The air in the main cafeteria still carried the ghost of the fire—a sharp, greasy smell of smoke that mixed uneasily with the scent of boiled roots and thick stew. Char marks climbed one wall like dark ivy. Ember pushed a mop twice her height across the stone floor, the sea-stone cuff on her wrist making the simple work feel clumsy and slow. Around her, the massive hall echoed with the sounds of the off-shift ogres: the thunderous scrape of benches, the clatter of iron trays, the low rumble of tired conversation. It was a world of giants, and she was a mouse in the shadows, scrubbing away the soot from her own chaotic signal.
Her head was down, her mismatched eyes focused on a stubborn black smear, when a cluster of voices cut through the general noise. They came from a nearby table where a group of guards, still in their heavy gear, slumped onto benches with heaving sighs.
"...heard the ship's been sighted," one grunted, shoveling stew into his mouth. "Sovereign Grutte Pier. On his way."
A second guard, with a chipped horn, nodded grimly. "Yeah. And not alone. Word is he's bringing some new... guests. Pirates who thought they could slip through the nets around Agashima." He snorted, a sound like rocks grinding. "Thought they were gonna make a big score, I bet."
The group chuckled, a low, humorless rumble. A third guard, younger, leaned in. "My cousin works the docks at Metz-Oni. He said they put up one hell of a fight. Wrecked the Lugh-Grange before the Sovereign and the Captains ended them." He shook his head, a wicked grin on his face. "Guess they learned what happens when you try to muscle in on one of the Twelve."
Ember's hands froze on the mop handle. Her head turned slowly, her neon-pink hair catching the dim light. She didn't move, just listened, her heart beginning to tap a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
Another ogre, joining them late, slid his tray onto the table with a bang. "Heard something else," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial growl. "Heard one of 'em was some big shot's kid. A Warlord's daughter, or something."
The air left Ember's lungs.
The guards barked with laughter. "Bet she thought that name would scare folks!" one wheezed.
"Picked the wrong Sovereign for that," another said, tapping the table with a thick finger. "The Black Bastion doesn't scare. He just... waits for you to tire yourself out."
The latecomer nodded, shoving a roll in his mouth. "Yeah, well, the real kicker? I heard a Celestial Dragon is coming too, to collect. And—"
CRACK.
The sound was sharp, small, but it cut through the table's laughter. All four massive heads turned.
Ember stood a few feet away, staring at them with wide, unblinking eyes. The handle of her mop lay on the floor between her and the guards, where it had slipped from her numb fingers.
For a long second, there was silence. The guards looked from the tiny, ash-streaked girl to the dropped mop, their faces shifting from surprise to mild annoyance.
"Hey, runt," the one with the chipped horn grumbled. "Watch your tools. You could trip someone."
Ember didn't hear him. A roaring filled her ears, louder than any kitchen fire. A Warlord's kid. A Celestial Dragon. Coming here. The phantom voice of Josiah hissed, "Marya. It's her, idiot. She got caught because of you. Because you're not there."
She swallowed hard, her throat tight. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
From the kitchen entrance, a volcanic roar erupted. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, SPARK? GAWKIN' MAKES THE ASH SETTLE!"
Mazui Kuzu stood in the doorway, his apron stained, his face a thundercloud of fresh fury from the earlier fire. His eyes locked onto Ember.
The spell broke. Ember's head swiveled, her body moving before her mind could catch up. She snatched the mop handle from the floor, her movements jerky and fast. "Sorry! Working! Just cleaning!" she squeaked, her voice high and thin. She attacked a clean patch of floor with frantic energy, not seeing the stone, seeing only the imagined scene of Marya in chains, being marched onto this grey hell-island.
The guards lost interest, turning back to their food and their gossip. Ember pushed the mop in meaningless circles, her mind racing, a whirlwind of panic and guilt.
Is it her? Did she come for us? Did she get caught because we weren't there? The questions hammered inside her skull. The plan, their careful, desperate plan, was suddenly covered in a new, chilling frost. The Sovereign wasn't just coming to inspect. He was bringing prisoners. Important prisoners.
She couldn't clean. She couldn't stay. She had to find Aurélie. She had to tell Charlie. She had to tell the others.
With a final, frantic swipe of the mop, she leaned it against the wall. Then, like a little ghost, she darted between the stomping feet of serving ogres, slipped around a corner, and vanished into the labyrinthine halls of Kamaten, the guards' laughter still echoing behind her, now sounding like the gears of a trap snapping shut.
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving Dracule Marya Zaleska a Power Stone! It helps the novel climb the rankings and get more eyes on our story!
Thank you for sailing with us! 🏴☠️ Your support means so much!
Want to see the Dreadnought Thalassa blueprints? Or unlock the true power of Goddess Achlys?
Join the Dracule Marya Zaleska crew on Patreon to get exclusive concept art, deep-dive lore notes, and access to our private Discord community! You make the New World adventure possible.
Become a Crewmate and Unlock the Lore:
https://patreon.com/An1m3N3rd?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink
Thanks so much for your support and loving this story as much as I do!