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“You should really consider joining them. They’ll kill you if you don’t, and none of us want to see that happen to you.”
“I took the deal because I had nowhere else to go. Now, at least, I can be of use to someone.”
“The ship is gone. There’s nothing we can do about it. But now we can still fight back against the tyranny of Ankaret, right? That’s what you always preached about.”
Kalliope’s wasted three weeks rotting away in this damn barred cage, and she’s had just about all of her so-called crew members come to try and change her mind. Clearly, she’d misjudged them all those years ago; They should have been smart enough to know that she wasn’t one to change her mind so easily.
She’s spent her fair share of time in jail cells. This one is, unsurprisingly, not as nice as the ones in Ankaret City. It just makes her all the more furious, though, at her capture. How dare the Haljand Alliance treat her so poorly after the brutal way in which they sank her ship?!
It didn’t take long for all of her crew to give into the Alliance’s demands and switch to their side. She supposes that was her fault for choosing to amass a pirating crew made up of women who’d spent their whole lives as thieves and swindlers.
They tried to make up for their poor loyalty, visiting the captain in her cage of shame, wearing their shiny new Alliance outfits, looking well-fed and healed after the massacre of their sunken ship. They pleaded to the bars of her cage, begging her to join them so they’d feel less guilty about their betrayal. Despite being the one behind bars, Kalliope knows that her crew had just traded one cage for another.
She will not be dragged into the Alliance’s colonialist army. She may not like the city of Ankaret, but she certainly doesn’t want to see it destroyed. The Haljand Alliance is an invasive species; disrupting the balance between her and her prey would cause her to starve.
However, her time in this cage is, unfortunately, running out.
If she doesn’t join the Alliance, they’re going to kill her. That’s what her crew had told her, and as hesitant as she is to believe them, she knows they were right for one specific reason.
Out of everyone who’d come to her cell, she’d never seen Daphne. Out of all of her crew, she’s the closest with her first mate, the first to join her, and the only one with her when they stole their ship for themselves.
Either Daphne had escaped, or the Alliance had killed her.
Kalliope tried asking some of her crew about it, but the way they avoided her gaze as they dodged the question made her stomach sink as she realized she was probably right.
In between mourning for Daphne and her ship, she’s running out of time. There’s no easy escape to this, no valiant plan to fool the incompetent guards of Ankaret. The Alliance is thorough and strong, much more than any force she’d fled from prior.
But Kalliope’s never one to give up. Spending nearly a month in this cage meant she’s spent nearly a month coming up with several escape plans. After careful consideration, she has a list of three main options:
Option Number One. Swipe the key from a guard and sneak out. The most obvious course of action for a prisoner to take, which unfortunately meant it’s the easiest one to prevent as well. Any guard who came to bring her food (if it wasn’t her ex-crew members doing it) doesn’t even carry a key with them, instead just slipping the meal through the bars of the cage. Plus, if she even managed to get it, there were most definitely guards stationed all around the makeshift prison and camp, of which she has no clue of the layout. If she managed to escape her cell didn’t mean she’d escape the Alliance entirely. It was an incredibly risky and flawed plan.
Option Number Two: Pretend to be dead. A less likely option to suspect, one that Kalliope has used several times when escaping from previous Ankaret prisons. It has its own cons, though: Kalliope has no idea what they do with dead bodies. They might burn them on the spot, conceal her, throw her away, or do whatever else they do with the corpses of the enemies. Kalliope would have to wait until they left her alone to stop playing dead, or else they’d probably attack and kill her for real, but if she ended up just locked in another room or buried underground, she’d be of no use anyway. It’s a better chance than the first option, but still not looking good.
Option Number Three, her, unfortunately, most likely choice: Pretend to join them. Kalliope has never been that great of an actress, but for a heist like this, she’d really have to put on her acting shoes. She’d have to convince the Alliance that she’s decided to join them rather than die— but even though it's what they wanted to hear, she doubted they’d believe it so easily from someone like her. She is a pirate, after all, and they’d most likely assume she said yes just so she could run. This, of course, is her plan, so she has to make them think she truly wants to join. This plan has the best chance of working, but Kalliope isn’t confident enough in her poker face to make a convincing enough lie.
She hates when she’s the reason a plan is a liability.
She comes up with dozens of other fantastical escape plans, going in circles both literally and metaphorically as she drives herself mad with plotting. She thinks she might genuinely go insane in frustration until some guards show up to distract her. Except, it isn’t the distraction she’s hoping for.
Hearing their heavy, clanking footsteps announce their presence, she leans against the bars of the cage and smirks. “Meal time already, boys?”
It isn’t who she’s expecting. “Not today, Captain. Kalliope Darya, today you’re being tried and executed for crimes of thievery and piracy, not to mention the slaughter of countless citizens,” says the leader of the Alliance, signified by his distinct Haljand badge and cleanly pressed uniform. She doesn’t know his name, doesn’t care to learn.
Kalliope feels shell-shocked, she can’t even try to mask her expression. “What?!” Her crew members had told her she had more time, she had a couple of days left to decide until they got rid of her! “Aren’t you a little early? I thought I had more time to make my choice!”
The guard accompanying the leader laughs, a much more familiar voice she’s come to expect from this cell. “You thought we wouldn’t question your crew? You were never going to join us, just try to escape. Can’t have you getting out and telling Ankaret City all our plans now, can we?”
She flinches as the cage door clangs open, jumping back before it slams her against the wall. The guard’s huge, metal-encased arm reaches in and grabs her, his hand encompassing her arm as he drags her out. She yelps and shouts, trying to break free from his grasp, but he’s simply too big.
“Hey! I need more time! I haven’t made my decision yet!” She shouts, to no avail. The guard doesn’t even bother slapping handcuffs on her, instead just yanking her along. She keeps digging her heels into the dirt to try and stop, but he’s stronger.
“Please, this will be easier on everyone if you just comply,” the leader sneers. Kalliope growls and tugs harder against the guard. If they’re going to kill her, she’s going to be a pain in the ass until the very end.
She finally gets a good view of the camp as they struggle along. Even from just this one glimpse of this section of the camp, it appears far more disorganized than she’d previously thought. Good. Let them waste away in chaos.
They stop at a stage, tying a dusty, frayed rope tightly around her wrists. Everyone in the camp’s vicinity watches voyeuristically as she’s led to her demise. Kalliope huffs as she’s forcefully lifted up the stairs— they’re going to make this a public execution? And they still think of themselves as saviors. Ha!
Still, though, her legs feel shaky as they push her to the center, where a lone rope dangles from a single pole, and a stool sits ominously on the floor.
Kalliope looks up at it, trying to swallow her fear. “At least this will be painless,” she mutters in a desperate attempt to comfort herself. It doesn’t work.
A crowd starts forming beneath her as the guard forces her onto the stool. Among the crowd, she spots several members of her crew, all looking at the ground in shame.
Rage fills in her chest as the guard ties the noose behind her. Was this how they’d killed Daphne? Did all of her crew members watch as their first mate was executed over nothing? Were they going to watch just the same as she’s killed as well?
The rage does nothing to calm her nerves. Her balance on the stool wavers as the guard loops the noose around her neck, and she sways desperately in order to keep her balance. No, not yet—
Her heart beats in her chest as the crowd starts to jeer insults and slurs at her. She barely hears them, letting the noise become static in comparison to the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She hears the leader start to talk to the masses, but barely understands what he says. They’re making an example out of her.
Her crew members are all looking at her now, unable to ignore the death of their captain. She makes eye contact with each of them, and for the first time in her life, the pleading, desperate glint in her eyes is genuine as she begs any of them to repent, to save her.
Please, she looks at her crew members. Do something.
They don’t.
She hears the wood creak behind her as the guard leans over her. She strains desperately against the rope in her hands.
“Time’s up, Captain,” the guard whispers in her ear. His breath spreads goosebumps on her skin, leaving her shivering in fear. She screws her eyes shut.
Kalliope’s never been much for religion.
But now, she prays.
Please, god, she screams, desperate for anyone to hear her. I’ll do whatever it takes to get out of this. To survive, to live.
Silence. And then:
An interesting proposal. Will you repent your sins for me?
She doesn’t even question the voice inside her head. She hardly even notices that only she can hear it. She nods desperately, taking gasping breaths of air. Yes, yes, I’ll do it, I’ll do anything.
Are you sure? It responds.
“Any last words, thief?” The guard laughs from behind her.
“ Just do it !” She shouts, and she’s not sure to who.
How eager of you, says the godlike voice. I’ll hold you to it, then.
The guard places his foot on the stool. The crowd cheers.
And then the lightning cracks down on the stage, a light so blindingly bright that Kalliope can see it even with her eyes closed.
She gasps as the crowd screams, smoke infiltrating her nostrils immediately. The guard that was on her back holding her life in his hands is gone, having fallen down in surprise at the force of the energy.
With the guard finally off her back, Kalliope has a sliver of a chance to escape. She struggles against her bonds, reaching up and grappling with the noose until it's off of her neck. She breaths in, full and desperate, even though she’d never gotten hanged, and scrambles off of the stage.
Some of the crowd start chasing after her, but she’s already home free. Outside the bounds of the prison cell, their camp is well equipped to keep people out, but not keep people in. She chews and tears against the weary rope binding her hands as she runs, and by the time she reaches a fenced wall, she’s broken them enough to rip the rest to shreds. More of the crowd is coming for her, so she doesn’t hesitate to scale the wall and run. She has no idea where she’s going— with no ship and no crew, her life has never felt as directionless— but all she knows is that she’s still alive.
Two days later, she sits, still as a statue, in a cathedral. She wears a plain brown cloak that itches at her skin and shadows her face. Ankaret, as notorious a city as it is, is a great place for criminals to find sanctuary, and Kalliope is no exception. Being known as possibly the city’s greatest recurring thief, though, makes it more difficult for her to stay under the radar, especially now that both Ankaret police and the Haljand Alliance are after her.
She’ll ditch this place soon. She has to, for her own survival, as much as she’s twistedly attached to the land on which she grew up.
But before she can, she has to find out one thing.
She needs to figure out which divine entity saved her life.
It was obviously a god, because Kalliope didn’t know who else could make lightning spontaneously strike at the exact moment she needed it to. The only problem was that multiple gods dealt with lightning in their domain, and even more gods could wield it even if it wasn’t theirs, so she had no idea who she was dealing with. Or even if she wanted to deal with them, indebted to them or not.
So she sits in this cathedral, and she prays again.
It’s not long until a familiar voice rings out inside her head.
Hello, Kalliope, it says. Are you ready to hear the terms of our agreement?
I want to know who you are, she thinks to it, frowning. And what I’ve gotten myself into.
The god actually chuckles inside her head. It’s a long, echoing laugh, and it makes Kalliope shiver, but it doesn’t sound menacing. Just… entertained.
I am Sycelia, the voice bellows, goddess of war and justice, and the patron of the indigent and downtrodden. And you, Kalliope Darya, are my newest Paladin of Redemption.