The first thing Kiro felt was the sway.
The second was the smell—salt, damp wood, and something faintly metallic.
His eyes opened to a low ceiling of weathered planks. Lantern light swayed with the ship, shadows rocking over stacked crates and coils of rope.
"You're awake," Ara said from the far side of the cramped cabin. She was leaning against a barrel, arms crossed, eyes scanning him for… something.
"What happened?" His voice was hoarse, the words tasting like iron.
"You burned yourself out," Ara said flatly. "Nearly cooked your brain trying to pull off that rooftop stunt. If we hadn't made it to the docks when we did—" She let the sentence die, her gaze flicking toward the small round porthole where rain streaked the glass.
"Where are we?"
"Off Nior's coast. Heading south."
Kiro sat up slowly, muscles aching as if he'd been beaten with hammers. "Whose ship?"
"A smuggler's," Ara said. "Captain Ral. Old friend. The kind who'll take coin without asking questions, as long as you don't bring trouble aboard."
Kiro raised an eyebrow. "We didn't bring trouble, did we?"
Ara's hesitation was answer enough.
The ship jolted hard to one side, making the lantern sway violently. Above them, boots pounded the deck, and Ral's voice barked orders over the crash of waves.
Ara was already moving toward the ladder. "Stay here."
Kiro ignored her and followed, climbing into the teeth of a storm.
The deck was chaos—crew scrambling to secure lines, sails snapping in the wind, spray lashing every surface. Lightning flashed, and for a split second, Kiro saw something in the distance.
A shape in the storm.
A second ship.
It was closing fast.
Ral, a grizzled man with a black beard and a knife in his teeth, snarled as he yanked the wheel. "Spectra corsairs! Either they want my cargo or they want you. Judging by Ara's face—" He shot her a glare. "—it's the second one."
Ara drew her daggers. "They'll try to board."
Kiro scanned the horizon, feeling for threads—but the storm's chaos made it harder to latch on. The sea itself was screaming, the crew's fear a tangled knot.
Then he felt them.
Threads, taut and purposeful, reaching across the waves.
"They're not just sailors," Kiro said. "They've got a threadweaver."
Ara's mouth tightened. "Of course they do."
Lightning lit the scene again—men on the other ship leaping across the gap, landing on the deck with the ease of predators. One's arm twisted unnaturally, reshaping into a blade. Another's eyes glowed faintly blue, scanning like a hawk.
And in their midst—a figure in a sea-cloak, hands weaving invisible patterns.
The first corsair swung at Kiro. Instinct took over—he caught the man's mental thread and pulled sideways. The blow went wild, burying the blade-arm into the mast.
Ara cut the man down before he could recover, already moving to intercept the next attacker.
The threadweaver on the corsair ship locked eyes with Kiro, and the air between them tightened.
It was different from the hooded figure—less precise, more brute force. A mental shove hit Kiro like a battering ram, trying to knock him overboard.
He planted his feet and pushed back.
The ship rocked violently under a massive wave, both of them staggering but still locked in the invisible struggle.
Kiro gritted his teeth. "Not… today!"
A sudden crack of wood drew his attention—the mast was splintering under the strain of the fight and the storm. Ral shouted something about cutting it loose, but Kiro had another idea.
He grabbed the mast's own tangled network of threads and snapped them.
The top half of the mast crashed down onto the boarding corsairs, scattering them like dice.
The corsair threadweaver flinched at the backlash. Kiro seized the moment, tearing through the man's control lines and sending him reeling into the sea.
The rest of the attackers faltered without their weaver's coordination. Ara and the crew finished them fast.
By the time the bodies were cleared and the sails re-rigged, the corsair ship was vanishing into the storm, retreating.
Ral gave Kiro a long, appraising look. "You're more trouble than you're worth, boy."
Kiro just sat down on a coil of rope, chest heaving. "Get used to it."
Ara smirked faintly, but her eyes stayed on the dark horizon. "That was just one ship," she murmured.