Chapter 1: The Queen of Storms
"A glimpse of what the world will come to fear."
Ten Years Later
The Caribbean Sea — Near the Yucatán Peninsula
The night sky raged with fury.
Lightning split the heavens, casting fleeting shadows across bloodied decks and torn sails. Thunder rolled like war drums as cannon fire cracked from every direction, shaking the bones of the sea. Ships collided in the chaos, their hulls splintering like ribs beneath the weight of flame and wrath.
And at the eye of the storm stood Reyna Amara Delacruz, draped in a long crimson coat, her saber slick with blood and salt. Wind twisted through her ink-black hair as if it, too, obeyed her. Her gaze was calm. Cold. Unflinching.
The storm did not frighten her.
The storm answered to her.
Above, thunder snarled.
Below, the sea churned in reverence.
Encircling her flagship—the Twin Moon Tides—a shadow moved beneath the waves.
Virelya.
A leviathan. Massive and magnificent. Her serpentine body shimmered with bioluminescent glow, tendrils pulsing like ribbons of starlight through black water. Her eyes, ancient and glowing, broke the surface—one blink was a tidal warning.
She was no mere beast.
She was born of Calypso herself.
And she had chosen Reyna.
"Stormfront holding, Cap'n," came a voice from above the wheel.
Myra, the helmswoman, shouted through the wind. Barefoot, braid whipping in the gale, she stood steady as iron, her eyes locked on the horizon.
She was nineteen now. Fast. Sharp. Loyal.
And unknowingly—one half of Reyna's heart.
Reyna's gloved hand gripped the saber at her side. Forged of starmetal, etched with celestial runes, the blade hummed with energy that pulsed with each heartbeat of the sea. Lightning curled faintly along the edges, like it remembered being part of the storm.
> Calypso's Key, the legends whispered.
A gift. A curse. A pact sealed in blood and tide.
She had not asked for power.
But when the gods turned their backs on her…
The sea had listened.
---
Across the roiling water, a Royal Navy warship cut toward them, its sails tight with purpose. Cannons primed. Flags proud.
At its helm stood Commodore Benjamin Hawkes, wrapped in gold-trimmed arrogance. Once a brother-in-arms. Once a man she'd trusted.
Now, a chained dog of the Crown.
> "Queen Reyna!" he bellowed across the waves. "By royal decree, surrender or be judged by fire!"
She took one step forward.
Did he expect her to flinch?
The wind fell silent around her. Even the thunder held its breath.
Thalassa surfaced behind her, rising like a god in judgment—water sluicing off her glowing tendrils, maw parted just enough to show the abyss within.
> "Judgment?" Reyna whispered. "Let the sea decide."
A crack of thunder rolled across the sky.
Then—a sound.
Barely audible. Fragile. Human.
> "Mama!"
Time stopped.
Reyna's eyes snapped toward one of the enemy support ships. Bound near the mast, a girl struggled against her chains—her face streaked with salt and tears. Muddy curls stuck to her skin. Her voice carried not through lungs, but through blood.
Reyna's blood.
Lyra.
Her daughter. Her heartbeat.
Alive.
The chaos of the storm blurred, dulled, fell away. All Reyna could hear was the girl's voice, echoing through ten years of silence.
> "Mama!"
Her fingers tightened around the saber.
Her breath caught.
And for the first time in a decade, the Queen of Storms faltered.
---
To Be Continued… At the End of the Book.