Chapter 27 — The Pier of Ashes
The Sea Panther swayed, moored in the cove. Its sails hung slack, heavy with the scent of ash on the wind.
Jasper stood at the dock’s end, cloak tight, armor catching the fading light. Beside him, Flame prowled—golden, silent, watchful.
Hoofbeats echoed from the path above.
A black horse broke the dusk. Sarah rode it.
Her leathers were scarred, cloak shredded by thorn and smoke. Behind her, a tall man in plain steel, face shadowed under a black hood—her sworn guard, silent as stone.
Sarah slid from the saddle. The goblin-bred horse snorted, shying back, eyes wild.
“They’re coming,” she said, voice raw. “The Green Fist. They tracked us from the Tower.”
Jasper stepped closer. “Your trail died at the gorge. We searched.”
Her gaze softened. She moved to him.
He opened his arms. She sank into them.
They held each other, the dock still but for the ship’s low creak and the distant crackle of fire. Her lips brushed his ear.
“They showed me,” she whispered, venom soft. “You helped them kill my brother.”
Jasper stiffened.
Her eyes burned red in the twilight.
A dagger flashed. Pain bloomed in his side.
He stumbled, blood soaking his tunic. “Sarah… no. The Tower’s lies—”
She smiled, cruel, distant. “They gave me truth. I see you now.”
The guard advanced, sword drawn.
Flame snarled. The air turned sour—wrong.
The man’s skin shimmered. His eyes gleamed silver, empty.
He lunged at Jasper.
Flame struck first.
Claws met steel. The jaguar crashed into him, tearing through unnatural flesh. He fought—too fast, too strange—but Flame was wrath. She ripped him apart.
Jasper turned. Sarah’s blade came again.
His sword answered.
It pierced her chest.
She gasped.
The red in her eyes flickered. Faded.
Hazel.
Herself.
“I… was to be queen,” she breathed.
He caught her as she fell. Her hand clutched his, trembling. Then stilled.
On the shore, her horse screamed. It reared, snapped its reins, and bolted—hooves thundering into the dark trees, a shadow vanishing.
Torches flared on the cliffs. Goblin horns wailed. The Green Fist was here.
Ropes fell. The Sea Panther drifted from the dock.
Jasper stood at the stern, hand on Flame’s bloodied flank, the other pressed to his wound. The shore burned, fading into smoke.
“Sarah,” he whispered.
The name sank into the night.
He did not speak again.
They say Jasper loved a girl cursed by the Tower. Her eyes turned red, then hazel as she died in his arms. He did what a ronin must. And sailed on—broken, but unbowed.
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Chapter 28 — The Shore Beyond the Tower
The Sea Panther ploughed through open waters, its dark sails full of salt wind. Jasper found sea legs he never knew he had. Flame, the golden jaguar, spent her days among the feline crew, her wary nature softened in the company of the cat-girl captain who seemed to speak a language only they understood.
The boy—clever, quiet—kept himself busy, earning a place among the sailors. Rope work, deck scrubbing, even navigating by stars. He became more than a passenger. He became crew.
For three weeks they sailed, the Tower fading like a sickness behind them.
At last, Jasper and Flame waded ashore. The jaguar reveled in the water, her muscles rippling as she swam to land. Jasper, half-swimming, half-walking, held his weapons and their meager supplies above his head. Behind them, the Sea Panther rocked gently, its crew already turning to new winds.
The boy did not follow. He had found something on the sea—a skill, a purpose. The feline crew would train him, and soon he’d find a ship to call home. He waved from the railing, a small figure with wide eyes and sun-darkened skin.
Jasper raised a hand in return. No words. Just the bond of those who had escaped something dark.
Then the Sea Panther vanished into the horizon.
They stood on golden sand, water lapping at their boots, the wild land ahead breathing with promise. Flame shook herself dry, then pressed close to Jasper’s side. He still mourned Sarah. He always would. But the Tower was now half a world away.
And the road ahead was open again.
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