[Create Silk level 96]

  [Create Silk level 97]

  [Create Silk level 98]

  Vel’s form shook violently as she completed the final shawl. They each laid on top of one another, and while she’d taken breaks to stretch and consume more food than she thought was healthy, that didn’t prevent just how sore and tight every muscle felt.

  Letting out a small cry, she grimaced as she shifted her fingers, just to stretch them. Even her neck hurt as she looked up to peer out the windows at the back of the room. It was far past dark, telling her that she’d been at this for way longer than she wanted to be. Part of her had expected Erl to come back in to check on her. He never did.

  She was left all alone in his room without an ounce of strength. What if this was what he wanted? a thought occurred to her, a new fear unlocked. What if he wanted me this weak?

  Stretching her wrists next, she cringed. Sure she hadn’t passed out this time, likely due to a higher dexterity stat, but she felt like she should have. Every joint beyond her wrists and ankles were locked into place. It was going to take time to stretch them, time she was afraid she didn’t have.

  As suspected, the door behind her unlocked and creaked open. Erl’s heavy footsteps shook the floorboards beneath Velmira’s chair, the very movement causing her to whimper at the aching in her hips. Just so long as he didn’t say anything about Amalia and Sigurd, she would be okay. At least that much. Please don’t have tried escaping, she hoped, closing her eyes.

  “All done?” Erl said from beside her.

  “Yes,” Vel croaked. She opened her eyes, finding him looking through the silk shawls. He pulled her old one out, and smiled. “As I’d hoped.”

  “Hoped?” Vel asked.

  One at a time, he held the shawls up. “You overcompensated, not having the original with you,” he informed her. The new shawls, she realized, were substantially larger. A new kind of defeat hit her, and she shifted her gaze, looking away from Erl. “The higher a skill’s level, the higher the potency━mean’s you can create larger textiles.”

  “Of course,” Vel whispered, looking down at the table in front of her. She’d forgotten about that part of Maldwyn. Letting me down, Purple Fairy, for once, she thought, sighing out her stress.

  “What level is your skill now?”

  “Ninety.”

  [Deception level 7]

  “Hm . . .” Erl kneeled down beside Vel, resting an arm on the table and looking up into her face. “It’s higher,” he said. “Tell me honestly, Lass, what is its level?”

  “Ninety-five,” Vel said next.

  [Deception level 8]

  “Higher,” Erl said, grinning. “Girl, don’t lie to me while you’re so tired. I can see it in your face.”

  Vel furrowed her brow, feeling so weak and miserable. She shook her hand, with aching and cracking shoulders, lifted her hands to hold her face. Why? Why was this so overwhelming? It was like tears were going to pour from her eyes and her chest would simply pop open, revealing how her heart swelled and burst. Yet, she didn’t allow the tears escape. She wouldn’t. I’m not that weak, she reassured herself.

  “Why do you wish to know?” she asked.

  “Because if you’re still awake, then there’s room for your skill to level again. I’ll have you go until it ranks up tonight,” Erl said.

  “Until I pass out?” Vel whimpered out. “No, not here. I won’t do that here. I can’t trust what you’ll do with my unconscious body.”

  “Lass, I could do whatever I please to you right now. It doesn’t matter either way.”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter?!” her voice cracked. “Doesn’t matter!” she repeated, dropping her hands to glare at the pirate captain. “What a way to comfort me, you bastard,” she hissed.

  [Insult level 3]

  “Take me back to my cage while I am still in the waking world, then I will make your silk threads,” she said. “I will not fall into your arms.”

  “I suppose that’s acceptable,” Erl said, standing up. He slipped his hand under Vel’s knees, her form shuddering. His other hand supported her back, and he lifted her up into his arms, a small cry escaping her at the movement.

  “You humiliate me,” she said, hitting his chest with a weak fist.

  [Unarmed Punch level 5]

  So do you, Purple fairy, Vel huffed, feeling as if she just gained a pity level.

  She covered her face with her hands, hiding from the other pirates as they emerged from the captain’s cabin. As her eyes fell shut, she found herself drifting into a light sleep, one Erl startled her out of when he leaned her down against the bars outside of the prison. He knelt in front of her, his features darkened by the room’s dank atmosphere.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Threads only,” she whispered, not having the energy to provide a textile.

  Erl held a hand out in front of her, and Vel sighed, lifting a tense hand. She loosed silk from her index finger, the thread magically forming and spitting out from midair before her finger. A pile of the white string formed in Earl’s hand, and as Vel felt herself turn statuesque, she shifted to look up at the captain’s face.

  His sinister grin should have sent shivers down her spine, but instead, she felt herself go, slipping from the waking world.

  [Create Silk level 99]

  Waking was far more painful than the last time she’d passed out from that skill. Even her eyelids felt stiff, glued in their spot over her blue orbs. So, she listened, not that there was much to listen to. Her companions shifting, mostly. Occasionally someone spoke softly, Sigurd’s voice the most notable of the three others in the cell with her.

  Despite this, Vel didn’t bother to make out the words. Instead, she eased into her sore reality. Bit by bit, she forced her eyelids to move. They twitched, then gradually lifted. While it was difficult at first, once her eyes were opened, she released a sigh at how much better just that small amount felt.

  Oh, sighing. That hurt too. Her jaw was so tight, and Vel pulled on a hand to massage it. That worked out as well as she expected, her arm stiff as stone. A small whine escaped her, and as it did, the hem of a green dress rushed at her, then sunk as Amalia knelt before her.

  “What’s wrong?” the singer asked.

  “Stiff,” Velmira heaved out, breathy.

  “The cost of your magic?” Amalia asked.

  “It happened once before too,” Sigurd added. “He’s going to kill her at this rate.”

  “Then we get out of here,” Amalia said, taking Vel’s arm in her hands. “I’m going to help you stretch, is that okay?”

  “Yeah,” Vel said.

  Amalia started by bending Vel’s arm at the elbow, stretching out the natural mobility of her joints. “It seems like your job went as well as ours,” she said, Vel shifting to look up at her face. Amalia was too focused to look back at her, moving to Vel’s wrist. “The work you did on the lock yesterday wasn’t enough. Not even Sigurd could kick it open.”

  Well, I’m glad you all didn’t come charging up with no leverage, Vel thought.

  “It’s still a weak plan, if you ask me,” Aden noted.

  “Oh, and you have a better one?” Amalia asked.

  “Yes. Make it to land first. Half the crew will be offboard unloading. Less pirates to deal with that way,” Aden suggested.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Sigurd sighed. “Just means one more stop than we want. That lock still needs to be weakened either way. Velmira, can you━?”

  “Yes,” Vel said, eyes shifting too look at Sigurd, who sat against the bars. “It’s a different cost for [fireball].”

  Amalia sighed. “We’re pushing you too much. The cost of magic might stack. You can’t afford it, instead . . . I’ll do it.”

  “You can’t aim. What if you hit someone? And what about the metal shrapnel part?” Sigurd asked.

  “Then stand behind me. I can’t hit someone I can’t see. Besides, I certainly can use the practice.”

  “Shrapnel?” Sigurd asked again.

  Amalia ignored him, the hunter shaking his head.

  “What is it?” Aden asked.

  “You’ll see,” Sigurd said dryly.

  It took Amalia a good hour, if not longer, to get Vel moving around on her own again. Once she was, she stretched by herself. While her muscles were all insanely tight, it didn’t last long as she stretched. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if her dexterity stat had something to do with that.

  [Stats]

  [Strength: 3.5]

  [Dexterity: 5]

  [Constitution: 2.5]

  [Acuity: 3]

  [Magic: 3.5]

  Furrowing her brow as she stared at the stats, she noted the major improvement in acuity since she last checked. Shadow sneak costs lie in that stat, don’t they? she considered, humming. She’d seen that reflected in her time in the Shadow Realm━the headaches and brain fog didn’t come as hastily as previously.

  “I can use the night to capture Erl,” Vel said. “Even if he’s not with me. I have my new skill, [shadow sneak]. It allows me to travel through shadows.”

  “Will you even have the energy?” Amalia asked.

  “He’ll have me make more silks this morning,” Vel said, “but last night, he left me alone entirely. I’ll use that time to rest instead. I could even wait for him to come to his cabin alone. He’d find it empty, and . . . I bet he’ll check his study to see if I broke into it.”

  “That’s a lot of ‘ifs’,” Sigurd noted, sighing. “Let’s refine the plan. If you’re successful at this, how should we know to break out of here and come up to the main deck?”

  “I’ll leave Erl locked up in his study, then I can use [shadow sneak] to come get you, assuming it works on stairs . . .” Vel sighed. “This is all very bad.”

  “I’ll say,” Aden huffed. The teenager moved towards the bars at the front of the cell. “Anyone know how to pick a lock instead?”

  “Not in my repertoire, kid,” Sigurd sighed. “Can your [shadow sneak] take multiple people?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What rank is it?” Amalia asked.

  “One.”

  “Probably not, then. Magic is very limited at rank one,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Ugh!” Vel grabbed at her hair. “This is so frustrating!” she yelled, then pulled a raggedy lock of hair forward, inspecting it. “And my hair!”

  “You and your hair,” Sigurd rolled his eyes.

  “Here, give me your comb.” Amalia held out her hand, and Vel pulled the comb from her pocket, placing it in the singer’s palm. Taking a wad of Vel’s hair, Amalia began to brush through it, gentle as she went.

  “I could burn the ship,” Vel said.

  Amalia paused, looking at her. As did Sigurd and Aden.

  “Please don’t,” Aden was the first to say, and it was enough to bring a small smile to Vel’s face.

  “Get a second boat. Then we’ll burn this one,” Sigurd said, his smile far more mischievous. Oh, he meant it. Good. Vel had every intention of at least burning the sails of this ship, if only for the satisfaction of watching them be gradually eaten away by the flames.

  “You two scare me sometimes,” Amalia noted, looking between the two of them.

  “You’re just not properly pissed,” Sigurd replied.

  “I’m plenty peeved.”

  “The word is pissed,” Sigurd added.

  “No, that word is meant for the outhouse.”

  “And anger.”

  “You’ve no propriety,” Amalia huffed.

  “I live in the woods.”

  “Lived. You no longer do.”

  “Yeah, now I’m in a jail cell. How much does propriety matter here?” Sigurd asked, rolling his eyes.

  “How have you been able to stand him?” Amalia looked at Vel, annoyance spread across her face.

  Vel shrugged. “He’s sort of funny,” she smiled.

  “That’s it?” Sigurd huffed. “Talk about propriety, my gods.”

  Vel giggled, which laughter was sucked right out of her when she heard the stairs creak. To her dismay, Olave appeared, and moved to the cell door with a key.

  “Come here, Lass,” he said, looking at her.

  “Off to work I go,” Vel huffed, slowly standing up. She took the comb from Amalia, intending to put her hair up this time, if only to prevent some access to people pulling her hair, not that it prevented Erl last time.