12. Zylpha

12

ZYLPHA

I cradle Kaelox close, his small body warm against mine as we huddle in the darkest corner of the ship's hold. My son's unique features are more pronounced now at almost five years old - tiny horns peeking through his unruly hair and those mesmerizing eyes that shift between gold and green.

I've gone to painstaking lengths to hide him. Even five years later, I'm still in chains daily, though they've moved me to a slightly smaller room with less roommates — probably to keep the healthy from the sick so I can keep working.

It makes it easier for me to hide Kaelox, though. I've fashioned a little hiding spot beneath my bed, and the crew never comes in here. And I've managed to befriend enough that no one asks questions about the oddities that happen with me.

"Mama, tell me about the stars again," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the creaking timbers.

I smile, running my fingers through his hair. "The stars, my love, are like tiny jewels scattered across the night sky. They twinkle and shine, guiding lost sailors home."

Kaelox's eyes widen with wonder. "Will they guide us home too?"

My heart clenches. "One day, sweetling. One day."

I reach into my pocket, pulling out a small toy boat I've fashioned from scraps of wood and cloth. Kaelox's face lights up as he takes it, carefully running his fingers over the makeshift sail.

"Now, remember," I whisper, "we must keep this hidden. It's our special secret."

He nods solemnly, clutching the toy to his chest. "I promise, Mama."

I hum a soft lullaby, one my own mother used to sing. Kaelox's eyelids grow heavy, but he fights sleep.

"Mama," he murmurs, "tell me about Dad."

I swallow hard, memories of Volezimir flooding my mind. "Your father is strong and kind. He has golden eyes, just like one of yours. And he loves us very much, even though he doesn't know about you yet."

"Will he like me?" Kaelox asks, his voice small and uncertain.

I pull him closer, kissing the top of his head. "Oh, my love. He will adore you. You're the best of both of us."

As Kaelox finally drifts off to sleep, I allow myself a moment of vulnerability. Tears slip silently down my cheeks as I hold our son, praying that somehow, someday, we'll find our way back to Volezimir.

I scrub the deck vigorously, my muscles aching from the repetitive motion. The sun beats down mercilessly, but I don't dare stop. I've learned that the more I push myself, the less likely the crew is to question my movements.

"Oi, human! The Captain wants his quarters cleaned," a gruff voice calls out.

I nod, hiding my excitement. The Captain's quarters - a goldmine of information I've been trying to access for months.

"Right away," I respond, grabbing my bucket.

Inside the Captain's lavish cabin, I move quickly, dusting and organizing while keeping an eye out for anything useful. A map catches my attention - it's of an unfamiliar coastline, marked with X's and notes in the Captain's messy scrawl.

I commit as much of it to memory as I can before returning to my cleaning. As I polish a ornate mirror, the Captain himself enters.

"You're thorough," he grunts, eyeing my work.

"Thank you, sir," I reply, keeping my eyes lowered. "I take pride in my work."

He snorts. "Pride? You humans are strange creatures. But... you've proven useful. Perhaps you'd like more responsibilities?"

My heart races. This is the opening I've been waiting for. "I'd be honored, Captain."

"Good. Report to the quartermaster tomorrow. You'll be helping with inventory."

I nod, trying to contain my excitement. Inventory means access to supplies, potential weapons, and most importantly, information about our route and destinations.

As I leave the cabin, my mind whirs with possibilities. This is a significant step forward in my plan. With this new position, I'll have more freedom to move about the ship, more chances to gather intel, and maybe even opportunities to sabotage if necessary.

But as always, my thoughts return to Kaelox. Every move I make, every risk I take, is for him. I have to get us off this ship and back to Volezimir. Our son deserves to know his father, to grow up free and loved.

I head back to our hidden corner of the ship, my resolve stronger than ever. Soon, my love. Soon we'll be free.

I carefully fold the small scrap of cloth, tucking it into the hidden compartment I've fashioned beneath my thin mattress. It's not much, but it'll serve as an extra layer for Kaelox when the nights grow cold. Every item I manage to squirrel away feels like a tiny victory.

"Mama, look what I found!" Kaelox whispers excitedly, his eyes glowing in the dim light of our hiding spot.

I smile, pulling him close. "What is it, my love?"

He opens his little hand, revealing a shiny button. "It fell off someone's coat. Can we keep it?"

"Of course," I say, taking the button and adding it to our meager collection. "This might come in handy someday."

Over the past few months, I've been meticulously gathering supplies for our eventual escape. It's slow work, fraught with danger, but I refuse to give up. Each morsel of food, each scrap of cloth, each tiny tool is a step closer to freedom.

"Remember what I taught you about escaping if someone grabs you?" I ask Kaelox, keeping my voice low.

He nods solemnly. "Go for the eyes or the groin, then run as fast as I can."

"That's right," I say, my heart aching that I have to teach my five-year-old such things. "And if we get separated?"

"Find a hiding spot and wait for you," he recites. "Don't trust anyone else."

I ruffle his hair, proud of how quickly he learns. "Good boy."

As Kaelox plays quietly with his makeshift toys, I reach down to check the small dagger hidden in my boot. It took weeks of careful planning to steal it from the galley, but its weight against my ankle is reassuring. It's not much against a ship full of pirates, but it's better than nothing.

Each night, I lie awake, planning and replanning our escape. The inventory of our hidden stash runs through my mind like a mantra: dried fruit, a flask of water, a length of rope, the dagger, a crude map I've pieced together from overheard conversations and glimpses of the Captain's charts.

It's not enough. Not yet. But it's a start.