The first thing Vercurius felt was cold iron under his back.
His eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the dim orange flicker of a lantern swinging gently above. The walls were wooden, aged, and creaked with every wave.
He was in a ship.
The lowest corner, near the hull.
Chained.
Sealed.
Not just physically — he could feel the weight of the lock.
A binding spell, crafted so precisely that it could only be heard by Naraka herself.
He didn't scream.
He didn't struggle.
He blinked once, exhaled, and muttered:
"Tch... how elegant."
Then he saw something move in the shadows near a barrel.
The crow — perched proudly on a box of cabbages — tilted its head with a smirk.
"Ah, good morning, your gravity!
Did the floor miss you?"
Vercurius sighed deeply.
"You? Seriously? You got caught too?"
The crow puffed its feathers.
"Excuse me. I wasn't caught. I was... conducting recon.
Besides, you collapsed like laundry, and now you're down here tied up like... well, laundry."
Vercurius rolled his eyes and leaned his head back.
"What an insult to laundry."
He closed his eyes briefly, breathing in the sea air, and whispered to himself:
"How did I let this happen...?"
The crow hopped closer.
"I was wondering the same thing! One minute you're levitating with all that creepy elegance, next minute — boom — nap time!"
"Just... be quiet," Vercurius grumbled.
"Sure. Want me to fluff your pillow while I'm at it?"
The lower deck was quiet. Only the creaking of old wood echoed between the beams.
Then —
a burst of shadow erupted through the air with a crack.
From the corner of the room, darkness surged forward and took shape.
Nujah stepped out of it, like a blade from a sheath, silent and precise — until his boots hit the floor with a sharp thud.
He stood tall, his form fully human now, the shadows still flickering off his coat like smoke.
"Enjoying your cellmate, Vercurius?"
"Don't worry. I'll get you out of there…
right after you tell me where those lunatics ran off to."
Vercurius tilted his head slightly, his gaze calm — almost bored.
"Ah... we both know how this ends, don't we, Nujah?"
"Save your tricks.
And don't bother getting into my head.
I locked that door ages ago."
From atop a nearby crate, the crow puffed its feathers, eyes darting between them.
"Oookay, look… let's maybe not do the whole death-stare thing?"
"We're all on the same boat here. Literally. Hehe… get it?"
Nujah glanced at the crow — no expression, no smile. Just a slow, silent look.
The crow shuffled back immediately.
"Alright, alright, no need for the murder-eyes…
Just saying, fighting on wooden floors is bad luck. Also, there's a nail. I saw it."
Vercurius closed his eyes and exhaled.
The chains around him hummed softly.
But none of them moved.