The Widow’s Promise scraped against the rocky shoreline of the Wailing Isle, its hull creaking in protest. The crew moved with hushed urgency, their usual banter replaced by wary glances at the fog-draped island. The ghostly wails, now sharper and more distinct, curled through the air like a dirge, sending shivers down Kael’s spine.

  Veyla was the first to disembark, her boots crunching against the black pebbles of the shore. She tilted her head back, scanning the cliffs that loomed over them, their jagged edges clawing at the gray sky. Her expression was unreadable, her usual smirk tempered by the weight of the island’s presence.

  Kael followed hesitantly, his lute slung over his back like a talisman. The ground felt unnervingly cold beneath his boots, and the air seemed heavier here, each breath carrying a faint metallic tang.

  “Stick close, birdie,” Veyla said, her voice low but firm. “Wouldn’t want you to get claimed by the dead.”

  Lira and Hargan climbed down the side of Widow’s Promise, heavy backpacks full of supplies on their backs.

  “Fish's still trembling from your rough landing, Hargan,” Lira quipped, nudging Hargan with her elbow. “The dead would have to drag him away themselves, hehe.”

  Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Hargan stomped forward“Let's get this fairy tale over with.” with his lantern held high, armed to the teeth and scanning the shadows for threats. The rest of the crew stayed behind to guard the ship- or to avoid setting foot on the cursed island altogether.

  “Why aren’t you carrying any weapons?” Kael asked Lira as she fell into step next to him. “Is your magic that strong?”

  The path ahead wound through a forest of gnarled, leafless trees, their twisted branches reaching skyward. The ground was littered with brittle bones- fish, birds, and creatures Kael couldn’t identify, all bleached white by time and salt.

  “Hah, no!” Lira laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and letting the knife in her sleeve flash out, the cold edge digging into the bottom of his jaw contrasting sharply with her warm smile. “I just prefer small weapons that hide well. My magic is more of a party trick.”

  Hargan snorted with laughter, shaking his head as he continued lighting the way.

  Kael froze, unsure whether to laugh or shiver. Lira grinned, releasing him and letting the blade vanish into her sleeve as easily as it had appeared.

  Hargan snorted. “Don’t take it personal, Fish. Lira’s been dying to show off since we set sail. Besides, you’re safer with her at your back than most.”

  Kael’s ears caught faint sounds- a distant sob, a half-heard whisper. The hairs on his arms stood on end, paranoia bubbling quietly with every step. Every few steps, he looked behind himself, expecting to see a spectral figure trailing behind them despite his lute staying on his back.

  “You’re hearing ghosts again, are you?” Veyla asked without turning around, her voice cutting through the monotonous melody of their march like a blade.

  Kael nodded, realising too late that she couldn’t see the gesture. “Yes,” he admitted after an embarrassingly long silence, “It’s even worse than the Blackspire- too many dead. I don’t even have to focus here to hear them.”

  “Don’t listen too closely,” Veyla warned, “there’s only one ghost that you should listen to on this island.”

  Kael swallowed heavily, trying to ignore the wails to no avail. “Most ghosts are actually easy to read. They have very little motivation beyond malice and goodwill… With a few exceptions.”

  “Stories for another time,” Veyla said before anyone could ask, grabbing a weathered piece of parchment from her pack. “We’re getting close to the entrance of the ruin. It’s just around this corner, be ready.”

  As they rounded the bend, Kael felt the whispers swell into a crescendo. The air grew colder, and an otherworldly light flickered from the path ahead as the fog thinned.

  The ruin loomed before them, the shattered hull of a massive ship dragged over a jagged stalagmite like a hat, its splintered bow jutting sideward as the tip of the stone poked through like a serrated spear. Its three masts were like ribs that had cracked against the side of the cliff, helping the wreckage stay balanced. The wreckage looked as though it had been torn in half, its stern having shattered on the ground like an overripe fruit.

  “What… how?” Kael murmured, his voice barely audible over the mournful wails that rang in his ears.

  The ship’s wooden hull, blackened with age and streaked with eerie phosphorescent mushroom colonies, seemed fused with the cliffs around it. Jagged roots of stone twisted up and over the deck like claws, as if the island itself had tried to drag the ship down and entrap it. Gaping holes riddled its frame.

  “Magical Wreck,” Veyla said, her tone grim but laced with fascination, “Surprised you’ve never heard the story. They say the captain bound the ship to the island as a last act of spite. Magic is the strongest when it demands a price and he paid with his soul.”

  “There’s no way we can talk with him from the bottom of the wreck, is there?” Kael asked, his own voice drowning in the choir of undead wails.

  “That fully depends on your performance, birdie. But if I had to guess? He’ll want to meet face to face,” Veyla said, taking the lead with a smirk.

  Kael quickly walked after her, unslinging his lute but hesitant to strike up even a single chord. The ghostly wails quieted instantaneously as he proposed “What if we ask for permission to climb? If we can…”

  “How would you climb and play?” Lira asked.

  Hargan growled, “Could carry him.”

  “No offense, but…” Kael said, looking at Hargan with a speck of disgust poking through his expression. “I'd rather Veyla carry me- she's a lot cleaner than you… and there's probably some narrow spaces she could get through with me on her back that-”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Hargan waved him off, pulling out a sturdy rope and tossing it to Veyla. “Tie him to your back.”

  Veyla caught the rope and marched over to Kael. “Lira, you're coming with us. Hargan, stay down here and look out for any trouble that might await us,” she ordered, looking down at Kael. “Lift your arms.”

  Kael did as told, avoiding looking at Veyla as she tied him up like a package.

  “There we go,” Veyla finished, kneeling down to put her arms through the loops of rope and lifting him onto her back like a backpack. “Start playing, birdie.”

  Lira moved cautiously toward the jagged slope of the ruin, her footsteps deliberate and her dagger already drawn. The phosphorescent glow of the mushrooms pulsed faintly, casting an eerie light that shimmered like ghostly breath against the craggy surfaces.

  “Keep it slow,” she murmured, her voice unusually serious as she scanned the wreckage for traps or signs of movement. “This ship is barely holding on, your combined weight might break the boards under you.”

  Kael, perched awkwardly on Veyla’s back, adjusted his lute and hesitated before letting his fingers drift over the strings. He started with a simple melody, soft and mournful, as though coaxing the air itself to listen. The sound wove through the wails of the island, threading its way into the oppressive gloom.

  For a moment, the cries of the ghosts seemed to falter, growing quieter as if curious- or wary.

  “Good start,” Veyla murmured, her voice low and approving. She climbed steadily, her muscular frame easily handling the extra weight of Kael. “Keep it steady, birdie. You’ve got their attention.”

  Kael swallowed nervously and shifted into a more complex tune, the notes carrying a bittersweet yearning. “You can feel them?”

  The lute’s song seemed to resonate with the ruin itself, the phosphorescent glow intensifying around the wreck. The wind shifted, carrying faint echoes of voices not their own—fragments of ancient sea shanties and sorrowful whispers.

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

  “What the hells is that?” Hargan’s voice rang out from below.

  Veyla paused mid-climb, her sharp gaze darting downward. From the forest edge, faint shapes were emerging- pale, translucent figures barely distinguishable from the mist. Their forms flickered like candle flames, their faces indistinct but filled with sorrow and hunger. “I think anyone could see them.”

  “Looks like the audience has arrived,” Lira muttered, though her voice was tight.

  “Keep playing,” Veyla ordered Kael, her tone steely. She glanced at Hargan. “Hold the line. If they get too close, drive them back.”

  Hargan grunted, hefting his lantern and readying a throwing axe. “Don’t worry about me. Just get up there and do whatever you came to do. Don’t forget your promise.”

  As Veyla resumed her climb, Kael’s melody grew louder, the tune shifting into something more commanding- something that made the ghostly figures hesitate, their ghostly wails dimming as though the music held them at bay.

  A faint rumble echoed from the ship, like the groan of an ancient leviathan waking from its slumber. The spectral shapes below stilled, their forms shimmering with unnatural light as they turned their gazes toward the wreck.

  “Something’s happening,” Kael said, his voice tight with both fear and awe.

  “Then let’s hope it’s ready to talk,” Veyla said grimly, climbing onto the remains of the mast. She drew her sword, the steel gleaming in the ghostly glow.

  Veyla’s boots landed lightly on the cracked planks of the deck, Kael still tied to her back like a living talisman. The music wove through the air, quelling the wails but thickening the atmosphere with tension. Lira followed, stepping gingerly over the unstable wreckage as if the ship itself might snap shut and devour them whole.

  From below, Hargan’s lantern swung like a small beacon in the fog. The spectral figures hesitated at its edge, their translucent forms shuddering as though torn between fear and hunger. He growled under his breath despite knowing the others can’t hear him, gripping his axe tightly. “Hurry it up, or we’ll all be ghost stories by sunrise.”

  The mast beneath Veyla groaned ominously as she ascended further into the wreck, Kael’s melody now resonating against the air like a heartbeat. At the heart of the shattered ship, a faint, shimmering light pulsed- growing brighter with every step.

  “Why have you come to my prison?” a ghostly voice intoned, reverberating through the entire wreckage.

  Veyla stopped on the mast, balancing carefully as the mists swirled in front of them, condensing into a vaguely humanoid figure. Tall and broad-shouldered, he materialised in front of the hatch to the hold above them, glaring down at them.

  Lira took a step away from him, staring up wide-eyed. “Oh shit…”

  “We come in search of a map,” Kael began, his voice steadier than he felt. His song made it easier to talk, allowing him to tell their request as a story- something he knew well. “The path to a sunken treasure you keep. A weapon so ancient and powerful that it is only known through whispers. We know only that you hold the map.”

  The captain grinned down at him, his voice echoing through the valley as he mused “Ahh, but are you certain that your captain knows naught? This weapon you seek might not be worth the clothes on your back, yet she is ready to risk all of your lives.”

  Kael glanced at Veyla, but she refused to look back at him. “What I know isn’t the point, spirit,” her voice cut through the silence, “The question is whether you’ll give us what we came for or if we’ll have to take it.”

  The captain’s translucent form shimmered, his grin widening. “Brave words for a woman trespassing. You speak of taking, yet you bring no offering, no tribute for the dead who guard this place. What makes you worthy of the knowledge you wish to claim?”

  “What do you wish for?” Kael asked.

  Lira raised her dagger, preparing herself to attack the captain if his demands proved to be too much.

  “I wish for a lot, messenger of the dead, but there is only one craving of mine you have the power to sate,” he raised his bony finger towards Kael as he continued, “One last soul for me to claim with my own hands.”

  Veyla immediately cut in, “You aren't getting him.”

  The captain chuckled, floating closer to the trio, “He will join me in death soon enough. No, I need him to empower me so I may claim one of your lives. Are you offering yourself up, woman?”

  Veyla glanced back over her shoulder, but then gestured with her sword towards Lira who froze up in fear. “Go ahead, Kael. It's her or us.”

  Us, such a simple word yet it caused Kael's song to falter.

  His fingers stopped with the string taut, stopping the song long enough for Lira to realise what had happened.

  “N-no… Veyla, you can't be serious!” she exclaimed, looking back and forth between the two parties now focused on her. “After all these years, you're just gonna sacrifice me?”

  “This isn't easy for me either!” Veyla snapped. Her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword, the leather of her gloves squeaking. “...but if this is truly the only way. We're too far to turn around. Do it, Kael.”

  The captain floated closer to the duo, hovering behind Kael like a second shadow to whisper into his ear “I do not care which one you choose, but you will have to choose eventually. Your ally at the bottom can't hold out forever.” His breath caused a slight frost to form on his earlobe. “Select your offering and play me a tune of despair so I may revel in a final kill.”

  The tension hung like a noose around Kael’s neck. His fingers hovered over the strings of his lute, trembling as his mind raced. His chest tightened with the weight of Veyla’s words, Lira’s betrayal-laced protests, and the looming presence of the spectral captain whispering death into his ear.

  “Kael…” Lira’s voice cracked, raw and pleading. “You don’t have to do this. There’s another way- there has to be another way!”

  Veyla’s sharp gaze caused Lira to freeze up in fear. Her voice was a steel blade, unyielding. “Don’t waver, birdie. This isn’t a choice- it’s survival. Play.”

  Kael's thoughts churned. Lira had been a companion, always up to lighten the mood and the one who made him feel like he was amongst friends and not bloodthirsty pirates. She introduced him to the rest of the crew, even if she came up with the worst nicknames and teased him every chance she got.

  But Veyla, she was the one who recruited him. She was the Captain of the Widow’s Promise, came to him and offered him a way to support his struggling mother and get out of the Saltrows. She was the reason he was even here in the first place.

  The choice felt like chains tightening around his wrists. Kael stared at the lute in his hands, its strings trembling as much as his fingers. The weight of every decision that had brought him to this moment crashed over him. His breathing quickened, his chest heaving with the weight of impending betrayal.

  “Kael, please…” Lira whispered, her voice no louder than the creak of the ruined ship beneath them. Her eyes, wide with terror and hope, searched his face for what she knew was her only hope at survival- his mercy.

  Veyla’s voice cut through the chaos. “The longer you hesitate, the worse it’ll be for all of us. Make the call, Kael.”

  Kael’s gaze flicked between them. The world seemed to hold its breath as he decided.

  And then, he struck a chord.

  The notes poured from his lute like a confession, each one laced with anguish and regret. Tears blurred his vision as he forced himself to continue, knowing that each chord was sealing Lira’s fate.

  The spectral captain moved with eerie grace, his form growing more solid as Kael’s music reached its crescendo. With a triumphant snarl, he lunged toward Lira.

  She screamed, raising her dagger in a futile attempt to defend herself. Taking a step back, her foot missed the mast by an inch. Her entire world tilted as she lost her balance, arms flailing as the spectral captain reached her. His ghostly hands passed through her chest like it wasn’t even there, and her scream cut off in an instant.

  Hargan, deep below, had only the terrified shriek as a warning before the lifeless body of Lira slammed into the ground next to him, her skull breaking open like an overripe melon.

  “Shit,” he muttered, swinging the plank of wood he had ended up using as a weapon when his axe broke through another ghostly figure. “I guess I'll be seeing you earlier than I had hoped.”

  The music stopped, the undead figures surrounding Hargan rushing forward in an instant to try and close the distance only to dissolve into harmless mist before reaching him.

  “Goddess's grace…” he sighed, dropping the plank and his lantern as he slumped down onto the ground. He took a few moments to catch his breath, before shouting upwards “You alive?!”

  Moments ticked by, second after second as his hopes died one after another.

  “Fuck.”

  Then, just as Hargan resigned himself to return to Blackspire Harbour in defeat, Kael's voice called back. “Doesn't feel like it.”

  “We've got the map,” Veyla added, climbing down ahead of Kael.

  Kael hesitantly climbed after her, now untied from her back. His lute was strung onto his back. He avoided looking anywhere near where Lira had fallen, keeping his gaze locked firmly into the next step- the next ridge he'd have to climb.

  Tears stained his cheeks, leaving behind little rivulets of moisture on his dusty skin.

  “Thank fuck you do,” Hargan grumbled, glancing at the two descending figures. “What happened to Lira?”

  “The captain went for her and she fell,” Veyla immediately replied, her tone almost dismissive as she arrived at the bottom. “Kael’s the only reason it was only her who died. He saved all of our lives.”

  Kael flinched at her words, his hands tightening into fists. He kept his gaze on the ground, hoping that Hargan wouldn’t notice his odd behaviour. The lute on his back felt heavier than ever, each step dragging him down.

  “She deserved better,” Hargan muttered, turning his lantern’s light towards the body. He took a moment to kneel beside her, offering a silent prayer to the goddess. “Did you at least get the map?”

  Veyla held up the weathered parchment, the faint phosphorescence of the ship's ruin still clinging to her gloves. “We have it. But we shouldn’t linger. Leave her body and get back to the ship. The ruin is not far from here.”

  As they began their somber march back to the Widow’s Promise, Kael glanced over his shoulder. Despite not playing a song, the ghostly wails seemed to never wane and kept their volume- an ever present drone in his ears with a new voice added.

  Veyla’s voice cut right through Kael’s thoughts, stopping him from turning around. “You made the right choice, birdie. Remember that.”

  Kael didn’t reply and just focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

  He wasn't so sure anymore.