Page 27 of The Demon's Secret Baby

Either way, it doesn't matter. I've come too far to turn back now. Zylpha is on that ship, I can feel it in my bones. And I'll tear apart anyone who stands between us.

I gather my most trusted crew members in the ship's hold, away from prying eyes and ears. The air is thick with tension as I lay out our plan of attack.

"Listen up," I growl, my voice low and intense. "We're going in quiet and fast. No heroics, no unnecessary risks. Our goal is to find Zylpha and get her out."

I pull out a rough sketch of the pirate ship, pointing out key areas. "We'll board from the stern, using grappling hooks. Tarak, you and your team will secure the deck. Vren, take your group below and search for prisoners. I'll head straight for the Captain's quarters."

My crew nods, their faces grim and determined. They've been with me through countless battles and storms, but this... this is different. Personal.

"One more thing," I say, reaching for my weapons. "I'm enchanting our blades/ Silent kills only. We can't risk raising the alarm before we find her."

I close my eyes, summoning the dark energy that courses through my veins. The shadows in the room seem to deepen as I channel the magic into our weapons. When I open my eyes, our blades are wreathed in inky blackness.

"Remember," I warn, "these enchantments won't last forever. Make every strike count."

With our weapons ready, I lead my crew to the deck. The pirate ship looms before us, shrouded in mist. I raise my hands, feeling the familiar tingle of magic as I weave a spell of concealment around our vessel.

As the spell takes hold, I turn to face my crew one last time. Their eyes are locked on me, waiting for the final word. In that moment, I make a silent vow to myself and to Zylpha.

I'm coming for you, Sunshine. I'll get you out of there or die trying.

"Let's move," I whisper, and we begin our silent approach towards the enemy ship.

14

ZYLPHA

Ijolt awake, my eyes snapping open in the darkness of the ship's hold. Something's wrong. The air feels thick, heavy with an eerie stillness that sets my nerves on edge.

Gone are the familiar creaks and groans of the ship, the constant soundtrack of my captivity for the past five years. It's as if the very breath of the vessel has been stolen away, leaving nothing but a suffocating silence.

My ears strain, picking up muffled thumps from above. A strangled cry pierces the silence, abruptly cut short. My heart pounds against my ribs, threatening to burst from my chest. I hold my breath, listening intently, afraid that even the sound of my own breathing might betray me.

More thuds. The clash of metal. Hushed voices. The sounds of violence filter down, each one sending a fresh wave of fear through my body.

My mind races, conjuring up a dozen terrifying scenarios. Is it a rival pirate crew, come to claim the ship and its cargo? Or could it be...

No. I squash that dangerous spark of hope before it can take root. I've learned the hard way that hope is a luxury I can'tafford. Hope is what kept me going in the beginning, but it's also what nearly broke me.

I fumble in the darkness, fingers closing around the small dagger I've kept hidden all these years. The metal is cool against my palm, a comforting weight. It's not much, but it's all I have. My lifeline. My one chance at survival if things go south.

A scream echoes from above, closer this time. Footsteps thunder across the deck, a chaotic drumbeat of fear. The attack is moving deeper into the ship, and I know it's only a matter of time before they reach us.

I scan the hold, searching for a place to hide. We're surrounded by crates and barrels, the familiar prison of our daily lives. But now, they might be our salvation. My eyes dart from one potential hiding spot to another, weighing my options. I need to move, and fast. Whatever's happening up there, I refuse to be a sitting target when it reaches me.

I move swiftly and silently through the dim hold, my heart pounding in my ears. Years of captivity have honed my senses, made me acutely aware of every shadow and sound. I reach the corner where Kaelox sleeps, curled up on a pile of old sacks.

"Kaelox," I whisper, gently shaking him awake. "We need to go, baby. Now."

His mismatched eyes blink open, confusion quickly replaced by alertness. At five years old, he's learned to wake quietly, to sense danger. I scoop him up, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Remember what we practiced?" I murmur, reaching for the escape bag I've kept hidden and ready for years.

He nods, his little face serious. "Be quiet as a shadow, quick as the wind."

"That's my brave boy."

With practiced movements, I secure Kaelox to my back using a sling fashioned from old cloth. His arms wrap around my neck, his breath warm against my skin. The familiar weight ofhim settles, and I allow myself a moment of fierce love before focusing on our escape.

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