Chapter 1 – The Rift begins not with calm but with chaos. The stillness of the harbor is shattered by gunfire, as a hidden weapon midship unleashes a deadly storm upon the surprised Dyak and Malay attackers. In seconds, they’re forced to retreat, their bold advance broken by the sudden hail of bullets. Sing Lee scrambles to reload, his hands steady even while his voice chatters with urgency. Virginia stands nearby, her gaze fixed through the port as the enemy regathers their nerve. The prahu rows forward once more, undeterred by the gun’s presence, a chilling reminder that desperation often overrides fear. The schooner, barely defended, offers them a tempting target. Sing’s weapon, no longer enough to scare them off, prompts Virginia to act. She remembers the machine gun and von Horn’s brief lessons, and with resolve born of necessity, she races to the deck to take her stand.

With no time to second-guess, Virginia loads the belt and points the gun toward the advancing enemy. The sight before her is terrifying—nearly fifty men, armed and savage, paddling toward her without hesitation. Their painted shields and gleaming blades glint under the sun, and their wild cries ring louder than the ocean’s waves. Sing shouts for her to stop, to go below, but Virginia moves faster than his warnings can catch her. She throws the cover off the weapon, calculates the angle, and braces herself behind the shield. The first wave of musket fire snaps through the air, slamming into wood and slicing past her head. But she holds steady. Her hands grip the controls and, in a breath, the gun erupts with life. The air splits with its roar, and the pirates reel as death rains down from above.

The effect is immediate and terrifying. Men fall before they even realize what’s happening. Some collapse into the boat, others into the sea, their bodies toppling like stones. The rest scatter in panic, their courage broken. Those left alive scramble to escape, their paddles now weapons of retreat. Virginia doesn’t pause. The gun continues its grim work, sweeping across the attackers like a sickle through dry grass. Sing rushes to her side, feeding ammunition without being asked, his disbelief giving way to awe. This young woman, alone and untrained, has turned the tide. Her bravery, unshaken by fear, has saved them all. Behind them, the Ithaca’s crew awakens, drawn by the sound of battle.

Von Horn and Bududreen lead the charge from below deck, rallying the remaining sailors. They leap into action, boarding the retreating prahu to ensure the attackers are repelled for good. The battle ends as quickly as it began, with the defenders standing victorious on blood-washed planks. Virginia’s hands tremble as the gun falls silent, smoke curling around its metal frame. Her heart pounds, not just from the effort, but from the weight of what she’s done. The moment stretches, filled with adrenaline and the smell of gunpowder. Then the chaos recedes, and silence returns—brief, tentative, like the world catching its breath. Sing nods with quiet pride, his earlier doubts gone.

For Virginia, the experience marks a turning point. No longer just a passive observer in her father’s world, she has proven her strength in action. The violence she faced wasn’t chosen, but her response came without hesitation. This moment reveals the courage she possesses—a quality born not of violence, but of necessity and clarity. The island, once a place of isolation and mystery, now demands a new version of her. Danger lurks not just in jungles or experiments, but in the hearts of men like Bududreen and von Horn, whose alliances shift like wind. The gunfight exposed more than just pirates. It brought to light who could be trusted when life itself hangs in the balance.

In the days that follow, Virginia remains alert. She knows the attack will not be the last. The machine gun, once a curiosity, now stands as a symbol of survival. Trust must be earned, not given freely, and even those who seem like allies may carry hidden motives. Her father, deep in his scientific obsessions, remains distant from the realities unfolding around them. Von Horn, quick to praise her courage, watches her too closely, his interest not only protective but possessive. And Sing, ever loyal, becomes her silent guardian. The rift has opened—not just between enemies and allies, but between who Virginia was and who she must become. The island will shape her in ways no one yet understands.