Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Not every curse is forged in darkness.
Some are shaped by fierce and unyielding love.

Many years ago, on a starless night, Mathilde knelt upon the cold stone floor beneath the broken roof of a chapel. 

Alexandra’s body lay heavy in her arms, blood soaking through both their dresses. Her breath rattled shallow and uneven, each exhale weaker than the last. The candlelight flickered over her face, pale now, and her lips trembled faintly. 

“Stay with me,” Mathilde whispered. The words cracked in her throat. She rocked her gently, as though the rhythm itself might keep Alexandra grounded to this world.

Her fingers trembled as they stroked Alexandra’s black hair, its darkness hiding the blood. “Stay with me, love. Don't leave me.”

Alexandra stirred faintly, exhaling against Mathilde’s ear. “You must leave… before they find us.”

“No.” Mathilde pressed her forehead to the damp hair and tightened her grip. “Not without you. Never without you.”

A violent cough rattled through Alexandra’s chest. “Promise me… Mathilde. You will not… let them take you.”

Tears blurred Mathilde’s sight. “Do not ask me that. Don't ask me to live while you die.”

Alexandra’s eyes opened once more, deep blue even in their dimming, and searched Mathilde’s face as though to memorise it.

“I love you. Always.” 

Her body stilled.

Her chest did not rise again.

For a long moment, Mathilde refused to believe it. She shook her gently, then harder, desperation surging through her blood.

“Alex, please! Open your eyes. Stay with me, just one moment more. I can find help, I can—” Her voice broke apart.

But Alexandra did not stir.

“She cannot hear you now.”

Mathilde froze for a second before slowly raising her head.

From the darkness at the edge of the ruined chapel, a woman stepped forward. She wore a black gown and her hair, silver as frost, spilled loose around a face lined with age. 

A fellow witch. 

But Mathilde could sense the darker energy surrounding her. 

Her arms tightened around Alexandra.

“Leave us alone.” Her voice was hoarse, almost broken. 

The woman’s mouth tilted, not quite into a smile. "Are you sure?"

She paused, studying Mathilde with eyes that seemed to pierce her marrow. “I'm the only person who can give your heart what it craves.”

Mathilde shook her head fiercely, tears running down her cheeks. “If you have the power to bring her back to me, I'll give you anything.”

The witch’s eyes gleamed. She stepped closer, and the ruined air grew colder. “You would give all that you are, your youth, even your life?”

“Yes,” Mathilde spat, fiercely. “Without her, I am nothing.”

She tilted her head. “I cannot return her, not as she was. Death does not give back what it takes."

Mathilde opened her mouth to speak, but the older witch continued. "But I can bind you to her. Souls knotted together, so every time you are born anew, you will always find her.”

Mathilde’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. “You can really do this?”

The witch’s gaze deepened, unreadable. “I can show you.”

Mathilde tightened her grip around Alexandra’s lifeless fingers and nodded. 

The witch lifted one withered hand and the chapel dissolved.

She stood in a meadow at the height of spring, sunlight gilding the grass. Mathilde recognised herself immediately. She was chasing Alexandra who laughed as she ran ahead. Her hair was brown instead of black and her face might have been altered, but her blue eyes were the same.

Like a flash, the vision shifted. Mathilde was standing inside a cottage that glowed with firelight. Alexandra hummed as she stirred a pot while Mathilde added wood to the fire. Her form was changed again, her body not the same, yet when she turned, her smile was unmistakable.

She blinked and suddenly Mathilde was in a city alive with lanterns and Alexandra’s hair was blonde this time. She leaned close to whisper something that made Mathilde blush. 

Another blink and she was staring at two women hunched over a desk filled with papers. Mathilde's hair was a deep red, cut just below her ears, her eyes grey instead of green.

Beside her was unmistakably Alexandra. 

Mathilde's heart leaped. 

In this life, they looked almost identical. 

Her hair fell in a dark tumble down her back, so black it gleamed blue in the light. Her eyes were the same ocean blue she had once known. She even had the same beauty mark near her mouth. 

She tugged Mathilde’s sleeve with playful insistence.

“Oh, come on,” she said, her voice light. “You know we always find our way back.”

Mathilde’s lips curved in the faintest shadow of a smile, but before she could hold it, the vision fractured and dissolved.

The meadow, the cottage, the lantern lit street, the desk...all gone.

She was back in the ruined chapel, the cold stone biting at her knees and Alexandra’s body was still heavy in her arms.

Fresh tears burned her eyes. She started sobbing again and pressed her face into blood-matted hair, clinging as though Alexandra had not already left this world.

As though she had not already left Mathilde behind.

“It could be real?” she whispered, her voice trembling with both hope and despair. “All of it?”

The woman nodded slightly. “No matter the faces you wear and no matter the paths you walk, you will always find her.”

Mathilde kissed Alexandra’s hand, her sobs making her whole body shake. “Take me then. Take all of me.”

Without another word, the witch placed her hand upon Mathilde’s shoulder and darkness spread through her veins like roots beneath her skin.

Her strength drained swiftly, yet she did not resist.

She whispered close to her ear. “Remember this, child. Dark magic always demands its price and what you asked will cost you more than you can yet imagine.”

Mathilde’s body trembled, her limbs heavy, but her eyes did not leave Alexandra’s face.

Only then did Mathilde remember why she refused to use dark magic. 

The price was almost never worth it. 

But it was too late now. Whatever the price, she would pay it. 

For her Alex. 

Slowly, she lowered herself beside her beloved. Her fingers sought Alexandra’s and closed around them, cold meeting cold, until their hands lay bound together.

Mathilde watched the candle flames waver.

One faltered, then another, their glow shrinking with each second. 

Mathilde’s chest rose once, shuddering, and the last breath slipped from her lips. 

Chapter Text

March 1677

New Orleans

The cell smelled of mould and rust. Mathilde wrinkled her nose and sat on the floor with her knees drawn up.

She had been left alone for hours. It was hard to tell when time seemed to dissolve within stone walls. 

That seemed to be the case even more at night, when the silence was unbearable. Mathilde ached for any sound, something to keep her entertained and not feel so alone. 

Her breath caught when she heard it. The faintest scrape, metal teasing against metal. Mathilde lifted her head half thinking she was imagining it.

But then the door creaked and a tall figure slipped through the narrow opening.

Mathilde’s eyes widened but she remained silent as she watched the figure moving closer to her cell. 

It was a woman, though at first glance she might have been mistaken for a man. She wore a loose dark coat, high boots and she had a sword strapped to her hip. 

But now that she stood just on the other side with the moonlight washing over her, Mathilde could make out more details. 

She had long black hair that brushed her shoulders, thick and a little unruly from the wind. Her unearthly blue eyes, like the heart of the ocean, were studying Mathilde as though she were a painting in a gallery, not a prisoner in rags.

“They speak of an evil witch,” the stranger said softly, her English accent evident. “Yet here you sit like some caged swan.”

Mathilde arched a brow, her voice calm and cool. “Do you make a habit of visiting swans in cages?”

A quick smile flickered across the woman’s face, tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Only the rare ones.”

Mathilde let silence stretch between them for a few seconds while she looked for the right words. “And who are you wandering into cells at night dressed like a man?”

The woman gave a little exaggerated bow, clearly mocking the courtly gesture. “I am Princess Royal Alexandra Kiramman of England.”

Mathilde studied her more closely now. “An English princess,” she echoed, her French accent thicker than she wanted. “In boots and sword, sneaking into prisons in New Orleans. How very proper.”

Alexandra’s grin deepened, her blue eyes brightening. “I was never proper, nor do I plan to start.” 

She touched one of the cell bars. “Do tell me, are you truly what they say you are? Or simply a woman who happened to speak in the wrong place?”

Mathilde shook her head, the blonde strands of her hair spilling forward. “And what if I said yes?”

“Then I would be exactly where I need to be.”

“And if I said no?”

“Then I would be a fool for wasting my evening speaking to a lovely liar.”

Mathilde almost laughed, a low sound in her throat. “Compliments don’t work on me, Your Highness.” 

Then she added smoothy. “So do tell me, what is it that you wish and what you can offer me in return.” 

Their eyes held each other’s for a long moment.

Alexandra leaned forward, lowering her voice until it was nearly a secret. “I wish for you to come back to England with me to help me claim my rightful place in the court. In return…” She let the words linger, letting Mathilde’s imagination fill them. “…you will not rot in this cage.”

Mathilde lifted her chin slightly. “You offer freedom in exchange for servitude.”

“Not quite,” Alexandra said, her mouth curving again, softer this time. “I offer you freedom and I’ll compensate you handsomely for your help.”

Mathilde’s gaze lingered on this strange, daring princess who wore a sword like a man and spoke like a poet. 

For the first time in ages, she felt the faintest spark of curiosity pierce the gloom.

“Why,” Mathilde said at last, her voice quiet but firm, “should I trust you?”

Alexandra did not blink. “Because I’m your only way out, and as a member of the English royal family, I keep my word.”

Mathilde lifted a strand of her hair from her shoulder, twirling it lazily between her fingers. “My family comes from France. Forgive me if your word does not gleam quite as brightly as you think.”

Alexandra laughed softly, the sound rich and unguarded. “That’s a good point, but what do you have to lose by trusting me? If you stay here, they will burn you.” 

She leaned closer, her voice dropping even more. “Come with me and I can give you a life so luxurious you will never end up imprisoned again.”

A smirk slowly spread across Mathilde’s lips. “You speak of saving me but the truth is I don’t need saving.”

For the first time, Alexandra’s smile faltered, though only slightly. Her eyes widened, not in fear, but in fascination. 

Mathilde rose slowly from the floor, straw falling from her skirts. “I am no helpless swan in a cage. I am what they fear.”

She took a step closer. “I was planning to walk out before you appeared. I was just waiting for midnight when fewer people are on the streets.” 

“Then I was just curious. A princess slipping into a cell in the middle of the night, dressed like a man…it was rather entertaining.”

Alexandra shifted her weight, the leather of her boots creaking softly. “And what about my offer?”

The two women stood facing one another, close enough that Mathilde could see the beauty mark near Alexandra’s mouth. “If I choose to help you, I expect said luxury and protection.”

A soft grin spread across Alexandra’s lips. “You have my word.” 

“A princess’s promise,” Mathilde said, a hint of playfulness in her tone. “I wonder what that is worth.”

Mathilde flicked her wrist and the lock gave way with a dull scrape. The hinges groaned, the sound sharp against the silence.

Alexandra gestured with one gloved hand. “Go on. Before the guards come for their rounds.”

Mathilde moved slowly, her bare feet whispering over the stone as she stepped past the cell door. For a moment she froze, the faintest trace of suspicion in her eyes. 

Something felt off. 

Mathilde glanced at sidelong at Alexandra, who was moving closer. “I’ll admit, Princess, I didn’t expect you to persuade me this fast. Trust does not come naturally to me.”

“Nor to me,” Alexandra replied, her voice low but steady. 

She grabbed Mathilde by the arm and before she could break free, Alexandra struck the side of her neck with the edge of her palm, precise and practiced.

The world began to spin. 

Mathilde’s breath caught, her body folding as her knees weakened. 

Her last sight was Alexandra’s blue eyes, calm and unreadable, reaching forward to hold her.

Then everything went black.

***********

Mathilde surfaced from darkness gradually, as though rising through deep water. Her head throbbed, a dull ache at the base of her skull, and for a long moment she simply lay still, letting her senses return piece by piece.

There was movement beneath her. It was a gentle, endless sway. She could hear wood creaking and the faint slap of waves. 

Her eyes snapped open.

She was greeted by a low ceiling with a lantern swaying from a hook. For a moment, disorientation clouded her. Then memory returned, sharp and unwelcome.

The cell.
The open door.
Alexandra’s hand.
The sudden, precise blow that stole the ground from under her.

Her stomach knotted. Slowly, she pushed herself upright, scanning her surroundings. 

She must be on a ship. 

The cabin was small, scarcely more than a wooden box with a narrow bed, a hammock and storage trunks. 

Mathilde climbed off the bed and sprinted to the door. She pressed her palm against the wood and whispered a spell of release, the ancient words rolling with ease from her tongue. 

The door was sealed with magic. 

The realisation coiled in her chest, heavy and hot.

Alexandra had not only tricked her, but bound her to this stupid cabin in a ship to God knows where. 

Probably England. 

Mathilde pressed her palm flat against the door once more, whispering the words with more force, willing the lock to obey. 

Nothing.

Her jaw tightened. She whispered another word but the door remained unmoved.

She struck at it once with the flat of her hand, the thud reverberating through the small space, then stepped back, breathing hard.

Mathilde raked her fingers through her hair, tugging at the blonde waves as frustration gnawed at her. 

“Clever little princess,” she hissed. 

She began to scan every corner as she moved: the iron-strapped trunk, the small desk in the corner, the seams in the planks. She pressed at the walls, ran her fingers along the edges of the bedframe, even tugged at the hinges of the door. 

All useless.

Her frustration deepened, but she forced herself to keep looking. Anything that could serve as a tool. 

She crouched near the bed, sweeping her hand beneath it, fingers brushing dust and splinters until they caught on something solid.

She reached in and pulled it free.

A knife. Modest in size, its handle worn smooth, the blade catching the faint lantern light as she turned it over in her hand. Not much, but sharp enough.

“Not so clever after all, little princess, are we?” she muttered a smile forming on her lips as she examined the knife. 

Then Mathilde’s expression shifted, her fury cooling into something colder, more focused. She slid the knife into the folds of her skirt, hidden against her thigh, and sat slowly back on the edge of the bed.

Her eyes fixed once again on the door, steady and unblinking. 

She could wait. 

She had waited before, and she had the patience to do it again. 

If Alexandra thought her clever trick would hold, she would learn soon enough what it meant to trap a witch.

Chapter Text

Mathilde had not moved in what felt like hours. She sat on the narrow bed, posture rigid, her gaze fixed on the wooden door of the cabin as though she could force it open through sheer will.

She kept an ear out for any sound outside.

Occasionally, voices passed along the corridor, sailors speaking in low tones, boots scraping against the boards, ropes creaking somewhere above. Once or twice she heard laughter drifting down from the deck. But there was no sign of Alexandra.

The knife rested hidden against her thigh, warm after absorbing her body temperature all this time.

Mathilde flexed her fingers slowly.

She had used the long stretch of waiting to think and plan her escape.

There were many ways she could overpower the arrogant princess. Alexandra was smart, yes, and clearly better trained in combat than most nobles, but Mathilde had not survived this long by underestimating her own abilities.

The real problem would not be Alexandra.

It would be the rest of the crew.

Mathilde tilted her head slightly, listening again to the distant sounds of the ship.

There were at least a dozen men aboard. Probably more. Sailors, judging by the rough voices she had heard earlier. If they all came at once, she might be able to take three or four before someone got lucky with the blade.

And then what?

Mathilde’s gaze drifted to the small window above the bed. It was very cloudy, and Mathilde could not really tell if it was morning or afternoon. But she could guess that by now, they must be deep in the ocean, miles from any shore.

She leaned back slightly against the wall, biting her lower lip in thought.

What exactly was she going to do once she escaped? 

Could she swim that long?

She exhaled sharply through her nose. 

An idea struck her like lightning. Waiting until they reached a port was her best chance. In the meantime, she could also learn more about Alexandra’s weaknesses but also how the crew and the ship operated to help her escape. 

Ideally, she would rather sneak out unnoticed than fighting a whole ship. It would also give her an advantage if she managed to hide on land before they go looking for her. 

Her nails pressed crescents deep into her palms as she watched the endless grey outside the window.

Then the latch turned, followed by the old hinges groaning, and Mathilde's head snapped to the door. 

The sight of Alexandra was enough to make the fury flare hot again. She carried herself in a calm and elegant manner as if she had not kidnapped Mathilde, striking her senseless like some common criminal.

“You’re awake,” Alexandra said evenly, holding a tray with food. “Good.”

Mathilde’s gaze lingered, unwilling but unable to look away. Alexandra was not dressed as elegantly as she acted. She wore a white linen shirt, the collar open at the throat, and dark trousers tucked neatly into high leather boots. 

Very princessy.

They only met a few hours ago but Mathilde would be genuinely surprised if this woman walked in wearing a simple gown, let alone royal attire.  

She placed the tray carefully at the edge of the bed. Under the daylight Mathilde could see better the beauty mark near Alexandra’s mouth, small and dark against her pale skin, drawing the eye toward her lips.

“You dragged me from one cage to another,” she spat, her voice low and threatening. “You lied to me, Princess.” 

Something flickered in Alexandra’s eyes, but her expression remained blank. “I did it because I knew you would have vanished somehow.” 

She stared right into Mathilde's eyes. “I will be damned if I lose you before I get what I want.”

Mathilde blinked for a few seconds but then she laughed bitterly.

“You never had me,” whispered, pieces of blonde hair falling wild over her face. “I was willing to choose you. And you stole that choice from me.”

Alexandra’s chest rose as she took a deeper breath.  “You asked me why you should trust me.”

She paused, still holding Mathilde’s gaze. “I could ask you the same, witch.”

Before Mathilde could come up with something to say, Alexandra moved to the desk area. She even started humming a melody under her breath while she began to reorganise the random objects on the desk that Mathilde had messed up earlier.

Mathilde wanted to scream, to lash out with the power that simmered uselessly in her chest, blocked by the seal on the cabin. But she settled for sliding her hand carefully under her skirt.

She kept her eyes on Alexandra, who seemed busy gathering pieces of paper that had scattered all over the place. 

This was her chance. 

Fuck waiting for the port. She would find a damn boat and escape this prison. 

She pushed the tray of food further into the bed to not accidentally knock or spill it when she moved. The last thing she needed was a reason for Alexandra to turn around. 

For a brief second, her eyes scanned  the bowl. Some kind of stew. 

Maybe she should pour that damn thing over Alexandra's stupidly pretty face. 

Her hand closed around the knife and she rose from the bed. The ship rocked harder beneath her feet, but all she felt was the rush of anger and the sharp thrill of steel in her palm.

Slowly, she walked towards Alexandra. 

“You think food will quiet me?” Mathilde asked creating a distraction. “Bread and water for a chained animal?”

“I think food will keep you alive,” Alexandra said smoothly, half reading a piece of paper. “Which is more than anyone else in that city would have done.”

Mathilde’s hand tightened around the knife.

She took one more step and spoke, her anger spilling through every word. “Oh how generous of you, Your Highness!”

Not wasting another second, Mathilde lunged forward. 

She was fast. 

But Alexandra was faster.

The moment Mathilde moved, Alexandra reacted as if she had been waiting for it. Her hand shot out and caught Mathilde’s wrist mid-strike. Mathilde snarled and twisted sharply, trying to wrench herself free, but Alexandra only tightened her hold. She was stronger than Mathilde expected.

Her fingers closed around Mathilde’s wrist like iron. Then Alexandra twisted her wrist and pain flared up Mathilde’s arm. The knife slipped from her grasp only to be caught cleanly in Alexandra’s other hand before it could fall.

Mathilde tried to reach for it again, ready to fight back. But in one swift motion, Alexandra spun her, forcing her back against the wall. 

The impact drove a breath from Mathilde’s lungs. 

Alexandra raised the stolen knife and angled it just beneath Mathilde’s chin.

“Do not,” Alexandra hissed, keeping the blade steady at Mathilde’s throat, “try something this foolish again.”

Mathilde could feel the heat of Alexandra’s body through the thin fabric between them. One of Alexandra’s hands was braced against the wall beside her shoulder, trapping her completely. 

Mathilde’s lips parted slightly.

“You think steel frightens me?” she whispered with a half manic smile. “I’ve faced fire and death.”

The knife pressed just a fraction closer, enough to remind Mathilde of the threat. Alexandra’s gaze burned into hers, unreadable but daring Mathilde to defy.

“I don’t want you frightened,” Alexandra murmured. “I need you alive.” 

“But if I have to keep you pressed to this wall, blade at your throat, to make you understand that—then so be it.”

For a heartbeat, none of them spoke. Their eyes remained locked, green and blue, neither softening, neither backing down. Mathilde’s chest rose and fell against Alexandra’s, the movement unavoidable in the cramped space between them.

“You can glare at me all you like,” Alexandra’s mouth tilted, not quite a smile as she slowly eased the blade away. “But we’re doing things my way.”

Her body remained close, one hand still braced against the wall beside Mathilde’s shoulder, keeping her penned.

“I will not bow to you,” Mathilde responded firmly, raising her chin in defiance. 

Alexandra let out a laugh. "We’ll see about that, witch."

Mathilde’s breath caught in her throat, but she masked it with a sharp turn of her head, blonde waves falling forward to shield her expression.

Only then did Alexandra step back slowly. She lowered the knife and slid it into her belt as though the entire confrontation had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

The sudden absence of her warmth left the air colder.

Mathilde straightened slowly against the wall.

“Will you keep me locked in this cabin until you decide I am useful?” Mathilde asked even though she already knew the answer. 

“Yes,” Alexandra confirmed, her tone neutral. “You and I will share this cabin until we reach England.”

Mathilde’s eyes widened for the briefest of moments, before she forced her expression back into composure. “You mean to sleep with an evil witch in the same space?” 

Then a faint playful smile spread across her lips. “That's brave, Princess.”

“What can I say,” she replied lightly. “I prefer to keep my enemies where I can see them.” 

The princess approached the desk again and grabbed something Mathilde could not see from where she was standing.  

“But you’ll sleep alone for the first couple nights,” Alexandra said, giving Mathilde a warning glance. “You better not try anything foolish again."

Mathilde rolled her eyes. 

“Fine,” she sighed and shifted away from the wall. “But if you want my help, you need to tell me more about this plan.” 

“You will hear it soon enough,” Alexandra replied over her shoulder as she made her way toward the door. “After all, we have a long voyage ahead of us to discuss details.”

Not as long as you think, princess. 

Mathilde wanted to say it, but she bit her lip instead to hold the words back. 

Her temper really needed to be controlled if she was going to outsmart Alexandra. 

Alexandra opened the cabin door and threw Mathilde one last glance before closing it. 

Mathilde stood frozen, listening to the lock turn as Alexandra secured the door from the outside.

Chapter Text

The woods were too quiet. Too still, as if even the wind itself had decided to hold its breath.

Thomas walked carefully along the narrow path, his trainers crunching against twigs and brittle leaves that sounded far too loud in the heavy silence. Each step echoed through the trees in a way that made his stomach tighten. The beam of his torch jerked nervously in his hand, darting across rough bark, claw-like branches, and something wet glistening faintly on the forest floor.

It’s probably dew, he told himself.

Definitely not blood.

Somewhere behind him, a branch snapped.

The sound was sharp and deliberate, not the careless crack of wood beneath an animal’s paw. All the air left Thomas’s lungs in a single breath as he froze in place.

Slowly, he turned.

The torch shook in his hand as he lifted it, sweeping the light through the darkness behind him.

“Hello?” he called.

His voice came out thinner than he meant it to.

His heart had begun pounding so violently that the rhythm of it thudded in his ears.

“Is anyone out there?”

The only sound was the faint whisper of wind sliding through the branches high above him.

Thomas swallowed hard and forced his feet to move again.

The beam of his torch trembled across the trunks as he continued down the path, telling himself that he was safer if he kept moving. That standing still in a place like this was the worst thing he could do.

Even as a cold line of sweat slid slowly down the back of his neck.

The forest seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction, surrounding him with towering shadows and silent trees.

Ahead, the trail disappeared into darkness, swallowed by the thick wall of forest. His torch illuminated only a few metres at a time, forcing him to sweep the beam from side to side as he walked.

Searching.

Watching.

Trying not to imagine what might be watching him back.

And that was when he saw it.

A figure standing between the trees.

At first Thomas thought it was just another trunk or a crooked branch playing tricks on his eyes. But as he slowly raised the torch higher, the beam struck the figure’s face.

Two dull red reflections glinted back at him.

Eyes.

The terror rooted him to the spot.

His legs suddenly felt like water, weak and unsteady beneath him. His voice seemed to have abandoned him entirely, but his fingers tightened around the torch as though it were the only thing keeping him anchored to the world.

Run, a voice screamed inside his head.

Why am I still standing here?

When the thin wave of courage finally broke through the panic, he didn’t hesitate.

Thomas turned and bolted down the path.

His trainers pounded against the dirt as he ran, the beam of his torch swinging wildly with every desperate stride. Light flashed across the trees in chaotic bursts, throwing the forest in and out of darkness.

He tried to glance over his shoulder, trying to see if the figure had moved.

But it was impossible to tell while running as fast as he could.

His lungs burned.

His chest ached.

Then he turned his head forward again—

And stopped dead in his tracks.

The man was standing in the middle of the path.

Only a few metres away.

In the trembling light of the torch, Thomas could see him clearly now.

The figure towered over him, broad-shouldered and unnaturally tall, his face hidden behind a smooth white mask that reflected the pale beam of the torch.

An axe rested in his right hand.

The blade glistened with blood.

“A boy like you shouldn’t be out in the woods at this hour,” the man said.

His voice was calm. Almost conversational.

And he began to walk slowly toward Thomas.

Thomas’s eyes darted around the forest, searching desperately for a way out.

He could run into the trees.

If he left the path, the thick branches might slow the man down. The darkness between the trunks might give him somewhere to hide.

But before his legs could even begin to move—

The man raised the axe.

“And the only thing he could do… was scream.”

Right on cue, shrieking burst around the fire, followed almost immediately by nervous laughter.

Violet had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing herself. The torch under her chin cast her features in harsh white light, stretching her shadow across the ground behind her like something straight out of the story she had just told.

She slowly lowered the torch and glanced around the circle.

Most of the campers stared back at her with wide eyes, clutching their marshmallow sticks like weapons. One girl had grabbed the sleeve of the camper next to her and was still half hiding behind it, while two of the older girls leaned forward on their benches as if they were daring Violet to continue. Another girl dramatically clutched her chest.

“I knew he was going to die,” she announced bravely.

A ripple of laughter moved through the group.

The fire painted the whole circle in warm gold, sparks drifting lazily into the night air. It was a chilly evening for summer, and Violet was grateful they had picked tonight for the campfire instead of one of those sticky, airless nights where everyone ended up miserable and half asleep. The heat from the flames warmed her arms and legs while the breeze at her back carried the smell of smoke and sugar.

Eventually her gaze landed on a familiar pair of ocean-blue eyes across the fire.

Caitlyn was watching her with that infuriating little smirk.

“Booooo,” Caitlyn called out, giving a theatrical thumbs down. “Where’s the part where he starts choking on his own blood after being stabbed half a dozen times?”

Several campers gasped dramatically.

“Miss Kiramman!” one of the younger girls squealed.

“What?” Caitlyn asked innocently.

Violet raised an eyebrow, lowering the torch completely now.

“It was coming,” she said calmly. “Only if someone hadn’t interrupted me.”

“Just admit it, Vi.” Caitlyn’s smirk widened as she leaned back on the bench, arms crossed. “You’re not as tough as you act.”

Some of Violet’s older campers burst into laughter. One girl laughed so hard she nearly tipped sideways off the bench.

Violet gave them a pointed look.

Little traitors.

“Next time you can do storytime then, Miss Kiramman,” Violet shot back, making a dramatic show of rolling her eyes.

Caitlyn simply pulled a ridiculous face at one of the younger girls, who immediately dissolved into giggles.

“So, ladies,” Caitlyn said after a moment, lifting her voice slightly as she addressed the circle. 

Her gaze swept across the campers, her tone dropping into a mock-serious whisper. “Moral of the story…”

She leaned forward slightly. “Never wander into the woods alone at night.”

“Seriously?” one of Caitlyn’s campers scoffed. “That stuff only happens in horror movies.”

“Okay then,” Caitlyn replied, crossing her arms defensively. “If you do end up like Thomas, I’m certainly not coming to save you.”

“You’d definitely save us,” another girl insisted.

Caitlyn lifted one eyebrow. “If you were good girls, I would have consider it.”

“That is so mean,” someone groaned.

Laughter and shrieks erupted again, weaving into the steady crackle of the fire. Sparks jumped into the air, one landing dangerously close to Violet’s boot.

Violet drew in a breath, about to throw another comment into the chaos when a rustle sounded from the woods behind them.

The noise cut through the laughter like a knife and every head turned toward the trees.

Violet exchanged a quick look with Caitlyn across the fire, the humor draining from both their expressions at the same time.

They were both thinking the same thing. 

Tonight could not be the night. 

Then a masked man lunged out of the shadows.

Screams tore through the clearing instantly. The campers grabbed one another in blind panic, several scrambling backwards so fast they nearly toppled off the benches. One girl dropped her marshmallow stick into the fire while another ducked behind the bench entirely.

Violet’s chest tightened, her body already shifting forward before she had time to think.

Across the fire Caitlyn was moving just as fast, already waving the girls toward her side of the clearing.

“Girls! Over here!” she called sharply.

Several of the younger girls bolted toward her side of the fire without hesitation.

Violet was already on her feet. Her hand closed around the nearest thick stick lying beside the benches, picking it up in one smooth motion.

Not the best weapon but it would have to do.

The man stepped closer, the mask gleaming in the firelight. Violet tightened her grip and raised the stick higher, ready to swing when the man suddenly yanked the mask off his face.

“It’s a prank!” David shouted quickly as he threw both hands up in surrender. “Damn, Vi! You almost whacked me with that thing!”

For a second no one moved. Then a chorus of groans and nervous laughter rippled around the fire as the campers slowly realised what had happened.

“You scared us!” someone yelled.

“Yeah, not funny!”

Violet released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. The tightness in her shoulders loosened as she lowered the stick.

She fixed David with a long, unimpressed look.

“Next time you decide to prank the kids,” she said quietly, “you might want to warn us.”

David nodded quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “My bad… sorry.”

“I think he learned his lesson,” Caitlyn said as she stepped up beside Violet.

She tossed a bag of marshmallows straight at David and he caught it reflexively, blinking down at it in confusion.

“All right everyone,” Caitlyn called out loudly, clapping her hands once to get the campers’ attention. “Who wants more marshmallows?”

A chorus of excited voices erupted as the campers rushed toward David, arms already reaching for the bag.

David looked completely overwhelmed as he found himself surrounded by eager campers grabbing for the marshmallows.

He shot Caitlyn a helpless look but she only shrugged innocently.

She grabbed Violet’s arm, tugging her gently away from the chaos.

“Come on,” she murmured, pulling her a little further from the crowd.

Once they had put some distance between themselves and the group, Caitlyn spoke again.

“What the hell was he thinking?” she hissed under her breath, her voice tight with restrained panic. “I really thought something had happened to the timeline.”

“Same.” Violet dragged a hand through her hair, her heartbeat still racing from the adrenaline. “He really should have warned us, considering everything.”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, the tension leaving her shoulders in a quiet sigh, though the crease between her brows remained.

“I just can’t shake this bad feeling I’ve had all day,” she admitted after a moment, her voice lower now. A faint frown pulled at her features as she glanced toward the treeline. “Something is very wrong, Vi.”

A cold ripple slid down the back of Violet’s neck.

That was not something you wanted to hear your clairvoyant partner say in the middle of a case.

“Maybe we should call Phoebe,” Violet suggested, her voice calmer than she felt. “Tell her to start brewing the potion now. Just in case.”

Caitlyn did not answer right away.

She stood still for a few seconds, watching the campers by the fire. David was attempting to balance three marshmallows on a single stick while half the girls shouted instructions at him and the other half laughed at his obvious lack of coordination.

For a moment, everything looked perfectly normal.

Then Caitlyn shook her head slightly and stepped closer to Violet.

Without another word, she lifted her wrist and tapped twice against the glass face of her watch.

The hands spun backwards instantly, blurring into a silver whirl. The glass surface rippled like disturbed water before slowly clearing again.

Phoebe’s face appeared in the watch, faintly illuminated by the bluish glow of whatever light she stood under.

“What’s wrong?” Phoebe asked immediately, her eyes flicking between Caitlyn and Violet.

“Nothing yet,” Caitlyn reassured her quietly. “But you should start the brew.”

“Cait has a bad feeling,” Violet added, hoping the emphasis would explain the urgency.

Phoebe’s brow furrowed.

“I’ll start getting everything ready here,” she said, already sounding focused. “Just keep me updated.”

Caitlyn nodded once.

Then she tapped the glass twice again.

Phoebe’s face dissolved instantly, the rippling surface smoothing back into ordinary glass as the watch returned to normal.

For a moment, they stood side by side in silence. Then Violet nudged Caitlyn lightly with her shoulder, breaking the tension.

“You really think I’m soft?” she asked, a crooked smirk tugging at her lips.

Caitlyn’s mouth twitched faintly, though she did not take her eyes off the treeline.

“You scream if a pigeon flies in your general direction.”

Violet let out a quiet laugh.

“It was one time,” she protested. “And in my defense, it was a massive pigeon.”

That finally earned her a glance. Caitlyn’s blue eyes slid sideways toward her, glinting with dry amusement.

“You were lucky I was there to pick you up off the ground when you landed on your ass.”

Violet rolled her eyes, though a small warmth settled somewhere low in her chest.

“Always my hero,” she replied with exaggerated sarcasm.

The air around them smelled faintly of sugar and woodsmoke. David was handing out more marshmallows, his mask dangling forgotten from one wrist as he tried to keep up with the campers crowding around him.

Someone had turned on the radio, and a 90s pop song that Violet vaguely recognised was blasting at full volume. 

On the surface, it looked like any other campfire night. Another case moving along exactly as expected.

But Violet’s fingers absently toyed with the necklace around her throat, her thoughts racing beneath the calm exterior.

She needed to keep a clear head.

Especially when Caitlyn was already suffocating under the weight of her own intuition.

“This lot won’t sleep tonight,” Caitlyn muttered after a moment, watching the girls scream the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

“Lucky us,” Violet replied, stretching her arms overhead. “I’m really looking forward to repeating ‘Girls, please go to sleep’ every five minutes.”

Caitlyn snorted softly.

When she turned to look at Violet, her smile was wide.

And there it was again.

That spark in her eyes.

The one Violet had learned over the years was almost never a good sign.

“Then we should have a dance party to tire them out,” Caitlyn declared suddenly, clapping her hands together.

Violet shook her head immediately.

“You guys go ahead,” she said, already retreating half a step. “I’ll stay here and finish the rest of the sweets, if there are any left.”

“Oh come on,” Caitlyn insisted, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated attempt at persuasion. “It’ll be fun. When was the last time we got to enjoy ourselves during a case?”

Yeah.

Never a good sign.

“Fine,” Violet sighed at last. “But just for a couple of songs.”

Caitlyn’s grin widened instantly.

“Mary!” she shouted to one of her campers, already moving toward the radio. “Grab the tapes from my bag!”

Chapter Text

At first she had no idea what was happening.

There was only darkness and a terrible pressure squeezing the air from her chest, as though the world itself had closed around her. Caitlyn tried to breathe, but the moment her mouth opened water rushed in, bitter and salty against her tongue. Adrenaline rushed through her instantly and she forced her lips shut again, her heart slamming wildly against her ribs.

She was sinking.

The weight of the ocean pulled her slowly down into a blackness so deep she could barely see her own hands. The water was freezing, thick around her body, pressing against her skin from every direction.

Caitlyn kicked hard, her arms stretching upward toward the light.

Just a little more.

The surface seemed much closer. She was almost there when suddenly something closed around her ankle. Caitlyn twisted in the water, kicking wildly as she tried to break free.

But the grip tightened around her ankle and Caitlyn was yanked downward harder. The only thing she could do was watch the light slowly disappear again. She opened her mouth to scream but the sound never left her throat. Water rushed violently into her mouth instead. It flooded her lungs as her arms thrashed blindly, fingers clawing at nothing while the cold wrapped tighter around her.

Water rushed violently into her mouth instead. It flooded her lungs as her arms thrashed blindly, fingers clawing at nothing while the cold wrapped tighter around her.

Caitlyn lurched forward coughing violently, the sound breaking the silence of the cabin. She pressed a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the next cough before it escaped, but another it forced its way out anyway. Her throat burned and her eyes watered as she forced herself to breathe slowly through the lingering panic, one hand braced against the mattress beneath her as though the room itself might tilt if she let go.

It was just a dream.

It was just a dream.

Gradually the sensation of water filling her lungs began to fade, and Caitlyn glanced around the room trying to ground herself in the reality. At least what she could see from the dim wash of moonlight filtering through the half-opened window at the far end of the cabin. 

The girls had insisted on leaving it open. She had tried to make her point by listing the impressive variety of insects that roamed freely through the forest at night and how delighted those insects would be to feed on a group of sleeping campers.

But the girls insisted relentlessly that they needed fresh air until Caitlyn eventually surrendered to the idea, allowing the window to remain cracked open just enough to keep them satisfied. 

Of course, what she had not told them was that insects were the least concerning things that might be drawn to an open window.

Another cough caught in her throat, and Caitlyn turned her head into the pillow to smother the sound, squeezing her eyes shut.  

Somewhere in the cabin a girl shifted in her bunk, the quiet rustle of sheets breaking the silence. Another bed creaked as someone rolled over with a sleepy groan. Caitlyn stilled instantly, pressing her head against the pillow to trap the next cough in her throat. For a couple minutes, she didn’t move at all until she was sure the coughing had finally stopped.  

Carefully, she pushed the sheet away from her legs and swung her feet over the side of the cot, the floorboards cool beneath her toes as she sat there for a moment, rubbing a hand across her face in an attempt to shake off the last traces of sleep.

There was no chance she was falling back asleep. The lingering pressure in her chest alone was enough to guarantee that.

So she crouched down beside the bed and reached into the small compartment beneath it. Her fingers reached for the familiar cardboard edge of the cigarette pack she had hidden there earlier that evening, along with the lighter tucked beside it. She slipped them into the pocket of her pyjama shorts. 

Smoking occasionally was a habit she had developed sometime during her twenties in the 1980s, long before it became unfashionable. 

Sliding her feet into her Birkenstocks, Caitlyn straightened slowly and glanced across the dim cabin again.

For a moment she considered heading straight for the back door. Instead she turned quietly toward the other half of the room.

The far side of the cabin was darker, the moonlight barely reaching the bunks lined up against the wall. Caitlyn made a slow circle through the room, her gaze drifting across each bed in turn, counting limbs. 

One girl had managed to kick her blanket entirely onto the floor. Caitlyn bent down quietly to pick it up. As she straightened, her eyes moved automatically to the lower bunk.

She stopped mid-action.

Mary was not in her bed.

Caitlyn’s mouth went dry. She blinked once, then again, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the darkness. For a split second panic flickered through her mind, but then she finally spotted a small shape curled tightly against the wall, hidden in the shadows.

She exhaled slowly through her nose as she stood up again. Then she carefully draped the fallen sheet over the sleeping girl’s body before continuing with her round. 

Only when she was certain they were all there, in their beds, safe and sound, did Caitlyn turn toward the front door. The lock released with a quiet click and she eased the door open just enough to slip outside, pulling it gently closed behind her. 

The night air struck her the moment she stepped outside, thick and humid against her skin after the stale warmth of the cabin. The patio was dimly lit by a single yellow bulb hanging above the door, its weak glow barely covering the whole patio.

Caitlyn crossed the small space slowly and lowered herself onto the edge of the patio, the forest stretching endlessly before her. 

The camp always felt different at night. She was used to the constant chaos of teenagers running around during the day. But tonight the entire place seemed suspended in a strange, unnatural quiet. There were no crickets, no rustle of animals, none of the familiar sounds of the night. 

Her fingers slipped into the pocket of her shorts and retrieved the crumpled pack of cigarettes along with the lighter.

The first drag filled her lungs with a familiar burn and she exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl lazily into the warm air.

Relief washed through her almost instantly. For the first time since waking, it felt like she could breathe properly again, which admittedly, was ironic considering what cigarettes did to a person’s lungs.

Though she supposed that problem no longer applied to her. It was one of the perks of being dead.

Her gaze drifted toward the treeline while the fading remnants of the nightmare replayed in brief, unsettling flashes behind her eyes. 

Lately her dreams had been unusually intense, vivid in a way that left her body reacting long after she woke. She could still feel the cold pressure of the ocean closing around her, the feeling of water in her lungs and the desperate need to claw toward the surface.

Caitlyn rubbed a hand across her face and exhaled sharply, shaking the last fragments of the dream away.

Vi and her stupid horror stories.

The campfire story earlier that evening had clearly lodged itself somewhere in her subconscious, twisting into a nightmare. Though, if she was being fair, no one had forced her to sit there and listen to the entire thing.

Being a clairvoyant with a sensitivity to energy meant her mind had a habit of holding onto things a little too well. It also meant that she could feel an unexplainable tension when her intuition was trying to warn her. 

She had warned Violet about it earlier tonight but ultimately since nothing terrible happened, besides the girls fighting during bedtime, they both relaxed and decided to go to bed. 

Caitlyn lifted the cigarette to her lips again and as she took another slow drag, she heard the faint creak of a door opening. And it was followed, a moment later, by hushed whispering along with the unmistakable sound of suppressed giggles.

She turned her head toward the neighboring cabin just in time to spot a figure lingering by the door. At first she simply watched in silence, her mind still sluggish from sleep, half suspecting it might be Violet.

But then two more figures appeared, making it obvious the chatter was coming from them. 

“Those girls, I swear,” she muttered quietly.

She crushed the cigarette out against the wooden railing and flicked the butt aside. She hopped lightly down from the patio, keeping to the darker stretch of ground near the edge. 

If they wanted to sneak out in the middle of the night and break the rules, then Caitlyn fully intended to scare the shit out of them for it.

“Guys, move,” one of the girls whispered urgently. Caitlyn recognised the voice immediately as Lydia. “We need to go before anyone wakes up.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” another voice murmured nervously. “We’ll be stuck doing chores for weeks if we get caught.”

A frustrated groan followed.

“We won’t get caught if we leave now,” a third girl snapped.

Caitlyn shifted slightly closer, positioning herself where she could see them more clearly.

It was Lydia, Karen and Poppy, the self proclaimed popular group. All three were dressed in mini skirts and crop tops which was rather excessive for a midnight stroll even for a horror film set in the 90s. 

They were really up to something. 

Caitlyn remained perfectly still as the girls stepped down from the patio and began moving quietly across the path leading past Caitlyn’s cabin and toward the main camp.

She waited until they were only a few steps away before stepping out of the shadows.

“Ladies,” she called out, “Where exactly do we think we’re going?”

All three girls nearly jumped out of their skin. They collided into one another in startled panic, grabbing at each other’s arms, though to their credit none of them actually screamed. Instead they stared at Caitlyn with wide eyes, mouths slightly open in shock.

A few seconds of stunned silence passed before Karen managed to recover first.

“Uh… nowhere,” she stammered quickly. “We were just… going to hang out here. Do some stargazing.”

Caitlyn raised one eyebrow slowly and folded her arms across her chest.

“Stargazing?” Her gaze travelled deliberately from their shoes to their styled hair. “Is that really the best excuse you could come up with?”

The girls exchanged panicked glances, silently trying to piece together another excuse and Caitlyn let them. It was almost entertaining to see what they would come up with next.

Poppy shifted nervously on her feet.

“We were going to a party,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely loud for Caitlyn to hear. “We’re really sorry, Miss Kiramman.”

“Poppy!” Karen hissed.

The words hit her like a sudden blow. Meanwhile, the girls had started whisper-fighting among themselves now, but their voices faded into distant noise as the realisation began settling in Caitlyn’s mind.

“What party?” she asked firmly.

All three girls fell silent and stared at her uncertainly, clearly debating whether saying more would make their situation worse.

Caitlyn sighed.

“If you answer my questions honestly,” she said, her tone measured but firm, “I’ll ask Miss Hosking to go easy on the punishment.”

Another round of glances passed between them. Finally Lydia spoke, her voice quieter now. “Some of the older boys are throwing a party in their cabin.”

Caitlyn frowned. “How?”

“Their counselor is sneaking out with a few others to go clubbing in town,” Lydia continued, eyes still fixed on the ground. “So… they have the place to themselves tonight.”

Caitlyn’s stomach dropped. A party tonight was definitely not part of the script.

It was supposed to be on Friday. 

Shit

At least they had warned Phoebe to start the potion. 

“Listen to me carefully,” Caitlyn said suddenly, her voice firm enough to cut through their whispering.

The girls looked at her immediately. 

“Go to my cabin,” she continued. “Lock the door behind you and do not open it for anyone unless it’s me or Vi.”

Her gaze moved slowly between them. “Do you understand?”

They blinked at her, visibly confused by the sudden seriousness in her voice.

“Miss Kiramman…” Poppy asked hesitantly. “What’s going on?”

“There’s no time to explain,” Caitlyn said,  her voice hardening. “Go. Now.”

Without another word the girls bolted toward Caitlyn’s cabin, their hurried footsteps scattering across the path. 

Caitlyn did not wait to see if they made it safely inside. She spun on her heel and sprinted toward the neighboring cabin, gravel and pine needles crunching beneath her sandals as she ran. 

By the time she reached the cabin steps her heart was lodged somewhere in her throat. She climbed the short set of wooden stairs and pushed the door open with far more force than she intended, and the door slammed against the inside wall.

Caitlyn flicked the light switch and soft groans came from several bunks as the sudden light flooded the room. The cabin was identical to hers in layout, and she barely slowed as she crossed the first half of the room, weaving quickly between the bunk beds until she reached the counsellor's section. 

By the time she got there, Violet was already sitting upright on her cot, blinking groggily against the light with a confused frown. 

“Cait?”

“It’s really happening tonight,” Caitlyn said, the words tumbling out between hurried breaths. 

Violet did not need to be told twice. All traces of sleep evaporated from her face as though someone had flipped a switch inside her. Her red hair fell loose around her face as she swung her legs off the cot. 

The sudden movement and raised voices had already begun to stir the rest of the cabin. More sleepy groans followed, along with the faint creak of bunk frames shifting with several of the girls blinking awake. The girl on the lower bunk right opposite Violet's bed, pushed herself upright, her hair sticking out wildly in every direction. 

“Miss Hosking?” the girl mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s alright, Maisie,” Violet said gently as she crouched tying the shoelaces of her trainers. “Go back to sleep.”

The girl hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering herself back onto the pillow. A few of the other campers exchanged quiet whispers from their bunks and casting nervous glances toward the two counselors, but none of them dared ask again. 

Caitlyn caught one of young ones staring at her with wide, owlish eyes from one of the top bunk across the room. She tried to offer the girl a reassuring smile, though she suspected it came out far more strained than intended.

“Lovely,” Caitlyn muttered quietly under her breath. “Now I’m the boogeyman.”

Violet crouched again and reached beneath her cot, pulling out the worn leather satchel she always kept there.

“You really are terrifying sometimes,” she murmured in agreement, her voice low.

She slung the satchel over her shoulder in one fluid motion before grabbing Caitlyn lightly by the arm and steering her toward the back door.

“Lock all doors and windows!” Violet called over her shoulder to the girls as they moved toward the exit.

Chapter Text

It had been three days since Mathilde was taken hostage. Three long days stuck in this cabin by herself with books as her only source of entertainment. To say the least, she was bored out of her mind.

Mathilde lifted the cup of tea to her lips and took a slow sip, chasing away the sweetness of the cake. At least Alexandra had not lied about the luxury. For a prisoner, Mathilde had been given a surprisingly comfortable captivity.

She rolled her eyes at the thought.

Speaking of her ever-so-generous captor, Mathilde had not seen Alexandra since that first day, which, of course, was not something that kept her awake at night.

There was always someone new entering the cabin instead. Different women came and went throughout the day, bringing food, emptying the chamber pot, replacing the water basin, or collecting things on Alexandra’s behalf. At first, the constant change of faces had confused Mathilde. None of them spoke to her. They barely even acknowledged her presence. But after three days with nothing but time to think, she had come to a simple conclusion. 

Alexandra was doing it on purpose.

She had said it herself: she did not trust Mathilde. And judging by this parade of people, she clearly preferred to keep her guessing.

Still, even geniuses made mistakes sometimes. Especially when they relied on others to do their dirty work for them. Last night, while Mathilde pretended to sleep, one of the women had opened the locked trunk near the desk and placed something inside. Mathilde made a show of shifting in bed as if she were about to wake, and the woman had quickly closed the lid before slipping out of the room. Mathilde smiled to herself in the darkness. Maybe luck was on her side again. Or maybe the woman had simply been careless. Either way, the trunk had been left unlocked.

A small victory was still a victory in Mathilde’s book.

She set the teacup back onto the tray and stood from the bed. Even though curiosity itched beneath her skin, she forced herself to wait until after lunch had been delivered. Alexandra might have tried to keep her on edge, but Mathilde had already begun to notice the patterns of the ship. Between lunch and dinner, the cabin was checked far less frequently as the crew were busy with their duties.

Which meant this was the perfect time to see what the arrogant princess was hiding in her little box.

Mathilde knelt beside the trunk, her skirts brushing softly against the wooden floor. Her fingers hovered over the latch and she turned her head toward the door one last time, listening for footsteps in the corridor. After hearing nothing for a few seconds, she slowly lifted the lid. 

The trunk was filled almost entirely with bundles of papers, notebooks, books, and tightly rolled maps tied with thin cords. Mathilde picked up one of the books, quickly reading the title.

It was about Nature Witches.

She set it carefully on the floor beside her and reached for another.

Nature Witches again.

A soft smirk spread on Mathilde’s lips. 

Obsessed much, little princess?

She opened the second book and began flicking through the pages. Notes had been scribbled in the margins with observations, questions, even small sketches of diagrams and symbols. Alexandra had clearly been preparing for a long time for the possibility of keeping a Nature Witch hostage.

Mathilde turned another page, her breathing quickening while she skimmed through paragraphs about ancient covens and nature rituals that even she did not know about. She was so intent on the text that she almost didn’t hear the faint scrape of boots against wood outside the door.

With clumsy haste, she shoved the books back into the trunk and slammed the lid down. She scrambled back to the bed, forcing herself into a relaxed posture. Her eyes remained on the door, expecting yet another unfamiliar woman, but this time a very familiar tall figure stepped into the cabin.

Alexandra wore her usual attire of a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and dark trousers. Her black hair had been braided back in a neat French style, though a few strands had escaped around her face.

Her eyes swept across the room immediately while Mathilde calmly lifted her teacup and took a sip.

“The tea is really good,” she commented casually.

Alexandra closed the door, her expression unreadable except for the faint frown line on her forehead. 

“I am glad it is to your liking,” she replied, her tone edged with sarcasm.

Mathilde resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Though you ought to have finished it earlier,” Alexandra added as she stepped closer, the wooden floor creaking beneath her boots. “It must be cold by now.”

Mathilde set the cup down with deliberate care.

“I was busy enjoying the delicious cake.”

Alexandra’s blue eyes lingered on her with unmistakable suspicion. Mathilde briefly folded her hands neatly in her lap, pretending she had not just been rifling through the princess’s things just moments earlier. 

“Enjoying it with such intensity that you didn’t hear me at the door?” Alexandra asked, slightly amused, crossing her arms.

“I was distracted,” Mathilde replied simply.

“With what?”

“Thinking about the cake.”

Alexandra stared at her for several seconds.

“I know you’re lying,” she said at last. “But you’re lucky I don’t have time to deal with it right now.”

Not really knowing what to do with her hands and wanting to seem less suspicious, Mathilde lifted her cup again, hiding the faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You are too paranoid, Princess. It’s not good for your health.”

Alexandra exhaled sharply.

“Get up,” she ordered. “You’re coming with me.”

Mathilde raised an eyebrow.

“Is this where you finally decide to throw me overboard?”

Alexandra ignored the remark and turned toward the door. “Now, witch.”

Mathilde set the cup down and rose from the bed. She smoothed her skirts, purposely taking extra time. Alexandra seemed to notice but said nothing, only pressing her lips in a thin line. She opened the door and stepped into the narrow corridor.

“Where are we going?” Mathilde asked and she stepped out of the cabin after her.

The air out here was much cooler, carrying a stronger scent of saltwater. The corridor stretched along the length of the ship, lanterns hanging from iron hooks and swaying slightly with each slow roll of the waves.

“You’ll see,” Alexandra replied.

They passed two women hauling a heavy crate between them. The sailors nodded respectfully to Alexandra before their eyes flicked briefly to Mathilde. They stared blankly for a moment before continuing on their way like Mathilde barely existed. 

“Does no one on this ship have any manners?” she muttered under her breath, following Alexandra up a narrow staircase. The sounds of the ocean and creaking ropes grew louder with each step, which could only mean one thing.

They were heading to the main deck.

Alexandra pushed open the hatch, and sunlight poured down the stairwell. Mathilde squinted against the sudden brightness  and climbed the last couple steps up to the deck.

The wind rushed across the deck, tugging at her skirts and whipping loose strands of blonde hair across her face. Mathilde pushed them back with her hand and glanced around at the commotion. They seemed to be standing on the quarterdeck, and right below them on the main deck, crew members moved with practiced efficiency across every part of the ship. They were climbing rigging, hauling ropes, adjusting sails, scrubbing planks worn smooth by years of sea spray.

Mathilde blinked slowly.

Almost the entire crew…were women. Only a handful of men worked near the far side of the deck, doing what looked to be the heaviest tasks. And none of them wore navy uniforms. Mathilde looked for the flag and as she had suspected, it was a black one. 

Mathilde’s mouth fell open and she whipped her head toward Alexandra.

“Are those pirates?”

A faint smirk appeared on Alexandra’s lips as she watched her crew. “I prefer the term private crew.”

Mathilde let out a quiet breath of laughter, still in disbelief. “And here I thought you were a respectable princess.”

“Where did you even find them?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. 

“I’ve been recruiting members from different ports we reach,” Alexandra explained. “It took a few years, but I finally have a loyal crew.”

“Your crew?” Mathilde repeated, her mind still catching up.

“Yes,” Alexandra waved a hand around. “This is my ship.”

Mathilde’s eyes widened so dramatically she briefly wondered if they might fall out of her head. Alexandra chuckled at the reaction, the sound nearly lost beneath the sails snapping right above them.

“How else would I find the money and resources to fight my way to the throne?” 

“Oh yes,” Mathilde muttered dryly, glancing around the bustling deck, “because it is apparently tradition for runaway princesses to become pirates.”

With the corner of her eye, she could see Alexandra watching her once again with an unreadable expression, but Mathilde did not look back. Her gaze drifted toward the stern where carved letters curved elegantly into the dark wood.

“Lady Nikesia,” she read aloud, the name rolling strangely off her tongue. 

“That does not sound very British,” Mathilde added, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Despite the Lady part.”

“It is derived from Nikē,” Alexandra replied easily. “The Greek word for victory.”

Mathilde hummed thoughtfully. “So you are a scholar now as well?”

Alexandra’s mouth twitched faintly while the wind pulled at the loose strands of her braid.

“There is also an old legend that inspired the name,” she said, the faintest hint of pride creeping into her voice. “About Alexander the Great’s sister. Thessalonike.”

Mathilde finally turned fully toward her, and Alexandra took the silent invitation to continue.

“After Alexander died in Babylon,” she began, “following an illness during his campaign to expand Macedonia’s empire, Thessalonike was said to have thrown herself into the sea off the Macedonian coast.”

The ship rocked gently and Alexandra rested her hands against the rail, facing the main deck below.

“According to the legend, she was transformed into a creature of the sea.”

“A mermaid you mean?” Mathilde asked, raising a brow.

“Something like that.”

Alexandra’s gaze drifted briefly across the open water. “She would stop passing ships and ask the sailors a single question: ‘Is King Alexander alive?’”

She paused for a moment before continuing.

“And if the sailors answered, ‘Yes, he lives and reigns and the whole world he claims,’ she would calm the waters and allow them to pass safely.”

Mathilde’s lips curled with amusement. “And if they told her the truth?”

Alexandra glanced back at her. 

“She would summon a storm and sink the ship.”

Mathilde let out a soft laugh.

“Charming woman.”

Alexandra shrugged lightly.

“That is what the folklore says. Though I doubt she truly became a mermaid.”

Mathilde studied her for a moment. She had to admit, it was oddly refreshing. Back home, conversations rarely ventured beyond polite courtesies, marriage arrangements, and carefully disguised gossip whispered behind fans and gloves. Hearing someone speak so casually about history and legends felt almost like opening a new book.

“So,” Mathilde said at last, a sly smile tugging at her mouth, “you were named after this Alexander fellow…”

Alexandra opened her mouth to respond, but at the same moment someone called out.

“Captain!”

She turned immediately, her eyes snapping toward the woman hurrying up the steps from the main deck. 

“It’s time.”

Her posture changed instantly. She nodded once and gave the woman a few quick instructions that Mathilde could not quite catch over the wind and snapping sails. 

Mathilde remained still, her gaze shifting between the two women. The sailor was very pretty, with curly brown hair falling to her waist and warm brown eyes fixed on Alexandra with surprising intensity. 

Then she turned and hurried away again while Alexandra turned back to Mathilde, her expression suddenly very serious.

“I need you to strengthen the wind so we can turn the ship.”

Mathilde stared at her, taken aback.

“What?”

Alexandra gave her a pointed look.

“Don’t play dumb with me right now,” she warned, her tone cold and firm. “I know that as a Nature Witch you can control the elements.”

Oh, this woman really had the nerve.

For a brief second earlier, Mathilde had almost forgotten who Alexandra was, and she resisted the urge to shake herself for it.

“Then you also know how dangerous it is to control nature like that,” Mathilde argued, raising her voice slightly, “and it requires a great deal of energy, so forgive me if I’m not feeling particularly generous enough to exhaust myself for the convenience of my kidnapper.”

Alexandra let out an exaggerated breath and without warning she grabbed Mathilde’s shoulders, spinning her around before she could even process what was happening.

“You see that ship over there?” Alexandra said, her voice close to Mathilde’s ear.

With the princess pressed against her back and her breath brushing against her neck, Mathilde felt a shiver run down her spine, though she ignored it completely. She focused on the distant vessel cutting across the water.

She nodded once.

“If that ship of savages catches us in the open,” Alexandra continued quietly, “they will not treat you with the same courtesy I have.”

Mathilde bit her lower lip. It certainly looked like another pirate ship. And if one thing had become clear over the past few days, it was that she was far safer on a ship full of women. 

“You are extremely manipulative, Princess.”

Alexandra released her and took a step back.

“Oh, I’m sorry for trying to keep us all alive.”

Of course Mathilde had a response ready at the tip of her tongue. She wanted to remind the arrogant princess that the only reason her life was in danger at all was because Alexandra had dragged her here in the first place.

But it was not worth it right now. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling the currents of air rushing across the deck, trying to sense the wind. She had only manipulated fire before, but surely the principle could not be that different.

She sighed dramatically and opened her eyes again.

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, her gaze sliding back toward Alexandra. “And if I’m going to use such magic, I expect to be compensated.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow.

“What do you want?”

Mathilde smiled.

“We can discuss that later.”

Alexandra held her gaze for a moment, then much to Mathilde’s surprise, she nodded once.

“Enough back talk and more wind, witch.”

Mathilde exhaled slowly and turned toward the open sea. She lifted her hand, trying to feel the wind the way she would feel fire. She searched for its centre but the air was much more fickle. It moved everywhere at once, slipping from her fingers.

“Come on…” she murmured under her breath.

For a few seconds nothing happened but then a sudden strong gust surged through the rigging, snapping the canvas with a loud crack that echoed across the deck.

“Now!” Alexandra called instantly.

The helmswoman seized the wheel, and the Lady Nikesia leaned sharply to the left.  

Mathilde’s eyes flew open.

The air twisted violently in her grip, far stronger than she expected. The sails filled all at once and the ship lurched as the force of the wind drove hard into the canvas. She staggered forward, catching herself against the railing. The crew members below also grabbed for ropes and railings to steady themselves as the deck tilted.

Mathilde spotted the sailor from earlier. She was hauling a rope when she lost her footing, her boots sliding across the wet planks. She stumbled backward toward the open rail.

“Joan!” Alexandra shouted from somewhere near Mathilde, and without hesitation she vaulted down the short steps from the quarterdeck.

Alexandra had seen the massive waves coming. Mathilde was sure of it. They were hard to miss from up here. 

Yet she chose to go anyway. 

Mathilde clenched her jaw and lifted both arms in front of her, forcing herself to focus on the wind. She could not stop it, so if she wanted to slow the ship, she would have to change its direction.   

Slowly, she twisted the invisible stream and when the next gust followed, Mathilde shoved the current harder, redirecting it across the open water toward the approaching vessel.

Why hadn’t she thought of steering the other ship off course from the beginning? It would have been less dangerous. 

Oh yeah, maybe because she was told about the plan last minute and the arrogant princess barely gave her any time to think!

A strong wave struck the Lady Nikesia, making the deck jolt. Joan’s body tipped halfway over the railing, and Alexandra grabbed her waist, yanking her back onto the deck. It was becoming painfully obvious that even though she forced the current away from the sails, the wind had already stirred the sea and the waves continued rolling toward them. 

She had to do something. Like the wind, the ocean was too unpredictable to control. And it was even harder when her head was pounding, she was sure her nose was bleeding from all the effort. 

But there was no choice, the waves looked big and angry. She found the strength to move her arms again and pushed the waves in the direction of the other vessel. Thankfully, it worked. She could feel the ocean begin to calm around them, but it was too late to stop the second wave from hitting them. 

Alexandra saw it coming just in time and shoved Joan further into the deck. Mathilde’s eyes widened as she watched in horror Alexandra’s hand reaching for the railing to steady herself. 

But she missed it and the next instant she was gone, swallowed by dark water. 

“Captain overboard!”

In an instant, chaos erupted on the ship with crew members rushing toward the rail and shouting over one another.

“Stop the ship!”

“Where is she?!”

The Lady Nikesia lurched as the crew fought to slow her and Mathilde stumbled down the quarterdeck steps, her pulse roaring in her ears. She reached the spot Alexandra had fallen from the railing and looked down at the dark water rising and falling in restless swells.  

There was no sign of Alexandra. 

“Rope! Bring the ropes!” Joan shouted but her voice was shaking. 

A coil of thick rope flew over the side, slapping uselessly against the waves and Mathilde gripped the railing harder. 

Recklessly brave. That’s what Alexandra Kiramman was and Mathilde could see it very clearly now. 

“Alex!” Joan screamed desperately, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

Mathilde looked away from the water and at raw emotion in Joan’s face. She strongly suspected there was something more between those two and she filed the information away. She could think about it later when Alexandra locked her in the cabin again.

Because Alexandra was coming back. 

A rather brilliant idea finally struck Mathilde. She could try to manipulate the water and help Alexandra up to the surface. 

Using every bit of her remaining energy, Mathilde lifted one shaking arm over the rail above the shifting waves. The water resisted at first but slowly the current began to bend.

“Where the hell are you?” she murmured searching the water around the ship for any signs of Alexandra.

“Look!” someone cried suddenly.

A hand emerged between two waves, and Mathilde immediately let out a sharp breath of relief. 

It worked. She had done it. 

For one terrifying second Alexandra’s hand vanished beneath the surface again. Mathilde felt the cold sweat at the back of her neck but before she could figure out what went wrong, Alexandra’s whole head burst through the water. She gasped and choked violently, while struggling to stay above the waves. Yet she still forcing herself to swim towards the rope. 

Mathilde moved her hand across the water again guiding a gentle wave to push Alexandra closer to the ship. Only when her hand caught the rope, Mathilde released the water and stepped back from the railing to give space for the sailors to pull Alexandra up. 

“Pull!”

Several crew members hauled the rope together, pulling Alexandra up to the main deck with their boots scraping across the planks. When they finally lifted her over the rail, Alexandra collapsed onto the deck, coughing violently. What seemed to be an endless amount of seawater spilled from her mouth across the wood. 

She rolled onto her side, still choking and drawing in ragged breaths. The crew crowded around her in alarm, Joan already dropping to her knees to help Alexandra sit upright. Meanwhile, Mathilde remained frozen a few steps back. Adrenaline still rushed through her, and her ears rang violently.

She was fairly certain it was the only thing keeping her on her feet.  

Alexandra wiped seawater from her mouth and attempted to take a deeper breath, forcing more air back into her lungs.

Her soaked black hair clung to her face as she looked up, her eyes finding Mathilde instantly.