10. Adrift

Beneath the crashing waves, Elliot's body floated, the water swirling in a dizzying blur around him. His vision dimmed as the cold darkness of the ocean enveloped him. Just when he thought everything was over, a familiar translucent screen appeared in front of his fading eyes.

QUEST COMPLETE: Deliver the Letter

Rewards:

500 XP

2 Skill Points

1 New Skill Unlocked: "Endurance Boost"

Elliot's lips curled into a faint smile, despite the murky water filling his lungs. At least I finished the damn quest, he thought before everything went black.

Above the water, not too far from where Elliot had plunged, a rugged pirate ship with tattered sails and a flag bearing a skull and crossbones drifted lazily. A scruffy lookout perched high in the crow's nest suddenly squinted at the horizon.

"Oi! Captain! We've got somethin' floatin' out there!"

The captain of the ship, a towering man with a braided beard and an eyepatch, swaggered over to the edge of the ship. His wide-brimmed hat shadowed his face, and his hook tapped against the deck as he walked.

"What be ye hollerin' about, lad? Don't be wastin' me time if it's just driftwood!"

"Nay, Captain! It ain't driftwood—it's a young lad, looks like!"

The captain scowled, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"A young lad, ye say? Well then, hoist 'im aboard. If he's alive, he might fetch us a price. And if not—" He grinned darkly. "We can always feed 'im to the sharks."

The pirates worked quickly, tossing a hook overboard and dragging Elliot's limp body out of the ocean. His soaked clothes clung to his skin as they heaved him up to the deck with grunts and curses. Once Elliot was safely on the deck, coughing and sputtering, the crew gathered around him.

The pirate crew member grunted as he ripped away Elliot's soaked clothing, revealing the young man's injuries. His eyes widened at the sight of a deep stab wound, dark with the telltale signs of poison. With practiced efficiency, he examined the wound, his fingers probing the injury and noting the spreading discoloration from the poison. Not to mention the injuries from falling from such a height.

The crewman cursed under his breath, clearly recognizing the severity of Elliot's condition. "Well, I'll be a sea cucumber! He's still breathin'!"

"What's the story with him, Captain? A highborn lad, maybe? I've never laid eyes on wounds like these before."

The captain stomped over, looking down at Elliot with a critical eye. He crouched and jabbed a finger into Elliot's side, causing him to wince and groan.

"Soft as a sponge, aye. He won't be fetchin' much of a ransom, that's for sure. But a body's a body. Chuck 'im in with the rest o' the prisoners." Captain said cold, dismissive tone.

Elliot, still dazed from his near-death experience, groaned again and tried to speak.

"Wait... where... where am I?"

The captain, taken aback that the lad could still talk, turned around and said, "Ye be aboard the Black Siren, matey. And yer luck's just run out." He stood and waved dismissively to his crew. "Take 'im below. Let 'im stew with the other poor souls we've collected."

Two burly pirates grabbed Elliot by his arms and dragged him across the deck. His boots scraped along the worn wood, and he barely managed to keep his head up as he glanced around. The ocean stretched endlessly in every direction. The crewmen's rough hands shoved him down the stairs into the dim, damp bowels of the ship.

"Enjoy yer stay, matey. Ye'll find it quite cozy with the rats down here." the crewmen remarked with a smirk.

They opened a creaky door and tossed him into a cell crowded with a few other prisoners—each one looking just as ragged and defeated as Elliot felt. The door slammed shut, and Elliot slumped against the wall.

"Fantastic," Elliot muttered. "From delivery boy to prisoner in less than a day. I'm really nailing this adventure thing."

Outside, the captain's rough voice echoed across the deck as the pirates went about their business, unaware that Elliot's presence on the ship would soon drag them into a new and dangerous series of events.

Below deck, the cell was dimly lit by a flickering lantern. The damp, salty air hung heavy, and the walls were lined with shadows. Elliot, barely conscious from the combined effects of poison and exhaustion, lay slumped against the wall. His breathing was shallow and labored.

In the cell opposite him, a figure stirred. She was bound with coarse ropes, her face hidden beneath a hood. As she shifted, her fingers moved expertly, working at the knots that tied her wrists. With a few deft twists and pulls, the ropes fell away, and she stood quietly.

She approached Elliot with a soft, cautious grace, kneeling beside him. Her eyes, visible through her hood, were filled with a mix of concern and determination. She reached out, her fingers glowing with a soft, warm light. The glow seemed to pulse with a calming energy, contrasting sharply with the grim surroundings.

Gently, she placed her glowing fingers over the open wounds on Elliot's body. A warm, ethereal light spread from her touch, weaving a soothing magic that visibly mended the torn flesh. The dark, sinister poison that had seeped into his veins writhed and struggled against the healing light, threatening to reach his brain.

But with a surge of determination, she leaned close and, with a fervent concentration, drew the poison from his lips. The shadowy toxin swirled from his wounds into her, leaving Elliot's breathing to steady, though he remained unconscious. His face, pallid and ghostly, reflected the gravity of his ordeal.

Her own expression was a portrait of intense focus and serenity as she continued her work. Each breath she took seemed to synchronize with the rhythmic pulse of her magic, casting a profound calm over the chaos of his injuries. The light from her fingers dimmed with each moment as she extracted the last remnants of the poison, her resolve unwavering as she fought to restore him to health

The wounds were now sealed, and Elliot's once-tortured body looked more at peace. Satisfied with her work, she carefully checked to ensure that he was stable.

She retreated to her corner, her gaze contemplative. With a whisper of resolve, she murmured, "Your journey isn't over yet, delivery boy," before vanishing into a swirling cloud of thick smoke. The ship rocked gently as it sailed, the soft creaking of the hull the only sound in the otherwise silent cell. Amidst the darkness, a young boy no older than twelve, who had witnessed the entire dramatic event, stared wide-eyed, his mouth agape in disbelief.

"What the shit!??" He exclaimed.

As the night wore on, Elliot remained unconscious, his body slowly recovering from the ordeal thanks to her timely intervention.

The ship continued its voyage, unaware of the silent bond that had formed between the two prisoners and the unfolding events that would shape their destinies.