Chapter 27: The Weight of Her Words
A week had passed since they left Isla Obscura, and the dagger had not stopped whispering.
It whispered in the dead of night, in the still hours before dawn, in the middle of dinner, and even during fights with sea beasts or bounty hunters. Sometimes it laughed softly. Sometimes it wept. Sometimes it murmured a name none of them recognized. Whatever it was, it was loud—at least in their minds.
Jake had started wearing his hat tighter, as if the pressure might muffle the voices. Raina had taken to sharpening her knives more aggressively than necessary. The crew was jittery, sleep-deprived, and one man had tried to throw himself overboard just to get away from the sound.
Only Elias was unaffected.
He was calm. He even hummed, occasionally speaking back to the dagger under his breath like it was an old friend.
One particularly still afternoon, with no wind in the sails and the sea flat like glass, Elias stepped out onto the deck, where Jake and Raina sat under the shade of the mainsail. Jake was half-asleep, sipping warm rum. Raina was cleaning her flintlock pistol.
"Okay," Elias said suddenly. "I think we should free the prophet."
Jake blinked. Raina froze mid-wipe.
Both stared at him as if he'd just suggested marrying a kraken.
Raina set the pistol down. "Your crazy friend said, and I quote— 'You don't want to. Her truth can drive men mad. And if the blade breaks, the voice is lost… or unleashed.'"
Elias nodded. "Exactly my point. What if it breaks by accident? What if in the middle of a fight, a cannon hits the chest? Or it gets taken? What happens then?"
Jake sat up slowly. "You want to intentionally unleash the mad prophet voice?"
"Not unleash," Elias said calmly. "Free. There's a difference."
"Big difference," Jake muttered. "Like the difference between rum and seawater. Both liquid. One's fun. The other? Death."
Elias ignored him and looked at Raina. "Your weapons. My sword. Jake's tricks. All of it won't matter if this thing turns on us. But what if we understand it instead? What if we listen?"
Raina folded her arms. "Even if she tells the truth, it could kill us. That's what your librarian said."
Elias turned to Jake, his expression thoughtful. "But what kind of truth can kill? What kind of knowledge is so powerful that just hearing it ends you?"
Jake looked around. The crew had stopped working. Some were pretending not to listen. Others weren't even pretending.
"Maybe it's about the world," Elias continued. "Maybe it's about me. About you. About the sea."
Jake squinted. "You think she's got answers?"
Elias tapped the chest holding the dagger. "I think she is the answer. To something we haven't even asked yet."
Raina frowned. "This is madness."
Jake stood and walked over to Elias, eyes narrowed. Then, slowly, a grin tugged at his lips. "Madness, yes. But also… very us."
Elias smirked. "Exactly."
Raina groaned. "You're both insane."
Jake threw an arm around Elias's shoulder. "True. But we're interesting, and that's more important."
They gathered the crew and explained the idea. Most looked horrified. A few, especially the more loyal (and equally mad) members, nodded. In the end, it didn't matter. The captain had spoken.
They set course for a small island Jake remembered from an old legend—The Isle of Mirrors. A place where sound didn't echo, where voices went to die, and where, according to myth, truth could be spoken freely without consequence.
Jake, of course, loved it. "A place that kills echoes? Finally! Some peace!"
It took two days. Two long days of whispers, nightmares, and headaches. By the time they arrived, the crew was pale and twitchy.
The island was misty, quiet, and unsettling. No birds. No wind. Just glassy trees that reflected their faces in strange ways.
They found the highest point on the island, where a stone circle lay covered in moss.
Elias held the dagger in both hands. The gem was pulsing violently now, as if it knew.
Jake stepped back. "Last chance to say this is a terrible idea."
Elias smiled. "It's a terrible idea."
Jake grinned. "Perfect. Proceed."
Elias set the dagger in the center of the circle. He drew his black sword and closed his eyes.
"To the voice that has no face," he said softly. "To the prophet who saw too much. We do not come to bind you. We come to listen."
Then, he struck.
The blade shattered clean through the dagger.
A wind exploded from the circle, knocking everyone back. A blue light surged up, forming the shape of a woman—hooded, eyes closed, mouth stitched with light.
Then the stitches broke.
She spoke.
"Truth: The sea is dying. The gods have fled. The world is not round—it spirals into madness."
Jake staggered back, gripping his head. Raina fell to her knees. Several crew members screamed and ran.
But Elias stood firm.
The prophet turned to him.
"Truth: You are not born of this age.oe this world or Time Your name is not your own. You were placed here, Elias."
His eyes widened.
"By who?" he whispered.
The prophet leaned in. "By the sea itself. To end it."
Then she vanished.
The light faded. The wind stilled. The dagger was gone.
Silence returned.
Jake helped Raina up. "Well. That was fun. Anyone else hearing bells? Just me? Alright."
Elias stared at the empty space where the prophet had been.
Raina walked up beside him. "You okay?"
"No," he whispered. "But I understand now."
Jake stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What did she mean, to end the sea?"
Elias didn't answer.
He just looked toward the horizon.
Where the waves, once gentle, now churned in unnatural ways.
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