully over her shoulders—not gentle, but something close. He lifted her from the floor, gathering her in his arms.

"We have to go," he murmured.

Jinx only nodded faintly, too afraid to look around, focusing instead on smothering the sound that still clawed at her mind.

With her leaning against his side, Ekko pushed forward through the ship’s corridor. The labyrinth of halls was flooded, icy water rising past his knees, slowing his steps—but he did not falter. He knew this ship like the back of his hand, every corner, every staircase, every door. Jinx could barely process the world around her, trapped in a storm of pain and confusion, yet somewhere in her fractured thoughts, she felt the certainty radiating from him, the steadiness in his movements, the way he navigated as if the vessel itself bent to his will.

When they reached the deck, the roar of the ocean merged with another sound: the song. It wasn’t hers. It bled from the enemy ship, beyond the shredded sails and the smoke of cannons.

The sight that greeted them was hell itself. The other ship—the one that had begun this nightmare—was engulfed in flames. Thick black smoke rose into the sky, staining the night with choking soot. Chaos reigned on both vessels. Men ran frantically, shouting orders swallowed by the roar of the sea and the crackling fire. Through the haze, just for a moment, Jinx caught a glimpse of unmistakable pink hair—the captain—cutting her way through the fray, striking down enemies with a fury that carried her orders across the din of battle.

But Jinx had no time to register the full scene before the chaos closed in. A pair of men—hunters, she could only assume—rushed them before she could even blink. Ekko released her, throwing himself into the fight with the same violence, fury, and certainty he had shown below deck. His movements blurred, lightning-fast, each strike deliberate and devastating. He lashed the chain through the air, tearing flesh, shattering bone, leaving bodies writhing in pain—or still and silent.

And Jinx understood, with chilling clarity:

He wasn’t trapped because he couldn’t escape.

He was trapped because he chose to be.

Because Ekko was a pirate. A ruthless one.

Jinx clung to the wall, barely keeping herself steady as dizziness clouded her vision, when she heard it again—the song. Mournful, piercing. And it was as if a light cut through her haze, pulling her gaze toward it.

Through the smoke and mist, she saw her. Another siren, chained on the enemy ship’s deck, her voice unraveling the will of every man around her.

Her song, amplified by the raw power of her nature, was the source of the sound that had tormented Jinx, the root of the pain tearing her apart. She was different, yes—but unmistakably one of Jinx’s kind.

Their eyes met for the briefest moment. Jinx didn’t understand what was happening, but a chill ran down her spine. The siren had seen her. She knew who Jinx was.

Something passed between them. A spark of recognition, an impossible connection.

And just as Jinx began to wonder what to do—what it meant to see one of her own kind for the first time in her life—her own ship fired on the enemy. Smoke consumed the world. The siren vanished from sight.

The song was gone. The pain in Jinx’s skull eased, though it didn’t disappear. The fog in her mind lifted slightly, letting her see the chaos around her as she clung desperately to the mast—or whatever structure kept her upright.

She wanted to go after that siren.

Maybe the answer to her whole existence.

But, as always, Jinx was lost. She didn’t know where to go.

The burning ship began to tilt dangerously, giving in to the fury of an ocean that seemed to have awoken in wrath. Waves battered both ships with unrelenting force. The water was freezing. Ekko was still fighting, carving his way through hunters with unstoppable ferocity, but the situation was slipping further and further into despair. The deck lurched, the waves slammed harder, threatening to drag the ship into the abyss.

And then, in one reckless instant—while battling two hunters at once—a massive wave crashed across the deck. Ekko lost his footing, stumbled over a fallen body, and was swept overboard, vanishing into the churning sea.

Jinx didn’t think. She dove after him.

The water swallowed her whole, and the truth came with it: her tail burst free beneath the lightning, blue-scaled and gleaming with ancestral power. She was surrounded by siren-hunters—in the middle of a naval war, with the ocean raging in fury—and yet here she was, transformed, exposed, reckless as ever.

Maybe that was why God never spoke to her. Because she did things like this.

And then she saw him.

Ekko, unconscious, sinking deeper into the darkness, surrounded by debris and fire. He slipped from the timber he had been clinging to as a wave dragged him down. She surged toward him, swimming with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, arm stretching out through the chaos until she caught him. Held him. Refused to let go.

Her chest burned, her arms shook, but she would not release him. Through fire and screams and sinking wreckage, she carried him to a lifeboat adrift in the shadows of the flames, away from the burning ship, away from the death surrounding them.

Ekko stirred faintly in her arms, regaining consciousness.

Jinx didn’t stop.

With inhuman strength, she hoisted him up onto the boat, fighting the resistance of his weight and the waves. Somehow, finally, he managed to pull himself aboard. Ekko was pale, cold, unmoving. Jinx trembled, exhausted, disoriented, every muscle screaming. And when the next wave crashed down, it dragged her under.

Darkness pulled at her, heavy and merciless. She was slipping, surrendering to the pull of unconsciousness, when the memory slammed into her.

The memory of the time she drowned.

As the water flooded her system, she barely remembered sinking, arms stretched out as if she could still swim to the surface, as if there was something left she couldn’t die for. She never knew what it was—hoped one day she would—but the memory always ended at that feeling of drowning.

A fleeting thought pierced through her with the same violence as a harpoon: how ironic. A siren, born of the sea, condemned by it. Maybe it had never been hers. Maybe the ocean had never wanted her.

Her body went slack, surrendering. Bubbles slipped from her lips like her last secrets. And for a second—for one brief, cruel second—she felt something she wanted to believe was peace. Even though there were still too many things she had yet to learn, maybe for once, the nothingness of her life embraced her.

Maybe this time, it really was the end.

But then—something shattered the darkness. Not a voice, not some divine vision, but raw, brutal force.

A pull, harsh and violent, tore her out of the ocean’s grip, dragging her back toward life.

Jinx wanted to resist, out of sheer instinct, but she had no strength left. Her hands fumbled weakly against whatever held her—human, rope, drifting wood, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that something was hauling her upward. Against her will, she let herself be dragged, too close to death to fight.

The world came crashing back: cold air like knives in her lungs, foam slapping her face, the roar of fire still devouring the ships in the distance. She was thrown onto wood, rough and splintering. She collapsed on the deck of what looked like a lifeboat, her body hitting hard as her tail slapped against the boards with a sound that cut through the night.

And there, under the moonlight, the truth could no longer hide.

Her tail—blue, luminous—throbbed with the shimmer of water, betraying her secret to whoever had pulled her out. Its glow mingled with the smoke, the fire, the blood, as if the sea was claiming her and exposing her at once.

Cold air burned her lungs as she gasped again. She coughed, every breath tangled with saltwater and blood. The world spun in blurred lights: fire, foam, stars. The boat rocked beneath her like it could overturn at any moment.

And then she saw him.

The hands that had torn her out of the abyss were Ekko’s. His fingers still clung to her, wet with blood and salt, trembling but firm. His face was close, too close, carved in shadows by the storm’s fury. His eyes—those eyes that always seemed to know more than they said—watched her in silence.

Jinx followed his gaze with the last shred of effort she had left. It wasn’t fixed on her face. Not on her wounds.

But lower.

Her tail.

Blue, luminous, betraying her with every involuntary flick, a secret that should never have seen the light. A secret she could never hide now.

"Ekko…" she whispered, her voice broken and small. She wanted to say more—explain, deny, invent some desperate lie—but nothing came.

Exhaustion claimed her, cruel and absolute.

And just before the darkness took her again, she felt him catch her, keeping her from slipping lifelessly onto the dry wood.

Then, nothing.

Only the roar of the sea, perhaps enraged it hadn’t claimed her for good—or furious that someone else had pulled her back to life once more.

Chapter Text

THE SEA SWALLOWED HER.

Again.

The waves tossed her around like she was nothing, a worthless scrap, a broken doll undeserving of rest. Each slam against the rocks was an explosion of pain through her adolescent body, each mouthful of water a cruel reminder that there was no escape. The world was nothing but foam, salt, and darkness.

She tried to scream, but only more water rushed in. Her chest burned, her lungs tearing apart from the inside. She kept trying to swim upward, arms stretched out as if they could reach something—anything. That was the only vision that ever remained clear. How she sank to the bottom of the ocean with her arms outstretched, fighting to rise.

Sometimes Jinx tried to figure out what it was that made her die with her arms stretched out. For what? For whom? What was it that made her last breath a struggle upward, as if that single, impossible reach was the only thing she wanted, even as the ocean dragged her down?

And at some point—she never knew when, only that her arms were still outstretched—she stopped fighting.

The ocean decided for her.

When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t underwater anymore. She was lying on the cold sand of some unknown beach. Beaten, coughing so hard her throat felt torn apart. She was maybe fourteen, fifteen, maybe more—she couldn’t tell. Hair plastered to her face, skin bruised and scraped. The tide retreated around her as if spitting her out, as if even the sea rejected her.

She lay there, alone. With no one to look for her. No one to pick her up.

She had just died. Or worse: she had survived.

A pale sun rose on the horizon. She felt no warmth. Only emptiness.

The memory burned across her skin like salt rubbed into an open wound.

And suddenly, she woke up.

She coughed, choking on seawater, chest heaving like she was still trapped beneath the waves. Her hands clung to the wood beneath her body, gasping, heart racing, as she scrambled back against anything solid, as if that could drive away the memory.

She wasn’t on that beach. She wasn’t the broken girl from years ago. But the feeling was the same—the torn throat, the burning lungs, the despair of opening her eyes in a place she had never chosen. And that was what made her climb, nearly stumbling over the edge of the boat, panicked.

"If you’re planning to jump overboard…" The voice cut through, dry, low, like a dull blade that still manages to cut. "…you won’t get very far."

Jinx blinked, air stuck halfway in her throat, and only then did she notice what was keeping her in place: ropes. Rough, knotted, soaked with saltwater. Wrapped around her arms and torso, pinning her against the wooden boards of the boat. She struggled, but only succeeded in burning her already raw skin, too weak to make a difference. And then she felt it with sharp clarity: her tail. Still there. Still visible. Still shimmering under the gray light of dawn.

Her heart slammed harder.

No. No, no, no.

She had spent years hiding it, doing anything to keep anyone from seeing, from knowing. And now it was there, exposed in the open, painfully obvious. The secret she had sworn to bury was alive, breathing, flicking in the water with every slight movement.

And in front of her stood him.

Ekko.

On his feet, unmoving, dry beneath the rising sun, his hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes locked on her. Dark, unreadable, as if he already knew too much. He showed no surprise. No anger. No curiosity. Just that strange, fractured calm that wrapped around him like armor.

Jinx shrank back, instinctively, trembling.

"Don't… don’t kill me," she whispered, her voice so faint it didn’t even sound like her own.

The words spilled out on their own, rushed, tangled, carrying that childish panic she had tried so hard to forget.

"Don’t kill me, please. I didn’t do anything to you. I didn’t attack you, I didn’t sing, I didn’t hypnotize you or any of the things they say we do. I’m not like… like the stories. Don’t sell me, okay? Please don’t. Don’t take me to the traders, they cut off tails and keep them in jars, they make potions, they turn us into gold, they slit our throats, they tie us to masts, and I—"

"Uh-huh."

"I’m not dangerous, okay? I’m not dangerous, I won’t bite you or anything. I don’t know how to do those things they say—the songs, the storms. I just—"

"Shut up."

The word was a sharp strike. He hadn’t raised his voice, there was no anger in it, but it was enough to sever her torrent in an instant. Jinx shut her mouth immediately, as if sound itself might summon something worse. She swallowed, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

The silence pressed down, broken only by the steady drip of water from the boat’s boards.

Ekko leaned slightly toward her. There was no threat in his movement. No comfort, either. Only the coldness of someone who has seen too much and no longer reacts like others do.

"I’m not going to kill you."

The words hung there, simple, unembellished.

For a moment, Jinx felt a relief so sharp it almost tore a sob out of her. But she held it in. Because what came next was clear in his eyes: the need for answers.

Ekko never spoke in vain. He never had.

"What are you?" he asked, direct, like tearing off a bandage.

Jinx hesitated, her lips trembling. Part of her wanted to invent, to lie, to disguise. But… what good would it do? She was tied up. Exposed. The tail was still there, swaying softly under the water.

"A mermaid," she confessed at last, barely audible.

He nodded slowly, without surprise. As if confirming what he had already known, even if it was obvious.

"Since when?"

Jinx lowered her gaze.

"I don’t know."

"Were you born like this?"

The question was sharp, probing. She drew a shaky breath, each word ripped from a place she didn’t want to return to.

"Yes. No… I don’t know if I was always meant to be…" she cut herself off, biting her lip. The memory of that first beach—the sand on her skin, the feeling of having died—struck her again.

Ekko stood over her, a shadow, his gaze never wavering. There was no hatred in his eyes, not even disdain. Only that piercing calm, sharper than any scream.

"I’m not going to kill you," he repeated, low, without emphasis. Then he tilted his head slightly, like someone adjusting a lens over an insect. "But I want answers. Were you born like this?"

Jinx blinked rapidly, her throat tight.

"I don’t know."

The answer drifted into the air, fragile. Ekko did not accept it.

"What do you mean you don’t know?" His tone was measured, patient, but that patience weighed heavier than chains. "Did someone transform you? Or have you always been half human, half… this?"

Jinx swallowed hard. Each question was a clean, cruel cut, a scalpel slicing pieces from her memory. She shook her head, desperate.

"I don’t know!" she burst out at last, her voice breaking. "I… I don’t remember anything, okay? I don’t remember—" she tensed, her body trembling against the ropes. Water kept dripping from her tail, making her feel even more exposed, more naked, as it twitched helplessly, trying to dry itself or something. "The only thing I know is…" she stilled her tail, meeting his eyes, "is that I died."

Ekko didn’t blink.

"You died."

"Yes." The word came out like a stifled sob. "I drowned. The sea swallowed me. I… I was dead, I felt it, I swear. And then… then I woke up on the convent’s shore. I don’t know how long had passed. I don’t remember where I came from. I don’t remember my life before, not my name, not anything."

Her voice cracked on that "anything," and suddenly her eyes burned.

Ekko was silent for a few seconds, only tilting his head slightly. His calm was unbearable.

"Convenient," he said at last, as if pronouncing a verdict.

Jinx stared at him, lips trembling.

"No!" she thrashed against the ropes, her fear spilling over into a thread of fury. "It’s not convenient! I’m not making anything up! Why would I do that? You barely even talk to me and already think I’m lying! I have nothing to hide, okay? I don’t know what happened to me, I don’t know who I was before. I don’t know! I only know that I drowned and woke up… like this."

Ekko leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locked on hers. No threat. No compassion. Only the weight of someone searching for the exact fracture in her voice.

"So," he said slowly, every word like a step across thin ice, "the only thing you remember is dying."

Jinx lowered her gaze, pressing her lips together, and nodded.

"Drowned," she added. "I drowned."

Silence fell again, damp and heavy. The dripping of the boat was the only sound filling the void. And Jinx, small and curled in on herself, felt she had never been so naked, so utterly exposed.

"How long ago was that?"

"Twelve years," she explained. "I died, then I… woke up on the shore. I was already a mermaid. I think I’d been asleep for a while or something. But it was twelve years ago. They said there were storms all that year."

"Do you remember anything important?"

"When I drowned," she answered, recalling her dream. "Nothing else. Believe me, I wish I could tell you anything more, but I’ve spent twelve years trying to remember something, anything, and there’s been nothing."

The silence between them stretched like an ocean. Only the waves tapping against the boat filled the space between breaths, that mocking sound reminding her of what she was: half a secret, a monster in plain sight.

"Don’t kill me," Jinx whispered again. This time it wasn’t a plea, it was a mantra. As if repetition could make it real, as if saying it could turn it into truth. "Though you should, because mermaids are cursed, and… And you killed those men, and even if they were bad, you should probably pray or confess to cleanse your soul. Though I guess God would understand you did it to save my life. Still, at the convent they said mermaids bring ruin to anyone who touches us. That God hates us, that He made us to punish men. That the sea always takes us back, because neither Heaven nor Hell wants us. So even if I’m grateful, I think you should pray a little for yourself. And maybe killing me would redeem your soul, if it’s true that God hates me."

For the first time, it tugged something out of him—a faint twitch at the corner of his jaw. Not quite a smile, but close to hearing the most absurd thing imaginable.

"I don’t believe in God," he replied flatly. "I’m not going to kill you. And my soul doesn’t matter anymore."

"It should matter," Jinx shot back, with the hint of a joke. "Who knows what I did to die, and be reborn."

The silence that followed was different, thicker. Ekko didn’t judge her with words, but his eyes did, loading the air between them with something she couldn’t name.

"And if you’re not going to kill me…" she dared at last, her voice trembling, "will you take me to Bilgewater?"

"No. I’ll take you to a ship in another port, far from Vi. You’ll go there."

"But…" Jinx pressed on. "Are there mermaids in Bilgewater? I’ve never seen any—well, one, but it was yesterday, on the ship. Just for a second."

"You’ve never seen others?"

"No," she confessed. "I know you said no, but…"

"I’ve never seen one," he cut in, merciless. "Neither I, nor anyone I know. You’re the first thing like this I’ve ever seen." He leaned closer, as if carving his words into her. "And if the others find out what you are, you won’t last a day. Those men before—they were hunters."

The phrase hit her like a bucket of ice water. Jinx swallowed, her heart tightening in her chest.

"Hunters?"

He nodded with the same unsettling calm as always.

"I thought they were fanatics. Crazy men with harpoons and superstitions—I’d always seen them around, but they never bothered me…" His gaze flicked down, just for an instant, to her tail, gleaming and wet, before returning to her face. "But maybe they weren’t so crazy after all. There are hundreds of them. You just got lucky with these ones."

Jinx felt her stomach drop all at once, as if his words were a stone sinking into the water. She swallowed hard.

"The world…" she said, her voice barely a thread, "is it always like this for us?"

"Worse," he replied without hesitation.

She blinked, the fear climbing up her throat thick and bitter.

"Then… how… how do you survive?"

For the first time, Ekko looked away. Not at the sea, not at the sky, but at the rope that held her bound. His long, calloused fingers began to work at the knots with deliberate patience, as if every loop undone were a thought unraveling.

"By not trusting anyone," he said, without looking at her. "Ever. Because sooner or later, everyone will want you dead."

Jinx’s heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. And still, the words slipped out of her, soft, almost naïve.

"I trust you."

Ekko’s fingers stilled for barely a second. He said nothing. Just kept undoing the knots until the rope fell to the bottom of the boat with a dull thud.

Free.

She stared at her arms, marked with fresh red lines where the rope had bitten into her skin, then looked back at him. She didn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. She only felt air return to her lungs, her body trembling with a relief she couldn’t hide.

"Don’t trust me," Ekko growled.

"But you don’t want me dead," she added. "Not yet."

The boat creaked with every wave, as if the sea itself wanted to remind them they hadn’t truly escaped. Jinx watched him, wide-eyed, searching for answers in the tense lines of his profile. He stayed silent, calmly retying the loose rope, as if the task were a shield against her, against that absurd confession—I trust you—that had slipped from her lips.

"Why did you tie me up?" she asked at last. Her voice had no edge to it, only curiosity, as though she hoped to find truth in the sharp calm he carried.

Ekko didn’t look at her. He bent to gather the ropes, as if he needed their order to set the world right again.

"Because that thing"—he jerked his chin toward her tail, still glimmering beneath the water—"wouldn’t go away. And if you fell, I wouldn’t be able to pull you back out."

Jinx’s mouth fell open, startled. She stayed quiet for a few seconds, trying to process the words, and then—like she couldn’t stop herself—let out a nervous laugh.

"So… you didn’t want me to drown?"

Ekko shot her a sidelong glance, brows furrowed, but said nothing. He just kept winding the rope with infuriating precision.

"Wow," she murmured, lowering her gaze to the damp wood beneath her. "I guess that’s… kind. Even though I can’t drown."

"You weren’t coming up."

"But I can’t drown," she insisted. "I tried—I can stay underwater for an hour. Though I do need to breathe a little on the surface."

"Fine."

The silence between them filled with the rhythmic slap of the waves. Jinx lifted her eyes again, uncertain, as if probing a terrain she didn’t understand.

"Those men… the ones who came after us?" she dared to ask, her voice barely audible. "You said they were hunters."

"They were," he answered without hesitation.

"And are there always people like that?" she pressed, a mix of fear and fascination in her voice. "Out there? In the sea?In the world?"

Ekko gave a single nod.

"Always. Some more discreet than others," he replied. "Some… more dangerous."

Jinx bit the inside of her cheek. Her tail stirred beneath the water, slow and restless, reflecting the storm of questions she didn’t know where to start untangling.

"And… are there more like me?" she asked at last, almost a whisper. "More mermaids?"

"I don’t know," Ekko answered flatly. "I’ve never seen another. Until now. I told you."

The weight of his words crashed down on her. Jinx lowered her gaze, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten. It was a thought she had avoided for years, but hearing it from someone else made it real: she was alone. Completely alone.

"Then…" her voice trembled, small, "Father Silco… why would he send me to Bilgewater?"

Ekko raised a single brow, still adjusting the sails.

"I don’t know," he admitted, in that same flat tone he seemed to use for everything. "The only thing I know is that Bilgewater is full of rumors. Magic, curses, things no one can explain. Maybe he thought if anything could help you, it’d be there."

Jinx swallowed hard. She wanted to believe it was true, that Father had a reason. But the emptiness of not knowing hurt more than she was willing to admit.

"And what’s Bilgewater like?" she asked then, a spark of genuine curiosity slipping through. "Is it… nice?"

Ekko shook his head with a grimace.

"Worse than ugly. It’s filthy. Dangerous. People would stab you for less than a coin. If they don’t kill you for what you are, they’ll kill you for what they can sell from you. And you’re a woman and a mermaid—you wouldn’t last two hours there."

Jinx felt fear creeping back up her body, but instead of falling silent, she rushed her words, as if afraid he’d refuse before hearing her.

"Then take me with you," she said urgently. "Just to Bilgewater. And after that… you’ll never hear from me again. I swear. Just…" her voice cracked, "I don’t want to die again. Not without knowing why I didn’t the first time."

Ekko froze. His silence cut sharper than any rejection. Jinx’s words lingered in the air, small and desperate.

"Please," she whispered, lowering her head. "I promise I won’t bother you. I’ll stay quiet. I… I won’t get you into trouble. You’ll never hear my voice again, just take me there, please."

He clenched his jaw. Said nothing for long seconds. Then, without looking at her, muttered:

"Fine."

Jinx lifted her head, incredulous.

"Really?"

"I’ll take you there," he repeated, emotionless. "Just there. And that’s it."

The smile that bloomed on Jinx’s face was so radiant it cruelly contrasted the darkness Ekko carried. She leaned toward him, as if to hug him, but stopped halfway, her heart pounding like a drum.

"Thank you," she said at last, her voice trembling, honest. "Really. Thank you."

He didn’t answer. He only turned back to the sails, adjusting the boat’s course with mechanical precision. But something in the rigid set of his shoulders betrayed that he’d heard her.

Jinx glanced down at her tail as it began to fade, the scales losing their shimmer until they vanished completely. She felt the change in her body, as if the sea itself had let her go. And then, suddenly, she was human again.

Without a word, Ekko pulled some clean rags from a crate and let them fall beside her.

"To cover yourself," he said, curt.

"I like this," she replied, watching him. "When you talk."

Jinx picked them up carefully, as if they were a gift, and wrapped herself in them. They were rough, smelling of salt and wood, but to her they felt like the closest thing to new clothes she’d had in years—clothes that weren’t convent black and white.

"You said you weren’t going to talk anymore."

"Sorry, it’s just… I like talking." Jinx said. "Sorry. Thanks for talking to me too."

The air shifted. The tension between them was still there, but lighter, as if the boat had finally found a direction it hadn’t had before. Jinx, curled up in the cloth, gazed at the horizon with bright eyes.

For the first time in a long while, she had something close to a destination.

Chapter Text

JINX DIPPED HER HAND INTO THE WATER AS SHE GAZED AT THE INFINITY OF THE OCEAN BEFORE HER.

"You should never die drowning," she said, with that strange lightness she gave to the darkest words, as if she were talking about the weather, while her fingers swirled in the water drawing lazy ripples. "More than hurting, it just lasts too long. Even if it’s only darkness by then… you still feel it, the water in your lungs rinsing the blood out of you. It’s strange. I’ve never felt anything like it."

The boat rocked gently, and the morning sun made the water look like liquid mirrors flickering with every movement. Ekko said nothing. He remained seated in silence, steering with the currents, or at least something she assumed, as if the whole world depended on him not letting go.

Jinx let out a small laugh, dry and humorless.

"Well… I guess no one really feels themselves dying," she went on, almost to herself. "But I did. And maybe that’s why I sometimes think I’m still dead. Like the sea just left me here to remember what it felt like."

Silence. Only the sound of the waves breaking against the wood.

Her fingers kept playing with the water, breaking the reflection of the sky into a thousand shards. For a moment, everything felt suspended: the sea, the wind, even Ekko, as if the world were holding its breath, waiting for her to speak again.

"Do you think they’ll be okay?" she asked suddenly, turning her head just slightly to glance at him from the corner of her eye, her gaze wide, curious. "The captain. The one with pink hair… and Scar. Nothing happened to them, right?"

Ekko didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened, barely noticeable, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured.

"They’ll be fine. They know what they’re doing. They’re efficient pirates. This isn’t their first ambush."

Jinx studied him in silence, as if searching for a crack in his calm, something that might betray worry. She found nothing. With a sigh, she turned her eyes back to the sea.

"Do you think we’ll see them on land again?" she asked, with a trace of hope that almost sounded like longing.

"No," he replied, curt. "Vi will follow the currents to a bigger port. That’s what she would do. They need supplies and hull repairs. We…" he paused, adjusting the boat’s course with a firm twist of the tiller, "we’re going to the opposite island. Smaller. Poorer. But from there we can get another ship."

Jinx nodded slowly, as if processing each word, never taking her gaze off the reflection of her hand in the water. Silence settled between them again, heavy but not uncomfortable. Only the sea spoke.

"You said you weren’t going to talk," he reminded her, still not looking at her.

She blinked, surprised, then lowered her eyes with a small smile she didn’t bother hiding.

"Right," she murmured, almost amused. "Sorry."

But she didn’t stop playing with the water. Her fingers traced lazy circles on the surface, following the little fish that swam close to the boat. Sometimes she leaned over to watch them more closely, her eyes glimmering with almost childlike curiosity.

The sun kept rising, painting the sea with gold and orange. The wind smelled of salt and damp wood. Ekko stayed silent, his body tense, eyes fixed on the horizon as if his stare alone could hold the course. And yet, he couldn’t help but notice how she seemed to fit into the world in a way he no longer could: light, almost innocent, despite everything.

Jinx, meanwhile, was lost in thought. The water showed her distorted reflections of her own face, and in them she thought she saw the girl who had died that time. The girl no one had ever looked for. She sank her arm deeper, up to the elbow, as if she could reach her, as if she could pull back what the sea had claimed.

"Maybe," she whispered, not realizing she was speaking out loud, "that’s why I’m still here. Because I didn’t finish what I had to do."

Ekko didn’t respond. But his hands, tense around the tiller, gripped a little tighter.

Jinx lifted her gaze toward him, hair tousled by the wind, cheeks burning under the newborn sun. And for a moment, she saw him differently. Not as the dangerous pirate who had massacred the hunters, not as the cold man who barely spoke. She saw someone as lost as she was. And for the first time, she didn’t feel alone in her shipwreck.

"You don’t mind if I talk, do you?" she asked cautiously, as if afraid to break something fragile that was only just forming between them. "Even though I promised not to, but if you don’t—"

"Keep it low," Ekko ordered, finally looking at her, just for an instant, with those dark eyes that seemed to see more than they ever said.

Jinx smiled, small, and turned her gaze back to the sea.

The journey went on for hours like that. The sun climbed higher, the wind shifted, and the horizon eventually brought the shape of land. Jinx was the first to see it. She leaned forward, pointing excitedly, like a child discovering treasure.

"Look!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement she didn’t bother to hide. "There! Do you see it? Land!"

Ekko said nothing, but his gaze followed her finger. An island, small, little more than a smear of green and brown in the endless blue. He adjusted the course without a word.

When they reached the shore, the change was immediate. The air smelled of rotten seaweed and smoke. The sand was littered with broken nets and fish bones. And beyond, a village that looked forgotten by time: crooked huts, dirt paths, people with hard eyes and hands worn rough from poverty.

Jinx clutched the coarse cloth Ekko had given her more tightly, suddenly aware of every gaze. They were knives in silence, slicing her open. She lowered her head, fingers gripping the fabric harder, her heart pounding so loud she thought they could hear it.

Ekko walked ahead, steps steady, eyes fixed forward. No one dared approach. And if they even thought to, one look from the pirate was enough to push them aside.

"Don’t stop," he muttered, not turning his head.

She nodded quickly, hurrying her pace, staying close to his back. Mud splashed against her ankles, and every shadow in every corner seemed longer, darker, more dangerous. Ekko walked before her like a lantern in the dark; anyone who recognized him quickly looked away, as if they knew exactly who he was.

No one dared stop them.

Jinx froze only when Ekko stopped in front of a low hut made of twisted wood and roofed with old palm leaves. Outside, an old woman was mending nets, her dull eyes showing no surprise at seeing him. Ekko leaned toward her slightly, whispered something too quiet to catch, then turned to Jinx.

"Stay here," he ordered, his voice flat, final.

"How long—" she began, but he cut her off.

"Half an hour." He nodded toward the hut. "You’ll change clothes. Don’t move."

She nodded, uneasy. Something in her chest told her staying put was the only right answer. She walked inside without another word, clutching the bundle against her chest. The woman didn’t speak either. She only pointed to a corner where a pile of old clothes lay and went back to her nets without even glancing at her.

Jinx rummaged through until she found a plain, ugly dress, rough and faded. But it was dry, clean, and didn’t smell of salt or blood. She put it on slowly, smoothing the hem over her knees. She stared at her hands, then the dirt floor, and thought that at least it was a change. Not nice, but something.

The silence in the hut pressed down on her. Outside, she heard Ekko’s steps fading, firm, certain, as if he knew exactly where he was going. She didn’t move from the spot she’d been given. She obeyed, even though something inside her wanted to run.

For the first time in her life, she obeyed without protest.

The nuns would never believe it. She had never followed rules. Not the simple ones. Not the ones that mattered. Mother Pim would say the devil had finally taken her. But now, obedience felt necessary. And she didn’t know if that scared her or soothed her.

Time crawled by. When she finally heard his footsteps returning, she looked up instinctively. Ekko appeared in the doorway. His shirt was stained dark. Blood. A machete hung from his left hand, dripping saltwater. He hadn’t had one before.

Jinx swallowed hard.

He didn’t say a word. He only tossed a few coins onto the woman’s table. She snatched them quickly without looking up, as if too afraid to see too much. With the machete still in his hand, Ekko gave a sharp nod toward the door.

"Let’s go."

Jinx didn’t ask. She didn’t move until he turned to look at her directly. Then she followed. Outside, the sun was setting in orange and gold, staining the sand in fire. The smell of rot was still in the air, but she no longer noticed. She only heard her own steps behind his.

She didn’t ask where the machete came from. Or whose blood it was.

Though once they were far enough from the village, when the silence between them grew too heavy, she dared to whisper:

"Where did you…?"

He didn’t stop.

"Walk," was all he said.

And she obeyed.

In silence, as the boat hit the water again, she thought about what the nuns would say of her. How Sister Mary would kneel before such an impossible miracle: Jinx, obeying.

The boat they had gotten was small, patched wood and ropes, but stable. It smelled of salt and sea, not blood or fear. Just big enough for two.

Before boarding, Jinx paused. Something on the shore caught her eye: white shells half-buried, small crabs hiding under rocks. She darted toward them without thinking, and within minutes she had a handful of shellfish and small fish caught with the instinct of someone made of the sea.

"For food," she said, almost timidly, when she returned with her spoils.

Ekko glanced at her sideways but said nothing. He only climbed aboard, tied the ropes, and gestured for her to follow.

They left the island the same way they came: quiet, fast. The little huts faded behind them, the smoke dissolved in the wind, and only the sea remained. Ekko rested the machete against the boat’s edge and cleaned it in the water, slowly, until the blade gleamed again with a cold light even as the sea turned orange and red with the sunset.

Jinx watched him, knees pulled to her chest, while she tucked the fish into a makeshift sack.

She remembered then what Father Silco once told her: "Pirates don’t die old. They end up hanging or tossed to the sea."

And she understood.

She understood he was one of those men. One condemned to the gallows. One who carried death like a second heart.

But she didn’t say it.

Instead, she looked back at the water. Let herself drift in the rocking of the waves, the fading reflection of the sky. And for the first time since waking on that boat, she didn’t feel afraid.

The boat moved slowly, following the currents more than the oars. Jinx played with a loose rope between her fingers, not looking at him, until the silence pressed too heavy and she broke it without realizing:

"What’s the course?"

Ekko didn’t answer immediately. He kept adjusting the angle of the tiller, muscles taut, the machete secured at his side. She lifted her gaze, waiting for something more than his usual silence.

"Are you going to tell me?" she pressed, tilting her head with that mix of stubbornness and curiosity she never knew how to tame. "Or do I have to guess? Because I’m not bad at guessing."

He exhaled, slow, almost weary.

"West," he said at last, still not looking at her. "If the currents hold, a few days at sea. Then, Zaun."

Jinx blinked.

"Zaun?"

"A low port, but safe." His tone was flat, like a memorized map. "The boat won’t last much longer. We need to patch the hull, buy decent clothes, provisions."

She tilted her head, processing, then lowered her voice.

"And after?"

"After it’s land routes." His eyes stayed locked on the horizon. "Islands, villages, maybe another ship if we’re lucky. But Bilgewater…" his jaw tightened slightly, "it’s a long road."

"Do you navigate by stars?" she asked suddenly, eyes lighting up. "Or… how do pirates do it?"

The question made him look at her at last. Not with interest, but with that heavy calm he always carried.

"Sleep," he said, tired, turning back to the ropes. "The sea’s calm. Even I’ll sleep a bit."

She wanted to argue, but something in his tone—soft, sharp, not asking permission—kept her quiet.

She watched in silence as he tied the ropes to the tiller, securing the course so the boat would hold steady without a hand to guide it. He did it with precise, practiced movements, as if he’d done it all his life.

And that’s when she saw it.

The medallion.

Hanging from his neck, catching the last rays of the sun. Ekko passed his fingers over it slowly, like checking it was still there, like he needed its weight to remember something only he knew. He didn’t look at it—just touched it with a muted, almost painful devotion.

Jinx said nothing.

She curled up in her corner of the boat, letting the sound of the water lull her, watching him through her lashes. The man who had butchered hunters without blinking now sat there, eyes closed, body leaning back, the medallion in his hand. Vulnerable, for the first time.

And though she didn’t know what he guarded in that piece of metal, or why he clung to it like it was his last anchor, she felt there was something sacred in that silence. Something she shouldn’t break.

The boat kept moving, rocked by the sea. The sky filled with stars. And for the first time, the whole world seemed at peace.

Chapter Text

THE NIGHT OF THE THIRD DAY AT SEA WAS SO STILL THE BOAT SEEMED SUSPENDED ON THE WATER.

Ekko slept slumped against the wooden side, machete close at hand, ropes tied firmly to the rudder—like even his sleep was calculated.

Jinx watched him for a while in silence. She could hear his deep, steady breathing, aligned with the sway of the waves. He slept with one fist curled around the medallion, as if that piece of metal was the only thing keeping him here. She still couldn’t explain how, after everything, it remained at his neck—but judging by his state, Jinx could bet that the only thing this pirate truly held onto was that medallion.

At this point, it might as well be sorcery.

The sea, however, was calling to her. Or at least, that’s what she wanted to believe.

She slipped to the edge of the boat without a sound. Leaving the coarse dress on the bench, she let her skin touch the water—and something inside her lit up. The faint bluish markings on her back began to glow, her legs fusing into a tail of blue scales that shimmered in the moonlight.

The ocean embraced her with the warmth of something that had always known her.

She descended without hurry, the water denser, colder the deeper she went. Around her, the marine world stirred awake in muted colors: tiny fish glowing like shards of glass spiraled around her, brushing her skin with delicate fins. Among algae-covered rocks, crabs peeked out with round eyes, wary of the intruder.

Jinx laughed softly, the sound crystalline as it vanished into the current. She twirled, her tail sketching lazy circles through the water. She reached for a rock, running her fingers over algae that swayed with the tide, soft and silky against her touch.

In the distance, the boat was only a shadow against the silver glow of the surface. From down here it looked small, fragile. And yet she knew he was up there—breathing with that tense calm that never left him, more dangerous than anything she could find below.

She swam deeper, letting herself be wrapped in silence. From the bottom, she looked up and saw the moon distorted through the water, as if the whole sky had fallen into the sea. And there, beneath the boat, she floated with closed eyes, imagining she could feel the weight of Ekko above the planks—still, unmoving, with his hand clutched around the medallion.

Jinx broke the surface with an agile motion, water cascading down her hair while her tail swirled beneath her. The siren blinked, bathed in moonlight as the ocean darkness wrapped around her.

“Every night, you’re going to swim.”

The voice startled her. It wasn’t a shout, nor a scolding. Just a calm statement, sharpened with the quiet edge only he knew how to use.

Jinx turned. Ekko stood at the edge of the boat, machete in hand, hair tousled by the night wind. He didn’t look angry, but his dark eyes held that tense gleam she was beginning to recognize—the one that couldn’t decide if it was relief or fury.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answered, floating on her back. “I like being in the water, talking to it a little. You said once we reach Zaun it’ll be on land, so I should enjoy it while I can.”

He watched her for a long time, as though deciding whether to scold her. In the end, he sheathed the machete and leaned against the railing, resting his elbows on the edge.

“Why do you talk to the water?” he asked, not looking at her, adjusting a patch on the boat’s side. “I thought you only spoke to God.”

Jinx lifted her head, surprised. She blinked twice before smiling, tilting her face.

“Because it listens,” she said. “Because… it’s the one who brought me back. God is with the ocean.”

“And what do you say to it?”

“Depends.” She shrugged. “Sometimes important things. Sometimes nothing at all. But… it always answers, you know? Not with words, but… with something.”

“The sea doesn’t answer,” he said at last.

Jinx arched a brow at him, amused.

“No? And what do you know?” she teased lightly. “It almost looks like it obeys you.”

He raised his eyes briefly, giving her that heavy, serious look that somehow never managed to intimidate her.

“The sea obeys no one,” he corrected. But he didn’t argue further.

Jinx wasn’t ready to let the conversation die there. Still in the ocean, beneath the moonlight that hung between them, she asked:

“Did you always know you’d be a pirate?”

Ekko didn’t lift his gaze.

“I never chose it,” he said. And for the first time, she heard something different in his voice: exhaustion. Or maybe the echo of a pain that went too deep.

“Then what?” she tilted her head, curious. “What did you want to be?”

A long silence. Then, the faintest shrug.

“I don’t remember.”

She looked at him with those pink eyes that always seemed to see more than he wanted to show.

“I think you do,” she said softly, smiling without mockery. “Maybe… you’re just scared to say it out loud.”

He glanced at her, the moon outlining his features in silver, making him look almost unreal. For an instant, he said nothing.

Jinx didn’t notice—or chose not to. She floated on, staring at the sky as if speaking to it.

“Though…” she whispered, like sharing a secret of no consequence, “whatever you are now… it doesn’t seem that terrible to me. Even for a pirate.”

The words landed between them like a soft stone, rippling in silence. Ekko looked away first, jaw tight, as if they had struck deeper than he wanted to admit.

“You should get back in,” he said quietly, firmly. “The sea is unpredictable.”

Jinx blinked, surprised, but didn’t protest. She swam back, and he extended a hand to help her aboard despite her tail still visible. She accepted without hesitation, noticing the calloused warmth of his fingers just a second before he released her.

Without a word, Ekko fetched a blanket and handed it to her. She clutched it to her chest.

“Thank you,” she murmured, so low she knew he probably wouldn’t answer.

He didn’t. He simply curled back into his corner, body drawn in, eyes shut as though nothing could reach him.

Jinx hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the boat, waiting for her tail to dry enough to fade away. Little by little, it dissolved back into legs as the water evaporated from her skin; the shimmering scales dimmed until they became nothing more than faint reflections, the blue tones retreating beneath her pale flesh. Only then—when her tail was gone and her legs had returned—did she move. Carefully, as if afraid of waking something more than just him, she set the blanket aside and rose in silence.

The night air was cold, but not uncomfortable. She slipped over to the bench where she had left the rough dress and, with a couple of quick shakes, brushed off the droplets the wind had turned into tiny crystals.

Once she was dressed again, she glanced back at him. Ekko was still asleep, curled up in his corner, the machete close at hand and the medallion clutched between his fingers. His face—always so tense—finally looked at peace.

She hesitated, blanket in her hands. Then, almost timidly, she leaned over and draped it across his shoulders, careful not to wake him. The gesture was brief, barely a brush of fabric, but enough to tighten something in her chest.

“Good night, pirate,” she whispered—so softly she wasn’t sure if it was her lips or her thoughts. “I hope you find a little peace in dreams.”

She returned to her place, hugging her knees, wrapped in her own blanket. The ocean shimmered under the moon like an endless mirror, and for a moment, she thought she could stay like this forever.

The rocking of the waves, the gentle creak of wood, Ekko’s steady breathing—all blurred together until her eyelids fell and sleep claimed her with the same care she’d shown him.

The fourth day dawned on a sea so calm it seemed asleep. The boat drifted slowly, carried by just enough wind to keep the course. For a fleeting instant, Jinx thought they could stay there forever—suspended between sky and water.

That was when the shadows appeared.

First one, then two, then half a dozen—circling the boat. Fins slicing the water, movements precise and silent. Ekko, tightening ropes at the mast, stiffened immediately.

“Sharks,” he warned, hand on the machete.

Jinx leaned over the side, eyes wide with curiosity instead of fear. They were huge, gray-skinned and dark-eyed like the ocean depths, but their movements weren’t predatory. They swam lazily, almost sluggishly, as though only inspecting the wooden intruder.

“They’re not hunting,” she said with an irritating calm. “They’re just watching. That one has a mark on its back.”

“They could attack,” he countered, knuckles white on the hilt. “Better kill them first—it’s food.”

Jinx frowned, standing with her hands on the railing.

“What for? We don’t need food. I think I’ll go see them.”

“They’re dangerous.”

“So are you,” she shot back, slipping off her shoes. “And so am I. But we haven’t killed each other. I saved your life, you saved mine. I’m going.”

He stared, serious, weighing her words. Ekko wasn’t a man who yielded easily, but something in her eyes made him lower the machete.

She dove in. The sharks drifted back at first, but when she reached one with a harpoon still embedded in its side, she freed it. The creature lingered a moment before swimming off. She spent little time among them, yet enough to feel their rough bodies brushing her tail as they circled.

The sharks gave one last sweep around her before disappearing into the deep as though they’d never been there.

“Goodbye, friends,” Jinx whispered, swimming back to the boat and hauling herself up with effort. “At least you have somewhere to return to.”

Ekko said nothing, but when she lay back down on the prow again, hands tucked behind her head, humming a wordless tune, certain the sharks were long gone, he finally spoke—breaking a silence that had felt eternal.

“Why don’t you ever talk about the convent?”

The question came dry, blunt—like everything from him. Jinx sat up sharply, caught off guard.

“What?”

“It’s been nearly a month since we left,” he reminded. “You talk about everything, you never shut up—but never that.”

“It’s been that long?”

“Yes,” he said flatly, his words like sentences.

Jinx dropped her gaze, fidgeting with the rough hem of her dress. Her smile faded slowly.

“Nobody wanted me there,” she admitted at last, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “They won’t miss me. They won’t even remember me—except maybe as the outcast, or the demon who left the way she came. If anything, they’ll be relieved.”

The wind pushed a strand of blue hair across her face. The sea knocked softly against the wood. Ekko didn’t answer—not because he had nothing, but because nothing he could say would take that certainty out of her voice. She noticed. She glanced at him, smiled bitterly, and lay back down, eyes fixed on the sky as if it could answer instead.

“See?” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “Even you don’t going to miss me after this.”

The silence that fell wasn’t the same—it weighed heavier, like a damp blanket.

That night, under a star-splattered sky, Jinx returned to the sea. But it was quieter than ever. No gentle waves, no creaking wood. She didn’t swim far, didn’t play in the currents, didn’t chase curious fish. She only floated, the moonlight breaking above her, her heart heavy.

Silence was her only answer. Not even a stray current or passing fish.

Jinx closed her eyes, fighting the hollow ache rising in her chest.

When she climbed back aboard, Ekko slept—or pretended to. It didn’t matter. She watched him for a moment, searching for something, anything to anchor her. But he didn’t move. Not even a murmur in sleep.

She hugged her knees, damp blanket clinging to her skin, and stayed that way until dawn.

The next day, the sun blazed over the boat, but nothing broke her strange daze. She didn’t swim, didn’t sing, didn’t even let her feet touch the water. Just sat in silence, gaze lost on the horizon, as if waiting.

Ekko didn’t ask. She didn’t explain.

And when night fell, there were no games with the tides, no conversations with the sea. She sat wrapped in her blanket, eyes fixed on the moon’s reflection.

“I know you hear me,” she whispered, softer now, as though surrendering. “Even if you pretend not to, I know you do.”

The air was cold, her voice barely carrying past the boat.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for,” she continued, throat tight. “But… whatever it is… do it quickly. Please.”

Her words drifted over the water, unanswered.

She looked to the stars, searching for comfort in a light that wasn’t there. Below, the sea shifted slowly, and in its shadows, the sharks swam again—circling, together, in perfect unison. Beyond them, schools of fish moved as one, hundreds of bodies dancing safely in their pack.

Everyone had someone. Everyone but her.

She lay back on the bench, heart heavy, body weary. The breeze toyed with her hair but couldn’t chase the cold inside.

And she imagined someone, somewhere in that vast ocean, missed her.

The following days were calm. The wind stayed on their side, the currents were kind, even the fish seemed plentiful. Jinx spent hours at the bow with her feet in the water, humming tunes the sea seemed to echo. Ekko never said it aloud, but something about the journey had shifted. For reasons he couldn’t understand, the ocean itself seemed to be protecting them.

Chapter Text

DAWN BROUGHT A SOFT WIND AND A SEA SO STILL THE BOAT SEEMED TO GLIDE ACROSS A MIRROR.

Jinx sat up in silence, the blanket still clinging to her shoulders and her hair an absolute mess. Ekko was already awake—of course he was—sitting at the stern, checking the ropes with that same focus that made it seem like the whole world could burn and he still wouldn’t look up.

"Teach me," she said, breaking the silence.

Ekko didn’t turn. He only tightened a knot and tested it with a sharp tug.

"No."

Jinx blinked, offended, and moved closer until she was leaning against the edge of the boat near him.

"Why not?"

"Because no," he repeated, without lifting his eyes.

"Come on, pirate," she pressed, with that smile she always wore when she knew she was about to get into trouble. "I’ve been watching you. I know how you tie knots, how you set the sails. I learn fast."

The only sound was the rasp of rope sliding through his hands.

"No," he said again, firmer this time, and stood to move the rudder.

Jinx pursed her lips, but didn’t push further. She didn’t need his permission. She never had.

The next morning, Ekko woke to find a badly tied knot at the bowline: he untied it with a low grunt and redid it without a word.

On the second day, the knots were still clumsy, but not quite so loose.

By the third, they were almost right.

And even though he never said anything, when Jinx noticed him ignoring her work and leaving it as it was, something inside her chest swelled with pride. She bit her lip, watching the ocean with almost unbearable excitement, fingers trailing patterns in the water as fish swam curiously beneath her.

She didn’t mention it.

Neither did he.

"How do you know where we’re going?" she asked that afternoon, as the sun dipped toward the horizon. She sat at the prow, bare feet brushing the water, while he adjusted the sails with precise, almost elegant movements.

"By the map," he answered, like it was obvious. "And because I’ve made this trip before."

"Oh." Jinx tilted her head. "And… what’s a map?"

The silence that followed was almost comical. Ekko glanced at her sideways, his expression somewhere between disbelief and resignation. It was the most expressive she had seen him since they met.

Jinx couldn’t help staring at him expectantly.

"You’ve never…?" he began, then stopped. He shook his head slowly, as if the answer didn’t matter. "Come here."

She hopped over, nearly stumbling, and crouched beside him. He pulled a folded parchment from a small wooden box and spread it out on the bench. Black lines, strange symbols, and red marks sprawled across it like a secret language.

"This is the map," he explained. "This is where we are."

Jinx’s eyes followed the trace of his finger, wide with fascination. She took in the blue of the ocean against the beige of the land, the hundreds of markings, the lines, the names of places filled with people, towns, kingdoms. It was vast. It was the world.

"It looks… like a drawing."

"It’s more than that," he admitted patiently. "It’s the path. If you know how to read it, you’ll never get lost."

She leaned closer, eyes shining with genuine interest. The smell of salt and wet wood wrapped around her, and she noticed him too: the warmth of his arm brushing hers, the precise movements of his hands as he traced routes, the sea threading through his voice.

But none of that mattered compared to the world before her.

It was what lay beyond the sea. And it was bigger than she’d ever imagined.

"Teach me to read it," she asked.

He didn’t answer right away. He just gave her that serious side glance he used when weighing something.

"It’s complicated," he said at last. "Don’t lose it."

"I’m smart," she shot back with a grin. "Smarter than I look, and I won’t lose it."

He turned back to the map.

"Don’t steal it at night. I need to check it," he muttered flatly. "You can steal it and look through it in the morning."

"Deal," Jinx grinned. "Wait—can you read?"

"Yes."

"Do all pirates know how to read?" Jinx asked, curious. "I thought they didn’t. Most people can’t. Only the rich ones are supposed to."

Ekko packed the map away and walked off. Jinx didn’t press, too caught up in the thought of that world inked into parchment.

The next few days filled with practice.

Jinx woke earlier than him—or so she thought—to try tying knots, checking the sails, adjusting the rigging. Sometimes she got it right; sometimes she didn’t. Ekko never praised her, but he never stopped her either. And on the rare occasions when she nailed it perfectly, he simply left it as it was. No words. No glance.

But for Jinx, that silence was enough. More than enough.

The sea became her classroom. The creak of wood, the steady slap of waves, the whistle of the wind: all of it part of lessons unspoken but constant.

And she learned.

Though she made a mistake on the fifth day.

It was small, almost ridiculous.

Jinx thought it would be enough to tie down the mainsail the way she’d seen him do it, pulling the rope with all her strength and securing the knot with a sharp tug. It sounded logical. It looked stable. But when the wind shifted and the canvas billowed suddenly, the line snapped with a harsh crack, and the sail collapsed like a dead beast, slamming into the mast with a crash that made her flinch.

Ekko was there in an instant.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t say a word. He just shoved her gently aside with a firm hand on her shoulder and took the fallen line. His body moved with that cold precision that defined him: a pull, a knot, a quick twist of the wrist, and in less than a minute everything was back in place.

He grunted, low, almost a growl held back.

The kind of sound that said don’t do it again without words.

Jinx bit her lip, pride burning hot in her chest. She didn’t answer. She didn’t joke to break the tension. She just watched him from the corner of her eye as he walked back to the rudder, machete at his hip, shoulders tight, gaze locked on the horizon as if nothing had happened.

That night, she couldn’t sleep.

She lay on the bench, damp blankets clinging to her skin, eyes open on the ink-black sky. The sea was calm, but her mind was a storm. She couldn’t shake the way she’d failed, the way he’d fixed it all without effort.

Useless again. Dead weight again.

The memory of the convent returned, sharp and cruel. The way the nuns would snatch tools from her hands, calling her useless, dangerous, a mistake. But she always came back. Always scavenged scraps: rusted springs, broken gears, bent nails, bits of wood and iron no one wanted. She tied them with string, hammered them together, failed a hundred times—but in the end… something always worked.

"A demon playing clockmaker," they said.

Maybe they were right.

The second day she failed again. Tried to reinforce the smaller sail with a double knot of her own invention, but the rope tangled so badly Ekko had to cut it with the machete, lips pressed into a hard line. He said nothing, but the silence was worse than any scolding.

The third day was different.

The mast creaked with every gust. There was a loose patch at the base of the hull, a board that threatened to let water in with each wave. Ekko had already tried fixing it with ropes and makeshift nails, but it still leaked.

Jinx stared at it a long time, fingers restless over the damp wood.

Then she saw it.

She rifled through the supply box, pulling out a handful of useless scraps: an old strip of leather, two bent nails, half a broken bottle. With feverish patience, she fit them together—leather folded, glass wedged as a brace, nails driven in at odd angles. She bound it with the thinnest cord she could find, pulling tight until the board stopped creaking.

When she was done, the leak stopped. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t proper. But it worked.

She turned, triumphant.

Ekko stood a few feet away, watching in silence.

He didn’t say anything. No nod, no praise. He just crouched, checked her patch with his hand, and gave the smallest of nods, enough to confirm it was solid. Then he returned to the rudder, shoulders loosening as though a hidden weight had been lifted.

Jinx grinned, chest swelling like a sail.

She sprang up to the prow. There, standing tall with the wind whipping her blue hair and the sun glinting off the faint scales still lingering on her damp skin, she stretched her arms wide as if to embrace the horizon.

The sea roared beneath her, vast, untamable. But in that moment, Jinx felt like she belonged to it.

And from the rudder, Ekko watched her a second longer than he needed to before turning his gaze back to the horizon.

The sun was at its peak when Jinx climbed down from the prow, hair still wild from the wind and her smile stretching her cheeks. She couldn’t hide her satisfaction: she had done something he hadn’t, even if it was with a patchwork fix. And the fact that Ekko had accepted it without complaint, with just the smallest nod, was her greatest victory yet.

She padded over to the bench where he sat, hands steady on the rudder like it was the only real thing in that endless ocean.

"Are you always this serious?" she asked, leaning closer like she was trying to steal a secret.

He didn’t turn his head.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes."

Jinx laughed, a light, bubbling sound the wind carried away before it could bother him.

"And you never tell stories? I thought you were bitter because you didn’t trust me, which made sense, but come on, by now we’re basically close," she teased, words drawn out with mischief. "Come on, pirate, you must have a thousand. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen? A ghost ship? A cursed treasure? A captain with a fish head?"

Silence.

"Not even a fight where you almost lost?"

"No."

She squinted at him, amused.

"Wow. You’re like a grave. At least I know you’re not hiding any stories just to spite me."

Ekko didn’t answer, but his lips pressed into a line so thin she almost believed he was holding back a smile. Almost.

The day went on like that: her prying, him answering in monosyllables—and somehow, without realizing it, sharing more than he meant to.

"How long until we get there?" she asked, leaning back against the rail, letting the breeze brush her face.

"Depends on the wind."

"No, but… in days."

"A month, if it holds. We’ve been at sea for twenty-four days."

Jinx stared at him, mouth open in disbelief.

"What? Twenty-four? It feels like months!"

Ekko raised a brow.

"It’s been twenty-four days. Exactly."

She let out a theatrical groan, collapsing backward onto the bench with her legs dangling over the side.

"Well your ‘exactly’ feels eternal," she shot back.

He didn’t reply. Just adjusted the course, muscles taut beneath the golden afternoon light. Jinx watched him from the corner of her eye, noting the sheen of sweat on his skin, the meticulous calm of his gestures, the way he looked like a broken statue that somehow still stood. There was something beautiful in his silence, though she’d never admit it aloud.

Because despite everything, he listened to her.

And Jinx—who had spent her whole life being yelled at or scolded for everything she did—appreciated that at least someone let her speak, let her be herself. In her own strange way.

The rest of the day passed in deceptive calm. The sea was still, the sails full, and the sky blazed orange as if promising an easy rest.

But when night fell, Jinx felt it.

It started as a tingle on her skin, like ants humming beneath the faint scales that sometimes glimmered without her will. Then a knot in her stomach. And when she lifted her gaze, she understood.

The full moon hung high, round and bright, spilling silver across the ocean.

She froze.

No. Not tonight.

Ekko sat sharpening his machete, profile carved in lunar light. Jinx swallowed, forcing a quick smile.

"Uh… I’m going for a swim."

He barely lifted his eyes, that dark, cutting look that always seemed to pierce right through her.

"It’s late."

"I know." She stepped toward the rail, trying to sound casual. "I won’t be long."

She didn’t wait for an answer. She slipped into the water in one swift, almost desperate movement, and as soon as the salt closed around her, the pressure in her chest eased. Her tail burst forth in a flash, gleaming like a wound under the moon, and the sea embraced her with its familiar hold.

She swam a few meters from the boat, every fiber of her body humming with the pull of the lunar tide. Her heart pounded too fast, her blood boiled in her veins, and in her throat a song gathered, fighting to escape.

No. Don’t sing.

She sank lower, closing her eyes, letting the ocean wrap around her to calm her. Fish shimmered nearby, drawn to her glow like moths to flame. The whole sea seemed to answer the moon—and with it, her.

But Jinx knew the truth.

The full moon never brought calm. It brought danger. It brought... a siren.

Chapter Text

DAWN FOUND HER RETURNING TO THE BOAT.

Jinx climbed up with wet hands, hair still dripping with saltwater. Her legs trembled as her tail melted back into skin, leaving her exhausted. She collapsed onto the bench with the crumpled blanket around her shoulders, holding her breath as if Ekko were about to interrogate her immediately

But Ekko didn’t ask anything.

He was already awake—of course he was—sitting at the stern with the machete within reach, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The newborn sun’s orange light carved his cheekbones like blades, while his steady hands adjusted the ropes with the kind of focus that never seemed to leave him.

“We’re heading to an island,” he said without looking at her. “We need supplies. Storm’s coming, the sea might get rough.”

Jinx nodded without arguing. She leaned closer to the map he’d spread out on the wood, fascinated as always by those black lines and red marks that still looked like a cryptic language to her.

“There?” she asked, pointing at one of the islands on the parchment.

“Yes.” His voice was low, precise, like the knots he tied. “Medium-sized. Enough for provisions.”

She tilted her head, curiosity sparking naturally.

“And… how do you know we won’t get lost?” she asked, eyes shining with something almost childlike.

Ekko exhaled softly through his nose, barely a gesture.

“Because I don’t get lost.”

"You just joked with me" she teased. Ekko shook his head, trying to ignore her. "I won’t forget this."

Jinx grinned, amused, and let silence linger between them like calm foam. Sometimes, she didn’t need more than that.

The boat touched land by mid-afternoon. The island stretched before them, bigger than the last and green, with a village at the edge of the beach: wooden houses painted in faded colors, children running barefoot on the sand, the smell of fresh fish and campfire smoke drifting in the air.

Jinx leaned forward, eyes burning like embers.

“I want to go.”

Ekko was already tying the boat with a quick knot. He didn’t even look at her.

“No.”

She frowned.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” He held her gaze just for a second, firm, before returning to the knot. “Stay close. Don’t get into trouble.”

Jinx huffed, arms crossed in a pout. But she didn’t argue. Not out loud.

Not get into trouble? Please. She was Jinx. He was asking the impossible. Still, she didn’t push further, just spent the time thinking about what to do.

Jinx knelt at the bow, clumsily folding her hands together, as if she’d forgotten that shape for years. She bowed her head, lips moving faintly.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…” she whispered, barely a thread of sound. “Hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…”

Her breath shook as she spoke, but she didn’t stop.

“Give us this day our daily bread… and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”

She opened her eyes slowly, as if something could have changed once the prayer ended. But the sea was the same, endless and bright.

“See?” she murmured with a sideways smile. “I didn’t forget everything.”

She curled back under the blanket.

“Hey… did you notice? I’m getting a little better. Well, I try. I don’t blow everything up right away anymore,” she laughed quietly. “And… I also wanted to tell you, I prayed for Ekko. Yeah, him. Even if he’s a pain. But… he’s good. He’s the best you’ve sent me in years. The pirate thing was weird, not gonna lie… but I like him.”

The sound of drums pulled her attention. Jinx lifted her head and saw the procession heading toward the plaza: flowers, children, songs carried away by the breeze.

“Can I go see? Just for a little while,” she asked, as if expecting a real answer. “If I find something tasty, I’ll save some for Ekko. Promise.”

A seagull flew overhead, cawing loudly.

Jinx took it as a sign.

She grinned, radiant, and leapt onto the pier lightly. Her eyes devoured everything as if it were treasure. The sun sank into the horizon and the island filled with glowing lanterns, laughter, and music.

She slipped quietly toward the shore, bare feet sinking into damp sand with her shoes dangling from her right hand. She followed the lights, the sound, the life.

The village was a whirlwind. People dancing barefoot on the wooden boards, couples stumbling through turns between laughter, children darting under legs, elders clapping along with the songs. Jinx hid in the shadow of a wooden house as she put on her shoes, wide-eyed as if swallowing the entire scene.

She stayed in the dimness, pressed against the wooden wall, eyes wide as if she wanted to drink it all in. There was something hypnotic in the way the village pulsed with life: families crammed onto rough benches, fathers rocking children to sleep, elders laughing with mouths open wide, gums bare but full of joy.

She watched with fascination, as though they were strange and beautiful creatures. She caught the small details: a child asleep on his mother’s shoulder, two young people finding each other’s hands under the table, bare feet stomping clumsily to the drumbeat. Everything was connection, warmth, an invisible thread holding them together.

Love surrounded her in ways she didn’t fully understand, but it made her smile like a child spying on someone else’s fairytale.

Then she saw her.

A woman with pink hair crossed the square with a jug in hand, laughter spilling bright from her mouth. Jinx froze, eyes locked as if she’d seen a ghost.

The memory struck: that clumsy painting she’d made at the convent, before they ruined it—like every painting she started. Pink in the hair of a figure she never finished, an echo now taking form before her.

Her heart pounded too fast. It wasn’t her, she knew that immediately. There was something different in the eyes, in the gestures. But the resemblance was enough to pull her forward, reckless even by her standards.

No one seemed to notice.

The music went on, laughter thick with bonfire smoke, and in the confusion someone handed her a cup of cheap rum, mistaking her for just another villager.

“Come on!” the person laughed. “A little won’t hurt you, girl.”

Jinx blinked, then smirked.

“Why not?” she whispered to herself, taking the cup.

The burn in her throat made her laugh, light, as if something heavy had lifted. Soon they passed her fresh bread and sweet fruit too, which she tucked carefully into a pocket, thinking of Ekko.

But then she let the celebration carry her away. She danced clumsy among strangers, bumping shoulders, laughing with them, letting the warmth and noise sweep her up. The whole island seemed to beat beneath her feet, and Jinx—for the first time in so long—felt part of something.

It was reckless, dangerous, even foolish. But it was the happiest night of her life.

Jinx let herself be carried away by the party, the music guiding her uneven steps and laughter spilling out of her without restraint. She shared drinks, clinked cups, even dared to throw a cheeky remark at a group of boys who, instead of looking at her strangely, shot the joke back at her between loud laughter. For a moment she felt accepted, invisible in the crowd and yet part of it, like just another thread in that warm fabric she had always admired from the shadows.

But then someone climbed onto a table.

A man with a thick beard and calloused arms raised his jug and bellowed, dragging everyone’s attention:

Jinx had been swept up in the music and laughter, feeling lighter, almost like she belonged. It was strange, warm. Until the bearded man jumped on the table and lit the crowd with his booming voice.

“Tonight we celebrate because the sea gives us life!” he roared, shaking the jug. “And because we know how to protect ourselves from what poisons its waters!”

“The mermaids!” He spat the word like venom. Booing and whistles followed. “False, cursed creatures that pretend to be women so they can lure men and suck out their souls!”

“Well said!” someone shouted from the back.

“If you ever cross paths with one, don’t hesitate a second,” he went on, puffing his chest. “Drive the harpoon through! Cut out its tongue, so it can’t enchant you with its songs!”

The crowd roared in approval. Some even began sharing their own stories, each crueler than the last. Jinx shifted uncomfortably, alien to everything they claimed sirens were and did.

“I saw one, two winters ago,” said a skinny fisherman, raising his voice. “We cut off its tail and left it writhing on the sand, for the tide to take it away like trash!”

“Ha! And I sold the bones of another,” bragged someone else, showing his blackened teeth. “They pay good coin for them in the big ports. Maybe that’s why I’ve still got rum to spare!”

The plaza burst into laughter, coarse and cutting.

Jinx felt the ground burn under her feet. The same mouths that had welcomed her with smiles now twisted into bloody mockery against what she was. Her stomach knotted, her throat closed as if their words could slice straight through her.

The music returned, but for her, it carried no sound.

She lowered her head, drained the last of her cup, and slipped away. The beach breeze felt colder than she remembered, and the pocket with the bread and fruit weighed on her hip like stone.

When she reached the pier, she saw him.

Ekko was already returning, machete at his belt, the same hard seriousness in his face. When he spotted her, his expression tightened in immediate reproach, like a father catching his daughter in the middle of something dangerous.

“You’re insane,” he began, voice sharp, ready to scold. “What were you thinking—”

Jinx cut him off, pulling the wrapped bread and fruit from her pocket. She held them out without meeting his eyes, her gaze glassy, mouth twisted downward.

“I brought you something…” she murmured, her voice softer than usual. “Let’s just go. Please.”

Ekko frowned, glancing at her trembling hands and then at her broken expression. Something in her was about to shatter.

“What happened?” he asked low, serious, but with a shade of concern.

Jinx shook her head quickly, biting her lip, eyes shimmering with tears she refused to let fall.

“Nothing… doesn’t matter. Let’s just go, Ekko.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing? Don’t treat me like an idiot. You were out there, alone, in the middle of those… those people. You think I don’t know how dangerous that is?”

“I know it was stupid.”

“Then explain it. What the hell were you thinking? I told you to stay close.”

Anger flared in her eyes, burning away the sadness.

“You don’t get it!” she snapped, frustrated. “You’ll never understand!”

“Understand what? That you enjoy putting yourself in danger?”

Jinx shook her head, storming forward, anger spilling everywhere.

“What the hell is wrong with—”

“I’M NOT A JINX!” she screamed, voice raw. She looked straight at him. “I… I’m not a Jinx. Even if you and everyone else thinks I am, I’m not.”

The silence grew heavy. Jinx’s fury trembled around her like a storm about to break. Ekko held her gaze a moment longer, as if trying to pull the truth out of her. But he didn’t press. He only gave a small nod and motioned toward the boat, while Jinx huffed and fumed.

She wasn’t bad.

She couldn’t be bad.

The walk back to the boat was quiet.

Their steps creaked on the boards as if each one might betray them, though no one was watching anymore: the village was still drunk on fire and music, laughter echoing behind them, unaware of the small shipwreck she carried in her chest.

Jinx didn’t protest. Didn’t talk, didn’t laugh. Just kept her head down, hands gripping the bread and fruit like they were the only solid things left in the world. Ekko walked ahead, tall shadow tense, hand always near the machete, ready for some drunk man to turn and stab him at any moment.

When they reached the boat, she climbed down first. Helped untie the knots, pushed off the pier, secured the ropes. Ekko followed after, checking everything with the critical eye of someone who trusted only his own hands. Every rope, every knot, every sail. Everything was in order. At least the siren had learned.

The boat drifted forward slowly, rocked by the current. The noise of the island’s festival was already behind them, as if it belonged to another world. Music and laughter faded into a muffled hum, swallowed by the sea.

Jinx stood at the bow, elbows resting on the weathered railing. Her braid, already messy, spilled blue strands over her shoulders, blown by the wind. Her eyes didn’t blink, locked on the horizon—on the place where ocean met night, but where the village still lingered in her mind. The sway of the waves lit her skin with silver, as if the sea itself were quietly calling her back.

She wasn’t praying. She wasn’t speaking. Just watching, lost, with a strange stillness in her, as though she were trying to become part of the sea itself.

Ekko watched her for a while from the stern. He could have stayed there, adjusting ropes and sails, ignoring her as he usually did. But something in that slumped silhouette against the water, something in that silence that wasn’t hers, forced him to move.

He set the machete aside and walked toward her.

Jinx didn’t notice at first. The wind carried her thoughts too far. Only when the wood creaked under his weight did she turn slightly—not enough to face him, just enough to know he was there, beside her.

Ekko leaned on the railing too, forearms firm against the wood, his eyes fixed on the same ocean. Neither spoke for a while. The sea seemed to demand the silence.

Finally, he broke it.

“You never sleep much, do you?” he murmured, eyes still on the horizon.

Jinx gave a small shrug.

“You don’t either.”

It wasn’t said lightly. It sounded like a confession.

He nodded, as if he understood. His dark eyes glimmered in the moonlight, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply be there, without charts or dangers. Jinx turned back to the water. The glow of the waves bathed her in blue and silver, and a shadow of melancholy slipped across her face.

“Do you think…” she began, voice low, almost trembling, “that someone could have loved me, before I died?”

The question caught him off guard. He glanced at her, but the words didn’t come right away. He wasn’t used to this kind of truth.

“Maybe,” he said at last, dry but honest.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, as if confessing a sin. “I don’t know if anyone ever loved me. If anyone cried when I died.”

Silence fell again, heavier this time, more intimate.

Jinx took a deep breath, her voice breaking just a little as she went on:

“I don’t belong anywhere. I can’t live in the ocean forever, but I can’t live on land either. It’s like… there isn’t a place for me.”

The wind tugged at her hair. Ekko watched her, feeling a knot he couldn’t name.

“And still,” she added, her eyes carrying a strange strength, “I adore it. I adore the world. Even if I don’t understand it. Even if it hurts me. Even if it doesn’t want me. I adore being alive.”

The words floated between them like a fragile prayer, too big to keep hidden.

Ekko wasn’t good with words. He didn’t know how to soften them, or wrap them neatly. But something shifted in his chest, and he spoke before he thought:

“If there’s no place… then make one.”

Jinx turned sharply, wide-eyed, as if she hadn’t expected that answer. Then she let out a soft laugh, incredulous, tilting her head.

“That simple?”

“That simple.” He didn’t smile, but his voice carried a strange calm.

She bit her lip, holding back another laugh.

“You’re telling me to build my own world, pirate.”

He grunted, shaking his head, but this time he couldn’t stop the faintest twitch of his lips—something dangerously close to a smile.

Jinx caught it. And lit up.

“Ha!” she whispered, nudging his arm with her elbow. “I saw it. You smiled.”

He exhaled, resigned.

“You’re unbearable.”

"Hey, but you almost smiled" Jinx laughed, triumphant. "Guess I’ll just have to get sad more often."

“You’re strange,” Ekko muttered, finally pulling away.

Jinx laughed again, soft, watching him with a bright smile untouched by the grief drowning her heart.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jinx turned her gaze back to the ocean, but something deep inside her ached. She didn’t want to speak to God—the one who never answered, and when He seemed to, it was only to remind her of what everyone else already believed: that she was wicked.

But she wasn’t. Jinx would have given anything—her voice, her soul, her very heartbeat—if it meant she could be anything other than that. Anything other than a curse. Anything other than… a Jinx.

So that night, she did not pray. She did not whisper to the waves, nor plead for its secrets. She only sat beneath the endless sky, staring at the seam where sea and stars bled together, drifting without a shore, without a place, without a name to call her own.

Chapter Text

EKKO ALWAYS FELT MISERABLE.

Exahusted, tired, with bones heavy from salt and too many nights without sleep. And worst of all—he had no fucking idea how he’d ended up in this mess. On a dock that stank of cheap rum, surrounded by hostile strangers, watching over a mermaid when barely a month ago he had felt something close to relief at being sentenced to death… and now his death had been delayed by someone else.

A damn mermaid.

But truthfully, none of that mattered much. Ekko didn’t care about anything, not really—just one thing, but that wasn’t the point. He was a pirate. He had a mission. It didn’t excite him, though nothing ever did—not the ocean, not stealing, not killing, not even living. He was just a hollow man. And all he had to do was deliver the mermaid to Bilgewater.

He noticed at dawn.

When Ekko got up, still stiff from too little sleep, the mermaid was already on deck. She had woken before him and was bent over the ropes, concentrating on a sailor’s knot he himself had tied the night before. Her thin hands fumbled, tangling the rope like she was wrestling a live animal.

“You’re ruining it,” Ekko grunted, his voice hoarse from sleep.

She glanced at him sideways, her eyes shining as if she had been waiting for that criticism.

“No. I’m learning.”

The knot, against all odds, was well done. Tight, firm, not as neat as his, but useful. Ekko raised an eyebrow and said nothing else.

That was the problem with Jinx. She never shut up, never stayed still, and yet—against everything he expected—she learned. It was enough for her to watch, to listen once or twice, and she could already repeat it. For him, who had been born on a ship, every rope and every sail felt as natural as breathing. For her, it was all new, and still she clung to those tasks like the boat was a toy she refused to let go of.

That day, she tied the knots before he did. The next, she hoisted the sail without him asking. Another day, she rationed food and measured water with a precision Ekko hadn’t expected.

He never said a word, of course. Just watched.

One afternoon, he caught her leaning over his map.

Ekko had left the parchment open to trace the route to Zaun. When he returned, he found her frowning, salt-stained fingers following the black lines.

“Don’t touch it,” he snapped.

Jinx looked at him like a child caught stealing bread.

“I just wanted to see how you don’t get lost.”

He sat down beside her, ready to push her away, but ended up pointing at the marks instead.

“This is the island we stopped at. This, currents. This symbol, reefs.”

Later, when she thought he was asleep, he saw her tracing the path on the map with her finger, humming under her breath like she wanted to memorize it. She was a strange mermaid—and though she was the only one he knew, he was sure the others weren’t like this.

She also wasted their resources.

Jinx always pocketed a handful of crumbs whenever Ekko broke the bread. She never ate without saving some, hiding them like gold. Then, when he was distracted tying ropes or adjusting sails, she leaned over the side and tossed them into the sea.

The crumbs sank for a few seconds before a school of fish whirled beneath the surface, flashing silver. Jinx laughed quietly, talking to them like they were old friends.

“There you are, I knew you’d come! Who’s the fastest, huh? You, the chubby one in the middle, I bet.”

Ekko never looked. He pretended to tie knots, sharpen his blade, anything. But his eyes betrayed him again and again, pulled back to that smile. A clean, disarmed smile that didn’t belong on a smuggler’s ship or with someone like him—or in a world, an ocean, worse than hell.

And it was inevitable. Jinx touched everything.

One night, trying to light the lantern, she burned her finger. She yelped and shook her hand like she’d lost all her skin. Ekko glanced at her, dry, ready to let her suffer for her curiosity.

But when she shoved the finger into her mouth, eyes wet, he sighed and handed her a damp cloth to cool it. He didn’t say anything else.

Another time, she got tangled in the rope of the sail. Fell backward, rolling until she almost hit the helm. She got up cursing, messy-haired and laughing at herself. Ekko turned away, gripping the knot in his hands too tightly, shaken by the scare.

The worst was when she smacked into the mast, face first. She swayed, hand pressed to her forehead, muttering:

“That wasn’t funny, God.”

That night, Ekko lay in his usual corner, trying to ignore the sway of the ship and the endless roll of the waves. The silence was deafening, broken only by the creak of wood and the distant cry of a gull. He was about to drift off when he heard a soft voice.

“Ekko? Are you awake?”

He didn’t answer. Thought if he played dead, Jinx would give up and leave him alone.

“Ekko… I have a question.”

He sighed, defeated.

“What do you want, Jinx?”

“Why don’t you laugh?”

His eyes snapped open, surprised. He pushed himself up, staring at her through the dim light.

“What kind of question is that?”

“An important one. You never laugh. Not even when you hit yourself by accident. ”

“It’s not funny when that happens.”

“It was funny to me,” Jinx said, a spark in her eyes. “You were so angry.”

Ekko snorted.

“I was worried. You could’ve hit something.”

“You lie. You’re lying, grumpy pirate.”

“Go to sleep, Jinx.”

“I’m not tired. And besides, I want to know why you’re such a grouch.”

“Because I have a mission. And you’re making it harder.”

“But… you never laughed before, either?”

Ekko went quiet. The question hit him like an unexpected wave. Before… there had been so many things. Laughter, dreams, hope. All erased by salt and time.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

Jinx leaned closer, her voice a whisper now.

“C’mon… do a grumpy pirate voice.”

“I’m not doing any voice.”

“Please? Just once.”

Ekko rolled his eyes, silent.

“‘Stay close. Don’t get into trouble,’” Jinx said, mocking his deep, dry tone, arms crossed, face twisted into a sour dog expression as Ekko glared. “‘Because I never get lost.’”

Jinx burst into laughter. High, contagious, echoing in the small cabin. Ekko stared, stunned. He didn’t understand why her ridiculous imitation had made her laugh so hard.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes, you do! Nailed it!”

He frowned, a strange ache in his chest. He didn’t know if it was irritation or something else. The silence between them stretched, heavy. Then a small sound slipped from him. Strange, muffled, almost forgotten. A laugh. A laugh he hadn’t heard in years.

“I’m losing it,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Jinx leaned forward, eyes shining in the dark.

“You are losing it! You’re laughing, grumpy pirate!” she cackled. “And you know what’s worse? A mermaid made you do it. A mermaid.”

“I’m not laughing,” Ekko insisted, though a smile threatened his lips.

The silence stretched between them. Then, a small sound escaped Ekko. Strange, muffled, almost forgotten. A laugh. A laugh he hadn’t heard in years.

He stopped abruptly, ashamed.

"Go to sleep, Jinx," he said gruffly.

"I won’t be able to now," she replied, her voice carrying a smile.

"Yes, you can."

"No." She shook her head, her voice always sounding like half a secret. "I have another question."

"What the hell do you want now?"

She shifted, resting her chin on her knees as if she were about to drop something big.

"If you’re a pirate… why don’t you hate me?"

The question fell between them like an anchor.

Ekko blinked, surprised, but answered without thinking too much, with the automatic coldness that always came out of him when he spoke:

"Because I don’t care."

Just like that. Simple. As if there was nothing behind it. As if hating or not hating a mermaid was the same as choosing hard bread or soft. Jinx, however, looked at him with wide eyes, bright in the dimness.

"I thought a pirate would be the person who’d hate me most in the world," she murmured, her voice not quite sad but close to a confession. Her mouth trembled for an instant, as if she wanted to smile to cover it up, but she didn’t. "But now I’m sure you don’t. In fact… I think you might even like me the most."

The silence that followed was different, heavier, as if the air between them had filled with a secret they both knew. Ekko just watched her for a moment. Sadness didn’t suit her. It felt strange, wrong, in someone so full of life.

Ekko wasn’t a stupid man. A hollow man, sure, but not stupid. He knew the islands hated mermaids. In fact, all seven seas did. He didn’t know anyone alive who liked them; they were a plague, people said. But he’d never seen them. Never cared. And the mermaid in front of him could be many things in his godforsaken judgment, but a plague she was not.

"You say a lot of stupid things, Jinx."

"And you say way too few," she shot back, leaning toward him with boldness. Then, with that low laugh of hers that always seemed to crack his defenses: "Don’t you have any questions about me?"

He shook his head, curt.

"No."

"Nothing? Not even a little curiosity…?"

Ekko looked away, jaw tight. But something in her persistence wore him down. Like the sea, beating against rock. In the end, he gave in.

"…How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"That thing… changing. Being one thing in the water and another up here."

She blinked, surprised that he finally asked. Then lowered her voice.

"It’s not a trick. There’s nothing magical about it. It’s… like breathing. Only it hurts. Like I’m split in two every time I do it," she explained softly. "With saltwater, it’s almost impossible to resist after just a few minutes. With freshwater… it’s easier to control."

Ekko watched her in silence, noticing how her fingers played nervously with a loose thread of the blanket. He couldn’t stop thinking about how she had put it: like I’m split in two. The words stuck in his chest.

"And can you turn back whenever you want?" he asked, not sure why he wanted the answer.

"Not always. I have to be almost completely dry above the waist, or more. In the water, I can’t just decide to be human again—it’s tail or nothing." She bit her lip, amused at his expression. "You probably see me as a monster if it happens."

Ekko shook his head slightly, his voice low.

"No."

Jinx chuckled softly but didn’t tease him further. Instead, she kept talking: about how the sea changed its voice under different moons, how it was different to listen with ears than with fins, how a current could feel like a hug or like a bite. Ekko didn’t say much, but he listened, and she could feel it.

At some point, when the night had fully closed around them, Jinx looked at him as if searching for something behind his silence.

"Ekko… if someone loved me half as much as you love that medallion…" her voice dropped to a near-childlike whisper. "I think I’d be happy."

"Don’t you—"

"I know you won’t talk about it," Jinx interrupted, yawning. "But if you can love a medallion that much, then someone must be able to love me a little."

He stayed still. There was no answer. The medallion weighed heavy against his chest, like a wound left open. Her words hit him in a place he didn’t want to admit was bleeding.

The silence that followed was unlike the others. A silence of unspoken confessions.

Ekko waited for another quip, a joke, anything. But silence stretched long. He leaned forward, frowning.

"Jinx?"

Nothing.

He stood and moved toward her. Jinx was asleep, curled in a corner, her face serene. Dark lashes rested against her cheeks. She looked impossibly fragile, small.

Ekko sighed and adjusted the blanket over her. Then returned to his own corner, more restless than ever.

He watched her. No emotion now. None of the strange sparks he’d felt before. Just watched. A mermaid sleeping on a smuggler’s boat. A creature from another world, so different from him.

His hand moved to his neck. He felt the chill of metal beneath his fingers. The medallion. He pulled it free, tracing it with his fingertips. The blurred, almost invisible image of a smile. A smile he loved. A smile he had lost.

He closed his eyes, the weight of melancholy pressing him down. The sea breeze brushed his face, the smell of salt reminding him of everything he had lost. Everything he would never get back. He caressed the medallion one more time and tucked it back against his chest.

And then he fell asleep, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this time he could find her.

Chapter Text

EKKO DIDN’T DREAM OF ANYTHING.

Nothing at all. Not a face, not a memory, not even a shadow. Only emptiness. Darkness stretching out endlessly, swallowing him whole as he slept. And that emptiness tormented him more than any nightmare ever could. Because a nightmare, at least, left a mark. Something that hurt, something that scratched, something that reminded you you were still alive.

But the void... the void was worse.

He woke with stiff bones and a knot in his chest. Stayed lying there for a few seconds, eyes fixed on the ceiling of the boat, waiting for some late image to arrive. A spark. A voice. Nothing. That was the true torment: not dreaming of anything. Not even of what he had lost.

When he went up to the deck, Jinx was once again fighting with the ropes. This time with the smaller sail, trying to tie it down with more enthusiasm than technique. Ekko walked over and yanked the rope from her hands.

"Not like that. You’re leaving the knot loose. If it comes undone in the middle of a gust, we lose the sail."

Jinx blinked, serious, and nodded quickly.

"Okay. Again."

He repeated the gesture slowly, marking each step.

"Pull tight here. Then pass the rope underneath. Now, tighten. That’s it."

When she tried again, her tongue peeked out between her lips, concentrating. The knot held firmer this time. Ekko tugged on the rope to test it and nodded.

"Better."

Jinx smiled as if he’d just gifted her half the ocean. Ekko watched her for a second, that childish grin painted on her face, then forced himself to turn back to the wheel.

"We’ll reach Zaun tonight," he announced flatly. "But we need cover. Something to sell. If we arrive with an empty boat, they’ll start asking questions."

"Fishing, huh?" Jinx stretched as if it were a game. Then she leaned toward him, that mischievous spark shining in her eyes. "I can help."

"No singing." Ekko’s voice came out sharp, cutting.

Jinx pouted, exaggerated.

"Not even a little?"

"No."

She shrugged.

"Alright, grumpy pirate. Guess we’ll do it your way."

And so they did. Together they cast the makeshift lines. At first, Jinx pulled too soon or let the rope go slack, impatient. Each time, Ekko corrected her with a low grunt.

The sun was already high when Ekko pulled in the last line. The hook swung empty, still wet, and for the first time in a long while he didn’t feel disappointment. The improvised basket they’d left on deck was half full: silver fish, some larger than expected, all still thrashing with wet tails. Not a brilliant haul, but enough. In Zaun, no one asked too many questions if you had something to sell.

Jinx stood next to the basket, fingers damp, face flushed with effort. She looked proud of every fish, as if she alone had filled the deck. She’d made mistakes—pulling too soon, letting go too fast—but she’d kept the rhythm. And Ekko, despite himself, had corrected her more times than he thought he had patience for.

"Not bad," he muttered, gathering the ropes.

She raised a brow, challenging.

"That’s an ‘you did good’ in Ekko language."

He snorted and turned away, busy tightening the basket so the fish wouldn’t escape. But even over the crash of the waves, he heard her laugh: short, clear, each burst striking his chest like an arrow.

The horizon shifted slowly. At first just a dark line breaking the endless blue. Then, as they drew closer, the outline grew solid, vast. Towers, chimneys, rooftops; ships flowing in and out like tides. The air thickened with smoke and soot, a metallic tang laced with salt.

Jinx leaned over the railing, eyes wide.

"Is that an island?" she asked, curiosity and innocence tangled in her voice.

He shook his head, gaze fixed on the wheel.

"No. It’s a country."

She looked at him like the word was too big for her mouth.

"That big?"

"Bigger than you can imagine." His voice came out harder than he meant. "Don’t stray from me when we dock. It’s not safe."

Jinx lowered her eyes to the water. She didn’t ask anything else. For once, she didn’t push.

Zaun greeted them with noise. The port was organized chaos: merchants shouting, ropes falling, sails lowering, hammers beating against wood. The water was choked with debris—broken crates, tangled nets, dead fish. And still, there was color. Fabrics draped like banners, fruits piled high in baskets, bracelets gleaming on the arms of women who walked through the din like they owned it.

Jinx absorbed it all. Every voice, every movement. Her eyes raced across stalls, barges, barefoot children darting between adults’ legs. She didn’t seem like the same girl who had arrived trembling on his boat. It wasn’t pure innocence anymore—it was a cautious wonder, like someone who knows beauty can also bite.

Ekko stepped off the boat, map rolled under his arm and the basket of fish in his other hand. Jinx followed close behind, so close he could almost feel her shadow pressing into his.

"Is all this… yours?" she asked softly.

"Nothing here is mine."

"Is it someone’s?" Jinx tilted her head. "I read about kingdoms."

"Piltover’s a kingdom. Zaun used to be," Ekko explained, striding forward. "Now it belongs to whoever can take it. You’re only worth yourself here."

"You’re from here?"

He didn’t look at her, his tone hardening like stone.

"Yeah."

They moved through the stalls until the colors began to fade. The fabrics disappeared. The smell of fruit soured into rotting fish. The voices shifted: fewer laughs, more growls. Streets narrowed, walls damp with moss and soot.

Jinx said nothing. She just followed, though Ekko could feel how her gaze changed: awe slipping into wariness. Her body tensed, as if she sensed the danger closing in.

At last they reached a splintered wooden door. Ekko knocked twice. It took a while, but the familiar screech of rusty hinges eased him.

"Look who crawled back from the bottom of the ocean!" Mylo’s voice was the first to greet them, carrying that same crooked grin that always blurred the line between mockery and affection.

Claggor appeared behind him, huge torso and easy laugh.

"Thought you were dead."

Ekko set the basket down hard, almost kicking it with his usual contempt for the world and everyone in it.

"How much?" he asked, flat.

Both of them looked at him for a beat, weighing him like always, exchanging glances. But soon their attention shifted to Jinx. She had stayed one step behind Ekko, wide-eyed, as if measuring exactly how close she should stay.

"And what’s this?" Mylo arched a brow, shameless. "Pretty little thing you’ve got here."

Claggor eyed her curiously.

"Didn’t know you had a hidden girlfriend. With what time?"

"How much?" Ekko repeated, sharper.

"For her?" Mylo smirked, that mocking smile that always made him want to swing first. "I’ll take her for free."

Instead of backing away, Jinx edged closer to his side. Her fingers nearly brushed his clothes—not fear, but discomfort.

"Enough," Ekko said, colder than he intended.

A short silence fell, awkward. Then Claggor cleared his throat and pointed to a bag.

"We’ve got clothes. She can’t walk around like that, she’ll draw too much attention."

Mylo leaned closer to Jinx, lowering his voice.

"If you need help with that, I—"

"No." Ekko cut him off instantly, his tone firm enough to freeze the air.

Jinx glanced at him sideways, a spark in her eyes—as if she finally knew when silence was the smartest choice. She pressed even closer, claiming a place without asking. Ekko shot her a quick look; clever mermaid. She knew when to obey in this room, and that he could handle it.

Mylo raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning.

"Relax, Owl. Just kidding."

But Ekko knew he wasn’t. Still, he didn’t push Jinx away.

While Claggor rummaged for clothes, Mylo wouldn’t stop staring. Ekko felt it like a weight pressing against his back. Every glance was a reminder: Jinx didn’t belong here. And no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t keep her invisible; she was more than a siren, with long blue hair and pink eyes that demanded attention.

"This is the best we’ve got. Here, try it on."

Claggor’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. With a clumsy motion, like he was handling something fragile, he held out a dress. It was a deep blue, almost the same shade as Jinx’s hair, with purple trim along the cuffs and hem. The cut was simple, but functional—more fit for a pirate than a noble, the skirt loose enough to allow for quick movement.

Jinx took it with both hands, as if it were treasure. Her fingers brushed the fabric reverently. Ekko pointed her to a room to change, following with his own bundle of clothes.

Changing felt like shedding a weight from his shoulders.

Though when Ekko pulled on his new shirt, he still saw the marks on his skin; blood that clung no matter how hard he scrubbed.

He stepped out first, fabric clinging damp against salt-stained skin. The smell of old cloth and cheap soap filled his nose, but at least he no longer reeked of the sea.

Behind him, Jinx emerged in the blue dress Claggor had found. It fit strangely, as if she didn’t quite know how to inhabit it. The skirt tangled in her steps, the purple cuffs too solemn for her nervous stride. Still, she wore that small smile, proud of the clean fabric against her skin.

Ekko looked at her for only a second before turning away, unwilling to give Mylo the comment he knew was coming.

"She sleeps with me," he said flatly, without explanation, without looking at her, adjusting the machete at his hip.

As expected, Mylo arched his brows and laughed.

"With her? Sure thing, Owl, take her to your nest. Like we don’t know what you’re up to—but hey, I don’t mind her being yours this time."

Ekko’s glare cut like a blade.

"I’m not asking."

Claggor shifted uneasily, trying to soften the clash.

"That’s not it, Ekko. What Mylo means is… you can’t stay here."

"I paid you."

"Yeah," Claggor nodded, calm as always. "And you’ll get what you’re owed: food, water, spare clothes and a horse. All ready for your trip."

Mylo, though, clicked his tongue, bored already.

"But not a seat at our table." He leaned forward, elbows on knees, grin twisted. "Or did you forget who you killed?"

The air thickened. Ekko didn’t blink. He didn’t deny it, didn’t explain. Just held Mylo’s gaze until, uneasy, Mylo huffed and stood.

"Not my problem. Do what you want. Though that…" Mylo lit a roll between his lips, exhaling smoke. "That was low, even for me. Keep walking, Owl. But not here."

Claggor stayed, arms crossed. His stare lingered—not enemy, but not ally either.

"You know it’s true," he said, voice more sad than accusing. "If they see you here, we all pay the price. Things have changed."

Ekko wanted to answer. Wanted to say they’d never been the same. That he carried that death every day, didn’t need them to remind him. But he said nothing. Claggor sighed and handed him a sword.

"We’re doing this because we owe you. But don’t come back."

There was no hate in his tone. Only resignation. That hurt more.

Ekko picked up the bag prepared for him, slung it over his shoulder, turned to Jinx—waiting against the wall, eyes wide, trying to read words she couldn’t understand. He stormed down the stairs, each wooden creak like a war drum beneath his boots. The bag weighed less than the emptiness in his chest, yet felt like chains.

Zaun’s thick, metallic air slapped him as he opened the door. For a second, he closed his eyes, letting the smoke and damp cut into him like knives.

He didn’t need to look back. He knew what Claggor thought, what Mylo spat with that rotten grin. It was nothing new. He’d heard it before, from other lips, in other voices. "Murderer." "Bad." "Dangerous." The echo of those words always returned whenever he tried to tell himself he was just a man with a mission.

But he heard it all the same.

"Watch out for him."

He didn’t need to turn to feel the words sink into the back of his neck. But he did, for just a fraction of a second. And he caught Jinx’s answer: that tiny smile, that childish certainty cutting through him sharper than the warning.

"He’s good."

The world paused. As if the words didn’t belong to anyone, as if they had drifted from another time, another place. Absurd, and yet more dangerous than any bullet.

Claggor shook his head gravely, and Ekko almost heard the weight of every syllable before they fell.

"No. He isn’t. He’s dangerous. Bad, even," Claggor insisted —and Ekko couldn’t refute it. "Take care, young lady."

The echo of that word followed him into the street. Bad. As if that single definition could encompass him whole. As if his blood, his scars, his empty nights, everything he carried could be reduced to it.

He didn’t react. Didn’t defend himself. Just walked.

Jinx stepped lightly beside him, unbothered, as if the insult had been nothing more than dust in the air. As if staying at his side was the most natural choice. As if he weren’t… what he was.

Ekko clenched his teeth. Every glance on the street felt like judgment, though no one looked at them. Every shadow between houses felt like a reminder. The smell of burnt oil and rotten fish dragged him back to the same truth: he didn’t belong there. Didn’t belong anywhere.

And she… she still followed. Always did.

He walked in silence, boots splashing through dark puddles. He didn’t look at Jinx, but felt her at his side. The blue dress brushed against his arm, a living reminder of what he shouldn’t touch.

And yet, when he thought back to Claggor’s warning, that "watch out for him," he didn’t feel anger. He felt tired. A weariness so heavy it ached in his bones.

Maybe because, deep down, he knew Claggor was right.

Chapter Text

EKKO KNEW HOW TO RECOGNIZE PATTERNS, WHICH WAS WHY HE NOTICED IT IMMEDIATELY: JINX HADN’T SAID A WORD.

Not a question, not one of those quick-fire things she always threw out without thinking. Not a dumb joke, not a comment about Zaun’s smell, not even a nervous laugh to fill the silence. Jinx—the creature who spoke to fish, to ropes, to badly tied knots—said nothing. And that was strange.

Strange, and worse, uncomfortable.

The harbor fell behind them like a beast that breathed iron and smoke. They slipped out the lower road with a sack slung over Ekko’s shoulder and the horse Claggor had left waiting. It was a bony creature with a dark coat, but sturdy. Mounting it, Ekko remembered Jinx had never seen one up close. Her fingers trembled against the mane, like she was touching something out of myth.

He had to help her.

First, he pointed out where to put her foot, and when he saw her slip clumsily, he sighed and caught her by the waist. Her skin was warm, too fragile beneath his calloused hands. He lifted her with a sharp, almost rough push—just enough to keep her from noticing. She didn’t yelp or laugh; she only clung to the mane until she found her balance.

He climbed on afterward, sitting in front. Instinctively, Jinx pressed against his back, her arms just barely wrapping around his side so she wouldn’t fall. The blue dress brushed against his new clothes, and the heat of her body seeped through the fabric like a secret impossible to ignore.

Ekko adjusted the reins, muttered something brief to the horse, and they set off.

The harbor faded slowly, until it was nothing but scattered lights in the distance. The air changed—less smoke, more damp earth, tall grass swaying in the night wind. And with every step of the horse, the silence grew heavier.

Jinx still didn’t speak.

Ekko didn’t want to break that silence. Maybe because he was too busy holding everything else inside. Mylo, with his rotten mockery. Claggor, with his grave voice, saying what Ekko already knew: that he was dangerous. Bad. That he couldn’t come back. The echo of their words weighed heavier than the sack on his shoulder, heavier than the machete at his waist, heavier than the body pressed against his back.

His life always came back to the same thing: there was nothing left.

A pirate without a ship, a son without a home, a man without a dream.

A hollow man.

The horse carried them forward through the tall grass. The moon was barely born, a pale sliver cut into the sky. The wind slapped their faces, but Jinx stayed pressed close, her chin nearly brushing his shoulder.

Ekko guided them onto a narrow path lined with twisted trees. The air here smelled of wet bark, mushrooms, freshly turned soil. The silence of nature was different from the harbor’s: less hostile, deeper. And yet Ekko felt it just as heavy.

Murderer.

Mylo had spit the word without hesitation.

Claggor had repeated it like a sentence.

Ekko chewed it now with every step of the horse. And Jinx, pressed against his back, breathed calmly, as though that word couldn’t reach her. As though she didn’t believe it.

That exhausted him more than any storm.

The horse devoured the night, steady. For a long time, the only sounds were hooves on dirt, the crack of dry branches, the murmur of constant wind.

Ekko glanced at the sky: thin clouds let scattered stars peek through. He realized that if they kept going, Jinx would end up falling asleep against his back—or worse, burn herself out before dawn.

He tugged on the reins.

"Enough for today."

The horse stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by low shrubs and rocks that gave some cover. Ekko dismounted first, his boot sinking into damp soil. Then he looked up at Jinx, who was still wide awake, eyes gleaming.

"Get down."

"I’m not tired."

"Yes, you are." His voice was firm, sharp. His gaze serious. "Get down."

Jinx huffed, but obeyed. Ekko offered his hand; she took it lightly, and he eased her down with care.

"Eat."

"I’m not hungry."

Ekko stared, the kind of stare that left no room for a joke.

"I’m sleeping too," he lied, knowing he wouldn’t close his eyes. "You. Eat."

Jinx muttered something under her breath but sat on a rock, nibbling at a piece of hard bread. The blue dress wrinkled under her thin legs, and even in the dimness Ekko saw her hugging herself against the cold.

He worked quickly: tied the horse, dropped the sack, leaned back against a rock.

Jinx finished the bread and, without a word, curled up a few steps away. Her eyes closed instantly, as if the quiet clearing was enough to surrender her to sleep.

Ekko stayed awake.

The silence of the night was different from the harbor’s. Crickets sang. An owl hooted in the distance. Leaves rustled softly. And still, the only sound he really heard was Jinx’s steady breathing, every exhale a rhythm that settled into his head like a song he couldn’t shake.

He didn’t touch the medallion. Didn’t dare. Its weight against his chest was punishment enough. Claggor’s words echoed louder in the dark: bad, dangerous, murdered.

He stayed like that all night. Awake, machete close, eyes lost in the dark, holding the silence as if it was the only thing left he could carry.

"When I met you, you had paint on your face," Jinx said suddenly in the middle of the night, startling him a little. She still faced away from him. "It was a triangle, and something else. What was it?"

Ekko tilted his head, thinking.

"A clock hand."

"It took days to wash off," she mused. "What kind of paint was it?"

"I don’t know," Ekko admitted, frowning. "Why are you asking me this?"

"I like painting, but I never found paint," she explained. "They destroyed everything I made. Even when I painted on fabric, or whatever I found, it wouldn’t last. But that one did."

"Uh."

"And I was good at it. Really good," she went on. "Once, I painted a crab pink. Added blue lines too. He was gorgeous."

"He must’ve... been?" Ekko cleared his throat. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I just remembered it."

"Uh."

They stayed quiet for a while, until Ekko spoke again.

"You... you hadn’t spoken before."

"I didn’t think you wanted to talk."

"I never want to talk, and you still never shut up."

"Well, now you’re asking me not to shut up," Jinx shot back, finally turning to look at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Ekko was silent for another beat, watching her profile in the shadows. Her breath blended with the night breeze, light but steady. He didn’t know why he did it—maybe because he was sick of hearing only his own head—but he finally spoke.

"Tell me about your paintings."

Jinx let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

She tilted her head, eyes shining like she didn’t expect him to insist.

"If you want me to talk, pirate, just say it."

He met her gaze. No hint of a joke.

"Talk."

The silence stretched, until Jinx laughed softly, amused and a little nervous.

"Fine, grump. I’ll tell you."

And she did. Like a floodgate opening. She spoke of algae that gave pale greens, of crushed shells that shimmered under moonlight, of little fish that released ink when trapped. She explained how she mixed sand with marine juices for rough textures, how she scraped stones until they bled colors, how everything in the ocean could become something else if you stared long enough.

"Once I painted an entire cave entrance with blue handprints," she said, gesturing wide. "It lasted a week before the tide ate it. But in that week..." She sighed, smiling. "It was mine."

Ekko listened without interrupting. Jinx’s words carried their own rhythm, like waves. One after another, crashing, retreating, returning. And in that ebb and flow, for the first time in a long while, he found himself not thinking of the medallion, not hearing Mylo’s voice, not hearing Claggor’s. Just hers.

The hollow space inside him was still there, but Jinx filled it with noise, with colors, with images that weren’t his. And in the middle of all that exhaustion, Ekko forgot for a moment how miserable he was.

He didn’t notice when his guard slipped, when the breeze turned into a lullaby. Only that when dawn came and he hadn’t slept a second, he wasn’t as tired as usual.

The horse carried them along a path that ended in a small village: scattered houses with dark tile roofs and smoke curling from low chimneys. Salt and soot stained the walls, but there were dried flowers in windows, clothes on lines, voices too ordinary after the harbor.

Jinx took it all in with wide-eyed wonder. Her gaze darted from barefoot children running, to chickens pecking at dirt, to the colors of fabrics hanging in the market. There was less innocence than in the harbor, but the spark in her eyes still burned bright.

"Are we still in Zaun?" she whispered.

"Yeah." Ekko led the horse toward the square, dismounting first to help her down. "It’s a village."

The word felt too small. To Jinx, every stone seemed to hold secret meaning. Every scent, every voice, a promise. Ekko let her stare while he asked around for a cheap inn. Eventually, they found one—an old wooden building with whitewashed walls.

He paid for one room with what little they had left. Upstairs, in the small space with a crooked table and a window that let in barely any light, Ekko made a silent choice.

He set the sack on the table. Pulled out a chunk of charcoal from the kitchen, and a crumpled scrap of cheap paper. He didn’t say anything, didn’t explain. Just set them in front of her.

Jinx looked at him as if he’d handed her a treasure.

She didn’t think twice. Took the charcoal, rolled it between her fingers, and began to draw. Clumsy lines at first, then firmer, more certain. Hands that had painted with algae and sand now moved across the page like they’d been waiting for this.

Ekko sat on the bed, back against the wall. He watched her without meaning to, in that quiet, intent way he gave to nothing else. He saw how the charcoal blackened her fingers, how she tilted her head, how her tongue peeked out just slightly between her lips as she focused.

There was no need for words. The noise of the village drifted in through the window—laughter, voices, the smell of soup from below. But inside, it was only her, drawing like the world depended on that paper.

Jinx hunched over the table, charcoal in hand. The paper was rough, cheap, but it didn’t matter. The black tip flew across it, her wrist moving like it had its own motor. Ekko watched from the corner of his eye, his weary expression unchanged.

Then, suddenly, Jinx flipped the paper toward him with a slap.

"Look."

Ekko blinked. On the page was... a crab? Sort of. Its body looked like a potato with long, crooked legs, as if made of mismatched sticks. But the face killed him: two huge, crossed eyes and a wide square smile, teeth drawn like bars. On top of its shell, like a crown, she’d sketched a ridiculously oversized pirate hat with a crooked feather that looked more like a duster.

"What the hell is that?" Ekko muttered, frowning.

"It’s Captain Featherbeard Crab!" Jinx declared, slamming her hand on the table like it was obvious.

The silence stretched. Ekko tried to keep his face stern, but his lips twitched. Jinx noticed, leaning in with sparkling eyes.

"Come on. Say it. It’s funny."

"It’s not." He shook his head, pressing his mouth shut.

But it was too late. A low sound escaped him, almost a snort. Then another. Until suddenly, he let out a short, rough laugh that echoed against the wood like a blow. It lasted only a second, but it was enough.

Jinx froze. Her heart lurched.

It was the first time she’d seen him laugh. Not smirk with disdain, not sneer with sarcasm—laugh, real and unguarded, like something had cracked through the armor. And it was because of a stupid crab with a feather hat.

"I knew it!" she shouted, jumping up from the chair. "I knew it, grump, you laugh!"

Ekko turned away, hand over his mouth like he could shove it back inside.

"Don’t start."

"Start what?" Jinx pointed at him, grinning wide, her eyes alight. "I’ll never forget this. Even if you bury me at the bottom of the sea, I’ll remember you laughed at a potato crab in a pirate hat."

"Go to sleep."

He wanted to argue, but found no words. He only shook his head, looking out the window as if the storm outside was more interesting than his shame.

Jinx, on the other hand, didn’t look away for a second. She burned the image into her mind: the curve of his lips, the rough sound of his laugh. She clung to it with the stubbornness of someone who’d never had anything so precious.

She fell asleep fast, her laughter still echoing faintly in the room, fading into the hush of her breathing.

Only when he was sure she was gone to dreams did Ekko move. Quietly, he reached for the scrap of paper she’d left on the table. The crab, ridiculous and smiling, stared back at him. For a moment, he almost let himself smile again.

Almost.

Because the truth returned just as quickly: the weight of the medallion, the voices of Mylo and Claggor, the word that clung to him tighter than any chain. Murderer.

He set the drawing down, careful not to wake her.

She created. He destroyed.

And though the moon was pale and endless above the rooftops, Ekko kept his hands still, never touching the medallion pressed to his chest—because he didn’t need to. Its weight was already there. And he didn’t deserve to touch it—only to wear it like a chain, a weight meant to remind him of what he had done, and all that he had lost.

She would never see him for what he truly was.

And he could never let himself forget.

Chapter Text

THE INN SMELLED OF FRESH BREAD AND OLD WOOD.

Morning slipped through the cracks of the shutters like a warm tide, brushing against the edges of the table where Ekko and Jinx shared a breakfast that was far too abundant for what she was used to.

Jinx ate with both hands, as if the plates might vanish at any second. She chewed fast, crumbs clinging to her lips, and between bites she let out small exclamations that hit the air like waves breaking on a shore.

"I’ve never eaten this much!" she said with her mouth half-full, almost disbelieving. "Or this good!"

Ekko watched in silence, his face carrying that same tired weight that never left him. One eyebrow rose.

"Didn’t the nuns feed you?"

Jinx froze mid-bite, fingers dusted with flour. She blinked, like someone recalling a wreck in calm waters.

"Yeah, they did. To everyone… except me."

He didn’t answer. Just waited.

She went on, eyes dropping to the soup, as if the steam whispered old secrets.

"They always messed with me at the table. Laughed, threw spoons. Or shoved me so I’d lose my turn. Sometimes… I got nothing at all. They’d say I was a waste, a troublemaker." She laughed, brittle as a broken shell, twisting the bread in her hands. "Father Silco always saved some food for me, but… sometimes it wasn’t enough."

The silence weighed between them, heavy as lead sinking into the sea.

Ekko tore off another piece of bread with steady hands and set it in front of her. No words. No gesture. Just bread, divided.

"Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t a big deal," Jinx muttered. "If it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t know how to lure fish so well. The Lord’s will is strange."

"Eat," Ekko said flatly. "Or you won’t have the strength to chatter later."

Jinx snorted, but finally took the bread.

"For the record, I tried to refuse."

She smiled faintly, crumbs stuck to her lips, and for a moment Ekko thought even the ocean’s currents might have paused just so she could breathe in peace.

They left the inn not long after, the sun breaking through scattered clouds. The town stretched in narrow alleys, damp stones, and lime-washed walls breathing salt. Jinx walked at his side, steps light, her wonder spilling at every turn. Children ran after a dog, chickens pecked the dirt, clothes flapped like makeshift banners in the wind. She looked at it all like someone setting foot on solid ground after years beneath the waves.

On a low wall, she spotted some symbols painted in pink and blue. They were simple, almost worn away by the rain, but still alive. She tilted her head, curious.

"What’s that?"

Ekko barely glanced sideways.

"Nothing important."

Jinx didn’t push. Her curiosity dissolved like foam on the shore, and they kept walking until they reached the coast, far enough from the eyes of gossiping villagers. The morning mist still draped the sea like a veil when Jinx dove straight from the rock where they were meant to fish together. Ekko watched her sink in silence, no splash, no struggle—like the water had been waiting for her.

He leaned over the damp wood, heart hammering.

"Jinx!"

But she didn’t answer.

The sea stayed still for a few seconds, until a subtle vibration spread across the surface, rippling outward in concentric circles. A low hum rose from the depths, almost inaudible. It wasn’t human singing: it was a prayer, ancient, like it came from the throat of the ocean itself.

Then the water stirred.

From below, whole schools of fish began to rise, obedient, circling an unseen point. And there Jinx appeared—but not as Ekko had known her.

Her legs had given in to the spell, melting into scales of blue that shimmered with turquoise and violet light. A powerful tail broke the surface, moving with dangerous grace. Her hair floated like a crown of foam, and her eyes—lit from within—were two beacons in the deep.

She was singing.

Every note was a command. The fish, docile slaves, swarmed around her, slipping into the nets Ekko had left stretched wide. They didn’t fight. They didn’t flee. They simply obeyed their queen’s call.

A chill ran down Ekko’s spine. It was beautiful and terrifying, like witnessing a miracle you weren’t meant to watch for too long.

Jinx rose until half her body broke the surface. She smiled, lips parted, breath quick from the effort, droplets sliding down her skin.

"See?" she said, her voice still trembling with the echoes of the song. "Useful."

"If they see you, you’re dead," Ekko growled, tossing her clothes and something to dry off. "Get out of the water. Now."

Jinx huffed, catching the bundle mid-air, exhausted from the effort.

"Grumpy."

Her tail began to fade, scales dissolving like glass under the sun, until her legs returned. Jinx pulled herself up onto a rock, and Ekko helped her climb the rest of the way. She was drained, but smiling with the satisfaction of someone who had just summoned forbidden power.

They caught enough fish to sell in town. Afterwards, they moved on, always keeping to the coast.

The days passed like the tides: calm, repetitive, but never quite the same. From village to village, Jinx would dive into the sea, catch fish, laugh with water dripping from her hands. Ekko sold the catch in small plazas, trading coins, always scanning faces, as if danger lurked behind every one.

And the pirate, though he’d never admit it, learned to breathe a little easier with her nearby.

The next town wasn’t a town at all.

It was a city. Or what was left of one.

Jinx knew it the moment they crossed under the stone archway that must once have been majestic, now covered in cracks and moss. The air was heavy with old dust, smoke rising not from kitchens but from braziers lit on corners to keep the damp at bay.

The buildings, tall and carved from pale stone, still carried echoes of their old grandeur in the reliefs and wrought-iron balconies. But the paint had peeled, the windows were boarded up, the fountains bone-dry. Once, this must have been a place of luxury, pristine and radiant. Now it looked like a beautiful face wasted by fever.

"This wasn’t like this…" Ekko murmured, almost without realizing he’d spoken.

Jinx glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

The echo of his words lingered between them as they walked through wide but empty streets, where only a handful of people shuffled by with empty baskets, tired steps, eyes sunk in ruins. It was like walking inside the ribcage of a whale: a massive city, but hollowed out, dead on the inside.

They stopped at an improvised market in the central square. Just a few wooden tables, sagging canopies, and a couple of merchants trading with little energy. Ekko sold the fish in silence, counting the coins with precision, already hoping it would be enough to keep them moving without trouble.

Jinx, meanwhile, got distracted by something odd: many people carried candles in their hands. Tiny, fragile flames that looked absurd in the daylight. Curiosity pricked at her like a thorn, and while Ekko finished the transaction, she followed the trail of flickering lights.

The path led her to a side plaza. There, against a wall nearly crumbling from damp and time, was a mural.

The mermaid froze, rooted to the spot.

The paint was nearly gone, erased by wind, rain, and neglect. Yet beneath the soot and cracks, the figure of a girl with short, messy pink hair remained, her smile faint but still visible. The rest of the mural—figures of adults, maybe a family, maybe friends—had been erased, devoured by oblivion. Only she was left. The girl.

People laid flowers at her painted feet, some fresh, some already withered, alongside candles whose flames trembled against the wall. The silence here wasn’t abandonment—it was mourning. A shared grief, a collective wound humming softly through the square.

Jinx couldn’t look away. The air felt heavier, like the sea before a storm. The mural seemed to stare back at her, as if that pink-haired girl had survived only to carry the memory of the entire city.

And then she felt it. Ekko.

His shadow loomed beside her, rigid, motionless. Jinx looked at him out of the corner of her eye and saw it—broken hardness in his gaze, a weight she recognized even if she couldn’t name it.

"What’s that?"

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at the mural.

"Let’s go," he said, his voice raw, each word sounding like it hurt to speak.

Jinx nodded, obedient, though her feet wanted to stay. Before leaving, she glanced one last time at the faded face of the pink-haired girl. The wind blew out one of the candles, but the painted smile endured.

She turned back to Ekko and followed him.

In silence.

Carrying the image in her memory, the way she carried all the things he never said, until the coast opened up before them like an endless blade.

The path wound along the cliffs, so narrow it looked like a scar carved into the rock. On one side, the sea roared against the walls, spraying white foam that dissolved in the air like stardust. On the other, the land rose steep and rough, dotted with dry grasses bent by the wind.

Jinx sat behind him on the horse, chattering nonstop, as if afraid silence would swallow them whole.

"And then, just when you thought the fish was yours—bam! It slipped away because it had fangs." She waved her hands dramatically, acting out her wild story. "And don’t look at me like that, I saw them! Fangs, I swear on every wave in the sea."

Ekko snorted, though there wasn’t as much weariness in his voice.

"Fangs, huh? What’s next, the fish spoke to you?"

"It did!" she shot back instantly, laughing, her voice bouncing off the rocks.

He shook his head, feigning disbelief, though his eyes gleamed with a warmth he rarely allowed to surface. Jinx caught it, and for a heartbeat the world froze: the sea roaring below, the wind tearing strands of hair from her face, and Ekko—just human, not the hollow man he carried inside.

"You shouldn’t laugh so much," she whispered, half playful, half serious. "I might get used to it."

"Stubborn."

"Very. But hey, when we reach the next city, I want to try those sweet-smelling things. Those little round pastries they had in the window. They probably taste awful, but I still want ten."

Ekko, reins steady in his hands, didn’t look back.

"Ten?. And you call me the excessive one."

"Me? Never." Jinx laughed, glancing at him over her shoulder. "You exaggerate when you deny you laughed that night. I heard it."

"I told you—I didn’t laugh."

"Liar pirate." She stuck her tongue out at him. "That’s a sin."

Her voice floated light in the wind, pushing back against the shadows Ekko carried. For a moment, the laughter and the breeze felt strong enough to keep them safe.

Until the air shifted.

A sharp whistle cut through the wind, and the horse screamed. The arrow had sunk into its side. The beast reared, and Ekko reacted instantly—grabbing Jinx, throwing them both clear before the horse collapsed. The ground slammed the breath from her lungs, and when she lifted her head, they were already surrounded.

Shadows dropped from the rocks above. Men armed with rusted knives and short swords.

"Well, well," one growled, his voice gravelly, teeth blackened. "What a bless."

Ekko rose without hesitation, placing himself between Jinx and the attackers. And in the blink of an eye, he was no longer the boy who feigned annoyance at her jokes. He was something else. Lethal. Precise. Dangerous.

A pirate.

"Stay back," he ordered. He didn’t need to look at her to know he was speaking to her. "Run."

The machete flashed for only an instant before sinking into flesh. The first man dropped without a sound. The second barely managed to raise his weapon before Ekko twisted his wrist and cut him down with a sharp, clean motion, the blade drawing a dark line through the air.

Jinx watched him, unable to blink. There was something wild in his stance, in the way every muscle moved with contained rage. Yes, he was a pirate—but more than that, he was a storm made flesh, each strike the only thing alive in him at that moment.

Bodies fell one after another, and for a moment, he seemed invincible.

Until the blood appeared.

A blow struck his side. Another sliced across his arm. Ekko grunted, breath harsh, but kept fighting as though the pain fed him. Fury burned in his eyes—dark, unrelenting.

"Ekko!" Jinx’s voice cracked, but he barely glanced at her.

"Run…" he gasped, jaw clenched tight.

But there were too many of them. Even if they fell, even if he killed them all, he was still only human. And the wounds were beginning to weigh more than his will.

He dropped to his knees first, blood staining the dirt. Then he fell to his side, still clutching the machete.

The last two lunged for Jinx. She stumbled back until her shoulders hit the rock, heart pounding in her throat. One seized her arm, the other raised a knife.

She didn’t think.

Only panic guided her. She screamed, twisted, and her hand collided with the machete Ekko had dropped. She seized it clumsily and drove it forward with all her strength. Once. Twice. Three times. Heat and weight collapsed onto her, blood soaking her hands.

The last one tried to grab her, but she spun like a cornered animal, plunging the blade into his chest until he stopped moving.

The silence that followed was brutal.

Jinx shook, still gripping the machete. Her lungs fought for air as if they might never find it again. She hadn’t meant to kill them. She hadn’t planned any of it. She had only survived.

She dropped the weapon and crawled to Ekko, who had just finished with the ones left standing. He was on his knees, face pale, lips parted.

"Ekko…" Her voice was a broken thread as she cupped his face. "Look at me. Look at me, okay? You’re going to be fine."

He met her gaze for only an instant, his eyes heavy, the corner of his mouth twitching as if trying to sigh.

"You’re… you should run…"

"Shut up." Jinx shook her head, tears mingling with sweat and blood. "Don’t say anything. Just… breathe. Just breathe, do you hear me?"

But Ekko, spent, gave in. His eyelids dropped, and unconsciousness claimed him.

Jinx pressed her forehead against his, trembling, the sea roaring in the distance as if it wept in her place.

Chapter Text

EKKO HOPED THAT THIS TIME HE WOULD DREAM OF HER.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t dream of anything at all. Not even close enough to death to see something—only darkness.

The cold stone against his back kept him pinned down, the damp clinging to his skin like another wound. He tried to move, but a sharp stab went straight through him, forcing his teeth to grind together. Pain welcomed him like an old enemy: burning, merciless, unforgiving.

Then he heard her.

Jinx’s voice—weak, broken, almost like a thread about to snap.

He turned his head just enough to see her. She was sitting beside him, knees pulled tight to her chest, her back pressed to the wet rock wall. Her fingers wouldn’t stop moving, restless, as if they were trying to undo and redo the same invisible knot.

When she noticed his breathing grow heavier, she jerked toward him, startled. Her swollen, exhausted eyes shone with a fear she couldn’t hide.

"We’re in a cave," she said quickly, words tumbling over each other. "The tide won’t reach here. You’re safe, okay? Don’t move. Don’t waste your strength."

The makeshift bandage at his side was clumsy, poorly tied, but it held. Her hands, when they touched him, shook like wounded wings. Ekko tried to say something—anything—but the air never turned to voice.

And then she sang.

At first it was only a murmur, shaky, as though she doubted her right to sing at all. But it grew, stumbling and fragile, until it became a lullaby:

Pink like the dawn,
Blue like the sea,
And we are here together
Fireflies glow like a thousand charms

Soft as the tide,
Gentle and true,
Dreams will guard you here,
I will hold you safe until the morning sky

Her voice cracked more than once, yet she kept going. A lullaby stitched from scraps, sewn together with fear and tenderness. Ekko listened, letting himself drift on those crooked notes. It wasn’t perfect melody, but it was real. It was her. And suddenly, the emptiness inside him didn’t feel quite so endless.

He let go, just enough for the pain to fade into a distant hum. And then unconsciousness claimed him again—not from the wound, but from that voice, etched into him like a beacon.

Jinx fell silent, her throat burning, and felt the quiet creep back in. The sea rumbled in the distance, indifferent. Outside, the night had closed over them like a heavy blanket. Only hours had passed, maybe midnight or maybe dawn—she couldn’t tell.

She curled up against his side, trembling. Rested her forehead against his for just a second, as if that alone could hold him on the shore.

"Don’t die," she whispered, her voice breaking into a plea. "Don’t you dare leave me."

And in her nerves she shut her eyes tight and prayed. Prayed like she never had before, not to a god or to the sea, but to the void, to anything that might listen. She prayed with all her strength, nails digging into stone, dry lips repeating the same words over and over:

"Don’t take him. Don’t take him. Please."

The echo of her prayer tangled with the crash of the waves.

And that night, as the waning moon poured a single thread of light into the cave, Jinx kept the longest vigil of her life, wrapped around a pirate who seemed caught between the earth and the sea.

When the first ray of sun broke through the cave’s mouth, staining the stone with faint orange, Jinx shivered. Not just from the night’s chill, but from the certainty that time was running out.

Carefully, she pulled away from Ekko, the cold of his skin searing itself into her memory. His features were pale, almost translucent, the makeshift bandage soaked through with blood. The wound was worse than she had dared to admit—deep, festering, devouring him from the inside out.

With shaking hands, she peeled back the bandage. The flesh around the cut was inflamed, and a sour stench rose from the wound. Jinx fought the urge to retch, forcing herself to stay calm. She had to do something. She had to save him.

She rummaged through what little they had left: a ragged blanket, a coil of rope, a rusted knife. Nothing useful to clean the wound. In the convent, the sisters had used herbs and ointments, names she barely remembered. Here, in this hollow cave, she had only the sea.

A reckless thought struck her. Saltwater. It might help—it might kill him faster. But there was nothing else. She bit her lip, paralyzed. If she touched the water, she’d transform. But she couldn’t let him die. She wouldn’t.

Scraping together shards of stone and bits of broken pottery, she fashioned something crude, barely resembling a jar. Desperation made her clever. After several failed attempts, she finally built a clumsy container, just strong enough to hold water.

She crawled to the cave’s mouth, staring at the sea. The waves smashed against the rocks, merciless, but in a small inlet nearby the water pooled calmer. She breathed deep, held it in, and plunged into the freezing tide.

The contact was electric, ripping through her body. Her legs trembled, the transformation already surging from her feet upward. She forced herself to scoop the water quickly, ignoring the pressure, the pain, the fear. Clutching the jar overhead, she scrambled back to shore, crawling across the sand until she felt her body return—scales receding, legs returning.

Back in the cave, gasping, she dropped to her knees at Ekko’s side. His eyes were shut, lips twisted in pain. Jinx poured the seawater over his wound, as carefully as she could.

He convulsed, a muffled cry torn from his lips. His face contorted in agony, and Jinx felt her heart shatter.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I’m so, so sorry."

She knew she was hurting him, but she also knew it was the only chance they had. Vaguely, she remembered the wounds she had seen treated back at the convent—the way the nuns cleaned the skin, how they wrapped injuries in clean bandages. She tried to mimic their movements as best she could, but her hands were clumsy, unskilled.

She grabbed the rusty knife and cut a strip from her dress, tearing it until she had a long enough piece of fabric to wrap around Ekko’s abdomen. The cloth was rough, filthy, but it was all she had. She wound it carefully around the wound, tightening it to slow the bleeding.

"There," she lied, her voice shaking. "It’s gonna be okay."

She pulled back from him, watching in desperation. His breathing was still shallow, his skin cold and damp. Jinx knew he needed real medical help, but she had no idea where to turn.

Her mind leapt to the city. It was their only chance.

She leaned down one last time, brushing her fingers against his face, adjusting his head to rest more comfortably.

"Don’t die, Ekko. Please," she whispered, and ran out of the cave.

The sunlight blinded her, forcing her eyes to narrow. The road to the city wound long along the coast, jagged and merciless. Jinx ran, driven by fear and desperation.

Every step burned. Her muscles screamed, lungs aflame. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Ekko needed her.

As she drew closer to the city, the landscape grew harsher, more inhospitable. Rocks rose like specters, dry grasses whispered in the wind. Jinx felt watched, as if the eyes of the earth followed her every step.

At last she reached the city's outskirts. The houses—grey stone and weathered wood—huddled together, forming a maze of dark alleys. The air was heavy with strange smells: rotten fish, smoke, rancid spices.

Jinx entered the city cautiously, trying to go unnoticed though her hands and dress were stained with blood and her gown was torn. She covered her hair with a scrap of cloth, hiding her blue locks, and avoided making eye contact.

The market was chaos: voices, colors, smells. Merchants shouted, hawking their wares; buyers haggled; children darted between the crowd. Jinx felt overwhelmed, lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. She hadn't paid attention to the place before—only to the mural.

She stopped in front of an herb shop, watching jars and containers filled with liquids and powders of strange colors. She didn't know what to look for or what to ask. She'd never paid attention to such things—only remembered that the nuns had spoken of special ingredients, infusions for pain, ointments for wounds.

The tinkling of little bells marked her entry into the shop.

Jinx froze. The air inside was different: thick with dust, old spices, and something metallic—like dried blood mixed with oil. Shelves buckled under amber bottles, sacks of dried herbs hung from the ceiling like plant skeletons.

It was suffocating. And at the same time, it was the closest thing to a miracle she'd seen in days.

"Can I help you?" The voice sounded hoarse, dragged, as if each syllable came from very far away.

Jinx blinked and saw him: a tall, thin man, fragile-looking, leaning on a metal cane that seemed more part of him than a tool. He moved with a slow, precise limp, as if each step had been measured before being taken. Dark hair fell across his forehead, messy, and his eyes glittered with a feverish intelligence that pierced you without asking permission.

She felt exposed.

"I'm Jinx, I need your help, please."

"Well, that's unusual," the man said with an impassive calm. "Not everyone gives me their name. I'm Viktor. Pleasure, Miss Jinx."

"Great. Good. Pleasure. I need..." Her voice trembled and she forced herself to speak louder. "Something for a wound. Large. Deep. It's... bleeding a lot."

"What kind of wound?" he asked.

"I don't know," Jinx answered, growing more desperate. "It was... a fight. I need something to clean it, to heal it, please, my friend could die."

Viktor cocked his head, studying her. He asked no questions—neither about her nor about the "friend" she mentioned. He turned slowly toward the shelves, dragging the cane with a dry scrape.

"Distilled alcohol. Clean bandages. Clay powder to dry infection," he listed as his thin, bony hands gathered jars and bags. "And celandine root—reduces fever."

When he had everything arranged on the wooden counter, Jinx almost felt like she could breathe. Until she heard him speak.

"Forty-three pieces."

Her stomach dropped. She opened the pouch hung about her neck and spilled the coins onto the table. The metallic clink was humiliating: barely sixteen copper pieces, one misshapen silver, and a loose button she didn't even know why she'd kept. She hadn't even realized until that moment that she hadn't taken the money they'd earned selling fish in the villages.

She only grabbed Ekko and fled.

Dumb Jinx. Always a Jinx.

Viktor looked at her, then at the coins. He showed no change in expression.

"With that, you can barely pay for the alcohol and the cheapest bandage, Miss Jinx."

"But... he needs it. He..." The words cracked in her mouth, as if voicing the urgency made it more real.

Viktor watched her for a moment, his dark eyes shining with a light she couldn't read. Finally he sighed, tired, and pushed half of what he'd prepared back across the counter.

"This will cover the basics. It won't save him, but it will keep him from dying within hours."

Jinx clenched the edge of the table.

"And how do I get the rest?"

"How does anyone get anything in Zaun?" he answered without drama, as if stating the plainest truth. "Working. Selling. Stealing."

The word cut through her like a knife. Steal. No. She couldn’t steal, it was in the will. She couldn’t just steal, it was wrong. She could fish, sell, get money. Whatever it took.

"Listen," she blurted, voice shaking but not stopping, "I'll bring you the rest. I swear it. Only... if I get the money, will you go see him?"

Viktor remained still, fingers resting on his cane. He seemed to weigh each word. At last he nodded once.

"If you come back with the money. Yes."

Jinx felt it like a burning lifeline.

She leaned toward him, desperate, eyes fixed on his.

"He's in a cave, to the east, by the cliff where the sea strikes hardest. If I don't return, if I..." Her throat closed and she forced the air out to speak. "Please, go. Don't leave him alone."

Viktor looked at her as if measuring each word, calculating the distance between lie and truth. Finally, he nodded again. Jinx debated how mad and desperate she sounded, but she didn't care; she had to save Ekko. She heard his scolding in her head about the recklessness of telling a stranger and trusting anyone—remembered that here, sooner or later, everyone wanted you dead—but none of that mattered because there was a possibility it might not be so. She gathered the jars she could afford, clutching them to her chest. The glass was cold and burned her hands.

"Thank you, Viktor," she murmured, barely audible, and ran from the shop before she could change her mind.

Zaun's air hit her with a reek of rust and rotting fish, but she didn't care. She held the bottle to her breast and ran through the streets as if the whole world were trying to catch her. All she thought about was him.

Ekko.

His broken breathing, the dark blood soaking the bandage. She thought about the way he'd clenched his teeth to keep from screaming when she touched him, how he'd collapsed against the stone like someone tired of fighting.

She gripped the bottle harder, silently swearing she wouldn't let him die. Even if she had to pry every last fish from the sea. Even if she had to sell her own soul.

Ekko was not going to die.

Not while she was still breathing.

Chapter Text

THE AIR IN THE CAVE WAS THICK, DAMP, AND SMELLED OF DRIED BLOOD.

Jinx came running back with her loot clutched tight to her chest, the jars clinking like they could shatter at any moment. Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs she swore it would wake Ekko. But he didn’t stir. He still lay sprawled on the tattered blanket, pale, his breathing ragged, as if each inhale was a loan the world could take back at any moment.

"I'm here now," she whispered, though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

She knelt at his side and, with clumsy hands, uncorked the alcohol. The smell hit her, sharp, like a burning slap. She forced herself not to shake too much as she soaked a piece of cloth and pressed it to the wound.

Ekko jolted, a harsh groan tearing from his throat, teeth clenched in sheer pain. Jinx had to look away, tears spilling from her eyes.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," she murmured over and over, scrubbing away the dried blood that clung stubbornly to his skin.

She sprinkled the clay powder she had managed to buy, pressing carefully until the wound stopped seeping. Then she wrapped it all in the clean bandage, pulling tighter than she wanted to, just to stem the bleeding. By the time she pulled her hands back, they were trembling as if she had been the one bleeding.

She collapsed beside him, drained, and forced her mouth open.

To sing.

At first her voice was a rough whisper, cracked by fear and exhaustion. Crooked notes that seemed to shatter in the air. But she pushed through. Forced each word, each vibration in her throat, because if she stopped singing, if she gave in, the cave would drown again in that awful silence.

She sang until tears streaked her face, until her voice was a fragile thread. She sang like every verse could hold him a little longer on the shore.

When at last she fell silent, her chest heaved fast, exhaustion dragging her down like lead. She let herself lie back for only a few minutes, but Ekko was still breathing. A little steadier. A little more here.

That was enough.

Hunger came soon after.

Jinx stumbled out of the cave, the old fishing net slung under her arm. She couldn’t afford to transform, not if she wanted to care for Ekko and return dry. She had to catch whatever she could as a human.

She scrambled up the slick rocks, knees scraped, fingers slipping on salt. She found a spot where the water churned and cast the net. She didn’t sing. She couldn’t. She just waited.

Time stretched like torture. The cold water bit into her arms, her nails ached from gripping the stone. At last, the net jerked with a sudden, heavy weight. She hauled with all her strength, and a single silver fish broke the surface. Just one. But it gleamed like treasure.

"This will do," she said, not sure if to herself or to him.

She carried it back to the cave, cleaned it with trembling hands, and cooked it over a pitiful fire of dry twigs. She fed Ekko first, patiently tilting his head to coax down small sips of water and scraps of meat. He didn’t fully wake, but he murmured something incomprehensible, and that was enough to make Jinx smile through her tears.

Then she ate what was left, barely anything.

She covered him with the torn blanket, propping him against the stone so he wouldn’t get colder. And she went back out.

The night was waiting, roaring.

The sea was dark, endless, just like the memory she dreaded. She remembered the chill in her bones, the suffocation, the feeling of dying once in those waters. She had died at night. Drowned. In the dark. There had been no war. Not like when she had leapt for Ekko in the middle of a pirate skirmish; she had simply been alone in the ocean’s black silence.

Fear froze her at the shoreline.

But she thought of Ekko, sprawled on that blanket, and took another step.

She waded into the ocean with the net, heart hammering in her throat. The water bit into her skin, icy. A wave of terror shook her, but she didn’t run. She dove, her tail shimmering into scales that caught the moonlight.

She swam like both their lives depended on it—and maybe they did. The net swelled with every turn, fish glittering like stolen stars. Exhaustion gnawed at her, muscles burning, but she didn’t stop. She spent the entire night hunting, dragging the writhing catch until her arms nearly gave out.

When she finally returned, gasping, shivering with cold and fear, she used her wits to anchor the net with stones and ropes, keeping the fish from slipping away while she dried on the sand. Slow, painful, but she managed it.

It was still dark, though dawn threatened on the horizon, when she hauled the bulging net back to the cave entrance, her feet bleeding, throat raw. The silence inside pressed so thick it felt like it was crushing Ekko’s bones. The miserable fire sputtered, its light barely enough to carve shadow across his face. He was so still that for a moment she thought he had stopped breathing.

Fear dragged her closer.

She knelt, leaning over him until she could feel the warm air escaping his nose, uneven but still there. Her fingers trembled as they rested on his chest, searching for the rhythm beneath the skin, searching for that stubborn drum that still kept him here.

She found it.

Strong at times, weak at others, but alive.

So she simply left her hand there, over his heart, as if that alone could anchor him to the earth, as if the touch itself was enough to remind him he wasn’t allowed to die just yet.

"You’re going to be fine, pirate," she whispered, her voice raw, eyelids heavy as lead as they began to close. "I promise."

She didn’t move.

Exhaustion overtook her as she counted his heartbeats. One, two, three… Sometimes she lost track because she was listening to the scrape of his breathing against the stone. Other times she jolted, thinking it had stopped, only to feel it again under her palm.

She ended up falling asleep on top of him.

Her cheek pressed against his chest, her hand tangled in his still-damp new shirt, her leg curled up against his side. The discomfort of the stone, the chill of the air—it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the warmth of his body, the warmth that still belonged to someone alive.

Noon sunlight crept in like a thief.

Jinx blinked awake, groggy, the sound of the sea rumbling in her skull. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was, why her face was buried against Ekko’s chest, why her hand was still pressed over his heart.

She sat up clumsily, blue hair tangled and damp against her forehead. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and glanced toward the cave’s entrance. The light was far too bright.

"Shit…" she muttered, dragging the word out. "Oh no."

She’d overslept.

Still half-asleep, she reluctantly let go of Ekko’s warmth and went to check the net. The smell of fresh fish filled the air; scales reflected the light like tiny mirrors. A slippery, heavy treasure. The kind of treasure that could be turned into coins, into medicine, into another chance for him.

With effort, she dragged the net to the shore and hauled it up as best she could. Her muscles screamed with exhaustion, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting it to town before the catch spoiled.

The market buzzed with noise and smells, but this time Jinx didn’t let it overwhelm her. Her steps were clumsy but quick, the wet net leaving a shining trail behind her. The merchants spotted her immediately and swarmed—fish had been scarce these days, and it wasn’t common to see a girl alone with such a haul, looking like she’d wrestled the ocean itself and barely made it out.

"Good size. Still fresh."

"I’ll pay well for those silvers."

Voices piled over each other, eyes sizing her up like they wanted to price her too. Jinx didn’t look at them. She just dropped the net onto the table of the first man who offered the most.

The clink of coins was like thunder in her chest.

Heavy. Bright. Real.

More money than she had ever held in her life.

Jinx scooped it up with quick fingers, her heart pounding hard enough to shake her ribs. She could buy what Viktor had told her. She could save Ekko. She could actually do something right for once in her life.

The sound of the coins still burned in her palm as she crossed the market again. The crowd was a river that never stopped, and she moved against it like a fish, clutching the jingling pouch at her side.

The way to the shop came back to her from memory, as if last night’s fear had carved the streets into her skin. The bell above the door chimed again, and for a moment she expected to see Viktor’s bent frame, his cane striking the floor with that metallic cadence that still echoed in her mind.

But he wasn’t there.

Behind the counter stood a dark-skinned woman, her arms crossed and her face marked with freckles. She barely raised an eyebrow when she saw Jinx, as if this wasn’t the first desperate girl to stumble in with red-rimmed eyes and torn clothes.

"Viktor’s not here," she said, her voice rough, dragging the syllables. "He went to check on some telegrams."

Jinx’s heart clenched into a fist. She stepped forward, fingers digging into the pouch of coins.

"I… I came yesterday. He gave me an order. He said if I got the money, I’d have the rest… for a wound. A big one. Serious."

There was a brief, measured silence. The woman tilted her head, studying her with a clinical eye that swept her from head to toe. The tangled blue hair, the salt-stained skin, the dark circles beneath her eyes, the shallow breaths like she’d run for miles. Finally, she sighed and nodded.

"Yes. He left it ready." She bent down behind the counter and pulled out a cloth bag tied with cord. The faint clink of glass filled the air.

Jinx nearly collapsed with relief.

With clumsy hands, she spilled the coins onto the table, the metallic sound rolling between them. The woman counted them with a funeral director’s patience, no emotion at all, before giving a curt nod of acceptance. Even after paying, Jinx left half of what she had left on the counter.

"And tell him…" Jinx swallowed, her throat dry. "Tell him not to forget where. To come as soon as he can."

The woman regarded her with something strange in her eyes, as if she wanted to ask but held back. She only nodded again, slow, solemn, like someone promising without words. Jinx gathered the bag against her chest, clutching it like a brand-new heart she had to carry back to Ekko.

"Thank you," she whispered, and slipped out before the silence could crush her.

The air outside hit her at once: smoke, rotten fish, rusted iron. But it didn’t matter. Not now. She walked quickly, her feet aching, her back bent under the weight of everything she carried.

The bag of medicine. The memory of her hand over Ekko’s heart. The fear of being too late.

The market still roared, and for the first time in days, Jinx let herself stop. Among the cries of the vendors, she caught the scent of fresh bread, still warm with a golden crust. Further on, a man sold wrinkled fruit, sweet from too much sun. She bought what she could, not haggling, barely waiting for change. A loaf wrapped in cloth, a couple of bruised apples, a small wedge of sharp-smelling cheese.

Not luxuries. But food. Real food.

She kept walking until the city noise faded to a distant murmur. The coast opened again before her: the sea shining like an endless wound, the wind whipping her still-damp blue dress. Each step pulled her closer to the cave, to the damp stone, to Ekko.

To him.

The weight of the bag in her arms was nearly unbearable, but she hugged it tighter, as if the pain itself could keep her moving. And with every heartbeat, she could only repeat the same thing, again and again, in a silent mantra that burned her mouth and skin:

"Don’t die. Don’t die yet. I’m coming."

Jinx could barely carry the load anymore; the bag cut into her fingers, her legs shook like glass. She stopped, bending slightly to catch her breath—and that was when a group of men appeared on the path, chatting lightly, their clean boots and decent clothes a sharp contrast to her misery.

One of them stumbled. The metal case he carried flew open against the wood of the pier, spilling nails, bolts, and rusted tools that scattered everywhere.

The noise drew curious glances, but no one stopped to help. No one except her.

Jinx took a step before she even thought about it. Almost by reflex. Her body moved as if there was still something in her that remembered kindness, as if beneath all the salt and fear, there still lived a girl who’d been taught to say please and thank you.

"Oh, forgive us! How clumsy we are!" one exclaimed—"I’m so sorry, miss."

Jinx drew in a breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions inside her. She forced a smile, tense and unnatural.

"Don’t worry," she said, trying to make her voice sound normal. "I’ll help you pick them up."

She was already kneeling on the ground, her blue skirt staining with dust and rust, her fingers reaching for a piece that had rolled farther away.

"Oh, no need, miss," the older man insisted, friendly. "Don’t dirty your hands."

"It’s fine," she murmured, and this time she smiled. Small, shy, but real. A flicker of humanity breaking through the disaster. For a second, instead of a fugitive or a monster, she remembered what it felt like to just be… herself. "Here you go—"

Her fingers brushed against a blackened piece of iron.

The burn was immediate.

A scream tore from her throat as she dropped it, like it had seared her with liquid fire. Her skin reddened instantly, the mark impossible to hide.

Everyone around her turned. The air went taut, unreal.

The men stared, first confused, then with dawning realization that flared into fury.

"It can’t be…!" one stammered, pointing at her with shaking fingers.

"She’s a mermaid!" another bellowed, stumbling but clear. "Here—there’s a mermaid among us!"

The same man who had smiled seconds before recoiled as if he’d seen the devil himself.

"Catch her…" he whispered, terrified. "Catch the mermaid!"

Chapter Text

THE FIRST BLOW OF AWARENESS WAS PAIN.

Not light, nor sound, nor warmth. Only pain, spreading like burning iron across his side.

Ekko’s eyes snapped open, a clumsy blink, his breath caught in a hoarse grunt. The damp rock ceiling greeted him first. Then, the rough sensation of a tight bandage against his skin, cool, different. No longer the makeshift rag—this smelled of alcohol, of crushed herbs. Of something that did not belong in that cave.

"Don’t try to move."

The voice made him tense more than the pain itself. Low, with a dragging accent, dry but not hostile. Ekko barely turned his head, the effort wrenching a ragged gasp from him. A figure stood beside him: tall, too thin, leaning on a metallic cane that chimed every time it shifted.

The man observed him with clinical calm, dark eyes gleaming like burning coals, long hands stained with ointment as they adjusted the bandage.

"Who the hell are you?" Ekko growled, his throat dry, the edge of his voice harsher than ever.

"Viktor," he replied without hesitation, tightening the bandage firmly against his side. "Don’t bother sitting up. Your body would split open again."

Ekko narrowed his eyes, confused, his breath uneven. The last thing he remembered was the stab to his abdomen in a moment of carelessness, her voice singing in the dark, the warmth of a small hand over his heart. And now—this stranger.

"Jinx..." he murmured, barely audible.

Viktor’s fingers froze for a second, then resumed their methodical work.

"She didn’t come back." His voice sounded more like a diagnosis than comfort. "She left the money at my shop. Exact, counted, just as she promised. I waited until dusk. She never returned."

Silence spread like a shadow through the cave.

Ekko shut his eyes tight, a muscle in his jaw twitching like a wound of its own. Rage coursed under his skin, but he was far too weak to sustain it. All he could do was spit the air out in a hoarse snarl, as if cursing were the only thing keeping him alive.

"Always... always so fucking reckless." The words slipped out low, broken, almost a sigh. "How long ago was that?"

"Five hours," Viktor said, not with irony or hope, but with pure calculation. "She was too desperate for you to live to simply vanish."

Ekko opened his eyes again, pinning the man with his gaze. There was something about that calmness that irritated him, yet at the same time kept him grounded. The metallic cane, the smell of herbs, the steady pressure of hands that knew what they were doing.

"The waiting is unbearable," Viktor added, almost to himself. "But someone had to keep you alive in the meantime."

Ekko didn’t answer. He just clenched his teeth, his hand curling into the damp blanket. His body was wrecked, his throat parched, and still the only thing he wanted was to stand. To go after her. To crawl if he had to.

And gods, was he stubborn.

His body obeyed him despite itself, pain coursing through him like an old friend as he forced himself upright. He had been in worse situations. He had survived them, even when some part of him longed for the peace death would bring. But now—now he couldn’t die. He had to stand and find her.

"Still too..."

"I’ll go after her," he rasped, rough and leaving no room for argument. "You’d better hope this holds, for what she pays you."

Viktor let out a short, barely audible snort when Ekko tried to rise. He didn’t stop him entirely, but his cane struck the stone as a reminder: this was madness.

"Your wound is still bleeding inside." His voice was surgical warning, free of dramatics. "Not everyone survives a cut like that. She kept you alive on pure instinct. Improvised with what she had... and believe me, in my experience, she did more than anyone could’ve expected."

Ekko listened with his face twisted, as if those words were stones. Her. Of course she had done more. He heard her in his memory: the broken song, the frayed voice like a lighthouse in the dark. The warmth of her hand on his chest, counting the heartbeats one by one. His fists clenched.

"Where are we?" he growled, his voice so low it was barely air.

"Zaun." The reply was dry, punctuated by the metallic echo of the cane striking the ground. "Deeper in, in Shimmer."

Ekko arched a brow, barely. The name tasted of rust in his mouth. The city of corrosion, of bodies sold to the highest bidder. Of course.

He glanced sideways at him, assessing.

"Why did you come?" he finally asked, with the edge of someone who didn’t believe in favors.

Viktor held his gaze, calm, unflinching.

"Because she paid me." He let the words hang for a moment before adding, "But that wasn’t all. That girl..." a slight pause, weighing his words carefully, "...was unusually kind. That doesn’t happen here. It never happens. She told me where you were. She told me if she didn’t come back, I should come, and for whatever gods I believed in—never leave you alone."

Ekko clenched his jaw, turning his gaze toward the cave’s entrance. The sea roared in the distance. He didn’t want to hear more.

"Kindness." The word left his lips like an offense.

"Yes." Viktor straightened with difficulty, every movement measured and slow, yet filled with that stubborn calm that was infuriating. "Enough to convince me you two care. For each other. Deeply."

The silence broke with Ekko’s rough cough. He didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to give him that. He wasn’t about to hand over the confession. He just leaned forward, enduring the pull of pain, forcing his legs to move even as his body screamed against it.

"I’m going after her." His voice was pure stone.

Viktor studied him for a moment, as if calculating the magnitude of that obstinacy, and finally nodded.

"You won’t get far in Shimmer if you go alone. I’ll search with you."

Ekko didn’t reply. He simply staggered out of the cave, one hand pressed against the bandage, the other gripping the hilt of his machete. The night air hit him like a bucket of ice water, Zaun’s dampness sinking into his bones. He walked like a half-dead man, but every step was marked by fury and the hunger to continue.

Viktor followed behind, his cane striking a metallic rhythm against the stone. They didn’t need to speak: Ekko led the way, like a wounded animal that knew only one direction.

Toward the city.

Toward Jinx.

Into Shimmer.

Ekko knew that place. He had walked its streets once, in another life, back when he still believed a pirate could bargain in any port so long as he showed no fear. He remembered well what he had learned then: Shimmer was the worst of the land. Not the poverty, not the filth—he had seen that on a hundred coasts—but the cruelty disguised as commerce. There, bodies were bought, sold, butchered and patched back together with cheap metal. There, a child could be currency, and a man could die on a gambling table without anyone so much as lifting their eyes.

That was why they had always skirted around it. He had demanded it, with Jinx. And now he was coming back.

The air reeked of thick smoke, of burnt oil, of rusted iron. Every street seemed to boil under an unreal heat that didn’t come from the sun but from the pipes dripping purple liquid along the walls, from the gas leaking out of open sewers. The ground was covered in puddles that weren’t water but liquid poison, reflecting a sky that never reached this far down.

Ekko walked like a man crossing a minefield: direct, fast, never staring too long at anyone. Even injured, even staggering, he kept his shoulders squared and his eyes locked on the horizon. His body exacted a toll with each step—the bandage tugged, the wound burned, his breath fractured in brief spasms—yet he kept going. He had to.

The strangest part was that, somehow, he felt better. Not completely, not enough to say he had healed. But the edge of the pain wasn’t cutting him in two the way it had the night before. The venom of the wound had ebbed slightly, as if something had anchored him to the brink. It wasn’t the alcohol. It wasn’t Viktor’s bandages. He knew it.

It was her.

That damned broken song, clumsy and beautiful, that had filled the cave. That fractured voice that had sounded like an anchor hurled into the void. Ekko clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to admit she had truly helped him. But she had. Jinx had kept him alive with sheer breath, with sheer heart, and that infuriated him almost as much as it relieved him.

He just kept walking, sidestepping a group of men in metal masks trading vials of purple liquid. Further ahead, a woman with copper arms dragged a cart loaded with children sleeping on wooden crates. No one looked twice. No one ever looked at anything.

Viktor’s cane kept the pace behind him, steady, metallic, as if even that sound refused to lose its rhythm.

"I’ll repeat myself: your wound is still open." Viktor’s voice was low but firm. "She kept you alive, yes—but you can’t expect to comb through half of Shimmer as if you were uninjured."

Ekko’s fists tightened, his jaw hard.

"I’m not expecting anything. I’m just going." The words came sharp, leaving no room for reply.

Viktor snorted, though he didn’t stop walking.

"Very well. But if you find her, don’t expect me to carry her back. Or you, for that matter."

Ekko ignored him. In his head there was only a name, a face, a voice. Everything else was noise.

The murmur of the city wrapped around him. Screams, broken laughter, the sound of metal against metal. All that chaos could swallow her, could already have swallowed her. And he wasn’t going to allow it. So he went where he knew she would have been last, and it disgusted him but didn’t disappoint—the docks reeked of rotten fish and rancid salt.

Ekko arrived limping, but with a gaze so sharp no one dared to stop him. The bandage on his side was dark against his shirt, his body still broken, but his steps were a sentence. At his side, Viktor advanced with the metallic cane dragging over the boards, its sound ringing like a patient metronome, a strange contrast to the restrained violence that came before it.

The first man he saw was behind an improvised counter: damp crates full of fish, flies buzzing, scales clinging to his hands. Just some guy. A nobody. But Ekko noticed something else.

The pirate leaned over the table, his knuckles striking the wood.

"Where did you get those fish?"

The vendor stared at him, blinking with the look of someone who knows better than to get into trouble.

"F-from the sea. Where else, sir—" he sneered, "—it’s been a good day for fishing, though this one gave me some trouble."

Ekko nodded.

And slammed his fist into the man’s face.

The vendor went sprawling back against the crates, blood streaming from his nose. He tried to get up, but Ekko grabbed him by the shirt and smashed him against the table. The sound was hollow, wet.

"I’ll ask you again." His voice was low, dry, stripped of any patience. "Who. Sold. You. These. Fish?"

The man stammered, eyes rolling with pain. Viktor stood to the side, motionless, his face stone—like none of this surprised him. Like he was taking notes in silence.

"A girl!" the vendor cried, spitting blood and saliva. "A girl with blue hair! I saw her. She sold me a whole net. I swear I’m not lying!"

Ekko held him a few seconds longer, breath heavy, the wound burning at his side. Then he released him violently, letting him fall like an empty sack.

"Where did she go?"

The man panted, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

"H-herbal shop... yours. After that... I saw her go down the coast. But..."

His voice broke. He hesitated.

Ekko’s stare pinned him in place. He didn’t need to move a muscle—the threat was in his breath, in the shadow he cast over him.

"But what."

The vendor swallowed, his hands trembling.

"There are rumors..." he muttered. "They caught a mermaid. They say Rynor and his gang hunted her last night. They’ve got her."

The silence grew heavier than any scream. Ekko didn’t blink.

"Where?"

"In the old warehouses... the far side of the coast..." The man was nearly sobbing. "That’s all I know, I swear..."

Ekko studied him a moment longer, as if weighing whether it was worth leaving him alive. Then he simply let go and turned his back, walking toward the end of the dock with steady steps, as if the pain in his side didn’t exist.

Viktor followed, the cane marking its metallic rhythm behind him.

"Remarkable." His voice was low, almost a whisper laced with scientific interest. "You got it all out of him without hesitation. Not even evidence."

Ekko didn’t turn his head.

"I didn’t need evidence."

"And how did you know the girl was the one who fished?"

Ekko clenched his jaw, eyes fixed on the gray horizon.

"Her god doesn’t let her steal." The words came like a steel blade, sharp and sure. "And she’s good at fishing. That’s how she pays you."

Viktor raised a brow, but said nothing else. He only watched as the pirate kept moving, like a wounded animal that still knew how to bite. Ekko, instead, turned just enough to glance at him from the corner of his eye.

"This is where we part."

The scientist held his gaze, unblinking.

"You’re going in alone?"

"Yes." Ekko’s voice was stone. Harsh, unyielding. "Stay out of it. Go home."

Viktor inclined his head slightly, the cane glinting under the purple shimmer of a leaking tube nearby. He hesitated for a moment, as if there were something more to say, but finally let out a brief exhale.

"Very well. Good luck, then."

Ekko didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at him again. He simply kept walking, sinking into the darkness along the coast, the machete hanging from his hand like a natural extension of his body.

He had something to do. And he had to do it alone.

He saw them before he heard them. Two shadows against the fog, sitting on damp crates, sharing a cheap cigarette that stank of tar and salt. Their laughter was low, cocky—the kind of tone belonging to men who believed no one was listening.

"They say the mermaid screamed like a demon when they chained her," one cackled, blowing smoke into the air.

"Ha, and if that gang pulled it off, why not us? Imagine the price if we catch another tonight. We’ll be swimming in coin."

Ekko moved without a sound, his steps steady on the wet boards, his breath held tight behind clenched teeth. The machete hung low, his shadow barely visible between the planks that groaned with the tide.

The first one never saw him coming.

An arm locked hard around his throat, wrenching him backward. The cigarette hit the ground, crushed beneath the weight of the other man scrambling to his feet.

"Who—?!"

He never finished. Ekko slammed him against the stone wall with a dull crack. The air punched out of his lungs in a strangled gasp.

The one caught in Ekko’s hold thrashed, but Ekko only tightened his grip, the cold blade pressed to the sweaty skin of his neck.

"Where is she." His voice was low, sharp, stripped of all emotion. "The mermaid."

The man kicked helplessly, swallowing hard.

"In the warehouses!" he spat, nearly choking. "The old ones, down the coast!"

Ekko squeezed tighter, wrenching his neck back until the wood creaked under his spine.

"More." His voice dropped into a growl. "Who has her? How many? Talk!"

The man sobbed, gulping air like a fish out of water.

"Rynor! Rynor and his gang! They’re the ones who caught her, I swear! They chained her here on the coast with iron—I saw when they dragged her, she screamed like a madwoman!"

The edge of the machete kissed his skin, just enough for a thin red line to trail down his throat.

"How many men." Ekko lowered his face until their foreheads pressed together, his black eyes boring into the man’s. "Give me a number."

"Five!" he shrieked. "Five, plus him! He’s in charge, always in charge! They’ve got nets, iron, the chains are thick—they don’t break easy!"

Ekko held him a moment longer, his own breath ragged with the effort, the wound in his side burning like liquid fire. Sweat ran down his temple, but he did not waver.

"Say it again." His voice dropped, heavy, like a sentence.

"In the old warehouses!" the man whimpered. "Rynor, five men, iron chains! I swear to God, I swear it on God Himself!"

The silence between them cut sharper than any blade. Only the gurgle of his throat and the distant crash of waves filled the air.

Ekko stared at him a few seconds longer, dark eyes giving nothing away. Then he eased his grip just enough. The man thought he would be spared, thought he would live.

But Ekko had already decided.

Ekko didn’t hesitate. A swift flick of his wrist, and the throat opened like overripe fruit. The body collapsed at his feet, spilling dark blood that mixed with the water of the pier. He drew a deep breath, steadying himself for a second with the machete as a crutch. His wound throbbed hot in his abdomen, but his eyes never strayed from the fog along the coast.

The second man, stunned, stared at him wide-eyed. He stumbled back a step, trembling.

"I won’t talk!" he spat, voice cracking yet still defiant. "The mermaid’s ours! She belongs to our gang! Kill me if you want, I won’t say a thing—I swear to God!"

Ekko advanced, the machete dragging a trail of saltwater across the wood. His eyes were two dead embers, cold, without hesitation.

"If you want to."

The strike was clean. Brutal. The body crashed into the crates, and the dock fell silent again but for the sea.

Ekko wiped the blade on the dead man’s shirt, the motion slow, almost methodical. He didn’t look back, didn’t expect cries for help—no one in Shimmer risked themselves for another.

He walked toward the coast with steady steps, his wound still burning, his muscles taut as a bow. Every drop of blood he left behind was a reminder: he was alive. Alive enough to kill. Alive enough to go after her.

Chapter Text

THE CELL REEKED OF RUST AND FEAR.

Jinx had her knees pulled tight against her chest, her ankles bitten by the iron shackles, her wrists red and swollen as if the cuffs were tearing her apart second by second. The rough rag tied across her mouth scraped her lips, soaked through with saliva, forcing her to breathe in short, shallow bursts. The metal burned against her skin like poison—she’d realized too late it didn’t just bind her. It seared.

She had to stay almost inhumanly still.

Night had fallen outside. She could tell by the thin silver glow leaking through the cracks in the warehouse wall, the pale shimmer of moonlight when the sun was gone. On another night, she would have curled up against Ekko, humming something stupid to distract herself from the dark—or annoying him, just to hear him growl back. But he wasn’t here.

And the worst part was that heavy certainty in her gut: Ekko would be disappointed.

She could picture him glaring at her with that look he reserved for ruined plans, a mix of exhausted patience and contained rage. "You’re a naïve idiot, Jinx." She could hear it even if he wasn’t there. The thought stung more than the shackles. Though maybe he wouldn’t say anything—he rarely did—but he’d warned her often enough. They would want her dead.

And she’d been naïve.

Everything she’d earned—the coins, the medicine, even the bag of warm bread—stolen. She’d run so far, carried so much, just to end up here: empty, broken, useless. All she could do was pray silently that Viktor had made it to the cave, that Ekko wasn’t bleeding out alone on that damp blanket.

She remembered the moment exactly: strong arms under her knees, another around her back. Not compassion. Capture. One of them—taller than she expected, younger too, with a crooked smile—hoisted her like a prize while the others shouted they’d caught the mermaid. She had kicked, bitten, scratched, but brute force won. They hadn’t killed her. Not yet. Just threw her into the cell like some rare beast they meant to display.

Fear slid under her skin like salt. Every time she tried to move, the iron reminded her she had no way out. She could only curl tighter into herself, trembling, choking behind the rag.

"So you don’t sing, demon."

The screech of a door made her head snap up.

Steps. Slow, measured, echoing against the warehouse floor. The figure appeared in silhouette: broad-shouldered, walking with the kind of authority that didn’t need to be forced, dragging behind him like a shadow.

He was about Ekko’s age, maybe a year older, but arrogance made him seem older still. Dark hair, carelessly cut. A scar dragged across the corner of his mouth, twisting every expression into something between a smile and a threat.

He stopped in front of the cell and looked at her as though appraising an expensive object.

"So this is the famous siren." His voice stretched each word, smooth, unsettling, almost seductive. "Smaller than I imagined. But… prettier, too."

Jinx swallowed hard, hugging her knees tighter. Her heart slammed so violently the rag nearly gagged her.

He crouched in front of the cage, elbow resting on his knee, leaning close enough that she could feel his breath through the bars. His gaze swept across her face with calculated calm, pausing at her damp blue hair, the rope marks on her neck, the trembling curve of her lips behind the gag.

"You shouldn’t be afraid," he murmured, smiling faintly. "I saved you. The others wanted to gut you, sell you off piece by piece. I was the one who said no. That a jewel like you deserved… special treatment."

His voice was low, almost a purr, but every word made Jinx clench her fists until the metal burned deeper into her wrists. Tears pricked from the pain, but she refused to give them to him.

"Forgive my manners." His tone was gentle, almost courtly, as though this were a ballroom instead of a cage. "I’m Reynor." Two fingers touched his temple in a mock salute—half jest, half grace. "And what should I call you?"

Jinx glared, her fury silent, her chest rising and falling in sharp jolts. The rag choked her. She could only squeeze tighter and try to burn him with her eyes.

Her silence earned a low, rough chuckle.

"Fiery. I like that." He leaned closer, his hand slipping through the bars to untie the gag. "But come on… I can’t ask your name with that in your mouth, can I? That’d be rude."

The rag fell damp onto the floor. Jinx didn’t waste a second—she spat it out with all the rage she could muster.

Reynor’s smile widened.

And then he yanked the chains.

The motion was sharp, cruel. Iron dug deeper into her already raw wrists, dragging a choked cry from her despite how hard she bit her lip. Blood welled bright and furious.

"That wasn’t very polite." He held her like that a few seconds longer, savoring her tremor, before loosening his grip with deliberate calm. "I’ll ask again. Your name."

Her breathing came ragged, tears of pain stinging at the edges of her eyes. She wanted to lie. To curse him. But the word slipped out broken, between clenched teeth.

"Jinx."

He repeated it, tasting it.

"Jinx…" He nodded slowly, leaning close enough that she could count his lashes. "Pretty. Very pretty. But listen carefully—" his fingers brushed one bar, tender as if plucking a violin string— "always tell me the truth. To me. And you’ll be fine."

She glared at him, mute with rage, shoulders taut, wrists swollen. She wanted to scream, to bite, to curse. To be the Jinx who always clawed her way out, even with her back against the wall. But right now… she was just tired.

The rag returned to her lips. Reynor tied it back in place with infuriating gentleness, calm that cut worse than violence.

"No songs for now." He smiled like he’d done her a favor, fingers brushing the knot before pulling away. "When you learn to speak nicely to me, we’ll take it off."

The screech of the door marked his exit, leaving the cell to sink once more into rust and dark.

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, knees pressed to her chest. Rage burned hot, but underneath it lay something deeper, a hollow with only one name inside it.

Ekko.

He wasn’t sweet. He wasn’t kind. He never had been. The memory of his frown haunted her like a shadow, the rasp of his voice anchoring her to the ground. He never smiled at her, never gave her soft words. And yet…

She missed him.

She missed him in a way that hurt in her chest.

She thought of how—even after learning she was a mermaid—his knots had never left marks on her wrists. He’d been rough, yes, but never cruel. Not once. He’d always shared food, even when it was little, even when he pretended he didn’t care if she ate or not. Ekko always did. He always cared, even as he denied it, even when he spit harsh words. He’d let her explore, swim, chatter at him—answering with that reluctant knowledge of his. He’d even bought her charcoal and paper to draw. Maybe the first time he’d laughed in years… had been because of her.

And she… had left him behind.

Left him bleeding in that cave, his makeshift bandage soaked through. Trusting Viktor would arrive in time, but never knowing for sure. The guilt strangled her worse than the rag.

He’d be disappointed. She knew it. The only person in her life she hadn’t disappointed yet, and now she had — by letting him down and leaving him to die. She could see that cold stare, that tight jaw he wore when someone broke the rules that kept him alive. She could hear him growling that she’d been reckless, that she’d trusted the wrong place, the wrong people.

And he’d be right.

Tears burned her eyes but didn’t fall. She wouldn’t give them even to the dark.

Exhaustion, however, was stronger. Between the pain in her wrists, the constant burn of iron on her skin, and the rag stealing her breath, her body started to shut down. Two days of strain, no food today—she could barely remember anymore.

Her last thought before sinking into sleep was him.

Sleep dragged her down like a whirlpool. She didn’t know how long she drifted in blackness until the smell hit her: iron and blood, laced with the sharp bite of cheap leather.

And then she saw him.

Reynor was inside the cell.

Jinx jolted upright, chains clattering, scraping herself back until her spine hit the bars. Her heart pounded so hard she swore she could hear it against the iron.

He was smiling. Always that damned crooked smile, that scar twisting it into something equal parts charm and threat.

"Wake up, little mermaid," he murmured, holding a chunk of bread in one hand and dried meat in the other. "I thought you might be hungry."

Her stomach growled, betraying her. She cursed herself silently. She clenched her jaw, feigning indifference, her voice hoarse and raw.

His grin widened, thrilled by the defiance. He leaned in to untie the rag, slow, like he was unwrapping a gift. Cold air brushed her split lips. Jinx spat the gag onto the floor with fury.

"What’s this?" she rasped, venomous despite the weakness. "You gonna feed me like a dog?"

Reynor chuckled, crouching to her level.

"Depends. Would you bite if I gave it from my hand?"

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her throat raw but her sarcasm sharp.

"Count on it."

He watched her, fascinated by her spirit, as he pushed the plate of food toward her. It didn’t look good. And Jinx had eaten her fair share of burnt, bad, or downright strange meals while teaching herself to cook. But there was something about this dish that just didn’t feel right.

"Some manners you’ve got…" she croaked, blue eyes glittering sharp as blades. "Usually gentlemen bring flowers before they chain someone up."

Reynor rested an elbow on his knee, leaning close as if they were at a dance and not in a cell stinking of rust.

"Flowers wilt." His smile was slow, crooked. "Iron lasts longer."

"And it burns more," Jinx shot back, voice ragged but cutting. "Guess you’re the type that mistakes cruelty for care."

Reynor yanked the chain. Iron bit into swollen flesh, dragging another muffled cry from her.

"Care is relative." His tone was soft, almost tender, but each word had an edge. "Cruelty would’ve been letting my men do what they wanted to you. I decided to keep you for myself."

"How thoughtful," she spat, voice cracked but sharp. "Did you think of that before or after chaining me up?"

His hand jerked the chain again, sharper. She swallowed the pain.

"Don’t get clever." His tone was gentle, like scolding a child, though cruelty dripped from every syllable. "And when you speak to me, Jinx… I always want the truth."

"The truth…" she hissed, a broken laugh tearing from her throat. "…is you smell worse than rotten dock fish. Want me to sing you a ballad about it?"

He only smiled, enjoying her rebellion like it was part of the game.

"You could sing. Just for me." His voice dropped, low, dangerously intimate. "I could give you everything. Let your voice be a treasure no one else touches. You’d be mine, and nothing else would matter."

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her throat raw from straining it.

"Wow." Her sarcasm was dry but still sharp. "What a tempting offer. A rusted cell, chains that burn my skin, and a siren-hunter."

The gleam in Reynor’s eyes swung between fury and amusement. He leaned in closer, so near Jinx could feel the heat of his breath.

"I like you." His tone was almost a purr. "Too much to let them tear you apart. You could have anything you want if you learn to be on my side." His voice was soft, but his eyes had a feverish, dangerous gleam. "You don’t have to suffer here. You could sing just for me. Imagine it, Jinx: your voice, and me listening—nothing else. You only have to be mine."

Jinx’s chest heaved, disgust and fury roiling in her, but something in her mind—that spark Ekko always warned her to use or die—forced her into a different choice.

She blinked, lowered her gaze just slightly, let her body tremble as though giving in.

"Yours…?" she whispered, barely audible.

Reynor’s grin spread, convinced he’d won. He held out his hand, an offering, a pact.

Jinx took it. Small, cold fingers closing around his, feigning softness, inching close with mock docility. Her lips tilted toward his face, as if leaning in for a kiss.

And then she bit.

With every ounce of rage, hunger, and hate, she sank her teeth into his ear and tore.

Reynor’s scream was raw, animal. He staggered back, blood pouring down his neck, soaking his shirt.

Jinx spat the chunk onto the floor and scrambled for the cell door, chains rattling, desperate to slip past his legs like a shadow.

But he caught her first.

A big hand fisted in her hair, yanking her back. The blow came after—hard, direct to her face. Stars exploded across her vision, the taste of blood flooding her mouth. She dropped to her knees, gasping, but she didn’t cry. She wouldn’t give him that.

Reynor’s face was red with fury, blood running down his chest, staining his fingers as he clutched the wound.

"You filthy bitch!" he roared, voice cracked with pain and rage. "You’ll pay for this!"

He threw her down onto the cell floor and slammed the gate shut ot without first pressing the cloth back over her mouth—almost, the lock clanging like thunder. Still cursing, still dripping blood, he stormed out of the warehouse, each step leaving a crimson trail.

Silence returned, broken only by Jinx’s ragged breaths.

She dragged herself to the corner, lips split, face throbbing. And yet, she’d made him bleed.

And as she curled into herself again, the only name that throbbed in her chest before exhaustion dragged her under was the same as always.

Ekko.

And she prayed to God he was still alive.

Chapter Text

THE DAMPNESS OF THE WAREHOUSE HAD BECOME A SECOND SKIN.

Jinx lay sprawled on the cold, uneven floor of the cell, every board a splinter digging into her bruised skin. Too exhausted to even try straightening her back, too sore to find a sliver of stillness. The iron shackles burned her wrists, swollen to a sickly purple and carved deep with angry grooves. Every movement, no matter how small, sent stabbing waves of pain through her body—like red-hot needles being driven under her skin.

She had no idea how long she’d been there, trapped in that spiraling descent of terror and despair. Hours had blurred into a smear of darkness punctuated only by flashes of pain.

The rag still gagged her, rough, with the rancid taste of dried saliva. Breathing through it was like inhaling fire. She didn’t know how long it had been since Reynor stormed out, cursing, blood streaming from his torn ear—but the silence he left behind was heavier than any blow.

The creak of the door shattered it again.

Two shadows spilled across the dusty floor. Reynor—his shirt still stained with a dark, threatening red—and another man, broad-shouldered, with a patchy beard covering his jaw and hands like thick, knotted hooks. Reynor wasn’t smiling this time. His jaw was clenched like iron, a deep valley furrowed between his brows, and his eyes burned with a caged rage that promised violence.

"You had your chance, mermaid, and you wasted it," he growled, his voice venom distilled. The metallic rattle of the key in the lock was final, chilling. "We’ll sell your damned tail to the highest bidder, and maybe we’ll strip off every last scale while you’re still alive, bitch."

Before she could even process the words, they grabbed her and dragged her from the cell. Chains clattered against the damp wood as they hauled her to a crude table, its surface mottled with rust and old grease. They slammed her down hard, and Jinx arched in pain as her body screamed from the impact. She shrieked into the gag, a strangled sound of agony as she fought with everything she had left. The rag smothered her scream into a broken choke.

"Stay still, little mermaid," spat the bearded man, pinning her shoulders with rough, calloused hands while Reynor fetched a filthy bucket from a shadowed corner.

The water hit her face violently. Cold, sweet. Jinx tasted it and realized something in her desperation: not salty. She wouldn’t transform yet. And when the idiots saw her unchanged, their brows furrowed, confused.

"The hell...?" muttered the other.

Reynor glared, swiping the bucket aside with a snarl.

"Take off the rag. I want to hear her."

The man obeyed instantly, ripping the gag from her mouth with a cruel tug. Jinx coughed violently, chest convulsing with painful spasms, water dripping down her chin. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, and her voice was shards of glass—but she still forced the words out:

"I’m not a mermaid." She spat each word like poison. "Just an idiot who out-fished you."

Silence. Both men exchanged a glance, distrust sharp in their eyes. Reynor narrowed his, leaning in with predator calm.

"Oh, yeah?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Then what’s with the chains, huh?"

Jinx smiled. A broken, jagged smile.

"Maybe they’re poisoned."

It was enough. Enough to spark the briefest flicker of doubt in the bearded man, his eyes darting to Reynor for reassurance. And in that split second, Jinx acted with the desperation of a cornered animal.

Her foot shot up, slamming into the man’s groin with every ounce of strength she had left. His scream was guttural, bloodcurdling, and Jinx used the opening to sink her teeth into his wrist. Blood filled her mouth, metallic and hot.

The man buckled. Jinx rolled off the table with a harsh thud, chains sparking as they scraped the floor.

She ran.

As best she could, wrists gushing blood, legs trembling uncontrollably, bare feet slapping the damp, splintered boards of the warehouse. She ran fueled by nothing but survival instinct, clinging to the hope of escape before they caught her again. She reached a side door—the only way out—and shoved desperately. Nothing. The swollen wood, the rusted bolt—it held her prisoner as tightly as the shackles.

She pounded on it, once, twice, three times, until her knuckles bled more than her wrists. Shouts echoed outside—confusion, distant screams, the pounding of hurried feet across the docks. Something was happening. Something big.

And then, she heard it.

"Jinx..."

Her name slithered through the darkness like sweet, familiar poison. Reynor’s voice.

"Did you really think you could escape me, sweetheart?" His laugh was deep, dangerous, echoing along the warehouse walls like a venomous serpent. "Mermaids always think they’re so clever... until someone teaches them their place."

Jinx pressed against the door, chest heaving, throat burning with every breath. She knew—he was hunting her. Like a cat playing with its mouse before the kill.

"Come out now, little mermaid," Reynor’s voice thickened, closer, hungrier. "I promise I’ll be gentle. I’ll make you sing until your voice breaks."

She slipped between crates, crouching in the shadows, trembling with fear but mind racing. She slammed the chain links against a metal pipe, the clang echoing left, before darting right. Reynor bit.

"There you are!"

Jinx saw him charge past and ground her teeth, fists clenching. She had to knock him out. Had to, before he chained her down again.

She leapt.

But he was ready. He’d been waiting for it.

The blow caught her jaw, brutal. She crashed to the floor, breath ripped from her lungs in a jagged gasp. The world spun, shadows swirling, as Reynor pinned her, his hands crushing her wrists.

"Now, little mermaid?" Reynor purred, his voice thick, rancid honey, his blood-crusted ear a grotesque reminder. "I’ll make you mine right here—until you beg I never find you again."

The air stank of iron, sweat, and old blood. Jinx thrashed beneath him, chains rattling in a frantic, terrifying rhythm. She tried to scream, but only a broken rasp escaped her. Her body failed her: too drained, too broken, muscles on fire, lungs raw.

Still, she moved. She refused to give in.

She clawed at the splintered wood, dragging herself like a fish on land, an insect fleeing the heel poised above it. Every inch tore at her wrists, every pull raked her knees raw—but she kept going. The shackles screeched, her body quaked, and yet she crawled.

Reynor didn’t rush.

He pushed himself up slightly, watching her with that twisted, cruel smile that split her in two. He let her crawl, savoring the sight of her struggling, as if he were drinking in the spectacle, enjoying her suffering.

"Yes..." he murmured, voice thick as smoke. "Fight all you want, little mermaid. I love watching you crawl."

Jinx gasped for breath, her blue hair plastered to her wet cheeks, her split lips spurting blood. Her throat burned with every inhalation; each gulp of air was a broken sob. Still she moved, still she crawled, until her body simply refused.

She collapsed onto the floor, half a meter from a wooden post, arms outstretched before her, trembling as if her soul were unravelling. Her fingers bled, her wrists raw and open, skin marked by iron. Her whole body begged her to give up, to accept her fate.

And then he lunged.

Reynor fell on her with the weight of a slab, crushing her against the wood, his hot breath at her neck. His large hands clamped down on her wrists, driving the metal deeper into the flesh. The smell of her blood mixed with his, forming a metallic, nauseating cloud.

"That’s it," he hissed, ragged, his voice viscous poison seeping into her skin. "Know what it means to be a mermaid."

Jinx screamed, but the sound was weak, broken, barely a snap of air. She kicked, scratched, bit, but it was all useless. He was too strong, too heavy. The wood creaked beneath them as she writhed, each movement an act of pure desperation.

Sweat ran down her back, her breathing breaking into spasms, and yet she kept fighting. She refused to stay still. She refused to be a trophy in his hands.

And then, suddenly, the weight was gone.

Reynor collapsed to the side, ripped from her as if struck by lightning. Air rushed back into her lungs in a harsh, brutal gulp. Jinx gasped, coughing, dragging herself on her elbows, still not fully understanding what had happened but taking advantage of it as she used her few remaining strength to crawl away.

She tried to flee, but a hand grabbed her by the hip when she was halfway across.

She shrieked, kicking, eyes wide with terror.

"Let me go! No! No!"

"Jinx."

“Let me go, no, no!”

"Jinx," the voice roared, lifting her off the ground with surprising ease and turning her to face him despite her kicking and screaming. "It's me. I'm Ekko."

Her blood ran cold. She froze. She turned her face, her blue hair sticking to her wet cheeks.

"...Ekko," her voice was a broken, disbelieving whisper. "You're alive."

He was there. Standing in front of her, tall and steady, though visibly injured. His shirt was stained with blood, and the machete in his hand still dripped fresh blood—Reynor’s blood. His eyes were hard and dark, but fixed solely on her, filled with an intensity that stole her breath away.

"I'm sorry," she babbled, tears streaming, her throat raw. "I'm sorry, Ekko, I'm sorry... that guy... he tried to..."

He pulled her close in one motion, wrapping her in a firm, rough arm. He pressed her against his chest with protective force.

"It's okay, blue girl," he murmured, with that dangerous calm that always seemed like a restrained roar. "It's over."

The tears spilled instantly. Jinx buried herself against his chest, sobbing hard, clutching his shirt as if it were the only piece of reality left in a rotten world. Ekko tightened the embrace, strong and protective, shielding her from himself, from everything, even from his own pain. She could feel the quickening beat of his heart, the warmth of his body, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope.

He said nothing more. He just held her tighter, his chin resting on the crown of her head, as if his silence could seal every crack in her. The arm holding her was firm, relentless, as if no force in the world could take her from him again.

Her sobs gradually subsided until her body finally gave in. Her ragged breathing slowed, heavy, defeated. Her head tilted against his chest.

She had fainted.

Ekko carefully adjusted her, taking in the mess of her wrists, the iron sunk into red, inflamed flesh. His brow furrowed, his contained anger a low growl beneath his skin. But there was no time.

He lifted her in his arms.

The chains jingled against his boots as he moved through corpses and broken crates. The machete continued dripping red in his other hand, and every shadow that moved was dispatched with a sharp, brutal stroke. No words, no screams. Just him, moving forward with her in his arms like a bloody specter that didn’t need to speak to inspire fear.

Ekko was injured, yes. Every step cost him a thread of pain, every breath a cut in his chest. But he didn’t stop. He wasn’t going to stop.

The main door of the warehouse creaked violently.

They weren’t pirates.

Uniformed figures burst in with firm steps, rifles raised, voices coordinated. The Royal Guard. Enforcers. The blue and black of their jackets contrasted sharply with the grime of the docks, with the blood on the floor. They were a wall of order in the midst of chaos.

And at the front, she.

Tall, with an elegant bearing even under armor. Dark hair pulled into a perfect bun, a sniper rifle aimed directly at Ekko with almost inhuman precision. Her boots clicked against the wet wood as she stepped forward, firm.

Ekko didn’t stop. Blood still dripped down his side, Jinx hung unconscious in his arms, and the machete still dripped red in his other hand. He was a specter, a man made of fury and steel, yet still advancing.

"Stop right there!" The voice cut through the air like a gunshot. "Drop the weapon and tell me your name."

He didn’t respond. He only held the girl tighter against his chest, as if those chains on her wrists could try to take her away from him again.

The woman squinted. She recognized him.

"...Ekko." The name came out haltingly, almost disbelieving, loaded with concern that had nothing to do with the authoritative tone from a second ago. "My God... Ekko."

He barely lifted his gaze. His eyes were dark, empty of everything except a single thought: her. The siren breathing with difficulty in his embrace.

Caitlyn lowered her rifle, breathing unevenly, her expression firm but pierced by a crack of humanity.

"You're hurt," she said quickly, almost as if she wanted to step forward immediately, ignoring the men around her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Ekko exhaled in a low growl. He gave no explanation, no excuse. He only spoke with that deep, rough voice, as if each word weighed more than the wound.

"Take her to your ship."

Caitlyn stared at him. She saw the dried blood on his shirt, the machete still wet, the hardened face of a man who had killed without hesitation... and at the same time, the way he held this girl in his arms: as if she were the only thing in the world that deserved to keep breathing.

"Ekko..." her voice dropped, more intimate, genuinely concerned. "Who is she?"

He gritted his teeth, jaw set, and repeated with barely contained desperation:

"Take her."

The silence was heavy as lead.

The soldiers waited for the order, tense, not understanding the strange exchange between their captain and this blood-covered pirate. Caitlyn swallowed, doubt reflected on her face. Finally, she lowered her rifle completely.

"Take them to my ship. Now."

The enforcers moved immediately. Ekko held Jinx tighter, stepping back like a cornered beast, until Caitlyn raised her hand in a calm gesture.

"Trust me," she said, her voice firm but soft, and for the first time in years, her eyes searched for him as if she still believed in him."She’ll be safe."

The machete in Ekko's hand dripped another drop of blood to the floor. And without another word, he let himself be surrounded, Jinx still asleep in his arms.

Chapter Text

THE FIRST THING SHE FELT WHEN CONSCIOUSNESS RETURNED WAS SOFTNESS.

A mattress, too soft for someone used to cold floors, rotten planks, or damp nets. Sheets that smelled of expensive soap, of dried herbs, of something clean and foreign. The fabric clung to her skin like a reproach: she didn’t belong here.

She forced her eyes open. The light was warm, golden, filtering through linen curtains. A room. Spacious, elegant, polished wood gleaming in the glow. And she… she was on a bed. Not just any bed, but one that belonged to people with titles and money. On her body, clothes that weren’t hers: a loose blouse, soft trousers that didn’t scrape her skin, and her hair—her hair was down, long, cascading in blue waves over her shoulders.

The first pang in her chest was fear. The second, emptiness.

“…Ekko.” Her voice came out harsh, like glass dragged over stone. A broken plea.

A movement to her side answered. A figure hunched over an improvised desk of medicines, glass vials and bandages. It wasn’t him.
It was Viktor.

The scientist lifted his gaze, his usually calm eyes lighting faintly at the sight of her awake.

“Ekko isn’t here, young lady,” his voice was low, with that impossible calm of someone surrounded by death. “But he’s breathing. He’s alive and well. You did good.”

The words should have calmed her. They didn’t. The knot in her throat only tightened.

He was going to be so disappointed in her.

Viktor approached with a jug and a clean cloth. She realized then what he’d been staring at so insistently: her wrists. Wrapped in white bandages, the marks still visible beneath, red and grotesque.

“I’ve never seen burns like these,” he murmured, almost to himself, brows furrowed in a mix of scientific fascination and pity. “The iron reacted with your skin in an… alarming way. But you’re better now. The fever broke. Your body is fighting the poison—or whatever those inhuman shackles carried.”

Jinx laughed, though the sound was hollow, scraped raw.

They weren’t shackles made for humans—they were made for her.

Viktor tilted his head but didn’t reply. He adjusted her bandages with a care more delicate than anyone had shown her in years. Maybe ever. Softer even than Father Silco.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her body exhausted. The memory of Ekko carrying her clung like a hook in her chest. She hadn’t dreamed it. He was alive. And he had held her like something worth saving.

A knock on the door broke the silence. Viktor said nothing, just turned and opened it.

A blue-haired woman like her.

Jinx didn’t know her, but her presence filled the cabin. Tall, immaculate in uniform, with the aura of someone who commands and never apologizes for it. Her dark hair tied back in perfect order, boots polished, and eyes that lingered too long on Jinx, dissecting her with a glance.

“I wanted to see you.” Her voice was firm, steady, but with an undercurrent of something else: curiosity, caution… maybe even concern. “My name is Caitlyn Kiramman. You’re aboard one of the Piltover Police Department’s ships. The Kiramman.”

Jinx tensed.

“Where… where’s Ekko?” Her voice cracked, a dulled blade.

“On deck.” Caitlyn’s gaze never left her, as if measuring every detail of her face.

The tension between them was thick enough that Viktor noticed. Quietly, he left the room.

Silence weighed.

Caitlyn stepped closer, studying her like she wasn’t sure she was real. Like she was looking at a ghost. Finally, her voice lowered.

“You look stubborn. Enough to try walking before staying put in that bed if I suggest a walk on deck..”

“And what if I don’t want to walk?”

Caitlyn leaned just slightly, her posture more hunter than officer.

“Nothing,” she admitted, her accent strange, unlike anything Jinx had heard. “But I know you’ll try to slip away the second you’re left alone. Better I show you the way before you get tangled in the machines.”

Jinx didn’t know whether to laugh or growl. The woman spoke with an irritating certainty. But there was something in her eyes—a glint that wasn’t superiority, but a readiness to carry her if needed.

“Fine.” Jinx exhaled, half-resigned, half-amused. “Show me the way, princess.”

“I’m not a princess.”

“Then what are you?”

“Captain Caitlyn Kiramman, head of Piltover’s Marine Guard.” She straightened, as if the title itself was armor. “I’m no one’s princess.”

Jinx’s gaze trailed over her, slow, measuring the words against how she carried herself—too upright, too perfect.

“Captain, head of the Marine Guard,” she repeated, exaggerating the title with a crooked smile. “Sounds as boring as it does expensive.”

“And useful.” Caitlyn didn’t blink. “If it weren’t, you’d be dead in that warehouse.”

Jinx bit her tongue. Something about this woman irritated her: that calmness that wasn’t fake, that poise that didn’t feel forced. The sense of someone who always won, even if she had to drag you with her.

"We’re not in Piltover," she finally said, shrugging, her voice still raw from the wound in her throat. "This is Zaun."

"We were close." Caitlyn corrected her without hesitation, as if the maps of the world bent to her convenience. "Zaun’s damage affects Piltover, whether you like it or not. Viktor called us. Said he saw someone."

Jinx arched a brow, mocking.

"Someone special?"

The silence that followed was strange. Caitlyn wasn’t looking at her the way you look at a patient. She was looking at her the way you look at a memory that suddenly takes shape.

"Someone I knew," Caitlyn said at last. And that was all.

Caitlyn’s help in getting her on her feet wasn’t as rough as Jinx expected. Her hands were firm, but never too tight, and there was patience in her touch that disarmed her. Jinx leaned her weight on her, and together they left the room.

The hallway was a parade of polished woods and oil lamps sealed in cut glass. The air smelled of salt and something metallic, like clean gunpowder. The ship itself felt like another world: luxury laced with discipline.

When they reached the deck, Jinx lost her breath for a moment. The ship was vast, majestic, with white sails billowing like wings, and the open sea stretched around them like a shifting mantle of blues and grays. The breeze hit her face and for an instant, she almost forgot the iron she still felt under her skin.

But Ekko wasn’t there.

The hollow in her stomach grew deeper.

The air on deck carried a different weight. Clean, fresh, salty… and cruel at the same time. After days of breathing grime and rust, the sea breeze almost hurt. Every breath reminded her of what she hadn’t had: freedom, air, space.

Jinx walked leaning against Caitlyn. It wasn’t elegant; her boots dragged on the damp wood and every step tore a ragged gasp from her broken throat. Still, she didn’t complain. She’d learned to swallow pain, to turn it into a crooked smile.

The captain bore her weight without a wince, as if it were the most natural thing. Caitlyn walked straight, flawless, with that certainty only born in people raised with maps in hand instead of mud at their feet. The difference between them was loud even in their clothes: Jinx in an oversized blouse, hair loose and tangled; Caitlyn in her crisp uniform, boots gleaming even under the salt air.

And yet… they walked together.

"You’re lighter than you look," Caitlyn said, not looking at her, her voice steady but tinged with something almost playful.

"Is that a compliment or a warning you’ll throw me overboard if I get heavy?" Jinx rasped, a sharp glint curving her split lips.

Caitlyn let out a brief, unexpected laugh.

"Maybe both."

Jinx glanced sideways at her, curious. She hadn’t expected that laugh. She hadn’t expected it to sound so… genuine. Not the laugh of someone mocking her. The laugh of someone letting themselves be human.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. The creak of the wood, the crash of the waves, the distant cry of a gull filled the space. Jinx leaned more than she wanted to admit, but Caitlyn didn’t complain.

"Are you always this serious?" Jinx asked suddenly, her voice raspy like dragging stones. "Is everyone in your world this serious?"

"Serious?" Caitlyn arched a brow.

"Yeah. All straight-backed, all… perfect." Jinx gestured with a hand, almost stumbling. "Like you were born knowing how to walk in a straight line."

Caitlyn lowered her gaze slightly, lips curving faintly.

"I was born in Piltover. Straight lines are the least of what they expect from someone with my name."

"Ah, so you’re rich." Jinx grinned, flashing a bloodied fang. "That explains the ‘princess.’"

"I’m not a princess." Caitlyn said it again, though this time not sharply—almost tired.

"I know." Jinx tilted her head, blue hair falling like a river. "But it suits you. A sea princess, captain of white sails, boots gleaming… the perfect fairytale."

"And what would you be in that fairytale?" Caitlyn asked, turning her head just enough to look at her with those measuring clear eyes.

Jinx smiled crookedly, a shard of sadness behind it.

"I wouldn’t be in it."

The silence fell heavy, like a net. Caitlyn studied her, lips parting as if to contradict her, but she held back. Jinx noticed. And for the first time, she didn’t mind someone not correcting her.

They reached the railing. The ocean stretched vast and shifting, under a sky painted gold and copper by the setting sun. Jinx leaned against the rail, panting from the effort. The wood was cold under her arms, but bearable. Better than iron.

"Never seen a ship like this," she admitted, voice soft, almost to herself.

"The Kiramman is one of a kind." Caitlyn stood tall, serene pride in her voice, never boastful. "Built to be both a warship and a home at sea."

"It’s beautiful," Jinx admitted, though her eyes kept wandering over the sails, the brass, the perfectly lined lamps. "Though it needs more color."

Caitlyn’s lips curved faintly.

"Prefer the rotting shacks and rust warehouses?"

"I don’t know. You gotta try everything." Jinx shrugged, though the grimace of pain from her bandaged wrists betrayed her.

Caitlyn noticed. Her eyes lingered on the bandages but she didn’t comment. Instead, she shifted the subject.

"You seem more stubborn than your body allows."

"Always." Jinx lifted her chin, pride burning even in her misery. "You won’t see me bedridden."

"I don’t plan on it." Caitlyn’s voice dropped a tone, softer, more personal.

Jinx stared at her. There was something in that answer that didn’t sound like duty or protocol. It sounded like a promise.

The breeze tugged a strand of Caitlyn’s dark hair loose, and for a moment, Jinx allowed herself to think the captain wasn’t as perfect as she seemed. There was humanity in those small cracks: in the stray strand, the shadow of fatigue beneath her eyes, in the way she lingered too long staring.

"Tell me something, non-princess," Jinx said suddenly, her smile crooked. "When are you gonna say it?"

"Say what?"

"That I look like this Powder girl." Her words were a soft shot, almost amused. "You’ve been staring at me like that since I woke up. You want to say it."

Caitlyn’s expression shifted. Not surprise… something deeper.

"You know her?" she asked, too quickly.

Jinx shook her head, blue hair tossing like flames.

"No. Just know everyone says it. Everyone thinks they see her when they look at me. But I’m not her." She explained, voice steady. "Was she family yours?"

The silence was thick. Caitlyn lowered her gaze briefly, then raised it again with a firmness that seemed to hurt.

"I wasn’t family to Powder."

"Sure? With that hair, that serious face… looks like it."

Caitlyn breathed deep. Her lips trembled before she spoke.

"No. Not family. But someone I loved once called her his sister."

Jinx froze.

"And you?"

"I never met her in person." Caitlyn turned to the horizon, her voice lower than ever. "I saw her in paintings, in portraits, in memories that weren’t mine. To me she was a ghost from the start. And now… I suppose we’re both haunted by the same specter."

The words stabbed deep into Jinx’s chest. She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected to find someone else who also lived under a ghost they never asked for.

The sea roared beneath them, filling the silence.

"I’m not her."

"Certainly doesn’t look like it."

Jinx arched a brow, offended, though her lips wavered into a crooked smile.

"Wow. Compliment, captain."

"It’s a fact." Caitlyn held her gaze, implacable but with something strange in her eyes. "You’re paler. Your nose is… a little crooked. And your eyes…"

Jinx narrowed her own, playful and defiant.

"What about them?"

Caitlyn swallowed. The wind tugged another strand of her hair, but she didn’t look away.

"Powder had blue eyes." Her voice dropped, dragged down by the weight of memory. "Not pink, like yours. It’s the biggest difference I can see."

The mention hit harder than Jinx expected. She lowered her gaze, recalling how Ekko had, at some point, stopped meeting her eyes so often. As if those colors were too much for him. She’d asked, reckless as always.

She hadn’t realized she was breaking it. Dumb Jinx.

She hunched slightly, retreating into herself, forcing a crooked smile.

"So, mystery solved. I’m not your ghost."

"No." Caitlyn said it firmly, but without sharpness. "You’re not."

Jinx leaned back against the rail, fever making her sway.

"What was Powder to Ekko?" she whispered suddenly, her voice rough. "He… when he was about to die, he called her. Did… did something happen?"

Caitlyn blinked, shaken from her own reverie.

"I’ll tell you later."

"Later?"

"Yes. Because right now he’s probably realized you’re not in bed." A soft smile curved her lips. "And the only way to keep him still is to give him part of what he wants."

Jinx tilted her head, amused.

"And if you’re Guard and he’s a pirate, why isn’t he in a cell?"

Caitlyn let out a short, unexpected laugh.

"Because Ekko doesn’t stay in a cell when you’re dying. The only way to lock him up is if he wants it."

Jinx opened her mouth, then shut it. The truth in that answer rang too loud to deny.

The silence between them shifted. No longer a tense rope: a thin thread, shared, fragile.

Jinx found herself staring at Caitlyn’s gloved hands, her perfect poise, those clear eyes that suddenly looked less hard. And Caitlyn… Caitlyn didn’t look away. She searched Jinx’s face as if hunting something she couldn’t name. And somehow, she’d already found more than anyone else ever had.

A door slammed.

"What the hell are you doing, Caitlyn?!" Ekko’s voice cracked sharp and raw.

He strode toward them, jaw tight, dark eyes fixed on Jinx like he feared she’d dissolve in the wind.

"Ekko…"

He reached them in seconds, placing himself between them like a wall.

"You shouldn’t be standing." His reprimand was sharp. "You’re hurt."

Caitlyn lifted her hands, calm.

"I was with her. She just wanted to see the sea." Her voice softened as she stepped away. "I’ll leave you two." She turned, but her eyes lingered on Jinx. "Rest."

The sea swallowed Caitlyn’s steps, and suddenly, the world was only him.

Ekko.

His shadow covered her, firm, too close. The wind whipped his white dreads, salt clinging to his neck like frost. Jinx swallowed hard, throat dry, her bandaged wrists burning again under his gaze.

The air between them was heavier than any chain.

"Ekko…" she whispered again, the name scraping her throat like broken glass. She lowered her gaze, unable to hold those dark eyes. "I’m sorry."

His brow furrowed, head tilting.

"Sorry? What the hell for?"

Her chest tightened. Her fingers dug into the rail, breath caught in a knot.

"Because…" she inhaled, air burning. "Because I know you’re disappointed. They caught me, and it was my fault. You said everyone hates me and wants me dead and I didn’t believe you. I thought I could help them when they dropped it, and God… I touched that stupid iron, Ekko, and… and I swear I—"

He cut her off, voice rough and absolute.

"That doesn’t matter."

Jinx’s head shot up. Her pink eyes locked on him, wide, confused.

"What…?"

"I’m not disappointed in you." His gaze was hard, yes, but the hardness wasn’t aimed at her. It was the blade of someone who had almost lost everything. "They caught you because those bastards outnumbered you, because they didn’t fight fair. Not because you’re weak. Not because you’re kind. Just… don’t be kind to everyone again."

"But that’s how I saved you," Jinx whispered. "If I’m not kind to at least most people, I’d never have met you."

"You’re too good for this world."

The wind whipped her blue hair into her face, a curtain she let hide her for a second. She didn’t know what to say.

Ekko stepped closer, the deck creaking under his boots.

"And besides…" his voice dropped, nearly lost beneath the sea’s roar. "Thanks."

Jinx blinked, thrown.

"Thanks… for what?"

He tilted his head, dark eyes boring into her with unbearable intensity.

"For saving me."

Jinx laughed, but it was a broken laugh, hollow, unraveling into a sigh.

"Of course I would, dumb pirate." She said it like small talk, like it didn’t matter. Like it hadn’t cost her her skin and voice. "Maybe it’ll leave a scar—I didn’t know what I was doing at first, sorry about that. But of course I’d save you. You’re… you’re all I have left in this world till Bilgewater."

But Ekko kept staring at her as if she’d just spoken the impossible. As if, to him, those words were everything.

The silence thickened, heavy with something nameless that burned like iron. Jinx felt it crawling her arms, tightening her stomach, rising to her throat. Her dry lips parted, but no sound came.

She only looked at him.

He only looked at her.

The sea pounded the hull, the sails groaned, the wind howled through the masts, tangling her hair like a flag. But for her, everything was still. As if the whole ship was holding its breath, waiting for one of them to say what neither knew how to name.

"You need to rest," Ekko finally broke the silence, his voice sharp, like a machete slicing air.

Jinx pressed her lips together. The word rest tasted bitter. She never rested.

Still, when he leaned in slightly, offering his support, her body chose before her mind. She leaned on him—awkward, reluctant, as if by accident. But she felt it. His warmth. His solidity. The way his arm held her without hesitation, like carrying her was the most natural thing in the world.

The wood of the ship thudded beneath their shared steps, the wind still tangling her hair and lashing her cheeks. Jinx said nothing. Couldn’t. Her throat was still raw, her chest tight, and Ekko too close.

The silence between them on the way back to the cabin wasn’t comfortable. But it wasn’t uncomfortable either. It was… something else. Something vibrating, burning under the skin, nameless.

And Jinx, though she couldn’t name it, felt it.

It felt like the whisper of waves brushing against her skin, pulling her into an inevitable current. A force both calm and fierce, asking no permission, dragging her in a direction neither fear nor pain could stop.

She didn’t understand what it was. She couldn’t. But in that moment, with Ekko holding her against the weight of the world, she knew she’d keep listening. That invisible murmur, that quiet tide.

That whisper of waves that always pushed her, always, toward him.

Chapter Text

THE DECK WAS ALMOST DESERTED AT THAT HOUR.

The sea stretched out in a deep, opaque blue, barely scratched by the lanterns swaying along the rail. The air smelled of salt and gunpowder, of wet wood, and of that sweet iron Ekko still carried on his hands.

He had hidden himself in a corner of the ship that didn’t appear in any maps or patrol routes. Between the aft mast and the shadow of the folded sails, where the wind whispered with fury and the horizon seemed to swallow the entire world.

There, Ekko sat with his back against the wood, knees drawn up, his gaze fixed on the dark line of the sea. The machete rested beside him, still uncleaned, and in his hand dangled his medallion, blue and gray glinting under the moonlight. He spun it over and over without thinking, until the chain rubbed red marks into his fingers.

He was empty.

Empty of words, empty of strength. He had killed too much and yet not enough. And every time he closed his eyes, the same scene played again: Jinx dragging herself across the wood, blood spilling from her wrists, her broken voice begging for air. And him arriving too late. Always too late.

"I knew I’d find you here."

The voice came from behind, firm, carved against the wind.

Ekko didn’t turn his head. He didn’t have to. He already knew the precise timbre of Caitlyn Kiramman: that controlled cadence that always seemed to carry half an army behind every word.

She advanced with measured steps, her boots barely sounding against the damp planks. Her uniform was immaculate, not a wrinkle out of place despite the hour, and her dark hair, tied neatly in a bun, hardly stirred in the breeze. It was as if even the sea arranged itself around her.

She stopped a meter away. Studied him as if he were an equation too complex to solve.

"You’re not planning to sleep, are you?" she said—not as a question, but as a fact.

Ekko didn’t answer.

The medallion spun once more between his fingers.

"It’s her," Caitlyn added, without preamble. Her tone wasn’t doubtful, but certain.

The wind seemed to still. Ekko clenched his jaw.

"No."

"It is." Caitlyn took a step forward, as if closeness could force her truth. "Years have passed, sure. But I recognized her. That hair, those gestures, that look—it’s just as Violet described—"

"It’s not her." The interruption was sharp, dry, a blade in his voice.

Silence fell between them. Caitlyn studied him carefully, her brow faintly furrowed, as if searching his eyes for the crack of a lie. But Ekko wasn’t lying. He was refusing.

"You say that because you need to believe it."

"I say it because it’s true." He finally turned to her, eyes dark as storm. "Powder died. Years ago. And nothing you say will bring her back."

He closed his fist around the medallion, as if by hiding it he could shut the conversation down too.

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately. She lowered her gaze, drew a slow breath, and when she spoke, her tone was measured, almost clinical.

"The way you look at her says otherwise."

That made him lift his head. His dark eyes locked onto hers with such intensity the wind itself seemed to pull back.

"And what way is that?"

Caitlyn didn’t blink.

"The way someone looks at someone they care about."

Ekko’s stomach clenched. He rose slowly, leaning on the mast, the ship’s shadow cutting his face in two.

"I don’t care." He forced the words out like tearing free a knife. "I’m only taking her to Bilgewater."

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly, as if she had expected that answer.

"You hadn’t killed anyone in years." Her eyes dropped to the machete resting against the wood, still stained with dried blood. "And now you do it without hesitation—for her. Do you want me to believe that means nothing?"

His jaw tightened, too hard.

"Slaughter doesn’t change anything."

"It does." Caitlyn’s voice was calm, but sharp-edged. "It changes because it proves she matters to you."

Ekko didn’t reply.

The silence thickened, broken only by the creak of sails and the roar of the sea. Caitlyn stepped closer, closing the space between them. She looked at him as if she could peel the truth straight from his skin, with those eyes that never faltered.

"Maybe…" she said slowly, measuring each word, "maybe you even like her."

The blow landed straight in his chest.

"Don’t talk shit."

"It isn’t." Caitlyn held her ground, her voice lower now, as if speaking to the wound, not the man. "Caring about someone again, loving someone again… there’s nothing wrong with that, Ekko."

The medallion trembled in his fingers. The wind lashed against his face. Rage boiled under his skin like poison.

"I let Powder die." His voice cracked, though he didn’t raise it. "I won’t let another girl die. Even if she isn’t her."

The silence stretched long. The sea crashed against the hull, the sails groaned above.

Caitlyn watched him, and Ekko knew it. Knew how she was seeing him: as a hollow man, a broken soldier carrying a corpse inside. And still, she didn’t look away.

"Then you admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That Jinx matters to you."

Ekko clenched the medallion so hard the edge cut into his palm. Her name—Jinx, Powder, both and neither—hung in his throat, but he refused to let it out.

"Don’t say that again."

Caitlyn didn’t smile, but her lips softened slightly. She wasn’t saying it as a threat. She was saying it as truth.

"You can deny it all you want. But I saw it. The way you carried her, like the whole world could rip her from you and you wouldn’t allow it. The way you looked at her when you thought she was going to die."

Ekko turned his gaze to the sea. The horizon was still there, cruel and vast, daring him to drown in it.

"I’m not what she needs."

"Maybe not." Caitlyn crossed her arms, firm. "But that’s never stopped anyone from wanting."

The air between them grew taut, like a rope ready to snap. Caitlyn studied him with the precision of a hunter, but in her eyes there was more: not judgment, but compassion.

Ekko swallowed hard. The wind whipped against his face, tugging at his braids. For an instant, all he wanted was to sink into that silence and never surface.

The medallion dangled from his hand, gleaming faintly under the moonlight. Caitlyn noticed, and with a light, almost distracted gesture, she murmured:

"Since I met you, you looked at that medallion like it was the most beautiful thing in the world, and something in me adored seeing that love in your eyes for your lucky charm," she whispered. "But now you use it like a rope around your neck, choking you slowly. And before someone else gets swallowed by the darkness you carry, tell that poor girl you’ll leave her life. Is there still anything alive in you that can do that?"

Ekko didn’t answer.

She didn’t insist. She stepped back, reclaimed her officer’s air, and turned toward the deck stairs.

"Good night, Hollow Man."

The nickname pierced him, precise as a bullet. Caitlyn walked away, her boots echoing until they faded.

Ekko was left alone, with the sea, the medallion, and that open wound neither time nor denial could ever close.

Darkness wrapped around him once more. And in the whisper of waves against the hull, he heard a name he never wanted to but always did.

Powder.

The night offered no rest.

Ekko leaned against the starboard railing, arms crossed, his back held straight as if staying upright was the only thing keeping him together. The moon carved silver scars across the waves, and he counted them again and again until he lost himself in them. There were no words, no dreams, not even exhaustion. Only that endless hollow keeping him awake, the medallion cold in his hand.

He heard her anyway.

Her broken voice, her sobs against his chest, the murmur of "I’m sorry" tattooed into his ear. He hated her for that. Hated her because she forced him to feel again, and he was empty, he needs to be empty.

Dawn found him still there, eyelids heavy, mind sharp as a blade. The sea had shifted color: lighter blues, golden edges announcing the day. And with the day, his first movement was downward, toward the cabin where he knew she would be.

He didn’t expect laughter.

But he heard it before opening the door: a brief burst, rough still from the wound in her throat, but laughter nonetheless.

He pushed the wood.

The sight disarmed him.

Jinx sat on the bed, surrounded by jars and bandages. Her blue hair tumbled in a wild cascade over her shoulders, longer than he remembered. The pale pants and white blouse crumpled around her as if they didn’t belong on someone like her, and yet she had claimed them somehow. On her wrists, still wrapped, red seeped through the white gauze. And still… she laughed.

Viktor sat beside her, hunched over a notebook, sketching diagrams as he explained compounds and chemical reactions. His voice was patient, always soft, but every so often Jinx interrupted with a question, a gesture, an observation that forced him to pause.

"But if the iron poison was catalyzed by sweat, doesn’t that mean it would’ve activated faster with a fever?" she asked, hoarse but sharp.

Viktor looked at her, startled, pen frozen midair.

"I… yes, but…" He blinked, searching for the answer. "The theory would say yes."

Jinx smirked, satisfied, and let out a rasp that sounded almost like triumph.

"Then what stopped it?" Her tone was light, playful.

Viktor didn’t answer immediately.

"Maybe…" he began.

"The salt." She cut him off, leaning toward him with those pink eyes glowing like embers. "It’s always the salt."

She leaned back again, laughing low, and Viktor shook his head, somewhere between frustrated and fascinated.

"Tell me something else." She straightened a little, fingers fidgeting with the blanket. "If the heart pumps blood, why is blood always red? Wouldn’t it be fun if it was blue, like my eyes should be?"

"Your eyes are…" Viktor started, then stopped.

She laughed softly, rasping.

"Knew it. Even you don’t know what to do with me."

Viktor shook his head calmly.

"The color depends on hemoglobin. And you shouldn’t laugh so much, your throat—"

"My throat’s wrecked, I know." She cut him off, but her crooked smile lingered. "Don’t need it to think."

Her fingers drummed against the sheets, restless.

"How long was I out?" she asked suddenly.

"Two days," Viktor replied, direct.

"Then Ekko’s been here two days without sleeping."

The silence that followed was brief, but Viktor didn’t deny it.

She dropped her gaze, and for the first time since Ekko had been listening, her smile cracked. Just for a second. Then it returned, sharp again.

"Tell me something else. Why do the stars seem to move when I stare at them too long?"

Viktor blinked, surprised by the sudden turn.

"Because your eyes… your mind… aren’t made for infinity."

"And yours are?" she challenged, pink eyes glittering with curious malice.

Viktor didn’t answer.

And she, triumphant, leaned back against the pillow, loosing another ragged laugh that broke into coughs.

Ekko couldn’t stand it anymore. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"You should be resting."

His voice was a blunt strike. The laughter died instantly. Jinx tilted her head, lips curling in a stubborn smile.

"And miss a free lesson? No way."

He stared at her. The bandages on her wrists, the tremor in her fingers, the pallor that even golden light couldn’t hide. Everything screamed she should be lying down, asleep, recovering.

But she had chosen to burn instead.

"Rest, Jinx." His voice dropped lower, graver.

She pressed her lips together. Her eyes softened just a fraction, as if she had truly heard him.

"I don’t want to," she said at last, hoarse but firm. "I just learned about hemoglobin and toxins—do you know how much knowledge I have now?"

Viktor cleared his throat, closing his notebook with a measured gesture.

"I must admit, young lady," he said, adjusting his glasses with a near-nervous touch, "you have a… peculiar mind. You could say you’re inspired… for less than that. It’s admirable how you connect concepts that shouldn’t touch."

Jinx grinned crookedly, puffing her chest like a child proud of a crime well done.

"I know. I’m brilliant. A brilliant mess."

Viktor neither denied nor confirmed; he simply inclined his head with that impossible neutrality of his.

"Your recovery is progressing quickly. More than I anticipated. But you should…" he looked at her with a mix of warning and resignation, "speak less. Your vocal cords are still fragile."

Jinx opened her mouth, ready with some sharp retort, but Ekko spoke first, almost murmuring, arms crossed, eyes locked on her.

"Good luck with that."

Jinx’s smile widened into an exaggerated, theatrical pout.

"Hey! What’s that tone supposed to mean?"

"That you’re not going to shut up." Ekko shrugged, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed the seriousness of his voice. "Ever."

She pointed at him with a bandaged finger.

"Exactly. And you’d better listen."

Viktor gathered his jars, packing his notes in meticulous order.

"I’ll return later to check on you," he said, offering Ekko a brief nod. "Until then."

And he left, the door closing behind him, leaving the two of them alone in that cabin bathed in morning light.

Ekko took the seat Viktor had left, settling awkwardly, as if he didn’t want to admit he was doing it just to stay close. Jinx leaned toward him, eyes burning bright, a storm contained in a body too weak.

"So, do you want to hear everything I learned?" she asked, voice ragged but brimming with enthusiasm.

She didn’t wait for an answer.

"The iron toxins weren’t normal, you know? They reacted differently with my skin. Viktor says I’m weird, but I already knew that. I also found out blood is red because of something called hemoglobin, though I still think it’d be more fun if it was blue. Oh, and the stars move because my eyes are stupid. Did you know that? My eyes, Ekko. Stupid."

He watched her without blinking, as if every word was sketching her anew in front of him.

"I also asked why the fever didn’t kill me faster and landed on the answer: salt. It’s always the salt. And you know what else?" She leaned in, dropping her voice to a ragged whisper. "I think I even surprised Viktor. Did you see it? Left him speechless. I’m also talking a lot about medicine, treatments, cures, something he studied with needles—"

Ekko found himself nodding, taking in every word of her endless chatter, until she suddenly looked at him, serious.

"Why didn’t you sleep?"

The shift caught him off guard.

"I did."

"Liar." Jinx raised her brows, triumphant. "You’ve got the same circles under your eyes as when you keep watch all night. I know you."

Her head tilted, somewhere between teasing and tender.

"You couldn’t sleep, could you?"

The silence said everything.

"Then do it now," she ordered, voice ragged but firm. "Sleep. Afterwards we’ll eat, and I swear there’s so much food you won’t even manage half of it."

He eyed her, suspicious.

"Are you giving me orders?"

"Yes." Her smile was small, but real. "And you’re going to obey."

Ekko let out a huff that sounded like half a laugh, half exhaustion. He pushed himself off the stool, rising slowly.

"Then I’ll go to my room and sleep," he said, giving her no excuse.

She watched him with those pink eyes glowing in the dim light, as if she could drag him back into the chair.

He moved toward the door, but stopped at the threshold, turning just slightly.

"Don’t walk around alone here." His gaze was hard, but his voice held something back. "Promise me."

Jinx raised a bandaged hand as though swearing loyalty to a king.

"Promise," she rasped, but clear.

For the first time, Ekko believed her.

He closed the door behind him. The corridor greeted him with silence, creaking wood and salt in the air. He walked unhurriedly to his room, opened the door, and collapsed onto the hard bed waiting for him.

The ceiling stared back, white and empty. He was empty too.

He dragged a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes for a moment. And there, in the darkness behind his eyelids, the memory struck: Jinx’s trembling palm against his chest, searching for the heartbeat beneath his skin, making sure he was alive.

The air grew heavy in his lungs. He shook his head sharply, as if he could smash the image against the floor.

No.

He rolled onto his side, burying his face into the rough pillow. His body surrendered at last to the exhaustion of days, muscles finally letting go.

And he slept.

As always.

Dreaming nothing.

Chapter Text

THE NEXT DAY FOUND HER AT THE BOW.

The salty air burned her lips, but she didn’t care. The sea stretched as far as her pink eyes could see: an endless tapestry of blues and greens, cut through by the white foam the Kiramman sliced with elegance. The wood vibrated beneath her bare feet, as if the whole ship had its own heart beating in rhythm with the waves.

Jinx leaned her bandaged arms on the railing and bent forward, breathing deeply, drinking in this new world unfolding before her. Everything here was different. The air tasted of gunpowder and salt, of discipline and luxury, of an order she had never felt in Zaun.

The crew worked with an almost choreographed precision. Men and women rushed across the deck, hoisting sails, tightening pulleys, checking compasses and sextants. Every gesture was necessary, every movement part of a greater mechanism. Jinx watched them like someone staring at a complicated toy: fascinated and itching to take it apart just to see how it worked.

She perched on the railing and, with trembling fingers, began to braid her hair into two long tails, clumsy at first. She had worn it loose since they rescued her, and the wind tangling it bothered her. When she finished, a rebellious strand fell across her face. She touched it with her fingers and gave a bitter half-smile: it was just like the one Silco used to tuck behind her ear when she talked too much. A memory that hurt, but one she couldn’t rip out.

The afternoon melted into gold and copper, and when night fell, they called her to dinner.

The place was packed, long tables crowded with officers and sailors. There was laughter, the thud of tankards, the clatter of cutlery against plates piled high with meat and bread. The smell of spices mixed with the smoke of oil lamps. It was loud, warm… and far too orderly for someone like her.

She stepped in lightly, though still weak, and immediately felt every eye drawn to her blue hair. She shrugged, feigning indifference, and looked for the only face that mattered.

Ekko was at the back, sitting with his spine straight, watching her like he could hold her in place with just his gaze. There was a sharpness in his frown, that mix of worry and restrained anger that was his. When she sat beside him, his first word wasn’t a greeting, but a reprimand.

"You should still be in bed."

Jinx rolled her eyes, snatching a piece of bread from the nearest tray.

"It doesn’t hurt that much anymore. And if I was gonna die, I would’ve by now, right?" she rasped, unable to soften her voice.

Ekko shot her a glare, but instead of arguing, he pointed at the table with a serious gesture.

"That’s not a cup. It’s a mug. And that’s not soup, it’s stew. Learn it."

She arched a brow, amused.

"Seriously? You save my life just to give me Ship Class 101?"

"Somebody has to." he replied, but the hardness in his voice couldn’t hide the tenderness in the way he slid the jug closer to her, as if afraid she’d burn her hands.

Jinx grinned with a spark of triumph. She loved cracking that shell of his, even if just a little.

During dinner, she let herself be carried by the atmosphere. She asked questions about the sails, about why the wind sounded different in every corner of the ship, about how the hell they could navigate the ocean with no streets or signs. Ekko answered with a rare patience, correcting her when she was wrong, giving her precise names that she immediately twisted into her own versions.

"That’s not a rope, it’s a line."

"Sure, Ekko. Fat line, skinny line, boring line..."

"Jinx."

"What? Yours all sound boring too!"

The chuckles of nearby sailors only egged her on, and she leaned into the table, eating, questioning, soaking it all in.

But every time she lifted her gaze, she found Caitlyn’s eyes.

The captain sat further away, at the head of the table, impeccable even amid the noise. Not a wrinkle in her uniform, her hair tied back with precision, her manners too rigid for that overflowing table. And yet, her attention wasn’t on the map spread before her or the officers speaking to her. It was on Jinx.

She didn’t look at her like a prisoner, not even like a curiosity. She looked at her like one contemplates a puzzle far too personal.

Jinx felt it like a weight, but she didn’t look away. She tilted her head, biting into a piece of bread, and stared back with defiance. As if to say: Yeah, it’s me. So what?

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. She only raised her glass with elegance and drank, never breaking eye contact.

Jinx’s stomach tightened for a second. There was something in that gaze that unsettled her and, at the same time, intrigued her. As if they shared a nameless secret.

She turned back to Ekko, seeking shelter in his steady presence.

"So… what happens if I break one of those ropes?" she whispered, playful.

He didn’t even blink.

"Don’t try it."

She laughed, resting her chin on her hand.

The hall was already half empty, the crew retreating in groups, with tired laughter and half-full mugs. The air smelled of fresh bread and cheap wine, mixed with lamp smoke. Jinx stayed put, legs folded on the chair, hair in two loose braids, playing with a piece of bread like it was treasure. Ekko was beside her, solid as always, arms crossed, watching her like every move could be the one before disaster.

"You’re worse than Viktor," Jinx rasped with a crooked smile. "He says, ‘don’t talk so much.’ You say, ‘don’t move so much.’ What’s next? ‘Don’t breathe so much’?"

Ekko rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth curved just slightly.

"If you could, you’d do it just to spite me."

"Obviously." She puffed her chest as if it were a badge of honor.

A comfortable silence settled, broken only by the rhythmic clink of cutlery still being cleared. Jinx spun the bread between her fingers, thoughtful.

"You know? I know things too."

Ekko raised a brow, resting an elbow on the table.

"Tell me one."

"Ships have souls." She said it casually, like talking about the weather.

Ekko looked at her, curious.

"Who told you that?"

"Silco." Her tone dropped a bit, but didn’t lose its lightness. "He said everything with a name has a soul. Guns, cities, ships… even you, grumpy pirate."

"Uh-huh." Ekko nodded slowly, like he was processing it. "So if I give my machete a name… it has a soul?"

Jinx clicked her tongue, amused.

"Obviously. But if you give it a stupid name, it’ll bite you in your sleep."

"And what would you name it?"

Jinx thought, bread still in her hand, pink eyes glinting.

"‘Heavy.’" She burst into a raspy laugh.

"Very funny."

Jinx’s chest clenched, and to shake it off, she leaned toward him, eyes shining.

"You wanna hear another important thing?"

"Go ahead."

"If you fall asleep at the table, you snore like a grandpa."

Ekko snorted, offended.

"I don’t snore."

"You totally snore!" she insisted, grinning. "Loud. Loud enough Viktor probably has formulas to measure it."

He shook his head, but lighter this time.

"You talk too much."

"And you listen to all of it." She smiled, crooked but warm.

Silence fell again, but this time it was different. Lighter. Outside, the waves beat against the hull, as if echoing the rhythm of a conversation that didn’t need anything else.

The ship had changed since Jinx began to learn.

At first, every poorly tightened rope was an accident waiting to happen. Every crooked knot, a threat to the balance of the sails. Ekko corrected her in silence, grumbling under his breath, with the strained patience of someone who knew yelling would only make things worse. But as the days passed, she had started watching more carefully, repeating with that stubborn streak of hers until something clicked.

Now, when a sailor shouted an order, Jinx ran to tighten a rope with quick hands, or held the small sail in place until Ekko could secure it. Her movements were still clumsy, impulsive, but useful. And on a royal ship, useful was the closest thing to being accepted.

The men had looked at her with suspicion at first—for her blue hair, the bandages on her arms, the laugh that burst too loud across the deck. But little by little, they started giving her space, even nodding at her when her help made a difference. Nobody said much, but Ekko saw it: Jinx was finding a place.

And him... he kept watch.

Every night, when the ship fell quiet and only the sea and stars remained, Ekko had the habit of seeking her out. Sometimes he found her asleep in her bunk, tangled in blankets with her hair a mess. Other times, awake, staring at the ceiling like she wanted to pry secrets from the wood. She usually made a mocking gesture, telling him to stop spying on her, to go to sleep, but he stayed a while. Listening. Half-answering. Watching.

That night, he didn’t find her.

Ekko had already walked the whole deck. Checked the rigging, the bowlines, even the toolbox left by the mainmast. More habit than necessity: on quiet nights like this, the ship barely creaked. But she wasn’t there.

Her bunk was empty. The blanket, cold.

He frowned and climbed back up. The night air had that suspicious stillness, as if the whole sea were holding its breath. He walked toward the bow, and then he saw her.

Jinx was sitting in a corner, half hidden, blue hair streaming under the starlight. Her feet dangled just above the dark sea. If Ekko hadn’t already known what she was, if he hadn’t seen her tail glowing under the moon, he might have suspected it right then. There was something in the way she looked at the water, like she belonged to it.

Ekko leaned on the railing without saying a word. She spoke first, eyes still on the sea:

"You here for your daily dose of endless chatter from your favorite mermaid?"

"Maybe," he answered dryly, shrugging. "It’s a habit by now."

She laughed softly, a hollow laugh that didn’t reach her eyes.

"Sure, because you’re worried I talk too much."

"It worries me more when you’re too quiet," Ekko added. "Means you’re really bad off if you can stay silent for two minutes."

Jinx just laughed again. She went quiet, watching the foam shimmer in the dark.

"Why don’t you talk to God anymore?"

Her head tilted slightly, pink eyes glinting in the shadows.

"Huh?"

"You used to," he pressed, watching her without letting her slip away. "Every night. Every day. Not now."

She lowered her gaze to the water, a loose strand of braid falling over her cheek. She smiled, but it was a broken smile.

"I heard the villagers on that island," she said, voice hoarse, halting. "They said mermaids were demons. Talked about how they hunted them, what they did to hers. That they bring storms, curse ships. I… thought they exaggerated. Until Reynor… and he…"

She stopped. The name hung in the air like a splinter.

Ekko didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. He stepped closer, and without thinking too hard, set his hand on her back. Firm. Warm. An anchor.

Jinx swallowed, shoulders tense.

"If everyone thinks we’re monsters…" she whispered, trembling. "Maybe I shouldn’t transform anymore. Or talk to God for cursing me like this."

Ekko kept his hand there a moment longer, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Listen to me." His voice was low, sharp, but not against her. "You’re not a monster."

She looked at him in disbelief, searching for cracks in his words.

"And if I am?"

He tilted his head slightly, serious.

"You’re not," he insisted. "You’re a loudmouth mermaid, but not a demon."

"You know what I did every night at the convent?"

Ekko shook his head slowly, wary of the sudden shift.

"Cried." Her voice was rough, barely a thread. "Always. Without fail. I’d climb the bell tower, stare at the stars, and pray. Beg God for someone to adopt me. A family, anything. But I was too old. Sixteen. Nobody wants one like me."

Ekko clenched his jaw. He didn’t interrupt.

"When they had their big ceremonies…" Jinx continued, lowering her gaze. "They chose the younger girls. Put them up front. I didn’t even exist. Later I thought maybe it was better that way because I was a mermaid. The only thing left for me was to be a nun, but… something in me screamed no. That I wanted more."

Her breathing hitched like every word was tearing air out of her lungs.

"Nobody wants me." The words fell into the sea like stones, sinking with her. "Not as a human, not as… mermaid. A demon, a mistake. Nobody knows what to do with me."

Her voice cracked, the sharp edge she used to laugh at everything suddenly broken.

"And God…" she swallowed, pink eyes bright with tears that wouldn’t fall. "God ignores me. Always. And I don’t want to keep begging for a reason anymore."

Ekko felt a strange weight in his chest. Not surprise. Not pity. The silent recognition of someone who knows what it means to carry alone.

Jinx bowed her head, fingers digging into the damp wood of the bow.

"Reynor…" Her voice trembled, as if the name tore her apart. "When they chained me… before I could break free… they were going to force me to transform." She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could erase the memory. "They wanted to cut off my tail. Rip my scales out one by one. Sell them. And he almost did—but it wasn’t saltwater."

Her body shuddered, a sob trapped in her throat.

"That’s why I haven’t transformed again." She lifted her gaze to him, broken. "What if I really am a demon? What if I’m just… a Jinx?"

Ekko didn’t think. His hand moved on its own, from her back to her nape, firm, grounding her to the present. The heat of his palm against the cold wind.

"You’re not."

She looked at him, lips trembling, searching for cracks, some sign of a lie.

"You’re not," he repeated, steady as ever, his voice never raised but carrying everything. "You’re not a demon, blue girl."

Jinx blinked, a near-childish sob slipping out before she could bite it back.

"And if you doubt?"

Ekko shook his head slowly.

"I don’t."

The words were few, but their weight was enough. He didn’t know how to comfort with flowers or promises, but he knew how to stay—solid, unmoving—until her trembling eased a little. The night breeze stirred Jinx’s blue hair, plastering damp strands to her face. Her eyes still glistened with stubborn tears that refused to fall.

Then she said it:

"The sadness you carry…" she murmured, voice rough but soft, as if afraid to break it. "That emptiness killing you inside… it’s not bigger than the good I see in you."

Ekko went rigid, his hand still on her nape. He felt the absurd urge to pull away, to throw up a wall with some dry remark.

"You don’t know what you’re saying," he muttered, low, almost harsh.

But Jinx smiled, small and crooked, like she knew more than she should.

"I do. Because I’ve got it too."

Ekko raised a brow, incredulous, though his eyes searched hers, like he needed to understand.

"I killed someone."

The air between them grew heavier.

"When they attacked us…" he tried to impose logic, reason. "It was self-defense. You couldn’t—"

"I don’t mean that." She cut him off, flat, lowering her gaze to her hands. "Before."

Silence wrapped around them. Ekko didn’t ask. Couldn’t. The tension in her shoulders said more than any confession.

She drew a deep breath, and for the first time that night, she reached for him instead: letting her fingers brush his on the railing. A tiny gesture, almost clumsy, but sincere.

"And even so…" she said without looking up. "You’re still here. And so am I."

Ekko’s heart stumbled awkwardly in his chest. He didn’t know what to say. He only clenched his jaw, kept quiet, and didn’t pull his hand away from hers.

It didn’t last long. When exhaustion finally took them, Ekko walked her back to her bunk. Made sure she lay down, blanket tucked up to her neck. She mumbled something in her sleep, the echo of her voice still tinged with pain.

He lingered in the doorway a moment, watching her sink into uneasy dreams. And for one second—just one—he let tenderness pierce through before retreating to his own room.

That night, while Jinx slept, she dreamed of him. Of the warm weight of his hand at her nape. Of the gravity of his words. And of that dangerous, unfamiliar feeling that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone.

The next day dawned with shouts on deck.

They had reached a broad dock, the smell of fresh fish and pitch heavy in the air. The Kiramman moored among merchant ships, its sails still dripping salt. Caitlyn stood on deck, immaculate as always, barking orders with her steady voice. Officers and sailors came and went, hauling barrels, ticking off lists, checking inventories.

Jinx sidled up to Ekko, her eyes shining with the excitement of a stray dog about to bolt.

"Let’s go for a walk," she grinned, like the idea was a secret between them.

Before he could answer, Caitlyn turned. Her gaze didn’t land on Jinx, but on Ekko.

"You can’t go far," her voice a velvet-wrapped blade. "You must come back."

Ekko’s brow furrowed. He said nothing, but his shoulders tensed. The captain held his gaze a moment longer, too fixed, too direct, as if reminding him of something only they knew. A pact. An earlier order. A debt.

Ekko gave a curt nod, stiff, more contained fury than obedience.

Jinx noticed. She noticed how Caitlyn wasn’t speaking to her, but to him. How that "must come back" carried a different weight, like there was a secret she wasn’t invited to.

"Ekko," Caitlyn pressed again, lower this time but just as firm. "I mean it."

"I will," he replied, curt, eyes locked on hers.

A brief silence followed, heavy. Then Caitlyn gave the smallest nod and turned back to her orders.

Ekko brushed past Jinx without looking at her, and she turned her head toward the captain. Caitlyn’s eyes met hers. Not hate, not mockery. Pity.

And Jinx felt it like a knife.

The knot in her throat burned hotter than the sun on the dock. She didn’t need Caitlyn’s pity, didn’t want those blue eyes weighing on her like she was already broken. And yet, she couldn’t look away.

And still, when they melted into the crowd, the edge of that gaze stayed lodged in her skin, searing her with curiosity and rage.

Chapter Text

THE TOWN SMELLED OF RIPE FRUIT AND WET STONE.

Ekko had never understood why Caitlyn always insisted on stopping there when they could stock up at bigger ports—with cheaper rates and less wasted time. But when Jinx’s feet touched solid ground and he saw her look around with that fierce curiosity and bottled-up hunger, he understood: some things couldn’t be bought in smuggler markets or pirate warehouses.

Besides, Caitlyn wasn’t a pirate. She was far more proper and careful than he was.

She walked ahead, pink eyes devouring every detail: the smoke from bakeries spiraling sweet into the air, the fabric stalls bursting with impossible colors, children running with ribbons streaming behind them. Caitlyn had handed each of them a few coins, and Jinx clutched hers like they were pure gold—though Ekko suspected half the fun for her was simply having permission to spend them however she wanted.

“Look at that!” she pointed at a row of lanterns strung across the main street. “Don’t they look like jellyfish?”

“They’re paper lanterns,” Ekko corrected automatically.

“Paper jellyfish, then,” she shot back, hopping onto the curb like the ground belonged to her.

He snorted, but followed anyway.

They passed a library framed in gray stone. Jinx stopped in front of the windows, pressing her nose against the glass as if she could absorb the words by osmosis. Ekko crossed his arms, watching; seeing her still in front of books was as strange as seeing her sleep peacefully. A moment that felt alien to her explosive nature.

“Want to go in?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“No.” Her eyes didn’t leave the worn spines. “I don’t like things in cages. Not even words.”

She said it so simply that Ekko had no reply. He just walked beside her, letting silence speak.

The day unfolded in layers: from food stalls to courtyards where artisans carved wood, from alleys full of cats to open squares with fountains at their center. Every corner carried a gesture, a color, an excuse for Jinx to stop and stare. Ekko kept a step behind her, watchful, as if each laugh of hers might collapse at any moment and he’d have to catch it before it shattered.

They turned a corner and found a blacksmith wrestling with a hinge on a freshly built door. The man grunted, cursing when the angle wouldn’t match, each clumsy hammer strike only making the fit worse.

Jinx tilted her head, eyes gleaming like she’d just found a new toy.

"Can I?" she asked, though her hands were already on the hammer.

The blacksmith raised a brow, wary, but stepped aside. Ekko was about to stop her—but didn’t. He wanted to see what the hell she would do this time.

Jinx examined the hinge for all of a second, spat on her fingers, flipped the iron upside down, and swung at the joint from a completely illogical angle. The metallic clang rang out, and to everyone’s surprise, the piece clicked neatly into place.

"It’s not symmetrical, but now it works," she declared proudly, pushing the door back and forth.

The blacksmith stared at her like he’d just witnessed a miracle. Neighbors gathered around, breaking into applause, some laughing.

"Good girl!" someone called out. "Not even the apprentices could’ve solved it that fast! Thank you!"

Jinx grinned, all triumph and mischief, waving like she’d just won a prize.

Ekko folded his arms, watching. For a moment, he saw something different—a memory of someone else who used to help everyone in this same country. And it hurt more than he’d ever admit.

He stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Let’s go," he muttered, low and firm, leaving no room for protest.

"What? You’re not even going to congratulate me?" she shot back, falling in step beside him, still high on the attention.

He didn’t answer. He caught her in his peripheral vision, smiling at strangers who smiled back sincerely. And in his chest, a memory stirred—one he shoved down hard, before it could surface.

They kept walking.

At a fruit stand, an old woman offered trays piled with mangoes and guavas. Jinx grabbed one without asking, bit into it, and sucked the juice off her fingers, oblivious to the vendor’s horrified stare. Ekko sighed, handed over a coin, and offered her another piece, earning a grateful bow.

"See?" Jinx mumbled around a mouthful. "Everything works out if you just smile."

"No," Ekko replied, wiping his hands with a rag. "Everything works out if you pay for it."

She stuck her tongue out, lips stained orange with pulp.

Later, they came across a group of kids spinning tops in the street. Jinx crouched immediately, borrowed one, and launched it so hard it shot straight into a barrel. The kids laughed, amazed, while Ekko rubbed his forehead. Jinx leaned in close, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret.

"If you paint the tops blue, they spin faster."

The kids nodded solemnly, running off to find paint, and Ekko tugged gently on her braid to drag her away before she dismantled half the village.

They wandered into an alley full of cats, dozens sprawled across crates and low roofs. Jinx crouched, reaching out to a gray one that eyed her suspiciously before padding over. She petted it clumsily, eyes bright with the same fierce fascination she reserved for everything she didn’t quite understand. Ekko stayed at the entrance, arms crossed.

"If you bring one back to the ship, Caitlyn will kill you," he warned.

"And if I bring five?" she shot back, lifting a black kitten in both hands.

Ekko shook his head, saying nothing.

The alley spilled into a small plaza, where fabric stalls exploded in impossible colors: blazing reds, liquid greens, blues as deep as the midnight tide. Rolls of cloth hung from above like waterfalls, swaying in the warm dusk breeze.

Jinx froze for a second, pupils wide, as if she’d stumbled onto treasure.

"Look at them," she whispered, moving among the silks and linens. "They’re like… dead snakes."

Before Ekko could frown, she had already reached out. She snatched a scarlet piece, draped it across her shoulders like a cape, and spun dramatically in the aisle. Then she tied a golden strip clumsily around her waist, a warrior’s sash gone wrong.

"Tell me I don’t look like a queen!" she proclaimed, chin lifted regally even as the cloth dragged awkwardly behind her.

Ekko crossed his arms, unshaken.

"You look like an expensive tablecloth someone dropped by mistake."

Jinx barked out a rough laugh, then without hesitation, yanked a sky-blue veil from the stall. She draped it over her head, letting it fall across her braids. The clash against her hair was so blatant even the vendor chuckled.

"And now?" she asked, twirling, eyes fixed on Ekko. "Princess? Sea goddess?"

He snorted.

"You look… like you." That was all he said.

The words slipped out too fast, too honest. Jinx caught it, and her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. She stepped closer, dragging the blue cloth like a gown, and looked him up and down with bold mischief.

"‘Me,’" she murmured. "Sounds like a compliment. Even if you say it with a funeral face, it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever told me."

Ekko met her gaze, jaw tight, every word in his mouth a battle.

In the end, he stepped forward, yanking the veil off her with a sharp motion and folding it before handing it back to the vendor.

"Let’s go before you break something for real."

Jinx laughed again, still dragging the strip of gold, still wearing that crooked smile like a prize.

Ekko glanced at her sidelong, silent. The word you sat heavy on his tongue, like iron.

When the sun dipped toward the horizon, music lit the town.

The square filled with guitars and drums, with clapping and voices weaving together as naturally as smoke in the air. Couples spun with clumsy joy, the kind that didn’t need rhythm to feel alive—just the excuse of a beat to surrender to the moment.

Jinx’s head snapped up, eyes flashing with the dangerous spark Ekko had already learned to fear.

"Come on," she said, and it wasn’t a suggestion.

"In your dreams," he shot back, arms crossed.

She didn’t argue. She just grabbed his hand and pulled him into the crowd. Ekko resisted one second, then two, until the heat of her palm and the laughter around them disarmed him. The music pulled him under before he could find an excuse.

"I don’t know how to dance," Jinx confessed through clenched teeth, giggling nervously as they reached the center of the plaza.

"I figured," Ekko muttered, his seriousness cutting into the charm.

She looked at him, defiant.

"Then teach me, please."

Ekko huffed like he couldn’t believe himself, but his hands moved anyway: one steady at her waist, the other guiding her hand to his shoulder.

"Here," he instructed, not meeting her eyes. "And the other, in mine."

Jinx obeyed, though her fingers clung too tightly, like she was afraid he might let go.

"And now what? Do we spin like tops until we puke?"

"You know what a top is, but you don’t know how to dance?"

"I’m a brilliant mind, remember."

A laugh slipped out of him, brief and startled, but enough to catch her off guard.

"Just… follow me."

The music shifted then. A slower melody wrapped around the plaza, guitars soft and swaying like calm waves while the drums eased into silence.

Ekko guided her gently: one step forward, another back. Jinx stumbled, stepped on his foot twice—almost three times—until she found the rhythm. Her blue hair brushed against his chest each time she leaned too close, and he clenched his jaw, fighting the thought of how easy it would be to lose himself here.

"Like this?" she asked, tripping but laughing, eyes alight.

"Slower," Ekko murmured, adjusting. "Don’t rush."

"You’re telling me not to rush?" she teased, and this time her laugh rang clear, sparking through the air until it loosened something in him too.

They turned together in the square, under the glow of lanterns flickering on one by one, like stars arriving too early. Jinx threw her head back, laughter spilling free; Ekko held her steady, lips betraying him with the faintest, fleeting curve.

"You admit you like it," she accused, pink eyes glinting like they wanted to bite.

"I don’t admit anything."

"But you laughed," she pressed, grinning crookedly. "And if I got you to laugh, that makes me the best dancer in the world."

They spun in the middle of the plaza, surrounded by voices and lanterns that began to light up one by one, like stars being born ahead of time. Jinx let herself go, head thrown back, laughter spilling free; Ekko held her steady, serious, though his treacherous lips curved just barely into something that looked like a smile.

She noticed, of course. She noticed everything. And instead of joking again, she lowered her voice, eyes locked on his as they kept swaying.

"You know what I think?"

"No idea," he answered, tone grave, feigning indifference.

"That this…" She leaned closer, close enough to brush his nose, testing how far she could push. "…this has been the best day of my life."

Ekko raised a brow

.
"Really? We only saw fruit, cats, and a grumpy blacksmith."

"Exactly!" she shot back, as if that explained everything. "I’ve never seen a village like this—with lanterns that look like jellyfish, kids painting their tops blue just because I told them, or an old smith swearing I’m a genius. With people… wanting me." Her voice brimmed with so much enthusiasm her eyes shimmered. "And on top of it, I got to dance with you."

He looked away, uneasy, as if her words weighed too much.

"You settle for too little."

"No," she corrected softly, squeezing his hand tighter. "I settle for nothing. And this is more than nothing. Way more."

It disarmed him. Ekko pressed his lips together, lost for words. They kept moving, one slow step after another.

Jinx tilted her head, bold, studying him.

"And you?"

"Me what?"

"Do you ever get tired of carrying everything?" she asked suddenly, no irony, just raw curiosity.

The question hit like a hammer. Ekko swallowed hard, jaw tight.

"Sometimes," he admitted quietly. "But I can’t afford to."

She watched him for an endless second, a strange smile curling—half tender, half daring.

"Well, I say you should. At least today. Getting tired with me doesn’t sound so terrible, does it?"

His heart jolted, but his voice stayed firm.

"You’re insufferable."

She chuckled low, that raspy sound from her chest, and leaned her forehead against his shoulder for a fleeting moment—innocent and fierce all at once.

"And you put up with everything. That’s our trick."

Ekko shook his head, but didn’t let her go.

And for a heartbeat, time stretched.

The world vanished: the streets, the ship, the war forever chasing them. There was only the two of them, swaying to music that felt made for this moment. And Ekko felt something strange, dangerous—like something inside him was alive again.

Until he saw it.

Behind Jinx, painted on a wall, was a mural.

The strokes weren’t perfect, but there was devotion in them, even though, like everything in Zaun, the years had worn it down. A family smiling, their faces detailed with care. Among them, a girl of ten or thirteen. Blue hair. Blue eyes. White dress.

Smiling.

Her.

Ekko’s world contracted. The music blurred into a distant hum, the air yanked from his lungs. He looked at Jinx—laughter still trembling on her lips—then back at the mural. The same laugh. The same spark.

Cold vertigo swept through him.

"It’s late," he said suddenly, his voice sharp and unfamiliar."I'll see you on the ship. I'll go ahead."

Jinx blinked at him, confused, her fingers still clinging to his hand. He tore his hand away, too fast, like it burned.

"We need to go. Now."

He didn’t wait. He pushed through the crowd with hard, almost frantic steps. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

Jinx stood alone in the square, music spinning around her. Her smile broke, but she didn’t move. The absence of Ekko pressed down like a void, like she’d been ripped from a dream.

Slowly, she turned.

The mural waited under the lantern glow.

It covered nearly the whole wall: a family of four in white clothes trimmed with gold. The father, regal and broad, with a chestnut beard; the mother, hair braided in blue; the older daughter, a teenager with pink hair. And the youngest: a girl of about ten or thirteen.

She had blue hair, tied into two short braids falling over her shoulders. Blue eyes painted with such care they seemed to glow under the trembling light. A simple white dress, with pale blue embroidery at the waist. And she was smiling, innocence radiating from every line.

A strange dizziness tipped the ground beneath Jinx’s feet. She touched her throat, dry, and stepped closer. The painted smile seemed to meet hers—identical, and yet not hers at all.

"Who… is she?" she whispered to a woman leaning against the fountain nearby. "The girl with the blue hair."

The woman tilted her head, surprised anyone could not know.

"The youngest daughter," she said softly. "Such a tragedy."

An older man sitting on a bench joined in without looking at her.

"Her death was a disaster," he lamented. "She was taken far too soon. Same as the rest of the family."

"All… all of them? When?" Jinx asked, swallowing hard, eyes fixed on the painted smile that suddenly felt too familiar.

The man’s voice turned rough.

"Yes. The royal family of Zaun. And that was the younger princess."

A brief, almost reverent silence fell.

Then the older woman finished the story, like laying the final piece of a tale everyone already knew.

"Powder. That was her name," she said, sorrowful. "The entire royal family died nine years ago."

Chapter Text

THE BEST DAY OF HER LIFE WAS STILL TREMBLING ON HER LIPS WHEN SHE STEPPED ONTO THE SHIP’S GANGWAY.

But Ekko no longer lived that day.

She doubted he had ever lived a good one at all—perhaps even, truly lived.

He stood there, waiting for her, like a stone sentinel at the gate. The lanterns on the dock cast hard shadows across his face, and for a moment Jinx thought she had dreamed it all—the music, his hands guiding her, his laughter cut in half. The boy who had held her in the middle of the square was gone. What stood there now was something else entirely.

He looked at her only long enough to make sure she boarded. Nothing more. No words, no reproaches, none of that spark that had always burned behind his frown. Just an empty trace, as if he’d left life itself somewhere between the guitars and the mural.

Jinx opened her mouth to say something—anything—but he didn’t give her the chance. The instant her foot brushed the deck, Ekko turned on his heel and vanished into the ship’s corridors. No gesture. No sound. As if he’d dissolved into thin air.

She stood there for a moment, motionless, her fingers still warm from the music, her throat dry. Then she moved, unsteady, until the silence of the ship swallowed her whole. The Kiramman felt different that night: too still, too hollow.

She didn’t go to her bunk. She couldn’t.

Her feet carried her straight to Caitlyn’s quarters.

She knocked once, but didn’t wait for permission. The door flew open, and she stormed in like a tempest of blue hair and burning eyes. The captain was bent over a map, pen in hand, her uniform as immaculate as ever. She looked up, startled by the intrusion.

"I need you to tell me the truth," Jinx demanded, breathless, relentless, no air between her words.

Caitlyn blinked, faintly thrown off.

"The truth about what?"

"About him." Jinx pointed a trembling finger toward nothing, as if Ekko were still behind her. "About Powder."

Caitlyn calmly capped her pen, letting silence stretch for one more second before she spoke, quiet but firm.

"If I tell you, Ekko won’t be happy."

Jinx growled, pacing the room in frustration.

"When is he ever?" she spat, stepping forward, her gaze sharp as a knife. "Tell me. Because out there, they said the princess died nine years ago. Not twelve. Nine. What the hell does that mean?"

The captain sighed, lowering her eyes to the map as if it weighed more than the sea itself. Then she straightened, tall and poised, and moved toward the door without a word.

"Walk with me," she said at last.

Jinx tensed, suspicious, but followed.

Caitlyn left an officer in charge with a few quick orders, and the two of them descended from the ship. The dock smelled of salt and wet wood, the torches crackling against the night wind. The town lay shrouded in half-darkness now that the bustle had died—half-empty squares, swaying lanterns over damp streets, houses sleeping like silent beasts.

They walked side by side, neither speaking at first. Jinx chewed on her anxiety like damp gunpowder. Every shadow felt like a secret, every corner an echo of the mural.

"Are you going to talk, or do you just want me to wear myself out following you?" she snapped at last, unable to hold back.

Caitlyn didn’t respond right away. Her steps were firm, her hands clasped behind her back, her gaze fixed straight ahead. Only when they turned into a cobbled street quieter than the rest did she stop.

She turned to Jinx. Her blue eyes looked colder under the lamplight. She said nothing. Just held out a hand—a brief, almost imperceptible gesture—for her to follow.

They walked in silence, winding through the narrow streets until they reached a small square. There, against an old worn wall, the mural awaited them.

It wasn’t like the one in the main plaza: this one was covered with burning candles, wilted flowers, and ribbons tied in mourning silence. The flames flickered in the wind, as if breathing in unison.

Jinx froze.

It was her. Again. The little girl with blue hair, short braids, and wide eyes painted with care. But older—twelve, maybe thirteen. Powder. Smiling from the wall as if time had never touched her.

Jinx stepped closer. She felt the heat of the candles brush her legs, the scent of melted wax rising to her nose. She wanted to see herself there, to recognize herself in those eyes—but all she found was a hollow void.

The pink in her eyes could never even imagine being that blue.

She touched her chest, almost in desperation.

"It’s like..." she whispered, not looking at Caitlyn. "It’s like I’m her ghost."

Caitlyn watched her in silence, upright, composure unbroken. Only after a moment did she speak, softly, without judgment.

"You’re not the first to feel that. It’s common for the shadows of the dead to live on in those who remain."

Jinx laughed, but it sounded empty.

"He loved her, didn’t he?"

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly.

"And he always will. Do you know how I met Ekko the first time? He didn’t talk about battles or glory. Only about the princess waiting for him at home—it was unbearable how he spoke about his great love." She paused, and for an instant her voice lost its hardness. "In every corner of Zaun, Powder was adored. Violet adored her. I did too... I loved her, even without knowing her. She still is."

The words hurt more than Jinx expected. She swallowed, her face flushed in the flickering candlelight.

"What happened?"

Caitlyn took her time to answer. For a moment, only the crackling of the candles filled the air, the white smoke curling between them like a veil. Outside, the sea breathed slow, as if it were listening too.

Finally, the captain spoke.

"I met him in the navy," she said—her voice stripped of rank, of command, of titles. Only memory remained. "He was fifteen. A child, really. But when I saw him for the first time... he looked younger than all of us. Not by age, but by the way he looked at the world. As if it was good, simply because she lived in it."

Jinx stood still, her fingers brushing the edge of a candle, the heat barely bearable.

"A kid from Zaun. Poor, no connections. But when he showed up at the Piltover Navy docks, he didn’t talk about money or status, you know?" A spectral smile, almost a grimace of pain, crossed Caitlyn’s face. "He talked about her. Only her. Always about the love waiting for him beyond the sea."

Jinx clenched her fists, the blue fabric tied around her waist crackling softly.

"He came to earn it. Not gold or jewels, but the promise of a life. Money—enough to live with his princess, Powder. He swore to me, to all of us, that he loved her more than his own life. He left her behind to make something of himself, to earn a title, to come back and marry her. I’ve never seen love like that, Jinx. So open, so reckless, so absolute."

Caitlyn lifted her chin, her ice-blue eyes now fixed on the night sky.

"The boy from Zaun was a prodigy. The best the navy ever trained. He could play with the wind, sail by instinct, all to shorten the time between them. Every day, every night, he got letters from Powder. And he wrote back, telling her about every port, every wave, every coin earned. Love wasn’t the problem. Love was the engine."

The candle flames trembled.

"I’ve never seen a love like that," Caitlyn continued, her gaze lost in the mural’s painted face. "Not before, not since. He’d read her letters under his breath when he thought no one was listening. They were... simple things. 'Today I saw a ship with sky-blue sails. It reminded me of you.' 'I’ll build you a house by the coast, with a big window to watch the storms.' 'I almost died, but I still want to marry you.'"

Her voice broke just slightly—a whisper of emotion that seemed foreign to her.

"He was a poor boy," she said, "but he had the heart of a king. And she... she waited for him. And he only ever loved her."

Jinx didn’t breathe. She could hear her own pulse echoing in her bandaged wrists, the sound of the sea pounding gently against the dock.

Caitlyn lowered her gaze.

A long pause. The wind blew, making the candle shadows dance over Powder’s painted smile.

"And then," she said quietly, "everything changed."

Jinx swallowed hard.

"Ekko... did he do something?"

"No." The denial came sharp and fast—a gunshot. "The letters stopped while we were on a special training exercise. Three weeks of silence. Nothing. And then the news reached Piltover."

The wind carried the scent of wax and salt, and Caitlyn spoke slowly, as if telling a story she’d rather forget.

"Someone had attacked Zaun. The capital’s walls were burning. The kings were dead. The princesses... captured." She paused, her voice dropping to a thin, cold edge. "No one believed it at first. Until we saw the broken seal of the crown."

Silence fell, heavy and absolute.

"Ekko nearly destroyed the barracks," Caitlyn continued. "He screamed, fought officers, tried to steal a ship. We had to lock him up. But he escaped. By dawn, he was gone. I followed him as a friend. He left only a note: 'If the sea won’t bring her back, I’ll break it.'"

The words hung between them, sacred and terrible.

"And he did," Caitlyn whispered. "He moved heaven, earth, and hell for her. He left the navy. Stole a vessel. Became what he once swore to hate: a pirate. And just as he’d been a prodigy in the navy, he became a prodigy among pirates—one of the most feared. The Owl."

The waves roared in the distance, as if answering the name.

"Months passed. Maybe years. He sailed every route, spoke to smugglers, killers, sailors who swore they saw ghosts in the fog. And in the end—he found her."

Jinx felt the air leave her lungs.

"Powder?"

"Violet," Caitlyn said quietly. "When we finally found her... it was in an abandoned shipyard off the coasts of Atover." The name slid out with a shiver. "A half-sunken fortress where Ambessa kept her high-value prisoners. The most feared pirate of the seven seas. A woman with no kingdom, no loyalty, but a cruelty that made empires tremble. No one stood against her. No one."

Caitlyn clenched her jaw.

"Violet was alive, yes. But… she wasn’t a princess anymore." Her voice fell to almost a whisper. "Her head was shaved. Scars down her back. The eyes of an animal that no longer knows if it’s human. When we found her, Ekko recognized her instantly. He ran to her. Fell to his knees before her. And she... she didn’t recognize him. She only screamed. Scratched him. Cursed him."

The silence between them became unbearable.

"I took care of her," Caitlyn went on, almost trembling. "I asked about Powder. She looked at me like I had just spoken the name of a ghost. Said that Ambessa made her watch. Forced her to see her die. I cared for her until she recovered—and then she became a pirate, same as Ekko."

Jinx’s face twisted, as if something inside her tore open with those words.

"That night," Caitlyn continued, her voice shaking more than she wanted it to, "Ekko didn’t speak. Not a single word. Violet cried until she fell asleep. And he just watched her. Still. Like a statue. By morning, he wasn’t himself anymore. He hadn’t been for a long time, not really—but that was the moment he crossed the point of no return."

She stopped.

Closed her eyes for a moment, breathing as though the air weighed too much.

"That’s when his crusade began. What the seas call the years of the Owl," Caitlyn whispered. "No one knew where he came from. He would just appear in the fog, on ships marked with the emblem of a broken clock and a wing stained black. The ports feared him. They said his ship moved without wind, that the water parted for him."

The candles crackled louder, as if the fire itself answered.

"And they weren’t lying. I saw it with my own eyes," Caitlyn admitted, her gaze fixed on the ground. "He’d enter towns without raising his voice, and leave them in ruins. He only ever asked one question: 'Where is Ambessa?' And if no one answered... the silence burned. You have no idea how much blood is on his hands."

Jinx swallowed hard, her lips dry.

"And you?" she murmured. "What did you do while he... did all that?"

Caitlyn lifted her eyes, and for the first time, her voice sounded human. Guilty.

"I followed him. Like a shadow. I thought I could stop him if he crossed the line—that I owed him that much. But the sea doesn’t stop, Jinx. It only changes shape."

She stepped closer, the flames reflected in her eyes.

"And the worst part... the worst part was that I still loved him. Not the way he loved Powder. But I did. I admired him. I hated him. It was impossible not to. There was something in him that made you believe that even in darkness, he was still right. That if he hurt people, it was because the world owed him that pain. Because why shouldn’t he destroy the one who stole the princess from the noblest boy I’d ever known?"

Caitlyn paused, the tremor in her voice turning to steel.

"Until the day I saw him finally break."

The silence grew heavy. The candles flickered.

"We went to the place where he believed Ambessa was. But she wasn’t there. Instead, he found... her two children." Caitlyn’s voice turned into little more than a breath. "A boy, maybe ten years old. A girl, perhaps seven. And Ekko... He... I had no idea. Neither did Violet. Or anyone. But he..."

She closed her eyes.

The air grew unbearably still.

"He didn’t hesitate, Jinx. Not for a second," she whispered. "He killed them with his bare hands. He didn’t speak her name. He didn’t cry. He just watched them die. And in his eyes, there was nothing left. By the time anyone realized what had happened, their bodies were already at his feet."

A silence so deep followed that even the sea didn’t dare to breathe.

"That day, Violet despised him forever. And I..." Caitlyn clasped her hands behind her back, restraining herself. "I understood that the boy who loved Powder was gone. What remained... was the Owl."

The flames hissed, almost going out.

"Since that day, he never killed again," she murmured. "But he never lived again, either. Ambessa still hunts him. But there’s no punishment to match his own. He’s alive—but the love that once drove him left him hollow. And there’s no hell worse than that."

Jinx stayed silent for a long time.

The wind played with the loose strands of her hair, and the candles before the mural flickered as if breathing with her. Every word Caitlyn had spoken hung between them, thick and bitter.

At last, in a low voice, she asked:

"And Violet?"

The name came out trembling, as if saying it might break a spell.

Caitlyn didn’t answer right away. She looked at her for a long moment—the kind that doesn’t measure time, but weight. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, but carried an invisible fracture.

"She is Ekko. Only without killing two innocent children. Vengeance consumed her all the same. The difference is, she didn’t do it out of love—but out of guilt. And that, Jinx, is even worse."

The silence that followed was an entire ocean.

Jinx felt something inside her chest tighten, as if the air itself had turned to liquid. Everything she had been avoiding—the averted gazes, Ekko’s constant exhaustion, the way he held on to nothing—suddenly made sense. Every gesture, every silence.

No wonder he was dead inside.

He had done the unthinkable. He had crossed the entire sea for a ghost.

And all of it—for nothing.

Powder’s painted face watched her from the wall, smiling that serene, impossible smile. Jinx lifted a hand and brushed her fingers against the mural. The old paint crumbled into blue dust, staining her skin. She looked at her hand. Blue. Like her hair. As if the mural were devouring her.

"I don’t want to be her," she murmured, not looking at Caitlyn. "I don’t want to be Powder."

Caitlyn didn’t reply immediately. She stepped closer, her boots creaking against the stone.

"No," she said softly. "But part of you does."

Jinx lowered her gaze. The nearest candle flickered, spilling hot wax onto the ground.

"And if it does?" she whispered. "What does it matter? She was loved. I wasn’t. Not by Silco, not by anyone. I’ve spent nights without sleep, days without food. I really don’t want to be her—not like that but... but after all, she was loved."

"I know," Caitlyn answered without hesitation. "And that’s how I know you love him."

Jinx’s head snapped up, her pink eyes wide.

"What...?"

"Ekko," said the captain, meeting her gaze. "You love him. Maybe you don’t understand it yet, but you do. I’ve seen the way you look at him. It’s the same way I looked at Violet once."

Jinx stared, incredulous.

"You... and Violet?"

"Yes." Her voice was low, almost a thread. "I loved her more than I should have. And she only ever looked at Powder. We all did, really. Everything revolved around her—around what she was, what she lost." She paused. "And that... that consumes you."

Silence returned—heavy, filled with dying candles.

Caitlyn stepped back slightly, and as she did, the light brushed across her face.

That’s when Jinx noticed it: a thin white line running across Caitlyn’s left eye. A fine scar, nearly invisible, hidden by the fall of her hair. But now, under the flickering light, it gleamed.

It looked almost like a petrified lightning bolt.

"She hurt you," Jinx said—not as a question, but a fact.

Caitlyn didn’t deny it.

She simply touched the edge of the scar with her fingertips, her eyes still fixed on the mural.

"Violet did," she whispered. "When I tried to stop her. I told her it wasn’t worth it, that Powder was dead. And she called me a traitor. I haven’t seen her since." She let her hand fall, and her voice hardened again. "We should head back," she said finally. "The night doesn’t forgive those who listen to it for too long."

Jinx didn’t move. She kept staring at Powder’s face, the blue dust on her fingers, the unbroken smile on the wall.

Caitlyn watched her for a moment longer before adding, in a lower, almost compassionate tone:

"Stay away, Jinx. While you still can. They only love Powder. And none of us are her. That love, that hate... that vengeance that consumes them... it’ll devour you too. It almost destroyed me."

Her voice cracked just slightly at the end—an imperceptible fissure in her composure.

The wind blew, snuffing out one of the candles.

The young siren looked up. Darkness slowly spilled over the mural, erasing the blue smile bit by bit.

Caitlyn was already walking toward the pier.

Jinx followed after a few seconds, without a word.

The echo of their footsteps sounded against the stone, a dull rhythm mixing with the whisper of the sea. When they reached the ship, the Kiramman greeted them in silence. They boarded without speaking. Caitlyn disappeared into the shadows of the bridge, her silhouette framed against the stars. Jinx lingered on the deck for a moment, watching the sails tighten with the night wind.

The sea was calm, but beneath its surface, something roared.

She touched her fingers, still stained with blue.

She didn’t know if it was paint or dust.

She only knew that, for the first time, she understood why Ekko never slept—or lived.

And why he would never look at the sea the same way again.