Obsidian Jack's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Jack stood at the water's edge as the wolf ship slid past the horizon. Rain hammered his shoulders. Anger and grief twisted in his chest. Then lightning cracked the sky, and a memory cracked open with it — the old fishing rig in the barn, half-built, and the hands that knew how to finish it. He turned and ran for the cottage. The doctor was inside with the widow when Jack crossed the muddy yard. The door swung open and the old dog stepped out with a fishing rod raised like a club, eyes wild for another fight. His grip froze. "Don't be afraid, it is me, Barnaby," Jack said. Golden eyes burned in the lantern light, wet with everything he had just seen. Barnaby lowered the rod slowly. "The Cat's Eye. The legend was true." He circled Jack, mouth open, hands shaking. "They have taken her," Jack said. "I must get her back." Barnaby sat hard on the weathered bench beside the door, moss soft under his palms. He breathed once, long and tired. Then he stood. "Then we work." Jack laid the wolf-marked ledger open on his knees. Smudged charcoal names ran down the page in a code Jack could not read. Barnaby leaned close, finger tracing. "Port marks. Cargo tallies. That's a heading, there — a island chain three days east." He tapped a smeared line. "And that name. I know that name. He sails under Greymaw." Barnaby pushed open the barn doors. The half-built rig waited inside, ribs bare, hull sound. "She'll hold," he said. "Two nights to finish. I'll sail her with you." Jack gripped the wet wood and felt the hunt narrow to a single line across dark water. The ship was gone from sight. The trail was not.