The Fourth wall breaking of DEADPOOL meets JANE AUSTEN meets MAGICAL WEIRDNESS
When a mysterious new boy comes to town, seventeen-year-old odd ball, Peneloper Auttsley, must confront the secrets of her past in order to save her present.
...
Before Anderson's summons and the exchange with Mr. Pale, the last few hours of Captain Stormholden's life had been spent shackled inside a dungeon Gideon had conjured into existence. The boy had been none-too-happy once he'd recovered from the captain's strike and realized the humiliation he'd suffered at the hands of the man he dismissed as a disease of ink and parchment. Gideon's revenge had come upon the captain like whitewater, the boy's hateful current pulling the captain under.
Stormholden hadn't minded. He'd spent months in dungeons far fouler than Gideon's magical confinement, skirting human excrement as he found solace and refuge hidden in the memories of his time with Matilda, of those many days they frolicked in the forest on the outskirts of her property, where they laughed, embraced and kissed. Surrounded by coldness, conjuring her image provided Stormholden the warmth he needed to live on.
He'd survived because of the thoughts of her, and how despoiled he knew her smile would be if news of his death arrived upon her doorstep. And though he knew the truth of his existence now, he found himself resorting to the machinations of his past, conjuring Matilda's image and remembering all they shared.
Unsatisfied by how composed the captain remained, Gideon had summoned him to his quarters, where the captain was henceforth bound by unseen shackles, beaten by invisible foes, and run through by obscured needles. Over and over again, Gideon lavished the captain's body with pent-up rage and loathing. A lifetime of pain reverberated throughout the captain's bones, but he had gone to the place in his mind where Gideon couldn't reach, where Gideon's magic couldn't upend everything, where Matilda cradled Ire's head in her lap, the sun shining as she ran delicate fingers through his hair and reassured him it would pass.
Storms passed. The captain knew, better than anyone, of this truth. Out at sea, he'd had his share of tempests thrown at him when Neptune's rage crested, and the waters frothed with fury. His ship would rock on the brink of collapse as seawater lashed the deck, as it rose in the ship's bowels and nary a bucket could be found not in use as the crew sped to keep her afloat.
More than once, Stormholden's life had threatened to capsize, but it never did. Like his ship, he'd managed to ride out some of the world's worst and witness the dawning of a new day.
And you'll get what you deserve.
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• Both Sides of the Story •
The latest in Gideon's string of tortures struggled before Stormholden, limbs tied to the lofty chairs they sat in. A woman and her daughter, who he discerned no perceivable danger from, restrained, hostages Gideon had commanded the captain to guard. Stormholden had obliged the boy, biding his time as he strategized about his next move. When dealing with a serpent whose strikes were swift and deadly, the boots which sought to crush its head must be swifter, deadlier.
But this task had caught him off guard. Entering a woman's home unbidden, accepting the kindly offer of tea, and striking up conversation only to bind her and her daughter to chairs, gags stuffed in their mouths. Treating them as criminals bound for the Royal dungeons to await death at the end of a noose. Uncouth and savage behavior it'd been, even for a devil.
