Smoke on the Horizon

The sea wind was colder than I remembered. It carried smoke instead of salt, ashes instead of mist. Blackthorn’s hand clamped around my arm, dragging me up the steep steps to the deck. I stumbled once, my feet catching on the slick boards, but he didn’t slow. The lantern light painted his face in flickering gold and shadow, a face carved from fury, from stone, from something no longer human.

“Look,” he said when we reached the rail. “Look at what your kingdom’s become.”

The Black Serpent cut through the dark waters, her sails black as grief. Behind us, the shoreline burned. I turned, clutching Mara close against my chest. She whimpered softly, her tiny fingers curling in the fabric of my sleeve. I wanted to cover her eyes, to shield her from the sight, but Blackthorn’s grip forced me to face it, all of it.
The lower village was still aflame. The fire devoured the rooftops, spilling golden light into the night sea. Smoke poured into the sky in thick plumes, blotting out the stars. The docks, once so full of laughter, of music, of life, now lay in ruin. Boats splintered. The tavern where James and I had met the sailors burned like a beacon of punishment. The castle loomed above it all, dark and broken, one tower collapsed, the rest scarred by fire. I could still see faint movement among the ruins, people running, trying to save what they could. My people.

“You did this,” I whispered.
“No,” he said, his voice cold and even. “You and my brother did.”
"What have you done to Nicholas?"
“He’ll live,” Blackthorn cut in, almost disappointed. “For now. I left him a kingdom to bury.”

I stared at the burning land until my eyes blurred with tears. The flames danced in the reflection of the water, rippling gold across the black waves. The sound of crackling timber carried faintly even here, the dying heart of Vespera echoing across the sea. Mara began to cry, soft and desperate, as if she could feel the loss I dared not speak. I held her tighter, pressing my lips to her hair.

“Quiet her,” Blackthorn said sharply, turning away.
“She’s frightened,” I said.
“She should be.”

He stepped closer to the rail, watching the smoke twist into the night sky. His shoulders rose and fell slowly, the wind whipping through his dark hair.

“You always wanted peace,” he said, almost to himself. “James wanted quiet seas. You both wanted a life that wasn’t yours to take.”
“We wanted a life free of you.”

His gaze snapped toward me, sharp as a blade.

“You were never mine to lose. You were something I bought. Paid for. You belonged because I said you did.”

I felt the words like a slap, but I didn’t look away.

“What are you now, Blackthorn? A man who destroys what he can’t control?”

He smiled then, a thin, joyless thing.

“A man who finishes what others start.”

I said nothing. The deck beneath my feet rolled with the swell of the tide, and I held Mara closer, rocking her gently as the ship moved farther from the shore.

“She’s a child,” I said, my voice breaking. “She’s innocent of your war.”
“There are no innocents in war.”

He turned and started walking toward the helm, his boots echoing against the planks. The men on deck stepped aside without meeting his gaze. Even they feared him now, the captain they once revered reduced to a legend of vengeance. I followed his gaze to the horizon, where the sea swallowed the last line of fire. The kingdom was a smear of gold and smoke, fading into nothing. I felt hollow, like the flames had burned through me too.

“She’ll never know peace,” he said quietly, still watching the shore vanish. “That’s your doing, not mine.”
“No,” I whispered. “That’s yours.”

He didn’t answer. The ship creaked and groaned as the wind filled the sails, carrying us farther from land, farther from everything I’d ever loved. I sank to my knees, my daughter’s sobs muffled against my shoulder. James was gone. Nicholas might still be alive, but even if he was, the kingdom we’d built was in ruin. I was here again, on his ship, in his shadow. The waves slapped against the hull like a heartbeat, relentless and cold. The stars above were faint, blurred by smoke that had drifted out to sea.
I wanted to scream. To curse him. To beg whatever gods still listened to drown this ship and everything on it. The words wouldn’t come. Only silence. Only the sound of the wind and my daughter’s cries. Mauve appeared then, stepping out from below deck. She hesitated when she saw me, her expression unreadable. She was carrying a blanket, soft and white, the only color left in this nightmare.

“Here,” she said, kneeling beside me.

She wrapped the blanket around Mara, her hands gentle, careful. For a moment, I saw pity in her eyes.

“I tried to keep her quiet,” Mauve whispered. “He said you should see.”
“See what?” I asked bitterly.
“What’s left,” she said simply.

I looked toward the horizon again. Smoke still clung to the edges of the sky, faint but lingering, like a scar that would never heal. Blackthorn stood at the bow, his silhouette framed against the moonlight, unmoving, unshaken. The sea seemed to bow to him, the wind bending to his will. I hated him more than I’d ever hated anything.
Mara stirred in my arms, her breathing softening as she drifted into uneasy sleep. I smoothed her hair back, whispering a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.

“I’ll get you out of here,” I said. “I swear it.”

The Black Serpent sailed on through the black water, the ruins of Vespera shrinking into the distance. I kept my eyes on the last flicker of fire until it disappeared entirely. When it did, I realized I had nothing left but the sea, and the monster who ruled it.