The Wreckage of The Wayward Maiden
The wind whipped through The Wayward Maiden, tearing at the sails like claws ripping at flesh, and the ship groaned under the weight of the storm. Waves surged high as buildings, crashing down with a fury that rattled bones. Adelaine stood at the bow, her heart racing, breath shallow as the salt stung her lips. Her fingers gripped the railing so tight that her knuckles whitened, each crash of water an assault on her resolve. But she could see it, glinting beneath the churning waves—the treasure of Saint Callas.
She had chased this for years, this elusive gold that whispered promises of redemption, wealth, and, most importantly, victory over the ghosts of her past. Her breath was sharp in the back of her throat, tasting of metal—like blood before battle. But she couldn’t look away. She was so close.
Behind her, footsteps pounded the rain-slick deck. “Adelaine!” Selina’s voice broke through the howl of the storm, thick with urgency. She grabbed Adelaine’s arm, wrenching her around. “Are you insane? This storm will tear the ship apart!”
“I’m not leaving,” Adelaine shot back, her voice low and dangerous, the growl of someone too close to the edge. “The treasure is right there. I can feel it.”
Selina’s hand tightened on Adelaine’s arm, her face inches from hers. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, rainwater running down her cheeks like tears. But her eyes—they burned with something else, something raw, something that had been building between them for far too long.
“This isn’t about treasure anymore,” Selina hissed, her voice trembling with the weight of something unspoken. “What the hell are you doing? What are you really running from?”
Adelaine’s heart slammed in her chest. She jerked her arm free. “I’m not running.”
But the lie hung heavy between them, as thick as the storm, and Selina stepped closer, her breath hot against Adelaine’s face, her lips almost brushing her ear. “Yes, you are. You’ve been running since the day we met. Running from everything. From me.”
The words hit her like a slap, and for the first time in years, Adelaine felt her resolve crack. Her fingers twitched, itching to grab Selina, to pull her close, to—No. Not now. Not like this.
But Selina was relentless, her voice low and dangerous. “Do you even know what you’re chasing anymore? Is it the gold? Or is it something else?”
Adelaine’s chest tightened, the taste of salt and rain thick on her lips. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Selina’s laugh was bitter, sharp as broken glass. “Wouldn’t I?”
Adelaine turned sharply, and for a moment, their faces were inches apart, the tension between them thick and electric, crackling in the air like the storm around them. For years, they had danced around this, never speaking it, never touching it. The years of letters Selina had never sent, the silences that hung between them after every fight, the nights spent too close, with too many things left unsaid.
Selina’s gaze bore into hers, fierce and unyielding, her fingers still gripping Adelaine’s arm. “I’ve been by your side through everything. Everything. But you’ve never let me in. Not really. And now you’re going to throw it all away—for what?”
Adelaine’s heart hammered, and suddenly, she was aware of how close Selina was, the heat between them a sharp contrast to the cold storm. She could feel Selina’s breath on her skin, the warmth of her body radiating in the cold, and it made her pulse quicken. The storm wasn’t the only thing making the air crackle.
“I don’t owe you anything,” Adelaine growled, but even as she said it, the words tasted wrong.
Selina’s grip tightened, her eyes blazing with something that set Adelaine’s skin on fire. “No? Then why are you shaking?”
Adelaine’s chest heaved, a strange mix of anger and something far more dangerous rising in her throat. She wanted to shout, to push Selina away, but instead, her hand shot out, fingers curling around Selina’s collar, pulling her even closer.
And then their mouths crashed together.
It was violent, unexpected, and charged with years of tension that had built up like the pressure before a storm. Adelaine’s fingers dug into Selina’s wet clothes, pulling her closer as Selina’s lips moved against hers, fierce, angry, and desperate. There was no softness, no tenderness—only need, raw and visceral, like they were both drowning and this was the only thing keeping them alive.
The storm raged around them, the ship groaning under the strain, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside them. Adelaine’s hands tangled in Selina’s hair, pulling, gripping, as if she were afraid to let go, afraid this might slip through her fingers like everything else. Selina’s hands were on her hips, then her back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine, sending shocks through Adelaine’s body that made her gasp into the kiss.
This was madness. It was dangerous. But it was real. More real than the treasure, more real than anything Adelaine had ever chased.
Selina broke the kiss first, her breath ragged, her lips bruised from the force of it. She looked at Adelaine with wide, stormy eyes, her chest heaving. “Do you feel that? This is what’s real. Not the gold. Not the ghosts.”
Adelaine’s heart slammed against her ribs, her fingers still clutching Selina’s clothes, her own breath uneven. The truth of Selina’s words washed over her like the cold spray of the ocean, sobering and terrifying.
But before she could speak, before she could admit anything, the ship lurched violently to the side, the sea roaring as it threatened to consume them whole. They both stumbled, gripping the railing as the deck tilted beneath their feet.
“We’re running out of time,” Selina panted, her voice thick with urgency, but her eyes never left Adelaine’s. “If you want the treasure, now’s the moment. But if you want something else—if you want me—this is your last chance to stop running.”
Adelaine’s heart pounded, her fingers gripping the railing as the storm crashed around them. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, of desperation, and in the eye of it all stood Selina, offering her something she hadn’t realized she needed until this very moment.
But the sea had its own plans.
Another wave crashed over the side of the ship, and before Adelaine could react, the force of it swept Selina off her feet. Adelaine screamed, reaching out, but Selina was already over the edge, the sea swallowing her whole.
“Selina!”
Without thinking, without hesitation, Adelaine dove after her, plunging into the freezing water below. The cold hit her like a punch to the gut, forcing the air from her lungs as she kicked frantically, her eyes scanning the churning darkness for any sign of Selina.
There. A flicker of movement.
Adelaine pushed herself forward, her heart hammering as she caught sight of Selina, her arms flailing as the waves pulled her under again and again. Desperation surged through Adelaine as she grabbed her, wrapping her arms around Selina’s waist and kicking toward the surface with all the strength she had left.
They broke the surface together, gasping for air as the rain lashed down, blinding them. The ship was a dark silhouette in the distance, growing smaller with each second as the current dragged them farther from safety.
Adelaine’s arms burned, her legs cramping as she struggled to keep them both afloat. Selina clung to her, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps, her fingers digging into Adelaine’s shoulders. “We’re going to die out here,” she gasped, her voice thick with panic.
“No,” Adelaine growled, her arms tightening around Selina. “I won’t let that happen.”
But the sea was relentless, the waves growing higher, and Adelaine’s strength was fading fast. She could feel it—the exhaustion, the cold, the weight of the water pulling her down. They were losing.
But then, through the storm, through the chaos, Adelaine’s eyes locked onto something—something glinting beneath the water. A wreck. The remains of Saint Callas’ ship.
And within reach, salvation.
With a final, desperate surge of strength, Adelaine kicked toward the wreck, dragging Selina with her. Her arms screamed with the effort, but she wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not now.
They reached the wreck, and Adelaine’s fingers closed around a jagged piece of wood, pulling them both up onto the remains of the deck. Selina collapsed beside her, gasping for breath, her chest heaving with the effort.
For a moment, they lay there, the storm still raging around them, the sea still roaring, but the wreck held. They were alive. Barely.
Adelaine turned her head, her breath ragged, her heart still racing. Selina’s face was pale, her lips blue from the cold, but her eyes—her eyes still burned with that same fierce fire.
“I wasn’t running,” Adelaine whispered, her voice hoarse, raw from the cold and the effort. “Not from you. Not anymore.”
Selina’s breath hitched, her fingers trembling as they reached for Adelaine’s hand. “Then what now?”
Adelaine’s heart pounded, her body trembling with cold, with exhaustion, but there was something else there, too. Something stronger. Something she hadn’t felt in years. “Now,” she murmured, her voice low, her fingers tightening around Selina’s. “We survive.”
And as the wreck of Saint Callas’ ship creaked beneath them, as the storm began to break, they held on to each other, two souls lost at sea, but no longer alone.