The Escaped Pirate

"If you dare to attack, I will tear your brother’s heart out of his chest and feed it to the sharks!" The pirate leader Alov roared, his voice gravelly and guttural as he stood atop the broad back of a giant sea turtle—its shell scarred and barnacle-crusted, a living warship gliding through the shallow waters before the siren palace. He was absurdly short, barely reaching five feet, with not a single strand of hair on his bald, leathery head or his knobby limbs. Clad in a tattered vest-shaped one-piece stitched from rough crocodile skin, the fabric stiff with salt and grime, it clung to his hunched, wiry frame. It was said he never took a shower or wore underwear, his skin reeking of rotting fish and rum, and when he spoke, he bared sharp, yellowed teeth—stained by years of chewing tobacco and raw meat—sending a shiver through the gathered siren warriors.   No one knew what kind of creature he was transformed from; legends whispered he was a cursed merman, a fallen siren, or even a hyb