"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin"

The night was young, but the Bloody Maiden, Captain Cutlass’s prized ship, was alive with activity. Lanterns swung from the masts, their flickering glow casting jagged shadows across the deck as the crew went about their revelry. The scent of salt and rum filled the air, mingling with the occasional crackle of laughter or the deep bellow of a sea shanty being sung off-key.

Captain Cutlass leaned against the railing of the quarterdeck, his arms crossed over his chest. The sea breeze tugged at his crimson coat, and his tricorne hat was pulled low over his eyes, but there was no mistaking the sharp glint in them. A man of experience, Cutlass had seen countless battles, faced countless enemies, and buried countless rumors. He was not a man easily impressed, nor one to be taken by surprise.

Yet tonight, something tugged at his curiosity.

He had heard whispers at every port, every tavern, every dockside alley. A new name. A new force. A new predator swimming in his waters.

Seraphis.

Cutlass had spent his life carving out a reputation, making the seas his domain. But now, someone new had stepped onto the stage, and he intended to know exactly who she was.

His first mate, Jasper "Deadeye" Flint, a burly man with a scar running from temple to jaw, stepped beside him. He took a swig of his rum, licking the burn from his lips before speaking.

"Cap’n, ye been quiet all night. What’s eatin’ at ye?"

Cutlass didn’t respond immediately. He simply exhaled, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if expecting the answers to rise from the waves. Finally, he spoke.

"Jasper, ye ever heard a name pop up in too many places to ignore?"

Jasper scratched at his beard. "Aye. Usually means trouble’s brewin’."

The captain nodded. "That’s what I be thinkin’. And this time, the name’s ‘Seraphis’."

At that, the crew members nearby stilled, their conversations dropping to hushed murmurs. The name had weight, even among the roughest of sea wolves.

One of the younger pirates, Reef, who had been listening in, frowned. "Seraphis? That some new merchant fleet tryin’ to muscle in on our waters?"

Jasper snorted. "Merchant fleet? Boy, if that were the case, Cap’n wouldn’t be botherin’ with it. This is different."

A grizzled veteran, Old Tom, who had been drinking alone, chuckled darkly. He was missing three fingers, and his remaining hand played idly with a dagger as he spoke.

"Ain’t no merchant, that one. I heard tales. Some say she’s a ghost. Some say she’s got the blood of demons. Others say she ain’t even real, just a legend to spook the unwary."

Reef scoffed. "Legends are just fish tales. Ain’t no ghost walkin’ among men."

Old Tom fixed him with a knowing grin, his teeth yellowed from years of chewing tobacco. "Aye? Then why’s every port from the Eastern Reach to the Southern Isles whisperin’ ‘er name? Ships burnt to cinders, crews left in ruins, men twice your size beggin’ for mercy when they hear she’s near. You think that’s coincidence?"

A heavy silence fell over the deck.

Cutlass tapped his fingers against the railing, deep in thought. "What exactly do we know ‘bout her?"

Jasper sighed. "Not much solid. Just whispers. But the whispers all be the same—she’s got power, Cap’n. Not just any power. Magic. And not the kind you laugh at, neither. I heard she can command the wind itself, strike men down without liftin’ a finger."

Reef frowned. "That ain’t possible. Magic don’t work like that."

Jasper gave him a sharp look. "Aye, maybe not for us. But for someone like her? Seems it does."

Old Tom took another swig of his drink, eyes half-lidded. "I tell ye this—anyone who underestimates her don’t live to regret it."

Cutlass listened carefully. His fingers traced the hilt of his cutlass, the blade that had given him his name. He had fought kings and warlords, sunk fleets, taken on sea monsters that should’ve swallowed him whole. And yet, he knew something in his gut—this was different.

"Where’d she come from?" he finally asked.

Jasper shook his head. "No one knows fer sure. She’s been around long enough to leave a mark, but she ain’t playin’ by the usual rules. She don’t take ports. Don’t loot like we do. She’s got somethin’ bigger in mind."

Reef narrowed his eyes. "What could be bigger than dominatin’ the seas?"

Old Tom smirked. "That’s the real question, ain’t it?"

The lanterns flickered, casting long shadows across the deck. The ocean rocked the ship gently, a deceptive lull in the storm that was brewing.

Cutlass exhaled. He knew that names like Seraphis didn’t just fade away. They either burned bright enough to be remembered for generations—or were snuffed out before they became true legends.

And if the rumors were true, Seraphis wasn’t the type to be snuffed out easily.

"Jasper," he said, his voice carrying authority. "Double the lookouts. I want eyes on every horizon. If she’s out there, I want to know before she knows about us."

Jasper nodded. "Aye, Cap’n."

Reef, still unconvinced, crossed his arms. "So what’s the plan? We go lookin’ for her?"

Cutlass gave a low chuckle, a predatory grin forming on his lips. "No, lad. We don’t go lookin’ for trouble. We make sure trouble finds us on our terms."

The crew muttered in agreement.

Old Tom smirked. "If she’s as big a threat as they say, reckon we’ll be hearin’ from her soon enough."

Cutlass gazed out at the dark waters. The sea had always been a battlefield, but this time, it felt different. There was a new predator swimming these waters, and he intended to know if she was friend, foe, or something else entirely.

But one thing was certain.

The name Seraphis would either become legend—or a warning carved into the bones of the foolish.