The Pirate’s Pearl
There were once two moons. One, high in the sky like a pearl, and the other, its reflection, pretty on the sea.
The moon high above fell in love with its reflection, and would do whatever it commanded. When the water moon wanted the tides to rush in, the high moon allowed it. When it wanted the tide to again be low, the high moon made it so.
A pirate discovered the influence of the second moon and devised a plan to capture it. One night, he cut the second moon from its place on the sea and folded it up until it was no more than the size of a real pearl.
Devastated, the moon above sought its vengeance, sending a torrent of storms toward the pirate’s ship. But the pearl had absorbed some of the moon’s powers, and, by simply lifting it above his head, the pirate stopped the water.
News of the pearl spread, and seekers from every part of the island came forward to claim it: the blood queen, the mermaids, the coastal kings, other pirates. They all descended upon the pearl like vultures. It was decided that a contest would be made, to see who was worthy to wield it.
The mermaids were decided to be too wicked.
The blood queen too grim.
The pirates too treacherous.
The kings too greedy.
At last, there was no one left to claim the pearl, and all parties were set to go to war—until a girl came forward. With hair the silver of sirens, she said, I come from Swordscale, a community happy to be left be. We do not desire control of any sea—simply to be left alone.
So, the pearl was given to Swordscale for safekeeping until someone worthy of the power could claim it.
6
The Devil’s Mouth
The ship creaked beneath Tor as he shivered. Melda stood in front of him, arms crossed, mouth scrunched to the side. She was biting her cheek in worry.
“Why, exactly, did the sea monster attack you? Guardians of libraries aren’t supposed to do so unless their territory is threatened.”
Vesper shrugged limply. “It could have seen us taking a prophecy as a threat.”
Melda had the small piece of paper in her hand, its parchment somehow immune to water, droplets dripping right off its edges. “About this prophecy—how much faith can we really put in it?”
Engle was still blinking at it, wide-eyed, like his super vision was studying every curve of ink. “Prophecies don’t lie, that’s what they say, don’t they? That’s why we haven’t had someone born with a fortunetelling emblem in ages! They’re too valuable, only born once a century, isn’t it? And when they are, they’re smart enough to hide their marking—I know I would. Can you imagine the line at your door of people looking for their futures to be told?”
Melda rolled her eyes. “Yes. But prophecies are also riddles. Full of hidden meaning.”
Engle raised an eyebrow at her. “I would say this one is pretty clear, Melda.”
He was right. Tor repeated the words in his mind. According to the fortuneteller, their quest was doomed. Not only that, but one of them would die before it was over.
Melda was yelling now. “So, what? Should we go home? Let the Calavera destroy Estrelle and the rest of Emblem Island? Give up?” She shook her head. “We knew this journey would be difficult. But we set sail anyway.”
Engle scoffed. “You saw the prophecy! We won’t even find the pearl, our quest will be useless. And one of us will die trying. We might as well go home and try to fight.”
Melda scrunched her hands into fists. “I refuse to let a skull in a forgotten city rule my destiny. The future is fluid; it can be changed.”
Vesper had been very quiet, sitting a few feet away from Tor, towel wet across her shoulders.
Melda turned to her, eyes blazing. “And you? You sought out the oracle. You asked for this prophecy. Did you get the answer you wanted?”
Tor braced himself for a fight.
But Vesper simply looked up, expression blank. The fiery light in her eyes had vanished. “No. I didn’t,” she said, before retreating to her room.
* * *
Melda, Engle, and Tor held a vote. They were a team. The prophecy, to be believed or not, affected them all.
“I say we keep going,” Melda said.
Tor wanted to be as resolute as Melda. But deep inside, he saw the prophecy as a sign. Maybe they should turn back. Maybe they were in way over their heads…
But, in the end, he sided with her. Only because he couldn’t bear returning to Estrelle, admitting he had given up.
Engle didn’t feel the same way. “I say we turn back.”
Melda studied him incredulously. “Since when are you afraid?”
Engle did not meet her gaze.
She took a step closer to him, hands on her hips. “Aren’t you the one who jumped off the balcony in the City of Zeal first, when the lips told you to? Aren’t you the one who adored that death trap of a zippy in the rain forest?” Engle turned away. Tor watched his jaw tense, his nostrils flare. “Didn’t you say, just yesterday, that you missed adventure?” She shook her head. “Since when are you afraid of anything?”
Engle whirled to face her. “Since I almost died,” he yelled, no sign of humor on his face.
Tor stilled. Melda just blinked at him. In the years Tor had known his best friend, he had never once seen him so serious.
“Engle, I—”
He walked away before Melda could finish her sentence. She turned slowly to face Tor, mouth ajar.
Tor wore a similar expression.
“He’s not okay, is he?”
He swallowed. “No. I don’t think he is.”
She nodded. “I can fix this,” he heard her whisper to herself, before she trailed after him.
Tor wondered if he should check on them in a few minutes, if only to make sure one hadn’t pushed the other overboard. Engle had never said anything like that before, had never gotten angry, even. He would
