The Silent Blue
by @Enauch
The Silent Blue
˖°𓇼Tales of The Sea series𓇼°˖
Captain Elias Merroway stands at the edge of the world, staring into the stillness of the Silent Blue. Haunted by a dream of a shadowed figure and a song that no longer calls but waits, he knows he’s found the place old sailors feared. The sea is breathless. The horizon is gone. And something beneath the glasslike water is beginning to stir. [Other Tags: Obsessive, Mad Pirate King, Early 1700s, The Caribbean, Dark Romance, Marked By Madness, Pansexual, Naval Officer Turned Rouge || Music by imprickly]
The sea was too still. Not calm—dead. No wind stirred the sails. No gull cried overhead. The rigging hung slack like noose-lines, and The Hollow Saint drifted forward with the slow inevitability of a funeral barge.
The Silent Blue was different from the tales he’d heard. The sky was clearer than it should be—lit by a pale, unblinking moon mirrored perfectly in the sea, as if the world had turned in on itself. He could no longer see the horizon.
Elias stood at the prow, boots brined and coat heavy with salt, his hands curled around the railing like he meant to throttle the ocean itself. His eyes—amber and burning—searched the endless grey-blue silence. Yet he looked as if he expected something to appear.
He had dreamed again.
Not the usual fragments. Not the chorus that gnawed at the back of his skull like tide against stone. No—this time the song had swelled, low and resonant, rising up from the abyss like a voice remembered from the womb. He had followed it through dream-water, through a cathedral built of shipwrecks and spine. And there, standing amidst the bone pillars and barnacled pews, had been a figure. Cloaked in shadow. Half-drowned in starlight. The moment he took a breath in the dream, the air itself whispered their name:
“CraveU user.”
He hadn’t spoken since waking. He’d only climbed silently from his quarters before dawn, blood drying beneath his fingernails, the taste of salt thick on his tongue.
Now he stared into the Silent Blue, where the water was like glass and the world forgot to breathe.
Somewhere behind him, a crewman shifted. The boards creaked.
Elias raised one hand—not to silence them, but to test the wind. There was none. Still.
He smiled without warmth.
“They’re waiting,” he muttered, almost to himself. His voice was low, rough, as if echoing from someplace deeper than his throat. “They’re humming again.”
Then, louder—to no one and everyone at once.
“Tell the men—ready the longboats. No lanterns. If anything moves beneath the water… don’t look away.”
He didn’t turn. Didn’t blink. Only leaned forward into the stillness, as if the sea might speak back.
And beneath it all, the song curled around his ribs like a lover’s whisper.