Soul Of Calypso

The pirates shoved me into a dimly lit room, my wrists still bound tightly behind my back. I stumbled forward, nearly losing my balance as the heavy door slammed shut behind me. I turned, the sound of the lock clicking into place sending a chill down my spine.

The room was surprisingly well-furnished, an unexpected contrast to the chaos and grime of the ship's deck. A long table stretched across the center of the room, covered in an assortment of food—roasted meats, fresh bread, glistening fruits, and a bottle of wine that caught the faint glow of the lanterns. Despite the inviting aroma, my stomach churned, too knotted with grief and anger to even consider eating.

Before I could gather my thoughts, the door creaked open again. A man stepped inside with deliberate ease, his boots clicking against the polished wooden floor. He closed the door behind him, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink around his commanding presence.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a dark coat trimmed with gold. His dark hair framed sharp features, and his piercing eyes, glinting with amusement and something far more dangerous, locked onto mine.

"Sit," he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight of authority.

I stayed where I was, defiance flaring within me despite the ropes cutting into my wrists. "I'd rather stand," I replied, my voice sharper than I intended.

A slow smirk curved his lips, as though my resistance amused him. He crossed the room to the table, picked up the bottle of wine, and poured himself a glass. "Suit yourself," he said with a shrug, swirling the glass before taking a sip.

For a moment, he simply watched me, his eyes calculating. The silence was oppressive, each passing second feeling heavier than the last.

Finally, he set the glass down and leaned casually against the edge of the table. "Allow me to introduce myself," he began, his tone smooth and almost conversational. "I am Captain Dorian Blackwell, master of this vessel." He gestured to the room around us, his smirk widening. "And you, little lady, are aboard my ship, The Storm Raven. Now, why don't you tell me what exactly you were doing out in my waters, sailing on a pitiful little boat with two traitors?"

I met his gaze, refusing to let him intimidate me. "I'm looking for my sister," I said evenly.

Dorian raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Your sister, you say? And who might she be?"

"Charlotte West," I replied, my voice firm.

At the mention of her name, something flickered in his expression—recognition. He studied me more intently, his smirk faltering for just a moment before it returned.

"Charlotte West," he repeated, almost to himself. "You look just like her. Twins, I assume?"

"Yes," I said curtly. "Twins. And now you know who I am. So why don't you tell me where she is?"

Dorian chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're bold. I'll give you that. But here's the thing, Scarlett—your sister didn't exactly leave me with a forwarding address."

"What do you mean?" I demanded, stepping closer despite the ropes cutting into my wrists. "You know her. I can see it in your face. Where is she?"

He tilted his head, his smirk fading slightly. "Oh, I know her, all right. She came to me, looking for help. Determined little thing. She wanted something very specific, and she was willing to risk everything to get it."

"The Soul of Calypso," I murmured, the name heavy on my tongue.

Dorian's smirk widened, though it lacked humor. "So you've heard of it. Yes, your sister was obsessed with that mythical little treasure. It was all she could talk about."

"Why?" I pressed, my voice trembling slightly. "Why would she risk everything for something so dangerous?"

He shrugged, pushing off the table to circle me slowly. "You'd have to ask her. Though I have to admit, it's fascinating to see the same fire in your eyes that I saw in hers. Tell me, Scarlett, are you here to finish what she started? Or are you just trying to clean up her mess?"

"I'm here to bring her home," I said, my voice steady despite the unease curling in my stomach.

He stopped in front of me, leaning down slightly so our faces were inches apart. "Home?" he echoed, his tone dripping with condescension. "Let me give you a piece of advice, little lady. The sea doesn't care about homes or happy endings. The moment your sister set out in search of the Soul of Calypso, she made her choice. And if you're not careful, you'll follow her down the same path."

"You don't know me," I shot back, glaring at him.

"Maybe not," he admitted, his smirk returning. "But I do know this: the Soul of Calypso doesn't just grant wishes. It takes something in return. Your sister thought she could outsmart it. I'm curious to see if you're just as naive."

"What did you do to her?" I demanded, my voice rising with anger. "What happened to her?"

Dorian's eyes darkened, and for a moment, his amusement vanished. "I didn't do anything to her. She made her choices, and so did I. Now, it's your turn."

Before I could respond, he straightened and gestured toward the door. Two pirates entered, their expressions hard and unfeeling.

"Take her to the brig," Dorian ordered. "Let her stew for a while. Maybe then she'll be more forthcoming."

The pirates grabbed my arms roughly, dragging me toward the door. I struggled against them, my frustration boiling over. "You're lying!" I shouted. "You know where she is! Tell me!"

Dorian didn't flinch. He simply picked up his wine glass again, his expression cold and unreadable. "Enjoy your stay, Scarlett. Something tells me your journey is just starting."

As the door slammed shut behind me, I realized two things.

First, Captain Dorian Blackwell wasn't just a pirate—he was a man who thrived on control, and I was now a pawn in his game.

And second, he knew far more about Charlotte and the Soul of Calypso than he was willing to admit.

But I wouldn't give up. I would find

a way to get answers—and to bring my sister back, no matter the cost.