PARIS - 1683

It was a gorgeous day in Paris.

One of those early summer days where the spring storms lingered to bring enough cloud cover and moisture to keep the heat at bay, but the days were warm and the afternoons long. The sun was bright, fresh breads and rich wines were in the air as people milled about in one of the main city squares. It was crowded and only getting more so as time went on, the sound of laughter and children running about as families came for the distraction and free entertainment of the day.

An execution.

A lone figure leaned against a building at the square’s edge. Her hair was hidden beneath a scarf; her shoulders swallowed in a coat a size too large. She looked the part of a woman at leisure, idly tearing at a croissant stalling for time before the festivities began. But her lips were tight, her eyes restless. Anyone watching closely would see her unease in the constant flicker of her gaze.

This isn’t good at all.

Somehow luck was repeatedly against her today.

Today, yesterday, the past 3 months if she was going to be completely honest. Since the day she picked up those pieces of shit rats to work with her on The Night Wind. If she hadn’t been so desperate to get her piece of that action in Yucatan, she never would have hired them and yesterday she never would have been betrayed and arrested for the bounty on her head.

Yesterday prison, today escape, now? Too many guards.

Scarlette stopped counting after a dozen, there were at least two dozen between those she could see in the square and in the surrounding streets. There was no way her escape wasn’t discovered by now, no way that a warning had not been sent to keep an eye out for a pirate, a woman with red hair and a propensity to stab first. Escaping was the easy part, this execution was a lucky hiding spot, but it was still a long way to the harbor.

What to do, what to do…

A cheer rose up through the crowd breaking Scarlette’s stewing. A man clad in black and leather took the stage, his physique and mask marking him today’s executioner.

He kills people every day and there is no bounty on HIS head.

She mused as she watched the theatrics of him reading off the crimes of those to be executed tonight. Four in total it seemed.

“For crimes against the crown and king, capital murder of the highest order - His Majesty finds Sabine Varnier guilty of violent assault and cold-blooded murder of Governor Adrien Corbeau IV.”

His voice boomed over the crowd like a gong.

Thaumaturgy, Scarlette thought, rolling her eyes. Show-off.

Scarlette watched as the three others were read off and the sad little crew of fated souls were brought out in their chains; the rattling reminding Scarlette of the sounds souls make when she spoke to them during rituals.

The sound of death.

They stood in their pretty row, the crowd really going now as more fancy words were spoken, desecrating and justifying even further the crimes of the damned. It wasn’t long before food started to fly towards the gallows, the jeers and taunts flying with them.

“Hey, knock it off!”

Scarlette tensed up as a guard’s voice commanded close by, too close for her comfort as she looked over and saw a guard knocking around some scrawny street kid that was using the tables to try and climb up higher to see the gallows better. She kept her gaze down casually to the side as if she wasn’t bothered at all by the guards presence or the fact that if he came 3 steps closer she would not be able to hide the bit of red hair she couldn’t hide in the scarf and she had nowhere to run.

The ropes were around the criminals’ necks now and the crowd was going feral. The emotional tension escalated quickly and that led to a frenzy, blood in the water where the sharks could smell it and they were starved for this kind of attention. The guards moved in closer to try and stop the fights that were springing up in the crowd, small drunken brawls that if left unattended would become a mob.

Heh.

Scarlette smiled.

“What a good idea.” She whispered.

The next few minutes were madness as she picked her targets in a wide triangular pattern, hiding the spells casting under the loudest of the fights that was breaking loose – and buildings began to burn.

In the chaos one of the targets she picked was the gallows itself and it did not take long for the dry wood to become a wildfire. The executioner, for all his size and booming voice, was quite quick to run off the stage.

Figures.

Scarlette made sure that the criminals had the chance to escape their bonds before casting shatter on the building behind them, sending rubble and cobblestone flying. If the guards are too busy handling a mob and escaped convicts worthy of public execution- maybe they would be too busy to keep looking for her.

Smoke and blood filled haze spread throughout the city square as she got the mob she wanted, the guards trying their best to put out the fires before all of Paris burned while handling the empty-headed rage of peasants with a chip on their shoulders and a target for their woes. She kept to the edges of the fights in the smoke and shadow, her body becoming one with the growing darkness of the setting sun as she pushed her way out slowly through the alleyways avoiding the guards that now ran towards the spreading heat and fighting.

“So, what is the plan? Does not look like much of one.”

The voice was calm, almost amused.

Scarlette spun on instinct, blade flashing, ready to drive it into whoever had crept close enough to whisper in her ear. Her short sword met steel. A dagger.

The woman who held it was filthy, her black hair matted, her body bruised and battered from prison. But her eyes burned.

It was that capital murder lady, Sabine something or other. Scarlette’s lip curled. “The plan is you go that way, I go this way, and we both live long, happy lives. Goodbye.”

She turned, sliding back into motion.

“You did start the fires then.”

Scarlette’s eyes rolled toward the heavens. “Congratulations. Keen observation.”

Bootsteps crashed through the smoke. Instinct shoved her sideways, pressing into a wall, arm braced across Sabine’s chest to pin her back, to shield her as the guards thundered by. The closeness was sudden, heat and breath mingling, heartbeats quick in the chaos.

The boots faded. The silence stretched. Scarlette dropped her arm, turning sharp and close, her voice a hiss. “I do not know who you are or how you spotted me. But follow me again, and I will gut you for the rats.”

Sabine didn’t flinch. Not even a blink. “I spotted you because I know the look. I have lived it. Shadows. Poison. Knives. That is my specialty, my name is Sabine Varnier. I have nowhere to go and nothing left—but when the rope was at my neck, a woman with red hair and fire came. I do not ignore omens. You saved me. Now I save you.”

Scarlette barked a short laugh. “Bold words, little crow. You were caught, nearly hanged before half of Paris.”

Sabine’s voice cut low, venomous. “I wasn’t caught. I was betrayed.”

Betrayed.

She thought again of the five men she owed a visit to soon, their smug faces as the guards and irons surrounded her, the fuel behind her rage. She could see that same hatred burn behind this woman’s eyes.

Scarlette’s grin was slow, dangerous. She sheathed her sword. “Stay close. But if you slow me down, I will shoot you in the leg and leave you.”

It was Sabine’s turn to smirk, “Not if I shoot you first.”

“Hah.” Scarlettes laugh a low bark. What a clever creature she was.

Together they slipped through Paris with flame and blood behind them, growing darkness out front. As one they moved between the growing night and darkest corners moving like living shadows and once outside the heart of the city Scarlette cast invisibility on herself, and found she wasn’t surprised as Sabine did the same. Quite a clever creature indeed. It took until, by her estimation, at least midnight before they reached the countryside.

“Give me your hands.” Scarlette turned and held out her own waiting.

“Why?” Sabine asked hesitating but still complying all the same.

“Because I’m getting us out of here, now shut up.”

The world went dark and spun around them in a blink. One minute they were surrounded by fields, the next boots landed on hard black wood and Scarlette finally felt like she could breathe.

Home.

A quick glance over her shoulder showed Sabine bent double, hands braced on her knees, face pale as death.

Scarlette laughed loud and freely, head thrown back. “Never teleported before, little murderer?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure.” She whispered between deep, slow breaths. “Are we on a ship?”

“Yes,” Scarlette smiled wide, throwing her arms out to her side. “My ship. Welcome to The Night Wind.”

“If you could fucking do that,” Deep breath, pinching her nose “Why didn’t you do that sooner?”

“Have to be closer for the spell to work and it only works once a day. Besides, Paris is warded from here to hell with glyphs that track or straight out prevent that kind of thing. Could get messy if casted in the wrong location.”

Scarlette looked over the side of her ship and saw the faint candles of dock watchmen as well as the ropes and chains that locked her ship to port. So, she was right in assuming they had The Night Wind under watch. She smiled to herself, but they couldn’t board. She idly wondered how many had tried.

“Do you know how to sail?”

“No, but I learn quick.”

Confidence. She liked this one.

“Well, get ready for one hell of a first lesson.”

The crash of her eldritch blast blowing off the ropes and chains in the darkness echoed across the docks like cannon fire. Immediately glyphs of warning lit up like beacons and bells began to ring. She rapidly continued to free her ship from its own chains and felt that familiar sweet and salt taste on the back of her tongue as the ship came alive.

Scarlette ran up to the helm and began to adjust her sails.

“Fly.” She whispered and the ship responded, pulling out from the docks like a bird stretching its wings for takeoff.

The sails adjusted and the ship moved through the water like a hot knife to butter. Guards began to yell and sounds of their musket fire added more sound than her own ship as she commanded Sabine to adjust this rigging or pull this tail, all while navigating them out of the port and into the open channel.

Sabine staggered to obey shouted orders—trim this sail, haul that line, move faster—and though she stumbled, there was steel in her. She didn’t flinch from musket fire, didn’t balk when sparks rained down. They managed their way out of the channel and into the open sea, dawn surprising them both on the horizon. Scarlette checked their perimeter and found they were safe from being followed before setting her ships navigation point and moving to grab some food from her galley.

Scarlette handed over some dried cheese and bread, breaking open a new bottle of wine.

“Welcome to the crew.”