Charles Vane Black Sails Novels & Stories

Madeline's form that awash the canvas scarlet and beside that Marienne's beautiful Turquoise eyes that held hatred for me. But I didn't do anything, so, why should I be scared? Even if something happens to me, I will not bow down, because I know I am innocent. But Victors were powerful, they could get whatever they wanted. Marienne Carlisle Victor was rumored to be the reason behind the fire of Anneville, a place notorious for illegal business and sex trafficing. If it was true and he actually got away with that fire..... He could murder me or sell me to prostitution and no one would ever find me.

"I've always been curious about who chose that name. Why Black Queen?" Picking up the knife on the table, I twirl it around in my hand "Because my heart is as black as coal. Have you seen the American show that goes by 'Once Upon a Time?' the evil queen who coincidentally goes by Regina too has a black heart. The difference between us is that I'm not trying to be good. I won't hesitate to stick this knife in your throat and watch as you take your last breath" "Why does that turn me on?"

She was his mate, and instead of loving her, he banished her when she killed the love of his life...

After days of travelling we arrived, but even with Xareth’s monstrous army of twisted soldiers and walkers, the battle wasn’t easy. The warriors of Nocthra Vane fought like phantoms. They struck from the dark and vanished before our soldiers could even scream. Their arrows were tipped with silver and soaked in wolfsbane. They targeted the jugular. They laced their traps with illusion magic. We lost dozens the first night. Even Xareth seemed tense, his mouth a hard line, his commands sharp and clipped. He hadn’t expected such resistance. He was used to fear and submission. But Nocthra did not fear monsters.

Mine did not. My wolf was nothing like the light in my parents. He was fierce, shadow dark, massive. His coat was so black he swallowed light whole. I named him simply: Black. Because that’s what he was pure night, pure strength. And yet, in his silence, in the steadiness of his presence, I always thought he mirrored me too. He was vast, towering, his coat blacker than shadow. When I looked into his eyes through the mirror of my mind, I felt like I was staring into something ancient.

The silence that followed was a suffocating pressure. "Mr. Blackwood," Laurence Croft’s dry, clipped voice cut through the quiet. He slowly looked up from his tablet, his eyes locking onto Killian. "The strategic value of the St. Claire acquisition is unquestioned. However, the board must ensure that the software running our fleet is absolutely stable. We received reports late yesterday afternoon of a critical trajectory deviation involving the Vane Vanguard in the Celtic Sea." Several junior directors leaned forward, their faces tightening as the mention of a multi-billion-dollar cargo risk hit the table.

They did not return their weapons. As the sun began to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the water, the four galleons slowly raised their sails. The wind caught the heavy canvas. The ships turned heavily in the bay, navigating through the floating wreckage of their own armada, and began the long, humiliating journey back to the edge of the map. I stood beside Zane, watching the white sails shrink into the distance until they were swallowed by the gray horizon. The ocean was empty again. "It's over," Zane said quietly.

It was the ultimate escape hatch, a secret kept even from his own Board of Directors. As the hatch sealed shut and the vessel dove into the cold depths of the Atlantic, I watched the Citadel through a small porthole. Another explosion—the secondary charges Lucian had set to erase all evidence—ripped through the cliffside. The grand fortress, the symbol of the Blackwood power, crumbled into the sea. In the eyes of the world, Lucian Blackwood, his wife Evelyn, and the leaders of the Vane Syndicate had perished in a tragic, catastrophic structural failure.

And anchored in the center of the dark water was a ship. It wasn't an Imperial dreadnought. It was a sleek, black-sailed schooner. It looked fast and mean. "The Nightshade," Tristan breathed, a smile breaking through his exhaustion. "I recognize the rig. That’s Captain Vane’s ship." "Vane?" Saoirse stiffened. "General Vane?" "No relation," Tristan assured her. "Captain Silas Vane. A pirate, a smuggler, and a man who owes me three thousand gold credits from a poker game in Oakhaven."

​The old first officer stepped up behind them, leaning against the column but his eyes burning with an unshakeable, historical vengeance. ​"You... you're dead!" Silas gasped, his face instantly turning a sick, bloodless white as his gaze darted from Vivian to Julian, and finally, locked onto the scarred face of his old first officer. "The Blackwater facility... Vane said you were secured!"