Jahana, inspired by something Adelle said in jest, ran off to compose the following:

In the grand city of Urumere, where the sea kissed the land, fate wove a tale of forbidden love between two souls bound by blood-feud and destiny.

A Chance Encounter

Mordria was a tempest in human form. Sent away to court to be tamed, she found little joy in embroidered silks and rigid etiquette. Her heart longed for adventure, for the call of the wild, and perhaps, for trouble.

Atticus was a name spoken in hushed whispers—pirate, murderer, demon of the sea. He had laid waste to vessels and fought against those who bore the Zirthix crest. Yet, in his moments of solitude, he was simply a man shaped by the ruthless tides, ever watchful, ever waiting for the next storm.

Their paths should never have crossed, but fate cared little for should and should not.

One night, during a festival meant to unite the people of Urumere, Mordria slipped away from the watchful eyes of her kin, drawn by the scent of salt and the whispers of the sea. She wandered through the docks, weaving between ships and drunken sailors, when a figure emerged from the shadows.

Atticus.

Their gazes locked—intense brown eyes against stormy grey. He knew who she was instantly, the enemy’s kin. She knew him, the pirate, the scourge of the Islands. They should have fought, should have parted, should have done anything but what they did—talk.

And talk they did, until the stars faded into the breaking dawn.

A Love Unforgiven

What began as curiosity became something deeper. In secret, they met where land and sea entwined, sharing stolen moments beneath the moon’s silver gaze. She spoke of the wild forests. He spoke of the endless horizon and the untamed call of the waves.

But the past was not so easily forgotten.

The Zirthix elders would never forgive a Blatherscat’s blood mixing with their own. The Blatherscats, still bitter from past battles, would never abide their heir entangling himself with the daughter of their greatest foe.

When whispers of their tryst reached Eleria Zirthix, she forbade Mordria from leaving the palace walls. When Helena Blatherscat learned of Atticus’s betrayal, she ordered him to take his fleet and burn a Zirthix village as proof of his loyalty.

Love had turned from a stolen dream to a noose around their necks.

The Final Stand

But Mordria was not one to be caged, and Atticus was not one to be tamed.

On the eve of war, they met one last time, knowing that what they shared could never be. He begged her to flee with him, to leave behind duty, family, and history. She nearly said yes.

But she could not.

With a shattered heart, Mordria turned away. And so did Atticus, though the sea had never felt so empty.

The next morning, Atticus’s fleet clashed with that of Zirthix. The sky burned with fire, the sea churned with rage.

In the chaos, Mordria rode the waves, bow drawn, seeking the one man she could not bring herself to hate.

Their eyes met once more, across the battlefield, filled with everything they could never say.

And then—

A storm. A fire. A fate sealed.

Some say Mordria fell into the sea that day, never to be seen again. Some say Atticus abandoned his fleet, swallowed by the depths. Others whisper that they live still, somewhere beyond the reach of war.

A legend, a love, a tragedy—forever lost to the tides of fire and fate.