Ni-ki stood at the helm of the Crimson Horizon, his father’s beloved pirate ship, now under his command. Barely seventeen and already the youngest captain to command respect across the Eastern Waters, Ni-ki bore the mantle with quiet pride—and a thirst for the thrill that could only come from dancing on the edge of death.

He had inherited more than just the ship when his father fell in battle against the Royal Navy. He had inherited a legacy of rebellion, freedom, and an insatiable hunger for the unknown. Ni-ki loved danger. He welcomed storms, sought out cursed islands, and laughed in the face of sea beasts whispered of in sailor’s legends.

“What’s left to fear,” he would say, “when the sea calls you by name?”

His crew was loyal, rough around the edges but bound by respect for the boy with the fire in his eyes. They’d raided galleons, uncovered ancient maps, and drunk to their victories in taverns from Myra’s Reach to the Crimson Bay.

One fateful night, the crew docked at Virelle Port, a lively, lawless town where rumors of gold and sorcery poured stronger than the ale. Ni-ki slipped into a smoky tavern known as The Broken Harp—hoping for a drink, maybe a brawl, maybe both.

But what he found was her.

Draped in a cloak far too fine for a place like this, she sat at a corner table, her eyes watching the crowd like someone seeing the world for the first time. There was something too deliberate in her stillness. Too poised in her silence.

She was no ordinary tavern-goer.

As Ni-ki approached, their eyes met—hers sharp as blades, his reckless and curious. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she raised her mug and said coolly, “You’re younger than I expected, Captain.”

His smirk faltered. “You’ve heard of me?”