Senn Ashlock crouched low in the debris of the Mistral Queen, the wreckage scattered across the hidden cove beneath the jagged cliffs of Vernan. His sharp green eyes scanned what remained of the once-proud ship, filtering through a pile of broken timbers destroyed beyond recognition. The wind howled around them, carrying the salty tang of the sea and the cry of gulls. The waves below crashed against the rocks, sending up sprays of white foam that glistened in the fading daylight. Earlier in the day, soothing rhythmic waves accompanied their sail toward the cove, but upon nearing it, the waves grew erratic and matched the intensifying wind, almost overwhelming the small crew of two. It was as if the sea itself resisted their approach, warning them away from their plunder.

  “Bring the lantern closer,” he called to his companion without looking back, standing to his feet. As the older man approached, he heard the lantern creak and sway with each gust of wind. Senn’s boots sank into the wet sand as he walked in further, shifting his weight to avoid the jagged nails sprouting from the wood.

  “Damn this weather,” the wiry man Garrek said. Senn glanced back at him at the comment, the smuggler’s gray-bearded and wrinkled face looking even worse than usual in the dim light. Garrek adjusted his oilskin coat and peered at the wreckage. “Should’ve stayed in port, I say. This place... it feels cursed.”

  “Everything feels cursed to you,” Senn said, kneeling again to sift through a pile of broken crates. He pulled free a tarnished silver goblet, inspecting it briefly before tossing it into a burlap sack at his side. “We can’t all live off gutting fish and telling tall tales at the tavern.”

  Garrek grumbled under his breath, flicking his eyes toward the waves. “Coin or no, this job’s bad luck. You’ll see.”

  Senn ignored him, his focus sharpening as his hand brushed against something cold and smooth beneath the rubble. He cleared the debris, revealing an ornate pendant half-buried in the sand. Its gold metal, worn and scratched from either age or the crash, kept intricate etched patterns that shimmered even in the dim light. At its center was a deep blue gem, polished and unblemished despite the damage done to the gold.

  “Look at this,” Senn said, lifting the pendant. The chain dangled from his fingers, reflecting the lantern light as the winds rocked them both in unison. A chill ran through him as he touched the metal, even colder than the sea breeze.

  Garrek’s eyes widened as he took a cautious step back. “Put that down, Senn. I’m telling you, there’s something wrong with this place. With that thing.”

  Senn smirked, not releasing the pendant. “You’re a superstitious fool, Garrek. It’s just a piece of jewelry. Valuable, no doubt.” He turned his hand over, letting it lie on the back of his hand as he examined it. The engravings, swirling never-ending lines that overlapped as they spun around the jewel, looked familiar, although he couldn’t place where he’d seen them before.

  Garrek’s voice dropped to a whisper as his tone edged with fear. “That’s no ordinary trinket. Don’t you remember what that old historian said? The Mistral Queen wasn’t just any ship. She carried relics—artifacts dredged up from the depths of the Inner Sea. Secrets meant to remain hidden.”

  Senn frowned as his brow furrowed. “I don’t recall him saying anything about relics.”

  “Aye,” Garrek said as he nodded. “That’s because you tuned him out the moment he mentioned the expedition that he’s setting out at first light.”

  Senn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We can’t afford to wait for them to strip the wreck clean. We’ve spent too many years chasing after scraps after we lost the rest of the crew. And anyway,” he said, glancing at the pendant as he slid it back into his palm, “I don’t see why them being relics makes them so dangerous.”

  “Because these aren’t just old trinkets.” Garrek’s voice was barely audible now. “These are the kind that hold curses. With spirits tied to them. The kind that’ll haunt you until your last breath—if you’re lucky.”

  For a moment, Senn tightened his grip around the pendant. The artifact seemed to emit a strange hum, barely audible to his ears yet sufficient to quicken his pulse. He shook his head, letting out a nervous laugh as he slipped it into a pouch at his belt. “Then it’s good that I’m not one for fairy tales. Come, old man. There’s more to find here.”

  Garrek sighed as he cast a wary glance back at the waves. “Mark my words, lad. You’ve just made a deal with something you don’t understand.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The pendant’s weight seemed to grow heavier in his pouch as Senn trudged back to the rickety inn on Vernan’s lower cliffs. The smell of salt was softer here, mixing with the scent of seaweed and the faint aroma of smoking fish wafting from nearby stalls. Although several layers of cloth separated it from his skin, he swore he could still feel its icy touch. The thought consumed his mind despite the clamor of Vernan’s bustling port and labyrinthine streets to distract him.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Garrek said as they pushed through the Cragstone Rest’s creaking door. The indistinct murmur of patrons and the warm glow of lantern light inside offered a semblance of normalcy, but even that could not distract Senn from his increasing dread.

  “Maybe I have,” Senn said, pulling the pendant from his belt pouch. He shrugged off his coat and slumped into a chair at a corner table. Once again, as he had all evening, he dangled it from his fingers, its blue gem catching the light here almost unnaturally. He looked closer at the markings, their meaning just out of his mind’s reach. I know I’ve seen them before in this pattern, he thought. But where?

  “Don’t you see you can’t put the thing down?” Garrek said, leaning across the table. He glanced at the pendant before scanning the room, cautious of nosy onlookers. “Get rid of it. Toss it into the sea and be done with it.”

  Senn shook his head as his grip tightened around his prize. “Not until I know what it’s worth.”

  “What it’s worth?” Garrek’s voice rose before he quickly caught himself. He glanced around again and added, “It’s not worth your soul, lad.”

  “Wait,” Senn said aloud, brushing off Garrek’s comment as he noticed something new in the lines and swirls, something he hadn’t noticed before. Sometimes, the lines became thicker and rounder. Although the gold was marred, there were still places where you could see a single gold dot in the engraving in the middle of the rounded carvings. An eye? Senn thought, peering closer. These are... snakes. Snakes that are eating the tails of other snakes in a cycle. “Wasn’t that the sigil of House Teryndor?”

  Before Garrek could question him further, the gem’s light flickered. Sounds from other patrons faded as the room grew dim. The air seemed to thicken as Senn glanced at Garrek, but the smuggler’s eyes had gone wide with fear, his hand reaching for the dagger at his belt.

  “Senn Ashlock.”

  A deep, resonant voice reverberated in the small space, seeming to originate from nowhere.

  “Who’s there?” Senn said as he stood from his chair, his voice steadier than he understood.

  Light flashed again from the pendant’s gem and, in an instant, a figure materialized before him, mere inches from his face. It took the form of a man, clad in a flowing cloak of deep navy, his form translucent and seeming to shimmer like the surface of disturbed water. A trimmed beard that tapered to a point framed his jawline, and a faint, battered crown rested atop his head. Piercing ice-blue eyes, glowing in their ethereal state, locked onto Senn’s, and Senn jerked back, his chair tipping as he fell back into his seat.

  “A ghost,” Garrek said in a terrified whisper as he knocked over his own chair, trembling as he crawled backward toward the wall. “I bloody knew it.”

  “I am Aric,” the specter’s voice echoed throughout the room. “Once king of the country of Marino. Now bound to the depths by treachery and greed.”

  Senn’s voice caught in his throat. He swallowed, trying to clear it, but Aric spoke again before he got the words out.

  “You have taken what was mine.” Aric gestured to the pendant in Senn’s hand. “And now it binds you to my fate.”

  “What are you talking about?” Senn finally managed. “I don’t want any of this. I just needed something valuable to sell.”

  Aric’s expression softened, but his tone remained grave. “No one asks for the burdens of the dead. Yet, they are carried all the same.” He moved closer to Senn, and Senn wondered how, since the dead king did not seem to float, nor did he seem to walk toward him. It was as if he moved his feet in a walking motion but never touched them to the floor. “Those who swore loyalty to my crown betrayed me, sailor. Marino’s fall resulted from not divine intervention, but human ambition.”

  The room was freezing now. Senn saw his breath become visible as he attempted to slow it. “Why me? What do you want from me?”

  “The truth must be unearthed,” Aric said in a low and firm voice. “The lies that drowned Marino must be brought to light. Only then will the curse that binds me and my family be broken.”

  Garrek finally found his voice, its tone rising in fear and disbelief. “You want us to tangle with the nobility? They’ll kill us before we can breathe a word.”

  Aric hardened his expression as he turned to Garrek. “Cowardice serves no one, least of all the living. If you do nothing, the curse will spread, and the Inner Sea will consume all who dare sail its waters.”

  Senn swallowed hard, allowing his fingers to brush over the pendant’s icy surface, confident now that its chilling touch was not only in his imagination. “How do I find the truth that you need?”

  “Begin here, in Vernan,” Aric said. “The city holds a piece of the puzzle. Allies and enemies alike walk its streets. Beware: Those aiding traitors will use any means to silence you.”

  The pendant’s jewel flared once more, and Aric’s form wavered. His voice grew fainter as he said, “The dead have no voice, Senn Ashlock. Through you, they may yet have one. Do not fail us.”

  With that, he vanished. The room’s warmth returned in an instant. Others around them resumed their conversations as if nothing had occurred. Some even glanced at Garrek as though he had just tumbled from his seat.

  Garrek stared at Senn as he pulled himself from the floor, his legs wobbly and his face pale. “Tell me we’re not doing this.”

  Senn released a shaky breath and stood, slipping his coat back on as the chill lingered in the air. He tucked the pendant into his coat pocket as his green eyes met Garrek’s gray ones. Despite the fear coursing through his veins, a strange resolution came over him. “What choice do we have? His words, if true, will unleash this ‘curse,’ regardless of our actions.”

  “I told you not to pick the damn thing up,” Garrek said with a groan, running his hand across his face. “You’re going to get us killed, lad.”

  “Perhaps,” Senn said with a grim smile. “But won’t it be a story to tell if I don’t?”