abc-du-gratuit Chapter 402: Staring
Chapter 402: Staring
Chapter 402
Naia
We follow the direction of the parrot, sailing The Bunny through the fog.
It has been three days since the captain disappeared into the gray. Three days of silence, of waiting, of watching the horizon for any sign of her return. The crew is restless. The prince’s men are worse. There have been arguments, near-fights, accusations thrown across the deck.
No one knows what to do without her.
Until a few hours ago, when the parrot appeared on the railing and told us to follow.
During the journey, the prince’s men fish more debris from the water. Pieces of his brother’s ship,splintered wood, torn sails, a rusted sword. Skeletons too.
The prince does not weep. He stands at the bow, staring at the water, his face pale and still.
Larissa stays close to him. She does not speak. She does not need to.
From the little mermaid, we have learned things. Pieces of a story that is starting to fit together like shards of a broken shell.
In her kingdom, over a decade ago, a mermaid was banished. Her crime? She had an egg with a human.
No one knows what happened to her. She swam away and was never seen again.
And apparently mermaids away from the blessing of their clan change. They lose themselves. They become bloodthirsty. They become monsters.
I think about the captain.
About the way she has always searched for mermaid sightings. About the maps on her wall, the notes in her cabin, the obsession that has driven her for years.
It all makes sense now.
The day I did that spell—the day I reached through the threads of fate and something reached back—it must have been her. No wonder I felt unsettled. No wonder the presence felt familiar.
We have been sailing toward the monster all along.
Not to kill it.
To find it.
Funny how the threads of fate are woven together.
I look at the fog ahead. At the dark water. At the parrot perched on the railing, its beady eyes fixed on the horizon.
The Bunny escapes the fog.
The gray thins, then breaks, then vanishes. Sunlight spills across the deck, warm and golden, after days of cold and shadow. The ship picks up speed, sails filling with wind, cutting through waters that are no longer stagnant.
There is something else no one wants to ask out loud.
The captain is not human.
We all saw it. The claws. The golden eyes.
I have always known.
I’m glad I’m not the only one who knows now.
In a few moments, we find her.
The captain stands on an odd-looking black plank, floating just above the water. It does not bob with the waves. It does not tilt beneath her weight. It is stable, unnatural, wrong.
In her arms, she holds a woman.
The woman is unconscious, her dark hair trailing nearly to the water, her body wrapped in a simple white dress that clings to her skin. Her face is pale, peaceful, beautiful.
The captain herself is dressed strangely—clothes the color of midnight, black on black, nothing like the coat and boots we are used to seeing. She is barefoot. Her hair is loose. Her face is unreadable.
They look like spirits.
Ghosts haunting the sea.
Then someone throws a rope.
The captain is pulled up, her arms never loosening around the woman. A few crew members help her over the railing, careful, reverent.
She walks across the deck, barefoot, silent, carrying the woman like she weighs nothing.
She enters her cabin.
The door closes.
The lock clicks.
And no one dares to knock.
***
Daphne
"Are you sure nothing is wrong?"
[Yes, Host.]
I look at her unconscious form on my bed. She collapsed in the cave after telling me about our child—the egg I now have strapped to my chest in a baby carrier I got from the System store.
"I am still worried."
[It is years of lack of sleep catching up with her. Her body is finally getting the rest it needs.]
I exhale.
When I think about it—years. More than a decade. I only found myself in this world five years ago. But she has been here longer. She’s always been born into these world’s while I just show up.
Maybe I should also try to be born, and I could watch her grow up...wait. No. I’m not doing that.
That would be weird on so many levels.
I stand up.
The egg pulses against my chest. I swear it is bigger than before—it was already the size of a human head, but now it seems slightly larger.
I cannot believe our child made it here.
Our child survived.
I need to look more into these forbidden waters. Where we apparently spent time together. Where we conceived.
Where are the forbidden waters, anyway?
[Host. The mission.]
The bird ruins my plans.
I exhale.
"Always the mission with you."
[The mission is the priority.]
"She is the priority."
[The mission ensures the world does not end.]
"She ensures I do not end."
The parrot is quiet.I can see 404’s judgmental look.
"Okay, okay." I stretch, walking toward the door. "No need to get your feathers in a twist."
The parrot makes a sound that might be a scoff.
I step out onto the deck. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. But the mood is so ...somber.
[I might have an idea whose fault that is.]
Ha.
The bird flies away.
No emotions, my fucking ass. That was a bloody sarcastic remark.
I walk toward my nice, trusty seat—the throne.
The crew parts around me.
I sit.
The wood creaks beneath my weight. I lean back, stretch my legs, rest my arms on the armrests. The sun is warm on my face.
The crew stares.
The prince’s men stare.
Even the parrot, perched on the head of the throne, stares.
"Come on now." I gesture at them. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"