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Rosa “La Serpiente” Delgado’s Private Journal.
The moment the woman’s second column of flames left her palm, Francis abandoned all restraints.
He swiftly activated Liquidation, rendering him nimble enough to evade her second attack. The first wasn’t without damage, however, as his wounds kept hurting all the same.
She must be a Deacon at the very least.
That prospect introduced an uncomfortable variable.
If they possessed the same Shanty, then all of his Dominion abilities were but a breeze to her.
“Didn’t take you for a coward, Yves,” the woman taunted.
The name was jarring for a moment, before remembering that he had told half the captives.
Serves me right.
Nevertheless, the woman wasn’t going to stop. So neither did he.
Without warning, Francis threw a pebble at her, before swapping locations with it.
The motion put him meters away from her. Leaving but one course of action.
Francis grabbed his flintlock, aiming it at the woman’s head.
Alas, he was too slow.
The moment he was about to shoot, a telekinetic wave pushed him away, leading his shot to blow a hole in the roof instead.
“Oh?” the woman said. “So it was you.”
End me.
“What are you talking about?” Francis replied, knowing exactly what she was talking about.
“A comrade of mine met a fate only a weapon such as yours could bestow,” the woman replied, amusement never leaving her voice. “Quite the bountiful harvest I’m about to reap.”
“Whatever that means, Don Quixote,” Francis mocked.
With the flintlock unusable for the moment, he had but one option.
Stall.
And that, he did perfectly.
It didn’t take the woman long to come to that realization, however, leading her to charge once more.
Why aren’t I sensing her movements?
For the first time in a long while, Premonition was rendered obsolete. He wasn’t sure if it was due to her rank or Stanza, and he couldn’t care less.
Not when she was a meter away.
Her next attack was a mystery, causing him to swap places with the pebble once more.
The hole he tore through the roof must’ve finally been noticed, as the crew rushed to where the pair fought.
“What are you doing, captain?” the female pirate from earlier said in confusion.
“We’re under attack!” Francis shouted. “Alert the others.”
She didn’t need to, however, as most followed shortly after.
“By who?” the woman said in confusion.
They really can’t see her.
The scene must’ve been silly from an outsider’s perspective. How could it not? He was essentially fighting the air.
Sadly, there was no fun to be had from his perspective.
The woman unleashed her flames, this time subjecting him to her full wrath.
The last few weeks gave Francis the impression that he was near-invulnerable thanks to his Rejuvenation.
Not much longer.
The scent of his burning flesh nearly made him nauseous, before forcing it in.
He had to focus, lest he perish before even knowing it.
Should I use the incantation?
No. Whatever the woman had in store, it was but a breeze in comparison to Rumpelstiltskin, leading him to refrain.
The crew attempted to approach, but they swiftly stopped by the woman’s inferno. “Begone!”
The lot didn’t even get the chance to scream. The Deacon’s flames were too fast for pain.
Luckily, her stunt provided a well-needed opening, allowing Francis to shoot her with his flintlock.
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The shot didn’t strike true, however, causing her to merely lose an arm.
Francis hoped that the arm contained an artifact.
Alas, her unfazed expression dictated otherwise.
“You are Read’s killer, alright,” the woman said, thrill overshadowing pain. “What a beautiful opportunity.”
Suddenly, her body began altering shape.
Francis wished he could shoot her mid-transformation, but the flintlock was rendered unusable once more.
No matter, my flames should do the trick.
Francis shot a column of his own, indifferent to the ever-intensifying fire the woman started.
The scene didn’t bode well for the captives, but her survival was ultimately the far worse fate.
Francis’ flames struck and achieved… nothing.
The woman didn’t even flinch.
Francis was nearly convinced she was immune to flames, but that wasn’t the case in his instance.
Unless.
Whatever Stanza she used earlier, it was like nothing he had experienced before.
Which naturally implied more.
Soon enough, the woman’s transformation was over. And with that came a giant feline thrice his size.
Just how many Stanzas does she have?
Without hesitation, the woman leaped.
Francis looked for his trusty pebble, but found nothing.
Except, it wasn’t the only thing on the floor.
Regretting the necessity, Francis swapped places with a pirate’s corpse at the last moment, leading the woman to tear it to shreds.
“Is this how you beat Read?” the woman mocked, voice unnatural. “By being a coward?”
“What was that Eastern saying?” Francis replied. “Evasion is half the courage, I believe?”
Ironically, his answer taunted her, leading to another lunge.
This time, Francis’ Substitution was obsolete.
To damnation with it all.
The feline was fast, but Liquidation wasn’t for show.
Francis made his limbs nimble, then began running through the hallway.
The ship was no whaling vessel, leading him to find the exit in mere moments.
By the time he surfaced, he noticed that Havana’s coastline was crystal clear.
No wonder they sensed me.
He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t sent a second Inquisitor, but he was grateful all the same.
What he wasn’t grateful for, however, was the woman appearing shortly after.
Flames, impeccable defense, and metamorphosis. Yeah, I’m not winning.
At least not on land.
Francis prepared to dive, but the woman’s lunge forced him to change trajectory.
Over and over again.
The pair circled the burning ship as smoke thickened with every passing second.
Francis wished he could end it and save the captives.
But his adversary demanded all of his attention.
Slowly but surely, the woman had him surrounded.
“No more tricks, I fear,” she mocked as she drew closer.
As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.
His flintlock did little to her feline form, and his Evasion ring was useless in such a predicament.
Of course, he could attempt to swap places with her. But if the headache he felt last time was any indication, it was a horrendous idea.
Nevertheless, he had to try something.
The woman pounced.
He shot.
This time, blood spilled.
And it wasn’t his.
“How?” the woman said in bewilderment, coughing blood.
She then appeared to reach for something inwardly, and found nothing. “Give it back!”
This time, however, she was more reluctant to approach, leading the two to simply stare at one another.
As much as Francis wanted to ask, he had to seem in control. “I’m going to take far more if you come any closer.”
The bluff appeared to work, as the woman stepped back, chest still oozing fresh blood.
“You fought well, Yves,” she said as she approached the railing. “But don’t think this is the end of it.”
Then she left the burning ship.
Good riddance.
Her departure changed nothing about the predicament, however.
The ship was still burning, and so would the captives if he didn’t act.
Refusing to remain idle, Francis rushed to where the captives were.
With great difficulty, Francis moved through the narrow hallways as flames charred both clothes and skin.
Mercifully, those flames were easily countered by Rejuvenation, allowing him to focus his full attention on the rescue.
Moments later, Francis appeared near the captain’s quarters. He pushed inside and was greeted by… nothing.
The room had no occupants.
Francis wondered if they ran for the hallways, but it didn’t make sense.
None were to be seen there.
He turned his attention to the window, and sure enough, it was wide open.
Better than burning alive, at least.
He wasn’t sure if the fall was fatal. But if most survived it, then the rest was the easy part.
Relatively speaking, anyway.
Francis nearly jumped out of the window, then thought better of it.
While hypothermia and the impact of the water were tolerable, the salt absolutely wasn’t.
And judging by his wounds, no amount of Rejuvenation would save him.
Of course, he could try anyway, but that was akin to shooting himself while expecting minimal damage.
A few more minutes and I’ll be ready to go.
Those minutes dragged like an eternity.
By the time Francis’ wounds stabilized, he dove into the icy water like a projectile.
Thankfully, the salt merely stung, allowing him to dedicate his full attention to locating the captives.
Sadly, the low light and enormous ocean depth made the search grueling. Nevertheless, he continued.
He owed it to those people.
His actions were the whole reason they had to flee a burning ship.
So much for helping.
The fugitive looked far and wide for an eternity, but it ultimately bore no fruit.
He couldn’t give up. Not when it meant failing them.
***
By the third hour, Francis’ limbs began failing him. He must’ve scouted the entire area. Yet, it yielded similar results.
Still, that was a good sign, was it not? If the captives had died, he would’ve at least found a body or two.
More importantly, his Observation sensed no heartbeats nearby, eliminating the prospect of them being on the ship prior to his search.
They weren’t dead.
They were simply missing.
But who could make a dozen people vanish?
The inquisition became rhetorical the moment it left his mouth. He fought the Apostolic See around the same time he lost sight of the captives.
It could’ve been a coincidence, naturally, but the Church rarely left room for those.
Was my adversary a mere decoy?
The prospect would’ve reframed the entire sequence of events.
Still, dedicating an entire Inquisitor to stopping him was enough flattery.
The situation should’ve been dreadful. Instead, he felt hope.
He didn’t fail those people. He simply punched above his weight.
As an Acolyte.
Speaking of my Depth. It’s about time I Descend.
And luckily for the fugitive, seawater surrounded him from all sides.
Farewell, Rumpelstiltskin.
Francis closed his eyes, and the Shanty presented itself shortly after.
Claim what is rightfully yours.
My blessings shall aid in opening those doors.
Ignite.
Give him who stands in your way terrible fright.
A Shanty of Dominion you shall hear.
Shielding you from both cold and fear.
Henceforth, one mustn’t fret.
For my healing can mend all under threat.
Your surroundings you shall observe.
Easing fear and calming nerve.
Unwanted gazes must recoil.
Letting one choose when to toil.