She stepped out, her eyes sweeping over the Deadwood. For a long moment, she said nothing, caught between wonder and disbelief at how different it was from her memory.
My grin stayed firmly in place. At last, someone besides Natasha and the crabs could see my handiwork. After three days, it was clear—the Deadwood was no longer a fitting name.
The hull, once a proud military frigate, now rose from the waves in a patchwork of driftwood and bones, ribs of the old vessel arching like the skeleton of some great leviathan. Seaweed and coral had claimed her, weaving through cracks and crevices, softening the harsh edges with a wild, living beauty. Faint phosphorescent algae traced the contours of the deck at night, glowing like scattered stars across the wood.
The sails were a tapestry of dark canvas and netting, patched and mended, swaying with a life of their own upon the three masts that rose proudly above the deck. The center mast, unusually large and dominating the ship, was now wrapped in a cocoon of twisting vines. Atop the mast, growing from the corded vines, a large black-and-green leaf fluttered as if it were a flag.
Venessa stood in awe as the growth along the central mast slowly shifted, darkening before her eyes. Black crept over the verdant pillar, leaving only specks of green—and, surprisingly, red. Disbelief flashed across her face as she realized it didn't stop at the deck; the living mass merged with the timbers and continued downward, threading into the very heart of the ship.
Every plank, every creaking beam, spoke of storms weathered, battles lost, and time reclaimed. What could not be replaced with timber and calcium was instead filled with a mixture of bone dust and powdered wood. The phosphorescent algae took eagerly to it, spreading across the Deadwood in a glowing patchwork of lines.
Yet it was my crew that seemed to captivate her the most. I watched her eyes track each of them as they went about their work, absorbing every movement, every detail.
"What… are they?" she murmured, astonishment in her eyes.
"My crew," was my only reply. A playful glint lingered in my gaze.
She pouted, then gestured toward the ship and the crew. "How…?" she asked, her voice full of wonder.
I laughed softly, letting the Deadwood fill my vision. "There's a reason things are the way they are," I said. "It's my affinities… and, well, being a self-proclaimed Necrodruid doesn't hurt either."
"Ten years I spent on that island," I said, my eyes lingering on the ship and my crew. "Every one of them… they are my greatest creations." The crew member straightened, almost reverently, as my words left my mouth, its posture echoing the pride I felt.
In Venessa's stunned silence, the crew member stood between us, bone and living green bound together in symbiosis, eyes glowing with a life that seemed to bloom from within. Normally, a necromancer's presence would set her nerves on edge—but here, she felt nothing but safety. She brought her hand to her chest, fingers tightening around the medallion at her heart. Silent prayers left her lips as I began to tell her about them.
"Each one…" I said, gesturing to the crew, "is more than bone. They are animated with purpose, their skeletons entwined with vines that pulse like muscle fibers, giving them fluid motion. Soft bark covers where flesh might have been, while hardened patches protect areas meant for striking or labor. I sculpted them for both grace and strength."
I leaned closer, pointing to the faint bioluminescent glow spilling from their skulls. "Nestled inside, a plant I bred—a cross between moss and fungi—acts as both brain and nervous system. My affinities nourish it, and it guides them, allowing each to learn, adapt, and move with purpose."
Venessa's mouth hung slightly open, eyes wide as she took in the forms of my crew. "They… they're alive," she whispered, voice barely audible over the gentle creak of the ship. She stepped closer, hand raised as though to reach out, then paused, uncertainty flickering across her face. Her mind raced, trying to process the impossible situation she had just walked onto.
She had only wanted to escape her fate—the monster her stepmother had promised her to. Fleeing toward Krakos, she had boarded a merchant vessel, only to be waylaid by the mercenaries her betrothed had sent to claim her. As they closed in, she had prayed to the Goddess she was traveling to devote herself to, clinging to hope like a lifeline. The last thing she remembered before waking in the Captain's Quarters was the sky—turning the same grey-blue as his eyes.
My voice seemed to restart her, and she quickly dropped her hands, turning toward me. "Come," I said, "there is still more to see… and meet."
We made our way to the wheel, the soft creak of the deck beneath our feet echoing in the open air. I glanced back at her, noticing how her eyes still lingered on the crew, following their subtle movements as if she were memorizing every detail. This next reveal brought a smile to my face.
Natasha stood at the wheel, her form deceptively human. I watched Venessa's expression shift between awe and confusion so many times I half expected it to freeze in place. Before us stood a dryad—or perhaps something more unusual, a being born of dual affinities. Her vines twined naturally around the wheel, guiding it with effortless precision, while the soft bioluminescent glow of her eyes mirrored the gentle pulse of the ship itself.
Venessa's gaze flitted between Natasha and me, her breath caught in quiet wonder. "She… she's part of the ship?" she whispered, voice trembling with fascination. "Or… something else entirely?"
I chuckled softly. "Both, in a way," I said. "Natasha is one of my earliest creations. And also one of the latest."
A crew member stepped forward, moving with deliberate grace, and took the wheel from Natasha. The vine-wrapped skeleton shifted effortlessly, its bioluminescent eyes pulsing faintly as it guided the ship in perfect harmony. Natasha stepped back, letting it take over, yet her presence remained like a tether, a quiet assurance that the Deadwood moved under careful watch.
Venessa's eyes widened, awe and confusion mixing as she followed the exchange. "She… she told it what to do?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "It… obeys her?"
"Of course," I said. "She is my second, her presence has been beside me since I claimed this ship as mine."
Natasha's bioluminescent eyes flicked toward us, a small, graceful nod accompanying her words. "I see our guest has awakened," she said, her voice calm, confident, carrying that subtle authority that made the Deadwood run like clockwork.
Venessa instinctively stepped back slightly, caught between awe and hesitation. "Y-yes… I have," she stammered, her gaze sweeping over Natasha, the crew, and the ship. "She… she commands all of this?"
I chuckled softly, resting a hand lightly on Natasha's shoulder. "Not all of it," I said. "But she's the first mate. The Deadwood listens to her, just as much as it listens to me."
She approached—not in fear, but in something more childlike, a mix of hesitation and fascination, like encountering a creature she didn't fully understand. Natasha gave a smile as she stops before us, "Still no destination yet Captain?"
I chuckled softly, glancing at Venessa. Her hand twitched slightly at her side, unsure whether to step closer or stay back. "Not yet," I said, pride threading my tone. "We've been savoring the moment a bit."
"Yes," Natasha said, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "My original form is… quite beautiful."
"Natasha, this is Venessa," I said, gesturing toward her guest. "I thought we'd head to the galley to eat while we talked. Care to join us?"
Natasha's bioluminescent eyes flicked toward
Venessa, and a faint smirk crossed her lips.
"Of course," she replied, her voice calm, teasing, but carrying that quiet authority that made the Deadwood hum with life. She stepped aside, gesturing with a vine-wrapped hand for us to pass.
Venessa hesitated for only a heartbeat, then followed, her eyes still wide as they swept over the crew and the living ship around her. "This… this is incredible," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "I've never… I've never seen anything like it."
I chuckled softly, falling into step beside her. "Then you're in for quite the meal," I said.