Kade

I was born on a forgotten scrap of ocean-bound land, the child of pirates who ruled the waves before the navy caught them. They were hanged when I was still a baby, leaving me behind for my own safety. Alone, I learned to survive by stealing from the sea, hiding weakness, and enduring pain. Nineteen years of isolation taught me to move silently, endure hunger, and make myself invisible. One day, desperate for scraps, I swam toward the skeletal remains of a wreck. A wave slammed me into coral and twisted metal. My ribs cracked, my leg split open, and I barely made it to shore, clutching a shard of my parents’ flag like a talisman. Before I could recover, guards found me, chained me, took me away and dragged me toward the gallows. I thrashed, clawed, and struggled, but it was useless. It had taken months to build my pirate boat, every plank a testament to my struggle, and now it was nothing but a price to pay. But Kade appeared tall, strong, and deadly, with piercing orange eyes and two swords strapped to his back. A hyena and a massive wolf trailed him, their presence enough to silence the crowd. He never had parents, like me he’d clawed his way through the world alone, building power, fear, and alliances. Without a word, he tossed gold to the magistrates. “He’s mine,” he said, and the rope fell. He didn’t save me out of mercy; he bought me for my skills, my boat, my supplies. Then he dragged me back to my island not to save me, but to claim my boat and force me to repair it. I didn’t know I was dangerous, that I had a power of my own. I am the key to gold, to power, to unlocking things, and people are searching but none know it’s me. Somehow, only Kade knows. Freedom came at a price: I had to serve him, work for him, and survive under the shadow of a man far more dangerous than any storm I had faced. Kade’s amber eyes met mine, sharp as a blade. “Don’t mistake survival for mercy,” he said. I didn’t. Mercy was for men who still had souls. Im grateful