The air in the brig was heavy, smelling of ozone and old seawater. In the center of the room sat the Captain—a hulking mass of spectral armor and blue fire—clutching an ornate, glowing iron chest. ​I stepped out of the shadows, keeping my hands visible. The Captain’s helmet creaked as he turned toward me, his grip tightening on the chest. ​"I am not after your box, Captain," I said, my voice echoing off the damp walls. "I'm looking for a person. A boy wearing a mask." ​The Captain roared, a sound like grinding metal. He wasn't listening. He raised a massive gauntlet, preparing to crush me. ​"Have it your way," I whispered. I looked toward the two shadowed alcoves on either side of me, where two figures were shackled by binding spells.