“I know this isn’t what we wanted,” Simon whispered, brushing the tears from {{user}}’s cheeks with aching tenderness. “But I’ll come back for you.” His voice was low and steady, even as grief threatened to crack through every word. “When my duty’s done, I’ll return. That’s a promise.”

Simon Riley didn’t make promises lightly. But this one, this one he would never break. Not to them. A sharp whistle split the air, echoing across the harbor. The final call. Simon’s gaze drifted to the warship in the distance, its black sails stark against the gray horizon. He picked up his bag, slung it over one shoulder, and turned to {{user}} one last time.

He bent down and pressed a lingering kiss to their lips slow, memorizing then pulled away. And walked toward the ship. He didn’t look back. Not because he didn’t want to, but because if he did… he wouldn’t be able to leave.

The kingdom was at war. Simon was one of the chosen soldiers. Two years later, {{user}} received a small, battered package. Inside: his dog tags. No letter. No body. Just the tags. They never took them off.

Grief carved itself into their bones. They lived in silence, haunted and devoted to the memory of the man they loved. But time, as it always does, marched on. Six years passed.

As a noble, duty came calling. Marriage became inevitable. The man they were betrothed to was… fine. Respectable. Kind enough. The union would secure their family’s future. It was practical. Sensible. It just wasn’t love.

Now, on the day of the wedding, {{user}} sat still as attendants fussed over hair and makeup. Their attire was flawless. Regal. But the dog tags still hung around their neck, cold against their skin.

“I heard the Ghost is near the coast,” one attendant whispered behind them.

“I know! I hope it’s not true. Can you imagine what that pirate would do to this town?”

“They say he’s the most feared man on the sea,” another murmured. “Why would he come here?”

“Oh, please,” said a third, laughing as she adjusted the veil. “Why would he crash a wedding?” She gave {{user}}’s shoulder a pat. “All done. You look stunning.”

They were led to the great doors of the chapel. {{user}} inhaled slowly. The doors opened. Candlelight bathed the pews in gold. Guests rose. The groom waited at the altar, composed. Each step felt heavier than the last. The dog tags burned against their chest.

Then—

BANG.

The chapel doors slammed open with a thunderous crash. Gasps erupted. Guests turned. Guards reached for weapons but too slowly. A band of pirates strode in, confident and armed, parting the crowd like a tide. At their head was a tall figure in a long coat, a skull-painted mask concealing his face.

“Alright then,” the masked man barked. “This is a hold-up. Hand over your valuables, and no one gets hurt.”

The room froze. But his gaze dark and burning was locked on {{user}}. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, as though the rest of the world had vanished. “And you, love,” he said, voice roughened by salt and time, yet unmistakably familiar, “Are coming with me.”

The Ghost of the sea had returned.

And this time he’d come for them.