The sun bled orange and purple over the edge of the Calm Belt, painting the black sand beach in warm, dying light. A small fire, built from driftwood, crackled and popped, pushing back the evening's chill and casting dancing shadows on the gathered faces.
Jelly Squish sat a polite distance from the fire, his translucent blue form quivering with anticipation. His starry-eyed gaze was locked on Eliane, who knelt by a flat stone grill she'd fashioned, expertly filleting and seasoning fish caught just hours before. He watched her with the intense focus of a cat at a mousehole, waiting for the moment her attention would waver.
Around the fire, the air was thick with stories and the smell of roasting fish. Marya sat with her knees drawn up, her Heart Pirates jacket open. Bianca was sprawled on her stomach, chin in her hands, while Charlie sat cross-legged, trying to take notes with a skewer as a pencil. They were a tapestry of shared and separate histories, weaving together.
Vesta had moved closer to the fire's warmth, Mikasi resting in her lap as a simple, beautiful acoustic guitar. She was softly strumming, her rainbow hair shifting the firelight. She sang under her breath, a meandering, improvisational tune: "And the silver-haired hunter walked out of the sea, with a sword and a frown, as stern as could be... but the engineer yelled, and the scholar did gasp, and the tension just melted away, at last..." It was nonsense, but it rhythmically captured the afternoon's events with an intuitive, melodic truth. Aurélie, seated slightly apart, listened intently, her head tilted. A rare, genuine appreciation flickered in her steel-gray eyes for the musician's instinctive craft.
Ember, her period of lucidity holding, sat quietly with a charcoal stick and a sketchpad. She was carefully recreating the scene: the fire's glow, the focused chef, the talking circle. Her strokes were gentle, haunted by a sadness she couldn't place, her manic energy replaced by observational calm.
Bianca's eyes kept darting to Jelly, who inched incrementally closer to the grill every time Eliane looked away. "So, like," Bianca asked, pointing her skewer at the quivering blue blob, "what is that?"
Marya followed her gaze and smirked. "Mutated jellyfish. Don't ask. It's a long story involving a lab and a distinct lack of common sense."
Charlie adjusted his glasses, peering with academic fascination. "Fascinating! A gelatinous humanoid with apparent cognitive function! Does it have a skeletal system? How does it consume—"
Bianca waved a hand, cutting him off. "So, like, why are you here? On this super creepy, quiet island?"
Charlie's enthusiasm dampened. His eyes dropped to the sand, his voice growing quiet. "Yes. The… the last I saw you…" He couldn't finish. The memory of their last, encounter before Marya vanished, the shadow of Vaughn's death hanging between them, was a ghost at the feast.
A corner of Marya's lips quirked, not in humor, but in grim resolution. "I already did that, Charlie."
Charlie's head snapped up. "Did what?"
Marya turned her face toward the darkening horizon, her profile sharp against the sunset. "The man who killed Vaughn. He's dead."
The crackle of the fire seemed to grow louder. Aurélie's head turned sharply, her silver hair catching the light.
Marya looked back at Charlie, her golden eyes holding his. "When I return our Chef to her family, I will have his Devil Fruit. Then it will be finished."
A single tear traced a clean path through the dust on Charlie's cheek. He sniffled, wiping it away with an angry, embarrassed swipe of his hand. "R-really?"
Marya reached out and placed a hand on his bony shoulder. The gesture was awkward, but firm. "Really."
Aurélie leaned forward, the firelight dancing in her eyes. "How did this come about?"
"When we went to Ohara," Marya said.
Charlie's head jerked as if pulled by a string. "OHARA?" he breathed, the word full of reverence and devastation.
Marya chuckled softly. "Yeah."
Charlie's brow furrowed in scholarly outrage. "But the library… the bombardment… it was scoured from the world!"
Marya shook her head slowly. "There was more. Under the island. A treasure trove, so to speak. Anyway, our paths crossed with Vaughn's killer there, and that's where…"
Charlie's mind was racing, making connections. "Wait. What were you doing in Ohara? What could possibly…"
Marya's shoulders jostled in silent humor as Eliane arrived with a wooden platter heaped with perfectly grilled fish skewers, the skin crispy and glistening.
"Here you go!" Eliane announced cheerfully.
Charlie's existential crisis was momentarily overridden. He beamed, snatched a skewer, and took a huge bite. His eyes welled up again, but this time with pure, unadulterated bliss. "Heaven!" he moaned around the mouthful. "Ambrosia! The Maillard reaction is perfect!"
Eliane giggled, pleased, and passed skewers around. As she handed one to Marya, her smile faded into concern. "Hey, what about…"
Marya followed her gaze to the darkening jungle path. Her own smile vanished. "They should have been back hours ago."
Bianca, talking around a mouthful of food, asked, "Who?"
Vesta swallowed her bite. "There are three more of us. A speargirl, a whip-guy, and a grumpy cat-man."
Marya sighed, a sound of gathering storm clouds. "I'll search for them once the sun fully sets."
"I will assist," Aurélie stated. It wasn't an offer; it was a realignment of priorities.
Marya gave a single nod of acknowledgment, then turned her attention back to Bianca. "While we were in Ohara, we learned about an ancient submarine. The Dreadnought Thalassa."
Bianca's eyes went wide, her chewing slowing. "Like, really?"
Marya nodded. Charlie, about to take another bite, froze. "Pre-Void Century?" he whispered.
"Yes," Marya confirmed. "The beacon at Ohara was still active. The Thalassa's location is just…"
Bianca cut her off, pointing her skewer excitedly. "We know! That's, like, where we thought we'd find you! We had the coordinates!"
Aurélie nodded slowly, pieces of the Consortium's intelligence reports falling into place. "It makes sense now. I assume we had… companions at Ohara, then?"
"Yeah," Marya said. "Emmit is the one who did the math. Of course."
Bianca chuckled. "Of course."
"And Zola is the one who opened the door."
Charlie could no longer contain himself. He jumped to his feet, grabbing another skewer and beginning to pace, his shadow leaping along the sand. "Marya, what you are proposing is that there is a pre-Void Century vessel, a technological relic of unimaginable historical significance, sitting at the bottom of the ocean!"
Marya nodded. "Yes."
Charlie stopped dead, his brow furrowed, and pointed his skewer at her like an accusing finger. "Do you have any idea of the implications? The archaeological heresy? The potential for reshaping our understanding of—"
Marya's smirk returned. "Yes."
She turned to Bianca, who was already grinning, reading her old friend's face. Bianca finished the thought: "And it will, like, probably not work, right?"
Marya nodded.
"And it would, like, need an engineer to, like, get it working?"
Marya nodded again.
Bianca's smile was brilliant. "Well, like, good thing we're friends again, then."
Charlie, his mouth full again, waved his hands in frantic circles. "Do you have any idea what you are proposing? The protocols, the preservation ethics—"
Aurélie cut in, her voice cool and logical. "Since our… associates… are already aware of this Thalassa, I am going to assume the parameters of our mission require adjustment." She met Marya's gaze across the fire. "If you are uncovering lost history, the Consortium would have more interest in involvement than in obstruction. Once an opportunity presents itself, I will make contact and verify this shift."
Marya locked her gaze on Aurélie, the fire reflecting in her golden eyes. "Regardless of what they tell you, I will not stop. It's not an option for me."
The two swordswomen stared each other down, the unspoken conflict of duty versus discovery hanging between them. After a long, tense moment, Bianca broke the silence.
"So, like, when you left, you were injured, like, really bad. Couldn't, like, use your sword arm."
Marya nodded. She pulled up the sleeves of her jacket, revealing the forearms they all remembered. The dark, branching void veins were still there, crawling from her wrists upward like poisoned rivers under her skin. But they seemed… contained, held in check by some new, unseen force. "I still have the curse. It's contained. For now. All I've done is buy time. I have to open the Gate and return the entity to be rid of it."
Charlie choked on his fish. He staggered, pointing a trembling finger. "THE GATE OF LETHE!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with academic epiphany.
Marya actually laughed, a short, surprised sound. "Yes, Charlie!"
"OF COURSE!" he shouted, pacing again. "That's the linchpin! The mythological 'River of Oblivion' portal! Does that mean you deciphered the—"
"Yes," Marya said, smiling fully now at his excitement. "I went to Elbaph. The giants were very helpful."
Bianca's eyes were stars. "That's, like, so cool! What was Elbaph like? Are they all, like, super tall and shouty?"
Marya opened her mouth to answer.
Rustle.
The sound from the dark tree line was faint, but it wasn't the wind. Everyone froze.
Crackle. Thump.
Eliane shot to her feet, her chef's instincts forgotten. "Jannali?!"
She rushed toward the sound, leaving the grill unguarded. In that split second, a blue blur shot past. Schoomp! Jelly inhaled the remaining four fish skewers in one gelatinous gulp, then wobbled away looking profoundly satisfied.
No one noticed.
From the gloom, three figures stumbled onto the sand. Galit, his long neck held at a pained angle, one arm bandaged and seeping red. Atlas, leaning heavily on him, his magnificent rust-red fur matted with blood and dirt, one ear torn, his eyes glazed. Jannali brought up the rear, her stylish headscarf gone, her face pale, holding her side where her crop top was stained a deep, worrying crimson. Fresh blood soaked through rough, makeshift bandages on all of them.
Marya was on her feet in an instant. "What happened?"
Atlas coughed, a wet, ragged sound. He managed a weak version of his trademark smirk. "We handled it, Boss. No need to…"
His eyes rolled back. His legs gave out. Galit, unable to hold him, collapsed under his weight, both of them hitting the sand. Jannali took two more staggering steps before her knees buckled. "No worries, mate…" she slurred, her accent thick with exhaustion. "Just need to… have a little lie down…" She pitched forward, unconscious.
Eliane screamed, rushing to them. "No!"
Bianca, Charlie, Ember, Aurélie, and Vesta surged forward, the peaceful campfire scene shattered. Aurélie asks, "they friends of your?"
Vesta gripped Mikasi, her music forgotten, her face ashen. "They're part of our group!"
Charlie hovered, wringing his hands. "A doctor! We must secure a medical professional!"
Galit's eyes fluttered open, just slits. He saw Marya kneeling beside him. "No… island doctors," he breathed, each word an effort. "Just… need to sleep…"
His eyes closed. He was out.
Marya stared at her three battered crewmates, the firelight painting their injuries in stark, terrible relief. She let out a long, slow breath, the kind she used to center herself before a battle, and pinched the bridge of her nose. When she looked up, her gaze was clear, hard, and commanding. She looked at the newcomers—her old friends, her former pursuers. "Help me get them closer to the fire. Gently."
Charlie was still stuck on his loop. "But the doctor—"
Marya cut him off, her voice leaving no room for debate. "If Galit says no island doctor, there's a reason. They're bandaged. They got some kind of treatment. That means there's someone, or something, here they don't trust." Her eyes found Aurélie's across the huddled forms. "We'll need to set a watch schedule. All night. In shifts."
Aurélie met her gaze and gave a firm, agreeing nod. The hunt was over. The mission had changed. Now, they were all just crewmates in the dark, guarding the wounded against whatever silent threat this island held. The crackling fire was no longer just for warmth and stories; it was a beacon, and a barrier, against the night.
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