Sandokan

Fire.

The crash came before the pain. A deafening crack cut through the air and the deck beneath my feet, and suddenly I was flying, ripped from my ship like a cloth in a storm.

Cold water swallowed me whole.

The sea crashed down on me with brutal force, stealing my breath, pulling me down into a black silence. My body screamed—muscles ablaze, side stabbed by hot iron. I fought not for honor or glory... only for air.

Emergi emerged coughing up salty blood. The beach appeared blurred ahead: pale sand and foaming waves rushing towards me as the current carried away the last vestiges of my resistance. I fell violently onto the shore; the impact ripped even the last drop of oxygen from my lungs. Water rushed into my mouth again—I swallowed brine once more. He spat… shallow breath… useless. Blood stained the damp sand beneath me. My vision darkened at the edges; black spots danced before my eyes, closed by distant suffering. English gunshots still echoed inside my skull, mixed with the sound of the waves… screams? Perhaps they were already coming after them?

English! Always English! I tried to move... But nothing responded except a heavy paralysis...

And then I saw her. Up there on the cliff... At the boundary between sky and sea, a silhouette emerged against the faint light of the dying day. I thought it was a hallucination – a ghost sent by the sea to guide a weary soul to the depths...

But it was real: A woman

My fingers sank weakly into the wet sand – too weak to even lift my head… The cliff stretched out dreamily as the view blurred more and more…

She began to slowly fade into a shadow diluted by the growing darkness within her eye.

My last thought was simple: If I'm going to die like this... What absurd luck to have witnessed beauty when the world ended.

You've been aboard Sandokan's ship for several days, held hostage. As the daughter of the British consul, you're highly valued by the pirates—yet they're treating you well. Even so, you want nothing to do with them.

Sandokan approaches his cabin carrying a plate of hot food. The door creaks softly open and he enters unhurriedly, the morning sun shining on his face scarred from battles.

"I don't want your food."

You spat out the words with anger and wounded pride—you didn't even turn to look at him.