The fog parted like curtains drawn by fate.
Hook's ship crept forward—its black hull gliding across the silvered waves like a shadow no one invited. Before him, the shoreline revealed its defenders: spears, spells, and sharpened gazes. From mortals to magic-born, every soul on that coast looked ready to kill or be killed.
Hook squinted toward the figures forming on the sand.
"Well, well," he murmured. "The moon fairy, the wolf, and the boy."
He chuckled under his breath—dry, almost amused.
"How did they beat me here?"
He snapped his fingers. "Smee."
The first mate stumbled forward, half-sober but obedient. Hook didn't even look at him.
"Raise the white banner. High. Make sure they see it before they shoot."
As Smee hoisted the flag, Hook stepped to the edge of the deck, his boots echoing against the timber. He drew in a breath—long, cold, deliberate. A moment passed—long enough for the sea to hush—then his voice split the silence like a blade.
"I come in peace!" Hook declared. "No treachery in my wake. I've come to help—to stand with you against the wrath of Selene!"
Gasps. Shifts. Bows bent slightly tighter.
Tiger Lily stepped forward, jaw clenched, eyes burning.
"Do not trust him," she warned. "It was this man who looted our sacred offerings. He's the reason my mother's body lies beneath the sea."
She turned toward her father and the elder Muniya, her voice rising.
"He killed her. And now he comes draped in peace?"
Tinker Bell stepped forward, her wings barely visible in the moonlight.
"She's right," she said. "He attacked us before. He tried to stop us."
Thaliena turned. "And how did you survive that, moonchild?"
Tink looked away for a moment. "He was manipulated. Someone... twisted him. But coming here to destroy the tribe—that was his decision."
Hook lifted his gloved hand, his expression unreadable.
"A fairy, a daughter of moonlight herself, failed to sense the presence of a spy among her ranks?" he said coolly. "Tell me, fairy... does the name Khansuki ring a bell?"
Tinker Bell's breath hitched.
"Khansuki?" she echoed. "The celestial owl? He serves Selene, but... no. He wasn't—was he there?" Her eyes snapped to Hook. "Did you see him?"
Hook gave a slow, grave nod.
"He was on your trail. Watching. Listening. That is why I kept speaking of the Nocti tribe—to ensure Selene continued to believe I was her pawn."
He removed the velvet glove, revealing the glint of his hook as if in silent proof.
"My ship bears her blessing—a cosmic shield none of you can break. Had I wanted war... you wouldn't be standing."
He paused. Let that sink in.
"But I'm done being her dog. Selene's playing games with all of us. She used me. And she'll use you."
"So," he continued, lowering his voice, "let us stand together. Set aside the blood spilled. The tides are changing."
Tinker Bell looked at the tribe, the wolf, the boy... and back at the captain who once tried to kill her.
"This choice doesn't belong to me alone," she said. "If we are to stand together—we all must agree."
Elder Muniya stepped forward, her voice cold as steel.
"You are nothing but a killer. We will not trust you. We would sooner fall than ally with chaos himself."
Her tribe stood like a wall behind her—unmoving, unwavering.
The Chief raised his bow, arrow drawn and trained on Hook's heart.
Before the string could be loosed, the waters stirred—Thaliena rose in a luminous shimmer, her voice carrying the calm weight of the tides.
"Peace," she said, "Do not cry for war. It will bring nothing but ruin and loss. If this sailor comes without blades drawn, we must consider his words."
The Chief did not lower his aim. "And what if he and his crew strike in the hush of the dark? What if we trust, only to be slaughtered?"
"There is only one way," Thaliena replied.
She turned to Elder Muniya and extended her hand. "Bring forth the Grey Pearl of Wisdom. We will ask the dead—those who knew him best. If they speak in his favor, then we have no reason to doubt. The dead do not lie."
At Thaliena's request, Elder Muniya retrieved the Grey Pearl of Wisdom, its surface swirling with faint light like moonlit smoke. Holding it in both palms, she whispered an ancient chant—one that echoed through the bones of the earth and stirred the realm of the dead.
The waters rippled. A shimmer took form beside Thaliena.
A woman emerged—translucent, radiant, with storm-gray eyes and sea-swept hair. Her presence silenced the shore.
Ivory.
Hook stiffened at the sight of her. Regret flickered through his eyes, quickly masked by hardened resolve.
Thaliena bowed her head. "Ivory, once bound to the sailor, we call on your truth. Can he be trusted? Will you vouch for him?"
Ivory's eyes turned toward Hook, soft and distant.
"He can be reckless," she said slowly, "bitter when wounded. And chaos follows him like a shadow. But I have known his soul."
She looked toward the tribe.
"He will never spill innocent blood—not unless he believes it's the only way to protect someone or something greater."
Tiger Lily stepped forward, eyes burning.
"Was killing my mother his idea of protection?" she demanded.
"Tell me, Ivory—was that a righteous cause?"
Ivory's gaze fell.
"He didn't kill her," she said gently. "She fell. There was chaos, smoke, waves—she lost her footing and the sea claimed her. He reached for her. I saw it."
Tiger Lily's fists trembled at her sides.
"I don't believe that," she hissed. "All I know is this man destroyed my family. Whether by sword or storm—it was his doing. And I will not spare him."
Ivory turned slowly to Tiger Lily, her voice now carrying the ache of memories too heavy to fade.
"Child," she said, not with condescension, but with the quiet weight of someone who had lived through grief,
"He was in the rage of losing someone he loved—just like you are now."
Her eyes shimmered like mist caught in moonlight.
"You burn with sorrow, and so did he. But rage doesn't make a killer... it just makes us forget who we are."
Silence washed over the gathering like a tide.
With one last look at Hook—one that held sorrow, forgiveness, and a thread of something eternal—Ivory began to fade. Her form dissolved back into seafoam and starlight, vanishing into the waves from where she had come.
The pearl dimmed.
And her final judgment lingered in the air like a benediction:
She had spoken in favor of Hook.
No one was pleased with the verdict. Faces were stiff with silence, and eyes spoke what lips dared not. But to preserve the fragile thread of peace—and in hope of a greater victory—they accepted it.
They would ally with him. For now.
For Selene was the true storm on the horizon.
The camp settled into an uneasy quiet.
Mistrust lingered in the air like smoke after lightning.
The veil of dark began to drape the sky in indigo shadows.
Hook stood alone on the deck of his ship. The sea beneath him whispered of things lost and never returned.
A single tear slid down the weathered crease of his cheek.
His voice, low and raw, escaped into the dusk:
"I'm sorry, Ivory."