The dark suited him well enough.
Ainmire had returned to the hold after sunset, when the last traces off daylight bled from the sky and the ship became a world of shadow. The crew moved differently at night—always slower. Easier to ignore them that way.
The spot near the bilge with the constant drip became a comforting sound.
(Bob)
The meat-thing should not rest
“Even dead guys need some quiet, Bob.”
(Bob)
The living are not resting. Not tonight. Three of them move. Three of them plan. Against you.
Ainmire stopped drumming on his stomach and opened his eyes. In the dark of the hold, he could still see perfectly. Another thing he hadn’t always been able to do.
Above, footsteps. Deliberate ones, trying to be careful and failing.
Savvy check…
Savvy success
Three sets of feet move together. Pausing at the armory. Continuing towards the main hatch. Their heart-rates are elevated. They are afraid of what they must do. And you are excited.
(Bob)
The meat-thing is hunted. Defend your kingdom.
“Bob, I keep telling you to stop calling me that.”
(Bob)
Then show me what you are.
The hatch creaked open. Weak lantern light spilled down, catching on crates and barrels. Three bodies descended, muscles rigid with tension.
Ainmire stood up and watched from the darkness. He could see them clearly. Young men, maybe in their twenties. Sailors. Eager to prove their worth. Or desperate to feel brave.
The leader held a belaying pin in one hand, a lantern in the other. “Spread out, he's down here somewhere.”
Human
Name: Jimmy
Occupation: Sailor
Disposition: Wants to be noticed. Is noticeably foolish.
The second carried a boarding axe. His hands were shaking. “This is stupid, Jimmy. We should’ve told the captain.”
Human
Name: Pook
Occupation: Sailor
Disposition: Terrified. He’s afraid of looking afraid.
“And say what? That we’re gonna do what everyone knows we should do?” Jimmy swung the lantern, casting moving shadows. “That thing killed Old Finn. He’s been put down once. We can put him down again.”
“Finn had a bad heart,” the third whispered. He carried nothing but a knife, and was holding it wrong. “Everyone knows it. Surgeon said—”
Human
Name: Lou
Occupation: Sailor
Disposition: Would rather be asleep.
“Mason is a coward. Captain’s being a coward. Whole crew is!” Jimmy’s voice shook despite his best efforts. “We do this, we’re heroes. Make a real name for ourselves!”
Ainmire stepped out of the darkness, massive pale form standing between them and the ladder.
The lantern shattered. Jimmy dropped it in panic. Oil spilled as flames licked across the planks, and for a moment, the hold was bright as day.
(Bob)
Cursed light! It burns! The light—
Ainmire felt it too. The light was agony. Pure and searing. He staggered back and covered his face.
(Bob)
Kill them! Kill the lighted-ones! Kill—
Moxie check…
Moxie failure
The light overwhelms you. The voice in your head screams. You cannot think.
Incoming attack: Belaying Pin (Surprised disadvantage)
Damage: 8 (reduced by 80%)
Final Damage: 2
Your HP: 42/45
Jimmy saw the struggle and lunged, the belaying pin caught Ainmire across the side of his head. The wood against the dead flesh should have done nothing. But Ainmire was still reeling from the fire-light, trying to see through the brightness, and the blow sent him into a stack of crates.
“Got him good!” Jimmy raised the pin again. “Pook, the axe! Now!”
Pook rushed forward, raising his boarding axe. His expression was desperately hopeful.
Ainmire’s vision cleared.
The fire still burned. The light still hurt. But the cold inside him surged. He reached out—not with hands but with something deeper. Something hiding between his ribs.
New ability acquired!
Pook’s axe never fell. One moment he was swinging. The next, body locked, eyes going wide as something held him in place. His heart stuttered, blood slowed. Frost formed on his eyelashes, his lips, and any exposed flesh.
He dropped the axe. It clattered against the planks.
“Pook?” Jimmy’s voice cracked. “Pook! What—”
Ainmire stood, the fire reaching for his feet dimmed. The light was weaker now, pushed back by the cold radiating from him. Punished by it. Rime crawled across the floor. Across the crates. Across Pook who stood frozen, unable to move or speak, his eyes begging.
Ainmire looked at his hand. Frost coated his fingers as something moved beneath his skin.
The third man—still holding the knife wrong—finally found his courage. He screamed and charged, knife extended.
The cold surged again. Reflexive and instinctive, responding to threat. The sailor’s eyes rolled back. His knife clattered away. Frost spiraled up his arm, across his shoulder, and down his chest.
He joined Pook in frozen stillness.
Jimmy backed away. The belaying pin hung limp in his hand. “No. No, no, no, no—”
(Bob)
James.
“Jimmy, right?” Ainmire rubbed the side of his head. “Still wanna be a hero, kid?”
“I—I didn’t—”
“Look, I get it. You came down here with fire and weapons and some big ole’ balls.” Ainmire stepped forward. The light died. In the darkness, Ainmire’s eyes glowed faintly—swirling in an ocean of green and blue. “So here’s the thing, Jimmy. People do remember heroes. But they really remember the thing that kills them.”
Incoming attack: Belaying Pin
Damage: 0 (reduced by 80%, deflected)
Final Damage: 0
Your HP: 42/45
Jimmy swung. Ainmire let the blow connect. Let the pin bounce off his chest. He let Jimmy feel how little it did.
Then he reached out and flicked Jimmy’s nose.
(Bob)
The lighted-ones belong to you.
When Ainmire opened his eyes again, the fire was dead and the hold remained dark. Three men knelt before him in the frost.
Their eyes were open. Misted air moved with breath from their chests.
Jimmy joined the party!
Pook joined the party!
Lou joined the party!
Ainmire stared at them. At the frost now covering their skin. At the way they knelt without being told.
“What did I just do?”
(Bob)
The sea collects what is owed. You have done as you are, and you are what has been done.
“I don’t want a bunch of—”
(Bob)
They wished to kill you. They have failed. Now they serve you. This is fair.
Above, footsteps. Many of them. The commotion had not gone unnoticed.
Lanson’s voice was loud, laden with alarm. “What is going on down there? Someone answer me!”
Ainmire looked at his new followers. At their empty eyes.
(Bob)
What will the meat-thing say?
Cold Reservoir unlocked!
Regenerates in the darkness, near water, and when the deep is pleased.
Drains in sunlight, when you use abilities, when you resist who you are.
