The creaking of the vessel was the only sound besides the low hum of the sea.
Zay and Renzo stood outside Silva's room, the air thick with tension. The hallway was dim, shadows dancing with each sway of the ship. Zay placed his hand on the door—no lock.
He hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath.
He opened it slowly.
Inside, Silva lay asleep on a small, makeshift cot. Her white hair spilled across the pillow like liquid moonlight, her chest rising and falling with slow, peaceful breaths.
They made their way over to her and Renzo looked around, finding a wooden chair and pulled out rope he had brought into the room as the two brothers looked at each other.
A silent nod passed between them.
In a flash, they moved. Zay covered her mouth with one hand while Renzo grabbed her arms and bound them swiftly with thick rope they had prepared. She jolted awake, eyes wide in panic—but her muffled scream was lost beneath Zay's grip.
They dragged her to the chair in the and forced her down. Renzo tied her ankles to the legs of the chair, looping the rope tight. Her gaze darted between them, fury and confusion burning beneath her glare.
Only once she was bound did Zay step back and let out a slow breath.
He stared at her in the dim light. "You're going to answer us now, Silva."
She thrashed in her restraints, her muffled voice sharp behind Zay's hand. Zay placed his hand down just enough for her to speak.
"Are you out of your fucking minds?!"
Renzo stepped forward, his tone like ice. "Don't play innocent. You're the second-in-command of Molten Ridge. We've got orders to expose you."
"W-What the hell are you two talking about?!" Silva snapped, looking up at them. She thrashed against the ropes, trying to break free—but couldn't.
Renzo walked over to the door, closed it, and dragged a box in front of it. Inside were stacks of papers—and her spear.
"Go through the papers. See what you can find," Zay ordered.
Renzo nodded, crouched by the box, and began sifting through the documents.
Zay turned his attention back to Silva. "Now, Silva. We can do this the easy way—and you talk. Or…" He slowly unsheathed his katana, the steel glinting in the low light.
"We do it the easier way."He smirked. "And you still talk. Your call."
Silva's eyes darted around the room. She opened her mouth to scream, but Zay moved fast, clamping a hand over it. She bucked against the chair, twisting her wrists, but the ropes held firm. Her aura flickered—but never sparked.
"Yeah," Zay muttered coldly. "You're basically our bitch in those ropes. So talk. And don't start with any moral high ground bullshit. We were behind bars, and you looked at us like we were criminals that needed to be caged 24/7. So no—I don't feel bad. Do you, Renzo?"
Renzo let out a short laugh, still flipping through the pages. "Hell no."
Zay leaned in close to Silva, voice low and sharp in her ear. "Tell us who you work for. And what the hell you're really doing on this ship. We know damn well you're not just some guard for whatever kingdom nonsense the Commander's pushing."
Their eyes widened as they realized they've been working together since the start of the Godcrab incident.
"…This just became more of a problem, didn't it?" Zay muttered, stepping back.
Renzo looked up, a paper in his hand. He nodded grimly. "I think… they're working together."
He held out a file. Two names were listed across the top in faded ink:
Malica Ventich
Silosa Truen
Zay exhaled and ran a hand through his hair.
"Remember," he said quietly, "we just need to get this done. Nothing else."
Renzo stood, unsheathing his katana. As he did, several papers slipped from his hand and fluttered to the floor.
One of them bore a single word in bold lettering:
THREADS
"Keep an eye out… we're on a timer," Zay said, tossing his sheath onto Silva's bed. Without hesitation, he made a shallow cut across her cheek.
"Tell us who the hell you are."
She tried to scream again, and once more, Zay clamped a hand over her mouth before slicing into her arm.
He removed his hand. Her mouth opened, breath shaky.
"…O-Okay…" she mumbled, looking up at him.
"Fuck off and untie me, you bas—"
Before she could finish, his hand was over her mouth again. He dropped the katana to the ground with a loud clang and pulled a dagger from inside his coat. Shifting the ropes around her torso, he pressed the blade against her stomach—and pierced.
Blood trickled onto the wooden floor.
He didn't stop there.
Cut after cut, precise and deliberate, Zay worked the dagger across her stomach, the wounds intertwining until they resembled something… abstract. Almost artistic in their brutality.
When he was done, he pulled his hand away, leaned in, and whispered into her ear.
"There's a secret I want to tell you. I've done… a lot of shit. Destroyed empires. Slain creatures you wouldn't dare believe exist. I've killed things that would make you piss yourself just hearing the story. If you think I give a single damn about a human life—especially one that even might be a threat to me or anyone I care about… then…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Instead, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, raised the dagger, and roughly sawed through it, slicing it unevenly—intentionally crude.
"Renzo," he said calmly, "it's about to get a lot more bloody. Keep watch—and don't look over here, alright?"
Renzo nodded, eyes still locked on the small window, watching the sea beyond. He trusted his brother—Zay hadn't been wrong about anything since recovering from his illness. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start doubting his brother now.
Zay took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stood over Silva. The air was thick with the smell of blood, sweat, and fear. Her breathing was erratic, chest rising and falling rapidly as her eyes shifted between him and Renzo. Her body shook, though she managed to hold herself upright in the chair. For now.
"Tell me who you work for," Zay said, his voice smooth, almost calm. "Who sent you here? Who's pulling the strings?"
Silva glared up at him, defiance still burning in her eyes despite the growing blood loss and the pain she was clearly in. Her mouth opened to speak, but Zay wasn't in the mood for her stubbornness.
Without a word, he knelt in front of her again, this time drawing his dagger against her exposed stomach, just above the waist. She flinched, trying to pull away, but the ropes held her in place. The knife's cold steel touched her skin, and she froze, breath catching in her throat.
"You know," Zay said, twisting the blade slightly, just enough to make her feel it. "I don't like repeating myself."
He slowly pressed the blade into her flesh, just a shallow cut at first, but as it broke through her skin, the pain sent a jolt of shock through her. Blood seeped out in thin rivulets, staining her clothes, dripping down her side.
Her breath was a mix of gasps and stifled cries. She tried to move, but the ropes cut into her wrists, her legs, keeping her immobile.
Zay's face was impassive as he looked down at the blood beginning to pool in her lap. "I told you. I've done worse. And I'm not even trying." He reached into a small bag around his waist, in his coat and pulled out a gag he had made a few minutes before walking into the room, out of wood and placed it into her mouth.
He drew the blade back for a moment, then, with an almost casual motion, sliced down again. A deeper cut this time, longer. The knife bit into her side, and she screamed into her gag. The sound was muffled, but the intensity of the pain was clear in her expression.
Zay didn't hesitate. He slid the blade across her ribcage next, and the cut was deep. Silva's body jerked as the knife pierced her side, slicing through the soft flesh beneath. Her body spasmed, but she couldn't escape, couldn't move beyond what the ropes allowed her.
"Stop pretending you're strong," Zay said quietly, watching as the blood began to spill more freely now, staining her shirt and dripping onto the floor in dark, heavy splashes. "You're not. You never were."
Zay grabbed the blade and dragged it across her ankles, breaking the skin and carving a line of open flesh all the way up to her thigh. Without hesitation, he twisted the dagger deep into the muscle. Blood streamed down her leg as he slammed the blade in even further, burying it to the hilt.
"Tell me. What the hell are you doing here? Tell me everything."
He reached for the wooden gag and yanked it from her mouth. Her breathing was heavy and uneven. She looked up at him, eyes wide with fear, but still held her voice steady.
"I... I won't tell you shit."
Zay chuckled, nodding slightly as he rubbed his nose.
"... That's fair."
He shoved the gag back between her lips, then wrapped his hand tightly around her throat. With his other hand, he pulled the dagger from her thigh and positioned it over her right hand.
Then he drove it straight down.
The blade punched through flesh and bone in one clean thrust. Her muffled screams filled the room as her body convulsed, tears streaming freely down her face.
His grip on her throat tightened even more before he finally let go, granting her a few seconds to breathe.
He ripped the dagger from her hand and wiped the blood off—on her face.
Then, without pause, he jabbed it down into her other thigh.
Her eyes squeezed shut in agony, her scream strangled by the gag, reduced to a raw, hoarse wail.
"Feel like speaking yet?" Zay asked coldly, looking down at her.
He removed his hand from her throat and pulled the gag free.
She coughed violently, gasping for breath, blood staining her lips.