Dreams

Theres, the cursed island

Note:

"The butchers" are a criminal group

"Jakada" are the men who depend on "green poison" a highly toxic drug

—You must pay your debts—

The wild butchers, known for their cruelty, pierced the Jakada's jaw with a rusty hook and left him hanging so that the scavenging vermin of the dock could feed on his remains. It was the seventeenth victim that the hooded man had seen tonight.
A quiet night by the standards of Theres.
At least since the Corsair King met his death and his people had been unified (conquered) by a larger country that didn't even bother to send any help to a dangerous and cursed place like that.
Some dock rats had already eaten away much of the man's feet with their red fangs and were now crowding into stacked baskets to tear off the soft flesh of his calves bite by bite.
The hooded man continued on his way.

"Help. Please."

The words choked in a throat flooded with blood, from which they barely escaped. The hooded man turned around, his hands reaching for the weapons hanging from his belt.

It was incredible that the Jackdaw was still alive, hanging from the bone-handled spike. The hooks penetrated deep into the wooden frame of a loading crane. There was no way to free the Jackdaw without shattering his skull.

“Help. Please,” he repeated.

The hooded man paused to consider the Jackdaw’s words.

“For what?” he said at last. “If I take you down from there now, you’ll be dead by morning.”
The Jackdaw carefully reached up and reached into a hidden pocket in his patchwork doublet. From there he pulled out a golden kraken. Despite the lack of light, the hooded man could see that it was genuine.

The scavengers snorted and bristled as he came closer. The dock rats were not very large, but such tasty meat was a prize they would fight over. They bared their long, sharp fangs and spat out saliva infected with a thousand pests.

The man kicked one of the rats into the water. Then he crushed another. They snapped mercilessly, but the hooded man's clever footwork kept them from getting close to tasting meat; each of his movements was fluid and precise. He killed three more before the rest disappeared into the shadows, his red, grim eyes glowing in the darkness.

The hooded man stood beside the Jackdaw. His features were indistinguishable, but the light of a solitary moon suggested that his face was not smiling.

"Death has come for you," he said at last. "Accept it, and know that I will see it meet its end."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a shiny silver blade. It was two palms long and had symbols etched along its edges, which ran in a spiral. It looked like an ornate leather awl. He placed the point under the dying man's chin. The man’s gaze widened; his hand clawed at the hooded man’s sleeve as he stared out at the vast ocean. The sea was like a black mirror, glistening with light from countless candles, from the braziers on the dock, and from lamps, distorted through the recycled glass of the thousands of hulls on the cliff face.

“You know what lurks on the horizon,” he said. “You know the horror of it. And yet you tear each other apart like wild beasts. I cannot explain it.”

He spun and slammed his palm against the flat of the awl handle, driving the blade into the man’s brain. One last deathly reflex, and the Jackdaw’s pain was over. The gold coin fell from the corpse’s hand and landed in the ocean with a soft splash.
The man withdrew the blade and wiped it clean on the Jackdaw’s rags. He stuck it into the sheath inside his coat, then pulled out a golden needle and a piece of silver thread soaked in water from a spring.

He sewed the man's eyes and lips together with a skill worthy of someone who had done this kind of work more than once. As he sewed, he recited words he had learned centuries ago; cursed words uttered by a long-dead king.

“The dead will no longer be able to claim you,” he said as he finished his work and turned his body to look at the horizon, his green eyes staring longingly at the greenish mist beyond the decaying docks, where boats and ships were tossed about by the icy wind. This was Theres, the cursed island, whose waters devoured ships that dared to innocently peer into its maw as naturally as watching birds fly.

The hooded man snapped out of his reverie upon sensing voices heading his way, calmly turning around and disappearing into a narrow alley. He ran the rest of the way in silence, his leather boots barely making a sound as they hit the dirty stone streets, the night sounds helping to cover his trail as he silently sneaked through every shadow. He came to an aged wooden building, whose greenish colour, the result of the humidity that invaded the walls of the external facade, gave the building an abandoned appearance. Most of the windows were broken and dirty. The only thing that showed signs of life in that place was the small planter with beautifully cared for red roses that adorned the entrance.

He opened the door heavily, which creaked loudly and pitifully. The wooden floor creaked when it came into contact with the leather boots, which were abandoned without the slightest care at the entrance. Contrary to the appearance of the outside, the interior was warm and cozy, decorated mostly by rustic furniture stolen from some elegant ship docked by the surrounding pirates, which Harry had bought very cheaply from a dirty man in a corner further north of his home.

—Harry-- A voice called him with concern. Harry pulled back his hood, revealing a handsome face with beautiful features, emerald green eyes framed by thick dark lashes looked back to see who was calling him. The other man, a redhead, was sitting comfortably on one of his pieces of furniture, as long as he was, half of his legs and boots ended outside the piece of furniture, hanging lazily in the air.

--I see you're here Ron-- Harry amicably threw himself on his dearest friend, in a loving gesture. The smell of blood and gunpowder made him step back to look at him curiously, but without moving too far away from him '

-- Ronald I see you've been having fun'- He gently touched a piece of his friend's white shirt, which was visibly burned, the hard and blackish texture entertained him for a moment, absentmindedly he continued with that strange gesture, caressing the remains of Ron's favorite shirt that had now ended up as a piece of burned and mostly torn rag.

Ronald, in a strange movement, removed the hair from the other boy's face and caressed the scar that hides it, as long as a finger in the shape of an almost invisible lightning bolt, a little above the forehead and covered by the boy's shiny unruly hair, one of the few memories of the past that he could not forget.

---Hey Harry, have you heard? --Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the soft touch of his friend's hands on his forehead.

--Hunh?-- He asked somewhat sleepily.

--The stupid prince has finally chosen a lady to be his wife --Harry did not flinch in the least, with a hint of boredom he shrugged his shoulders.

--Is that so? Do you really still care about that nowadays? That stupid prince is none of our business at all --Ron laughed vigorously at Harry's childish comment.

--Is that so? -Ron asked distractedly -- I would love to be the prince --Ron sighed longingly, Harry raised one of his nice, thick eyebrows --Have a castle full of beauties just for me, all the food I can eat, rest all the time --Harry laughed.

---If you were our prince, our poor country would end up ruined-- Ronald nodded in agreement.

---Surely, I am a mercenary, not an intellectual. The only thing I use my head for is counting how many bullets I have left and how long until everything explodes and sometimes I fail ---He pointed to his burned and ruined shirt. Harry laughed

---That's true, but I don't think being a prince is very difficult--- Harry said dreamily. He rested his head against his friend's shoulder and finally went to sleep

----

The imperial city, capital of the country of Slytherin, 10 days by sea from the cursed islands. It was a beautiful place, full of buildings carved in white stone that hugged the slopes of the mountains ahead, which served as a lookout for the guards and a meeting place for nobles who enjoyed the view over the beautiful moors. In the middle of 3 mountains was the capital city with its 2 million people. Full of lustrous and well-built houses, which became larger and more luxurious as one approached the center, the flower gardens adorned the squares, giving a spectacular view of the city. The castle crowned the center of the city, bordered by an enormous bone-white wall which shone beautifully. The plains were full of abundant and well-kept vegetation and around, beyond the mountains, smaller and humble villages of ranchers and farmers fed on the wealth of the capital city, which overflowed with beauty and life.

--Prince Draco, Prince Draco--- An elegantly dressed young woman approached with a tray. The woman entered a very elegant, large and spacious room, sitting at a huge wooden desk was Prince Draco Lucius Malfoy Black, first in line of succession. The girl was stunned by the beauty of her young and promising crown prince, blond with long and beautiful hair tied in a complex braid, the golden crown was carelessly thrown to the side, along with the other royal jewels, his manly and handsome face melted the girl in an instant, his cold silver eyes were cold and calmly calculating.

---Leave it--- He said in a disgusted tone, without stopping to look at the huge piles of papers that still needed to be reviewed.

The girl timidly left the tray on the coffee table, without stopping to look at her attractive prince and with a shy gesture, she left the room with a hesitant step. Draco tiredly got up as best he could, his eyes felt heavy beyond belief and the amount of work around him did not manage to diminish the mental stress that tormented his brain.

He wanted to sleep, but he knew that was not possible, for a moment the serious prince took a moment to reflect and asked himself in a longing tone, how long had it been since he could sleep normally? 3 years perhaps? Three years without sleep was reason enough to go crazy. He only looked attractive and fresh thanks to the potions that his advisor Severus, the kingdom's spell, gave him, but mental fatigue was getting stronger and more exhausting and the magic was becoming more difficult to take effect. With frustration he hit the side of the chair, while his beautiful face He looked up at the ceiling. He leaned back in a chair in the futile hope of getting some sleep.

--I'm tired----He whispered, closing his eyes in a futile effort to get some sleep.