The Narrow Sea, The Stepstones, Cutthroat Isle, The Godswood
As night deepened, the scattered torches of Cutthroat Isle flickered out one by one. Under the cold, silver cast of the moon, the island transformed into a landscape of shifting shadows and haunting beauty. A gentle breeze rolled off the coastline, carrying a cooling salt-mist that offered a deceptive sense of tranquility.
In this quiet hour, the rhythmic pulse of the tide against the jagged rocks sounded like a lullaby. The sea, shimmering under the lunar glow, stretched out like a vast, silver tapestry.
Yet, beneath this peaceful facade, lethal undercurrents were churning. The population of Cutthroat Isle—a volatile mix of former slaves and defeated pirates—remained a powder keg. The liberated captives had embraced the identity of "The Chainbreakers" with fanatical devotion, finding salvation in Jon's presence. The pirates, however, were of a different breed.
The majority of "Skullcap" Bill's crew were Ironborn. These men were reavers by blood and tradition. Though the unification of the Seven Kingdoms had forced many to suppress their predatory instincts under the heel of the Iron Lords, a substantial number preferred the lawless freedom of the Stepstones. For them, the "Iron Price" was the only law worth following, and the notion of serving a Northern bastard was an insult to the Drowned God.
While the camp slept, a group of shadows detached themselves from the darkness outside the Godswood. Clad in uniform black cloaks with deep hoods, they moved with a practiced, predatory silence that rendered them invisible to the casual observer.
"Captain Kapo, it seems the Northman is still deep within the trees. Truly a pious one, isn't he? To spend so long whispering to a piece of wood."
One of the men broke the silence as the group paused to regroup, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
"The boy is unnatural," an elder reaver whispered, his eyes darting toward the treeline. "I've heard the tales—they say he can wear the skin of a wolf, just like those freaks from House Farwynd on Lonely Light. You've all seen that white beast of his."
"What's this? Is our 'Molar' Karun afraid of a boy?"
Kapo, the leader of the mutiny, felt a prickle of dread himself, but he refused to show weakness before his old rival.
"Hmph! Wolf or man, there are thirty of us," Karun spat, overcompensating for his fear by raising his voice. "Even if he turns into a mammoth, we've enough steel to carve him into steaks!"
"Shut your mouth, you fool!" Kapo hissed, his hand flying to the hand-axe tucked into his belt.
Since Jon's victory, most weapons had been locked within the Pirate Fortress. But pirates were like squirrels with nuts; they always kept a few caches hidden for a rainy day—or a bloody night.
"Move out. And keep your eyes open," Kapo ordered. He felt a surge of satisfaction seeing Karun cowed, but he knew success depended on their absolute unity. "The mission comes first. We kill the boy, then we reclaim the isle."
Relying on their knowledge of the island's terrain, the reavers bypassed the main paths, ghosting toward the Heart Tree.
Garo had not been negligent. Knowing Jon was vulnerable during his communion, he had stationed a ten-man guard on the perimeter, with two of the "Ring Guard" knights—Frodo and Merry—keeping a constant watch at the inner circle.
"Hmm?"
Perched in the high branches of a sentinel tree, Narsas felt a ripple in the air. His enhanced "Thief" senses screamed of a presence. Without a sound, he dissolved into the shadows, a black wraith moving through the canopy.
Thump.
A small stone struck Merry on the head as he sat nodding off by the small fire-pit.
"Ow! What the—? Is it—"
Merry's complaint was cut short as Frodo signaled him with a sharp, urgent gesture.
"Prepare... enemy contact..."
Shing—!
The faint, metallic ring of unsheathed steel echoed through the Godswood as shadows erupted from the brush. Frodo and Merry stood back-to-back, their System-granted blades gleaming as they were surrounded by hooded figures.
"Where is the bastard?" Karun snarled, stepping into the firelight. He looked around, puzzled. "Why are there only two whelps here?"
"Aye," Kapo muttered, his suspicion growing. "Has he turned into the tree itself?"
Kapo felt a cold sweat break out across his neck. He had heard the rumors from at least five different sources that Jon possessed supernatural powers. Now, finding only two boys guarding the most important man on the island felt like a blatant trap.
He recalled the previous sentry post they had bypassed. He had felt a gaze on him then—a cold, invisible observation. The ease of their entry was starting to feel like the maw of a closing gate.
"We have our reasons for being here," Frodo said, his voice steady despite the overwhelming numbers. "What is your business with Lord Jon?"
"What are you waiting for?" Karun shouted, his patience snapping. "If you can't find him, just burn the whole forest! Smoke him out!"
"Be still, you idiot!" Kapo grabbed Karun's arm, pulling him back. "Look around. Only two guards? Something is wrong."
Kapo had been one of "Skullcap" Bill's first lieutenants, surviving as the group's "brain" through decades of reaving. Unlike Karun's blunt-force approach, Kapo preferred to weigh the odds. The unnatural silence of the forest was screaming a warning.
"Heh. What's wrong, traitors?" Merry taunted, sensing their hesitation. "Are you so afraid of Lord Jon that you can't even face two 'whelps'? Do you fear the judgment of the Gods?"
"I'll kill you, you little rat!" Karun roared, his face purpling. "I'll lock you in a cage and let the ravens have your eyes!"
"Merry!" Frodo hissed, his heart hammering against his ribs. He knew how precarious their position was. If these men charged, the "Chainbreakers" dream would end tonight.
"Don't worry," Merry whispered back. "They're terrified. They think Jon is watching them."
In truth, the boys were equally confused. Since their shift started, they hadn't seen Jon either; he seemed to have vanished into the very bark of the Heart Tree. Only a strange, lingering connection in the back of their minds told them he was still "there."
"You're being cowed by a bastard's shadow!" Karun screamed, shaking off Kapo's grip. He was a man of the Old Way, and his pride could not endure the mockery of a child.
"If you won't go, I will! The Drowned God's watery halls are open to me, but I'll be damned if I serve a Northman! Ironborn only know how to reave and kill—we are not 'Chainbreakers'!"
With a guttural roar, Karun charged. Despite his bulky frame, he moved with a surprising, practiced agility. He swung his hand-axe in a savage arc, aiming to cleave Frodo's skull.
Frodo met the strike with his longsword, the impact sending a jarring shock through his arms. He was forced back, the raw power of the veteran reaver nearly overwhelming his System-boosted defense.
Meanwhile, Merry was intercepted by three of Karun's men. Though he fought with the precision of a System-promoted Knight, the sheer weight of numbers kept him from aiding Frodo.
"Wait... could I have been wrong?" Kapo mused, watching Karun gain ground.
"Captain, should we join in?" the remaining Ironborn asked, their bloodlust rising as they saw Frodo stumble.
Kapo watched for another heartbeat. The trap hadn't sprung. Perhaps the "Prophet" was truly as vulnerable as he looked. He drew his own blade, his eyes darkening.
"Kill them all," Kapo ordered. "Burn the tree. Leave nothing but ash."