He wouldn’t be alive for much longer. And if I wanted answers, I had to get to him before it was too late.

  I sat there, the parchment still warm in my trembling hands, its faded ink and crossed-out names a grim reminder of a past I couldn’t recall. Every word, every line, felt like an accusation. My heart pounded in my ears as I stared at the list—at the names of people I was supposed to have known, and at Weasel’s name, the traitor’s name.

  Vale’s parting words still echoed in my mind: “Alive. For now.” That single word had ignited a spark of determination in me, but also a deep dread. I had no idea what awaited me down in the brig, but the certainty that time was running out was palpable.

  I leaned back in the chair, trying to gather my thoughts. Across the table, Vale continued to gaze out the window at the churning sea. Mira stood by the door, her expression unreadable as she watched my every twitch. The silence was broken only by the creaking of the ship and the distant, rhythmic roar of the ocean.

  Finally, I spoke. “I’m going after Weasel. I need to know… why. What did I do? What did we do?” My voice wavered between anger and desperation.

  Mira’s eyes flickered, and she hesitated before replying, “Ethan, you’re not the only one who needs answers—but if you’re going to do this, you have to understand that confronting him might mean facing truths you’d rather leave buried.”

  I ran a hand over my forearm, feeling the dark, swirling mark beneath my skin. “This mark… It’s a constant reminder that I’m somehow tied to all this.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “To the King, to the mission… to the betrayal.”

  Vale turned from the window, his gaze steady on mine. “The mark is a claim, Ethan. A binding contract between you and the forces you’ve meddled with. And Weasel? He was the one who sealed that contract with his treachery.”

  I clenched my fists. “Then show me how to break it. Show me how to reclaim my memory, my past.”

  Vale shook his head slowly. “I can only tell you what happened. The rest… that’s up to you.”

  He paused, then added, “Your crew list might be your only clue. They’re scattered across the Fleet, some lost, some still fighting. You need to find those who can help you piece it together.”

  Mira’s voice cut in. “And Weasel is the key. He’s locked up in the brig, guarded by Captain Vex’s men. If you get to him, you might find the answers hidden behind his lies.”

  I took a deep breath. “Then I’ll go. I have to.”

  Mira’s eyes softened for a moment—a fleeting look of worry that she quickly masked. “Be careful, Ethan. Remember: sometimes the truth is more dangerous than the lie.”

  I nodded, rising from the table. I could feel the weight of the mark pulsing in time with my heartbeat, as if urging me onward. I turned to Vale, who gave a curt nod, then stepped away to let Mira lead me out.

  The corridors grew narrower and darker as we descended into the lower decks. The ship seemed to groan under its own burden, every creak and shudder a reminder of the dark secrets hidden in its bowels. The air was heavy with the stench of salt, decay, and spilled rum. Lanterns hung sporadically from the ceiling, their feeble light battling the oppressive shadows.

  Mira led me down a twisting passage lined with rusted metal doors and peeling wood. I tried to focus on her footsteps, the sound of our boots echoing in unison, as memories threatened to bubble up—snatches of a life before the mark, voices calling from the deep—but they were too fleeting to grasp.

  At last, we arrived before a massive iron door bolted shut. The sound of our footsteps diminished as we stood in front of it. I could feel the tension rising inside me, every muscle coiled with anticipation.

  Vale’s earlier words rang in my mind: “Still breathing in there, Weasel?” I rapped my knuckles against the cold metal, and after a long, agonizing moment, the door creaked open with a groan of protest.

  Inside was a cramped cell, illuminated only by a flickering sconce. The room reeked of mildew and stale despair. Shackles hung from the walls, and in the far corner, a figure slumped on the cold, damp floor.

  I stepped in cautiously. The figure stirred, and when his eyes met mine, I saw a flicker of recognition. It was Weasel—his face gaunt, eyes shadowed with both pain and cunning. His tangled hair hung messily around his face, and his wrists were encircled by heavy, rusted chains.

  For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was as heavy as the chains that bound him. Then, in a voice that was rough and hoarse from disuse, he broke the quiet.

  “…Well, fuck,” he muttered. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

  I stepped closer, my fists tightening at my sides. “You know me,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the turbulent emotions inside.

  Weasel’s thin lips curved into a sardonic grin. “Of course I do,” he replied, his eyes dancing with a mix of regret and mischief. He shifted his weight on the cold floor, and for a moment, his gaze turned inward—as if recalling something long buried.

  Mira’s presence at the cell door was silent but insistent. I could feel her eyes on us, and every nerve in my body screamed that this confrontation would unravel secrets I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  I squared my shoulders. “Tell me why. Why did you betray us?”

  Weasel chuckled, a sound that was both bitter and mocking. “Betray? Oh, Ethan… It’s all a matter of perspective.” His voice lowered, and he leaned forward, chains rattling softly. “You see, you weren’t just a soldier on that mission—you were its leader. And sometimes, a leader makes choices. Choices that cut deeper than any blade.”

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  I felt my pulse quicken, a mix of anger and confusion swirling inside me. “Choices? What choices? You fed them our location—our plans.”

  His grin widened, though it lacked any real humor. “I did what I had to do to survive. The Drowned King doesn’t reward weakness, Ethan. You made a bargain with him, whether you knew it or not. And I was just the messenger… the one who had to deliver the bad news.”

  His words struck me like a crashing wave. A bargain. With the Drowned King. My mind reeled, trying to grasp the implications. I looked down at the mark pulsing on my arm—the dark symbol that connected me to forces beyond my understanding.

  “Explain,” I demanded. “Explain this deal, this... bargain.”

  Weasel’s eyes glimmered in the dim light, and for a moment I thought I saw tears there—then they vanished as quickly as they came. “I wish I could,” he murmured. “But some truths are best left in the deep.” He paused, then added, “What I will tell you, though, is that you’re not entirely the man you think you are. The Drowned King has claimed you in ways you can’t yet fathom.”

  I took a step forward, anger and hurt mingling. “So you’re saying I—”

  He cut me off. “You made a choice, Ethan. A choice that sealed your fate. And I… I was there to witness it.” His voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial whisper. “You bargained with the King for power, for control over the storm that raged within you. You promised him something—your loyalty, your very soul—so that you could lead, so that you could save us all.”

  The shock of his words sent my heart into a frantic rhythm. I tried to recall anything—a flash, a memory of a deal struck in desperation—but my mind was a barren field. Nothing sprouted, nothing took root.

  Mira stepped forward, her tone firm yet laced with sorrow. “Weasel, you’re twisting everything,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Ethan, you need to remember that not everything is as it seems.”

  Weasel shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Maybe not. But the sea doesn’t lie, Ethan. And it always remembers.”

  I felt the weight of his words pressing into my chest. The memory of the sea—the cold, dark water, the relentless pull of the tides—brought with it a haunting sensation. I closed my eyes for a moment, and in that brief darkness, a flash of a stormy night, a ship caught in a violent swell, and a desperate bargain whispered on the wind, nearly broke me. When I opened my eyes, all I could see was the man before me and the echo of those lost memories.

  “Why?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you have to do it? Why did you let them take us down?”

  Weasel’s gaze flickered, and for a split second, I thought I saw remorse. “I didn’t let them,” he replied softly. “It was you, Ethan. You… you chose that path. I was merely the one who had to pay the price for your ambition.”

  My anger surged, but so did the sting of betrayal—of a truth I couldn’t fully comprehend. “Ambition?” I spat. “What ambition? I don’t remember any of this.”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “That’s the tragedy of it all. The bargain was made in the depths of your own mind, in a moment of despair when the storm was at its fiercest. You thought you could control it, harness its power, and save us all from what was coming. But the sea always demands its due.”

  Silence fell over the cell as his words hung in the air, heavy and inexorable. The only sound was the distant clatter of chains and the hum of the ship’s engine of fate.

  I stared at the dark mark on my arm. “And what if I refuse to remember?” I asked slowly, as if testing the limits of my own resolve.

  Weasel’s eyes narrowed. “Then you remain lost—a ghost drifting in the void, unclaimed by the sea, unworthy of the power you sought. And the Drowned King will come for you anyway.”

  A cold shiver ran through me. I had no desire to be claimed by anything, least of all a god of the abyss. “Then tell me what I did,” I said, voice trembling with a mix of rage and desperation. “Tell me what bargain I made.”

  He hesitated, as if weighing the risk of speaking truths that might shatter the fragile veneer of my reality. Finally, his tone softened, and he leaned in closer. “All I can say is this: on the night of the great storm—when the waves were taller than the masts and the winds screamed like the damned—you stepped forward as our leader. You were desperate. The mission was a suicide run, and we were all doomed. In that moment of utter despair, you whispered words to the darkness, promising the King your loyalty in exchange for the strength to lead us out of the storm.”

  I felt my mind reel at his words, images flickering at the edge of consciousness—a dark, stormy night, lightning splitting the sky, and a desperate figure stepping into the void. But the memories were elusive, like images seen through a fogged mirror.

  “And now?” I asked softly, my voice catching in my throat. “Now that you say I made that bargain… am I still that man? Or have I lost something I can never get back?”

  Weasel’s face softened into a mixture of pity and regret. “The sea never forgets, Ethan. It takes what it’s owed, and in return, it leaves a mark. That mark isn’t just a symbol on your skin—it’s a part of your soul, a reminder of the price you paid for power. Whether you can reclaim what you lost is up to you.”

  Mira stepped closer, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, though her tone remained steely. “Ethan, you have a choice now. You can either embrace what you were—everything that made you the leader you once were—or you can let the darkness consume you. But if you choose to fight for your memories, if you choose to understand your past, then you must accept the consequences.”

  The words echoed in the confined space of the cell, and for a moment, I felt the full weight of the decision bearing down on me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the truth, but I knew I couldn’t live in ignorance any longer.

  I stared down at my trembling hand, the mark glowing faintly in the low light. “I need to remember,” I said, my voice a mix of determination and fear. “I need to know what I did, what I promised, and why the King still haunts me.”

  Weasel’s eyes met mine, and in them I saw both sorrow and challenge. “Then find your way back, Ethan. But be warned—memory can be as treacherous as the sea. It might drag you under before you know it.”

  I took a step forward, heart pounding, as if every beat were a drum heralding a long-forgotten war. “I won’t run from it,” I said. “I’ll face it—whatever it is.”

  For a long, agonizing moment, silence reigned in the cell. Outside, the ship’s timbers groaned in protest against the relentless ocean. The distant crash of waves and the whisper of wind through the corridors were the only sounds.

  Then, in a voice that broke the silence like a knife, Weasel said, “There’s one thing you need to know, Ethan… the night of the storm changed everything. Not just for you, but for all of us. That night, you took a stand that none of us expected. And in doing so, you set events in motion that cannot be undone.”

  I felt as though the room were closing in on me. The truth was a heavy burden—one I wasn’t sure I was ready to carry. “Tell me,” I said, barely above a whisper, “tell me everything.”

  Weasel’s eyes darkened further as he stared into the distance, as if recalling the night in vivid detail. “I’ll do what I can,” he murmured. “But remember, the deeper you go, the harder it is to escape the tide.”

  At that, I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the ship and the steady hum of fate lull me into a trance. Memories that weren’t mine yet brushed the edges of my consciousness—a shattered moment of lightning, a scream swallowed by the storm, a bargain whispered in the dark. In that disjointed montage, I saw a figure stepping forward into a maelstrom, eyes blazing with desperate determination, and words exchanged with a presence I could feel more than see.

  When I opened my eyes again, I knew one thing for certain: the journey to reclaim my past would not be easy, and it might cost me more than I was willing to pay. But I had no other choice. The mark was a constant reminder that I was bound to the sea—and to the Drowned King—until I confronted what I had done.

  I looked up at Weasel, my gaze steeled by resolve. “Then let’s begin,” I said, voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling inside me.

  Mira nodded silently, and even Vale’s eyes, dark as midnight, held a flicker of approval. The truth awaited me somewhere in the depths of my lost memories, and now, with the weight of betrayal and destiny heavy on my shoulders, I would have to dive into the darkness to bring it all back to light.