Rain fell in sheets over the Consortium's hidden island, turning the wisteria-draped cliffs into waterfalls of indigo tears. The funeral pyre burned at the center of the Titan's Hollow, its towering flames mournful hues of smoldering orange and yellow, defiant against the downpour. Vaughn's double-sided ax, Light Bringer, lay crossed with his wedding band atop the kindling—a warrior's farewell and a lover's promise, both reduced to ash.
Marya stood apart from the crowd, her black veil clinging to her face like a second skin. The Consortium's members huddled under oilcloth canopies, their voices drowned by the drone of Master Gaius's shakuhachi flute. The melody was haunting, a dirge that seemed to pull the very light from the air. Harper knelt at the pyre's edge, his flamboyant green hair plastered to his skull, his shoulders shaking silently. He hadn't spoken since the infirmary.
Natalie placed a hand on Harper's shoulder, her face a mask of forced composure. Jax stood rigid beside her, his three-sectioned staff planted in the mud like a grave marker. Even Riggs was uncharacteristically still, his katana sheathed for once.
When the last ember died, Marya turned and walked away. Her right arm throbbed beneath her sleeve, the void's curse gnawing at her bones.
Her apartment was a relic of another life. Sparsely decorated, save for the sword rack holding Eternal Eclipse and the small lacquered box on her desk. The box contained her mother's letters—promises of discoveries, regrets of absences, and a single, unfinished sentence: "If you find this, —"
A knock interrupted her. Master Gaius Vesper leaned in the doorway, his kiseru pipe unlit, his usual mischief smothered by the weight of the day. "Running away won't bury the dead, girl," he said, though his tone lacked bite.
Marya didn't turn. "I'm not running."
"Aren't you?" He stepped inside, eyeing her bandaged arm. "The sea doesn't care about your guilt. Or your curses."
"What would you know about it?"
Gaius chuckled bitterly. "I lost a son once. To the World Government. Dalton's father." His voice frayed. "The weight of living… it's heavier than any sword."
She said nothing.
He sighed, placing a weathered hand on her shoulder. "Don't let the Void take what's left of you."
When he left, the throbbing in her arm sharpened—a jagged, gnawing pain. She opened the lacquered box. A folded wanted poster slipped out, fluttering to the floor.
MONKEY D. LUFFY – 30,000,000 BERRIES
The boy in the photo grinned wildly, straw hat tipped back, oblivious to the world's cruelty. Beneath the poster lay a letter, addressed to him. Her fingers grazed the seal, a promise unkept.
Midnight draped the island in silence. Marya stood at the docks, a single bag slung over her shoulder, Eternal Eclipse strapped to her back. The Consortium's submarine loomed in the shadows, its bubble porter humming faintly.
"Marya—wait!"
Charlie skidded to a halt behind her, glasses askew, chest heaving. Tears streaked his face. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry I froze, I'm sorry I couldn't—"
She turned, her expression hollow. "It's done, Charlie."
"Let me come with you!"
"You'd die."
"So will you!"
The words hung between them. Marya's gaze softened, just barely. "You're strong in ways I'm not. You'll keep their stories alive. That's enough."
For a heartbeat, the void between them yawned. Then Charlie surged forward, crushing her in a hug that smelled of ink and rain. "You'll find him, won't you?" he whispered. "The man who killed him?"
She stared at the horizon. "I don't know."
When he let go, she stepped into the submarine. The hatch sealed with a defining hiss.
In the control room, Marya unfolded the wanted poster, Luffy's grin reflected in the dashboard's glow. Somewhere beyond the storm, a sunlit sea beckoned—a sea where swords and sorrows could drown, and promises, however broken, might still float.
She set the coordinates east.
Charlie watched as the vessel vanished into the black waves, bubble porter flaring once before disappearing. In his hand, he clutched a crumpled page he'd stolen from her desk—a sketch of Mihawk's kogatana, annotated in her mother's handwriting. "The Void consumes, but the Dawn endures."
The submarine surfaced in a cove shrouded in perpetual twilight, its hull scraping against jagged black rocks that rose like broken teeth from the sea. Kuraigana Island loomed ahead—a desolate expanse of fog-choked forests and crumbling stone spires, their peaks clawing at a leaden sky. Marya stepped onto the shore, Eternal Eclipse strapped to her back, its obsidian blade drinking greedily from the scant light. The air reeked of mildew and iron, the ground littered with shattered swords and the bones of those who'd dared claim them.
She'd disabled the sub's tracking systems with clinical precision, severing ties to the Consortium. To the past. Now, as she closed her eyes and stretched her Observation Haki, she sensed only two flickers of life amid the island's rot: one faint, erratic, and another… annoyingly buoyant.
Not him.
Her father's presence—cold, razor-edged, unmistakable—was absent.
Zoro lay sprawled at the base of a moss-eaten monolith, bandages fraying around his torso, his three swords scattered haphazardly beside him like discarded bones. Blood soaked through the gauze at his ribs, and his brow furrowed even in unconsciousness, as if locked in a perpetual duel with death. Around him, the shadows stirred.
A pack of spectral-eyed apes crept from the mist, their matted fur bristling, teeth bared. They hesitated, sniffing at the scent of iron and sweat. Then Marya stepped into the clearing.
Her Conqueror's Haki lashed out—not a roar, but a whisper, a blade drawn silently from its sheath. The apes froze. One whimpered, a guttural sound, before scattering into the fog.
"You look like hell," Marya muttered, staring down at Zoro. His chest rose faintly, a stubborn rhythm. She nudged Wado Ichimonji with her boot, the white hilt gleaming dully. "So do I."
He didn't stir.
The castle stood at the island's heart, a gothic monstrosity of black stone and shattered windows. As Marya approached, the air thickened with the prickle of another presence—playful, spectral, wrong. She dissolved into mist before the first hollow laugh echoed.
"Oh? A ghost~? Or… not?"
Perona materialized atop the gate, her pink umbrella twirling, a legion of negative ghosts swirling around her. The specters paused, sniffing the air, before recoiling from the mist.
"Huh? You're not one of mine!" Perona pouted, floating closer. "Wait… you look like that swordsman? The broody one with the creepy sword?"
Marya reformed on the battlements, her gaze icy. "Interesting company my father keeps."
Perona grinned, undeterred. "Who's father? Who are you? I haven't seen anyone in weeks. —sooo boring."
Marya ignored her, mist curling around her legs as she strode toward the castle's central tower. Perona's ghosts trailed her, whining.
"Rude! You're just like him—all scowls and silence!"
Mihawk's bedroom was austere—a stone chamber lit by a single candle, its walls lined with empty wine racks and a single painting: a woman with raven hair and storm-gray eyes. Elisabeta. Her mother's portrait stared back, a ghost in gilded frame.
Marya's void-cursed arm throbbed, the veins pulsing like live wires. She opened the lone desk drawer. She reached into her pocket, removing a sealed letter. Placing it in the drawer she closed it and turned to leave. "Time to finish your research, Mother."
Outside, thunder growled. Somewhere in the dark, Zoro stirred, and Perona's laughter faded into the mist.
Kuraigana Island loomed like a jagged scar against the horizon, its skies choked with perpetual storm clouds. The ruins of the castle—her father's sanctuary—rose from the mist, its spires clawing at the gloom. Marya stood at the edge of the overgrown courtyard, her boots sinking into mud strewn with shattered swords. The air reeked of rust and rain.
She had come here seeking answers. Or perhaps absolution.
For a day and a night, she waited. The baboon soldiers that patrolled the island—once her sparring partners in childhood—glared at her from the shadows but did not approach. Eternal Eclipse lay across her lap, its obsidian blade drinking the scant light. She traced the crimson runes, wondering if Mihawk would recognize the void's hunger in her veins.
He never came.
By dawn, frustration curdled into resolve. Marya retreated to the castle's derelict library, its shelves sagging under mold-eaten tomes and dust-shrouded maps. Here, amid the rot, she spread out her mother's notebook. The Poneglyph script glared up at her, its angular symbols sharp as blade strokes.
"The Dawnless City," she muttered, deciphering a phrase Elisabeta had underlined thrice. "Where the Titans' bones choke the sky." Coordinates followed—numbers etched in smudged ink, pointing to a stretch of ocean west of Amazon Lilly.
Her pulse quickened.
A crash echoed through the hall. One of the baboons had hurled a broken sword at the doorframe, its beady eyes accusing. Marya's right arm twitched, useless. Her left hand gripped Eternal Eclipse on reflex, but the baboon lumbered away, growling.
Impatience burned hotter than the void's ache. Her father's absence was a silent verdict: she was no longer his concern. Or he knows you'd refuse his help, a traitorous voice whispered.
She packed the notebook and strode to the shore where her submarine lay hidden. The coordinates glowed in her mind, a siren call. If Mihawk would not guide her, she'd carve the path herself.
As she boarded the vessel, rain began to fall. It hissed against Eternal Eclipse's blade, the runes flickering like dying stars.
The submarine's control panel blinked ominously as Marya punched in the coordinates, the glowing numbers reflecting in Eternal Eclipse's obsidian blade. Outside, the waters of Kuraigana churned, waves slamming against the hull like the fists of a drowned giant. She ignored the pain in her arm, the void's veins pulsing hotter with every keystroke.
"Engage bubble porter," she muttered, slamming a fist on the console.
The machinery whirred to life, blue light flooding the cockpit as the sub's hull shimmered, ready to phase through the sea. For a heartbeat, it hummed—then sputtered. Sparks erupted from the panel, the porter's glow dying with a sickening fizz.
"No—damn it!" Marya cursed, clawing at the controls. Alarms blared, bathing the cabin in crimson.
The impact came without warning.
A deafening crunch reverberated through the sub as it collided with something massive—a jagged reef, a leviathan's spine, she couldn't tell. The force hurled her sideways, the safety strap snapping taut against her injured arm. She screamed as the strap bit into necrotic flesh, the void's curse flaring like fire. Saltwater exploded through a fissure in the hull, icy and relentless, drenching the console.
"Seal—seal the breach!" she gasped, fumbling for the emergency protocols. The controls were dead, screens blackened.
Another jolt. The sub listed violently, throwing her against the wall. Eternal Eclipse clattered to the floor, its runes hissing as seawater licked the blade. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, the cabin dimming as water rose to her knees.
Not like this.
She lunged for her sword, but the strap yanked her back, agony searing through her shoulder. The last thing she saw was the wanted poster of Luffy—still grinning, still free—floating in the flood before the darkness swallowed her.
*****
The Polar Tang cut silently through the midnight waters of the New World, its sleek hull a shadow beneath the waves. In the control room, Trafalgar D. Water Law slouched in his captain's chair, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes half-lidded as he scanned the sonar. Bepo fidgeted at the navigation console, his polar bear paws clumsily adjusting dials.
"Captain, we're three nautical miles off the plotted course," Bepo mumbled, ears drooping. "I'm so sorry—"
"Don't care," Law interrupted, though his tone lacked bite. "Just keep us clear of Marine patrols."
Penguin and Shachi lounged nearby, arguing over a deck of cards. Jean Bart manned the helm, stone-faced as ever, while Ikkaku tinkered with the engine relays, grease smudging her cheeks. Uni scribbled notes in the logbook, and Clione snored loudly in the corner.
Then the Polar Tang shuddered violently, throwing the crew sideways.
"What the hell was that?!" Shachi yelped, cards scattering.
Law was already on his feet, Kikoku slung over his shoulder. "Bepo. Report."
"S-something hit us! But there's nothing on sonar—!" Bepo's fur bristled as he pointed a trembling paw at the screen. A faint blip glowed beneath them.
"Surfacing. Now," Law ordered.
The Polar Tang breached the surface, waves sloshing against its hull. Moonlight revealed the culprit—a smaller, battered submarine, its hull cracked and listing dangerously. Water foamed around it as it began to sink.
"Who the hell rams a sub underwater?" Penguin muttered.
Law's amber eyes narrowed. "Jean Bart, Ikkaku—retrieve it. Shachi, prep the med bay. Bepo, keep scanning for tails."
The Heart Pirates worked with practiced efficiency. Jean Bart and Ikkaku deployed the Polar Tang's mechanical arms, clamping onto the sinking vessel with a metallic groan. With a heave, they dragged it onto the deck. Water sluiced from its dented frame, revealing Consortium markings—an emblem of a tree encircled by stars.
"Never seen that symbol before," Shachi murmured, adjusting his glasses.
Law approached, Kikoku's blade tapping the sub's hatch. "Open it."
Inside, the cockpit was flooded ankle-deep. Marya lay unconscious, slumped against the console, her right arm swollen with blackened veins. Eternal Eclipse glinted at her side, its obsidian blade humming faintly.
"She's alive," Shachi said, pressing two fingers to her throat. "Barely."
Law's gaze locked on the sword. He recognized the craftsmanship—Mihawk's signature style, though warped by something darker. His eyes flicked to the kogatana around her neck, its edge still sharp enough to cut fate itself.
"Captain…?" Bepo hovered nervously. "What do we do?"
Law's lips curled into a thin smile. "We're pirates, not saints. But—" He knelt, his Room already shimmering around him. "She's got a story worth hearing."
As Shachi and Penguin hauled Marya to the med bay, Hakugan squinted at the Consortium emblem. "Think she's trouble?"
"Trouble's our specialty," Law said, sheathing Kikoku. "Keep her alive. I want answers."