Rum spilled and spread across the deck of the Zephyr's Revenge.
Three days after the capture at Skull Reef, the crew still partied as if exhaustion didn't exist. Violins clashed in lively tunes, dice clattered over piles of coins, and the laughter of drunken men echoed through the air.
Amidst the chaos… there was a small cedar box. Almost everyone ignored it—except for a young captain named Sean. Something about its carving held his gaze.
A bat symbol.
Sharply engraved on the black wood, as if it absorbed the light from nearby lanterns. The air around the box grew colder, and the crew's boisterous laughter seemed to fade into the distance.
Sean stepped closer, not knowing why the box called to him.
A bat symbol, carved into the black box. A mysterious emblem. The raucous laughter suddenly felt thin, the air colder.
Sean studied the box carefully, uncertain what drew his attention so strongly. As he reached for it, a man appeared behind him, startling him. The man grabbed the collar of Sean's shirt, his gaze fixed on the box as well.
It was Arthur—his brother, and the person he trusted most on the ship.
Arthur Zephyr, of the Zephyr bloodline.
Meanwhile, Sean, his full name was Sean Keelith Albie Zephyr. The last name wasn't his from birth. He was born Sean Keelith Albie, a child with no clear family after a tragedy that claimed his mother on the northern coast. Arthur's father had brought him aboard the Zephyr's Revenge and made him part of the family. Since that day, the Zephyr name clung to him.
Sean sometimes felt gaps in his own memory—moments he could not recall, shadows of a past he barely remembered. He didn't speak of it, though, and no one asked. Tonight, the black box seemed to remind him of that absence.
The air around the box hummed faintly, the strange emblem glinting under lantern light. Some legends whispered of symbols like this.
Opia—a formless, mimicking spirit. They were said to take the shape of people and slowly possess their bodies. Whispered voices fell, silence settling.
"Are you clear-headed enough to think straight? Help me figure out what we've brought aboard," Arthur said.
"What's the problem?" Sean shrugged.
"It's just a box with a bat symbol. Nothing special."
Arthur smirked faintly.
"The problem… have you ever heard of ships that vanish without a trace after someone sees this symbol? Crews disappear, as if swallowed by the sea."
Sean opened his mouth to reply, but the lanterns above flickered, as if caught by a wind that wasn't there. For a moment, the bat shadow on the box rippled… alive.
Arthur leaned in. "If you don't believe me, look into my eyes. You said eyes never lie, didn't you?"
Arthur released his grip on Sean's collar; the lanterns flickered again. The shadow around the bat emblem quivered unnaturally for half a heartbeat before settling.
Sean snorted.
"Mind your own business. I don't want any part in this—"
"You've seen it," Arthur gripped his wrist firmly. "Now 'it' knows you're here."
Sean brushed him off. "It? It's just an object!"
"An object?" Arthur whispered, almost inaudible.
"Open your eyes, Sean. None of the crew dare touch this box. But you… you're standing here, staring at it."
Arthur lifted the box and offered it to him.
"Prove you're right. Open it."
"Why me?" Sean hissed.
Arthur smirked faintly, half-challenging.
"Because only you can stare at this symbol without stepping back."
Arthur's fingers brushed Sean's over the latch-cold, yet firm.
"If anyone aboard can touch a cursed object without dying instantly… it's you."
The lanterns flickered wildly again. From below deck, a bottle shattered. The ship rocked, though the waves were not so large.
"Besides daring to look, you also dare to call it superstition," Arthur continued.
"Then… prove it."
Sean finally exhaled, reaching for the box.
"Fine. But we open it together. If nothing happens, you kneel to me. And I to you."
Arthur chuckled.
"Prepare your knees."
With quick movements, they unfastened the box's latch.
Silence.
Inside, only a dull silver coin with the same hollow bat engraving. No screams. No shadows. Just cold metal reflecting the lantern light.
Sean chuckled. "See? Nothing here."
Arthur did not smile. His eyes darkened. He took the coin and pressed it into Sean's palm.
"Keep it. Tonight… you'll know who's right."
A sudden gust hit the sails, and the crew's laughter faded.
The coin felt extraordinarily cold in Sean's hand. As he studied the bat engraving, its wings… pulsed.
The crew's laughter faded as the wind tore the sail. The coin felt heavier than it should, colder than metal ought to be.
Arthur spoke again, his voice now a harsh whisper.
"You need to know, the sea doesn't give clues without reason, Captain Sean."
Sean stared at the coin in his palm, examining every detail. He realized one thing: the bat wings twitched beneath his fingers, and suddenly a drop of black liquid oozed from the engraving, staining his palm. The rigging above creaked. The crew's laughter stopped amidst the thunder as all lanterns went out.
"Still call this superstition?" Arthur murmured.
Panic spread among the crew as the wind blew hard. The waves grew aggressive; the ship swayed violently against the surging sea. The crew decided to anchor at a nearby island to rest.
One crew member noticed the opened black box in Sean's hands and a coin dripping black liquid. He screamed, catching everyone's attention amidst the storm.
"The symbol…? Opia!?" one sailor shouted.
"You see now?" Arthur whispered, his eyes burning with dark triumph. The black liquid spread across Sean's skin—neither warm nor cold, flowing like living ink.
"What's happening!? Someone explain!" Sean barked.
"Sean. We're in danger."
Arthur pulled him back as shadows writhed across the deck. The black liquid climbed Sean's wrist like living tendrils.
"There's still time," Arthur hissed.
"Throw the coin into the sea."
Arthur drew his dagger from his belt with empty hands. His breath caught as he met Sean's eyes.
"Or we all die tonight."
Sean raised the coin high… then threw it. But Arthur immediately knew, its sound was too light for metal.
"You lied to me."
His face turned pale.
"You want us all dead here!?"
Sean gripped a hidden pocket. The real coin quivered, whispering.
"…Sean…"
Unheard, yet echoed inside the mind.
Arthur heard it too.
"Give it," he commanded.
Sean brushed Arthur's hand away.
"Not until I know what Opia is!"
Shadows around Sean's feet reached like fingers. The deck creaked. Then a figure emerged, looking like Sean, but with a wide, inhuman grin. Arthur pressed his dagger to the shadow's throat.
"Come on! Sean, don't be foolish!"
Arthur slashed, yet black mist—not blood—emerged.
"You can't kill what's already dead," the figure laughed.
The shadow melted, reappearing behind Sean, dark hands reaching for his chest.
"THROW THE COIN—NOW!" Arthur shouted.
Too late.
Opia nearly entered his body.
Sean made a decision.
He raised his hands and flung the coin far into the sea. Some shadowy hands crawled toward Sean. Without hesitation, he plunged into the water.
The coin sank. The sea swallowed it. The Opia figure screamed, then vanished into black smoke.
"SEAN!?"
Arthur dove after him. As the sea engulfed them, he stopped shadowy hands reaching for Sean. Quickly, he threw his dagger, and they disappeared.
He pulled Sean back onto the deck, both were gasping.
The Opia cries faded as the water closed over it. Its form slowly dissipated into thick black smoke.
"Fool…" Arthur muttered, brushing water from Sean's face.
"You're mine to protect, not throw into darkness."
The crew gathered, trembling.
"Opia didn't fully awaken?" they asked.
Arthur stared at the sea. "Not entirely."
He lifted the cedar box. Cracks spread across it, as if something were trying to escape.
"Opia can awaken anytime…"
His gaze fell on Sean.
"…as long as it has a body to return to."
✦ ✦ ✦
It wasn't over. The sea remembered what Sean had thrown, and Opia always kept its promise.
"Clear the deck! Repair the sails! We sail east immediately!"
Arthur shouted at the crew, pulling Sean down to the dim hold. Once the hatch closed, Arthur dragged him along, breath ragged.
"We need someone who knows how to lock something already awakened." Arthur's thumb pressed against Sean's pulse.
Sean interrupted.
"Stop worrying about me. I'm not a child anymore, you're overreacting. I don't need all that… for now, I just want answers, even if I have to dive into the darkness alone to find them."
"You'll dive into darkness alone?" He shook his head, laughing—a broken kind of laugh.
"The sea already gave one curse, and you want more?"
Arthur slammed him against the inner hull hard enough that Sean's teeth rattled. The crew outside froze, not daring to intervene. Arthur drew his dagger again.
"Listen. If you become a vessel for that Opia…"
The dagger gleamed dimly in his hand. His other hand gripped the back of Sean's neck.
"I'll send you to the ocean floor. Not as a sacrifice."
His voice lowered to a whisper.
"But as the last person who knows you before the demon wears your face and body."
Sean pushed Arthur's hand away.
"Whatever your threat, I'll still find the truth. If you won't help—then go. I can do it alone."
Arthur laughed sharply.
"Go?" He leaned in. "If you dive into darkness, we sink together."
He dragged Sean to his chest and kicked it open. Inside was a water-stained journal, full of symbols and old map pieces. Its cover bore the same hollow bat sigil.
"I've sought answers longer than you think," Arthur said, his smile thin as a knife. "And now we proceed under my terms. Or not at all."
He tapped the journal.
"Don't touch cursed knowledge without me there to pull you back."
Sean rose slowly, eyeing the dark mark spreading on his wrist—veins like shadow beginning to merge. Then he looked at Arthur.
"Fine. State your terms."
Arthur exhaled. Tension settled on his shoulders as he opened the journal.
"First," he said softly, "don't do anything foolish that might hurt yourself again."
He flipped the worn pages; a sketch showed drowning people, their mouths sewn with black thread. Their stares unblinking.
"Second, if Opia speaks through you, every whisper trying to claim you must be told to me. Immediately. I will decide whether it's a warning or a threat."
The ship rocked. A glass bottle shattered on the deck. Arthur didn't look away.
"Third," he closed the journal gently, "we stop searching the moment you start forgetting your mother's name."