Tor swallowed. “Which means their curse could have died with her.”
All of her curses had probably been broken that day, not just Tor’s. He remembered the Night Witch’s last words.
Make no mistake, Tor Luna, darkness has already set its sights on your village.
The girl hissed as Mrs. Herida put her finger to the stitches, silently speeding their healing process. Then, she turned to Tor. “They took my grandmother. And everyone else.” She eyed the fish emblem on his arm, visible. “You can help me, I know it.”
Tor hurried to pull his sleeve down. Mrs. Herida was rummaging through her pack for something, distracted. He didn’t think she’d seen the new marking he’d been keeping hidden, but he had to be more careful. No one other than his friends and their parents knew what had happened to his old emblem.
When he turned back to face the girl, she wore a serpentine smile, as if she had gleaned his secret and was deciding how to leverage that information.
Melda glared at her. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
The girl leveled a cold look back at her. “I’m Vesper. And I’m from a settlement of waterbreathers called Swordscale.”
Chieftess Luna stood, tanned knees caked in sand. “So, it’s real, then? The forgotten city of Swordscale?”
Vesper nodded. “As real as the Night Witch and the Calavera.” She gritted her teeth as Mrs. Herida applied a salve to her now scabbed-over wound. “One of our own betrayed us. He led the Calavera to our city and got them through the enchantments.”
Tor massaged his temples, a massive headache taking form. “Why did they attack? What are they after?”
Vesper took a lock of her strange silver hair between her fingers. “What any good pirate is after. Control of the seas.” She glanced at the ocean, foamy waves reaching toward her legs with every push, closer and closer still, as if the sea was trying to pull her back. “They seek the Pirate’s Pearl.”
Chieftess Luna’s nostrils flared. Tor turned to his mother. “You’ve heard of it?” It seemed the Chieftess of Estrelle knew much more about the sea than she had ever told Tor.
Her hand formed a fist, the purple leadership emblem vibrant on her wrist. “There is a book. Passed through the family line, written long ago. It speaks of…all of this.”
Vesper grimaced. “Good that someone wrote it all down. Swordscales are too superstitious to put those myths to paper. The Calavera came in search of the pearl. It had been entrusted with my people for centuries—but little did they know, it had already been stolen a long time ago.”
“By who?” Tor asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But the Calavera won’t stop until they find it. The pearl controls the sea. If they get their hands on it, they could flood all of Emblem Island, if they wish. They could drain the ocean dry.” Vesper took a deep breath. “They’re coming. Here. They can’t be far behind me. You need to hurry. They plan to take Estrelle and make it their base as they search for the pearl. They’ll burn the entire village down to get control. Or they’ll burn it just because they feel like it. Now that the curse has been broken, they’re desperate to step onto land—and wreak havoc.”
Havoc. On Estrelle.
The healer applied a final ointment that smelled of honey and mint. With a nod signaling her work was done, she walked briskly back to the village, no doubt to warn her family of the impending danger.
Chieftess Luna straightened. Tor imagined plans were already being formed in her mind, on how to evacuate the village, where to lead its inhabitants to safety. But there might not be enough time. There were too many people, and they wouldn’t be able to get far enough. Not if the pirates’ appetite for pillaging was as great as Vesper claimed, and if she was right about how soon to expect them.
Tor and Melda shared a look. She closed her eyes for a moment, and Tor knew she felt the same way he did. That they had both had enough of adventure to last a lifetime. That they were both tired. Even Engle, always up for an adventure, looked wary.
When Melda opened those still shockingly gray eyes, a reminder of how wrong their last adventure had gone, her expression was steady. “The Night Witch cursed the Calavera. She might have had something that could stop them.” Engle whirled to face her as Melda pulled a coin from her pocket and held it between her fingers.
It was the telecorp’s coin, the one that had been enchanted to take them home once their journey to the Night Witch was over. It glimmered in the sunlight, like it still held power.
Engle stared at it. “You think it can still teleport us between Estrelle and her castle?”
Melda nodded.
Tor never wanted to return to that place. It was there that he had been forced to replace the Night Witch, after she had deemed herself too sinister to fight the evil she promised had its eyes set on Emblem Island.
Tor suddenly realized that even back then she knew the Calavera would come. She had to have known what her death would mean, that curses would break and chaos would ensue. Still, she died and left it all to him, her heir.
He hated her, even more than before.
But Estrelle was in trouble. Tor saw it in the lines of his mother’s face as she mentally worked out how they might escape. So, he stepped forward and put a hand over Melda’s. Engle did the same.
“We’ll be back soon, Mom.” His mother looked like she might object, mouth widening—but then she nodded. Likely grateful her son was getting away from the coast.
But before they could spirit away, Vesper spoke. “Wait! I can help.”
Melda raised an eyebrow at her, looking doubtful.
Vesper groaned as she stood. Tor’s mother reached an arm out to help her up. She moved her silver hair, revealing a marking
