Synopsis
"The sea remembers all things—even the ones we try to forget."
AT THE COASTS OF SILVER REACH – MIDDAY
The wind was salt and song. Seagulls wheeled through skies touched gold by the afternoon sun. Beneath them, Grey and Itarim stood by a jagged cliffside, waves crashing below like the heartbeat of the world.
In Grey's arms, a small, carved urn.
> Inside, the ashes of Liria.
No words. Just silence. The kind that wraps around two people who've lost more than they understand.
Grey stepped forward, the wind catching his hair—silver and storm-white now, uncut since that day.
> "You were sharper than any blade we carried," he thought.
"And you smiled like death was just another lie we hadn't caught yet."
He tilted the urn. Ashes scattered into the sea, vanishing between foamy waves.
Itarim (quietly):
"She'd have cursed us for crying."
Grey (smirking through tears):
"She would've cursed louder if we didn't."
The two boys stood there a while longer—until sails crested the horizon.
Wavesworn fang a pirate ship massive in size. Weather-worn. With sails stitched in black and red. The figurehead was a snarling wolf. From the decks came roaring laughter, the clatter of tankards, and sea shanties with lyrics no mother would approve of.
Aboard, the captain awaited.He was a towering man—part shadow, part muscle, all presence. His coat billowed despite the still air, and his eyes were mismatched: one green, one silver.
Drayk (grinning wide):
"Two warriors mournin' at sea, and not a tear wasted. That's pirate soul if I've ever seen it."
Itarim raised a brow.
Grey (neutral):
"We're not looking to join a crew."
Drayk:
"Then consider this... a detour." (He slapped their backs with strength that nearly dislocated something.)
"You eat, you fight, you earn your keep. That's the code. All else is salt and foam."
They boarded.aboard the wavesworn fang – days passed Grey and Itarim took to roles with quiet precision.
Grey aided in navigation and boarding tactics—his spatial senses allowing him to map enemy ships mid-approach.
Itarim hauled nets, cracked sea-serpents with bare fists, and won drinking contests with the cook.
The crew whispered of them.
> "They move like demons."
"Nah, demons bleed. These two don't."
But Drayk watched most closely. Later that night at the captain's quarters,he called them in privately, the map table lit by green lantern flame. Outside, the sea was calm—but tension hung heavy.
Drayk (sipping rum):
"You boys aren't farmers or merchants. You're something old. I've seen blades. I've seen power. You wear it like coats."
Grey didn't speak. But his eyes flicked—stormlight stirring.
Itarim crossed his arms.
"Say what you're building up to."
Drayk leaned forward, setting a heavy hand on the table.
> "There's a beast. A sea dragon that rules the trench. It wakes only when the sky breaks—lightning and rage call it out."
"They call it Vael'Zathar—The Abyss Sovereign."
He tapped the map. A section marked "Neverreturn Deep."
Drayk:
"I've chased it a decade. Lost half a dozen crews. Never landed a blow worth remembering."
Then he grinned, fangs bared.
> "But you... you could give me the opening. I'll slit its throat. You get a third of the haul, no questions."
Itarim (grinning):
"Just point it out. We'll bash it 'til the ocean runs dry."
Grey (low):
"We'll help. But we end it together."
Drayk (nodding):
"Deal."
As more days passed by on the sea they practiced aboard the deck by day—blades clashing, fists thudding against mast poles. Drayk watched from above, impressed.
> "That speed… that control. Not even sea elves move like that."
Grey helped the artillery crew. His aim turned single-shot cannons into precision tools.
Itarim once leapt between ships mid-fight—shattering an enemy anchor with his bare hands.
Even the grizzled first mate muttered:
> "We got monsters below decks... and they're on our side."
Drayk, standing in shadow, smirked.
> "Aye... I was right to bring them aboard."
days before the storm,the sky darkened. Wind howled with a language older than words.Drayk summoned them once more.
Drayk:
"The beast'll rise on the third lightning. You two keep it busy. I'll carve its eye."
He paused, then—quiet, rare emotion in his voice.
Drayk:
"If I die, bury me in its gut."
Grey smiled for the first time in days.
"You won't."
A'las, the storm rised. The trench awakened. And the sea was no longer safe."
The sky cracked open like torn parchment.
Winds howled with banshee wails. Waves towered like giants, their peaks foaming with wrath.
On the deck of the Wavesworn Fang, ropes thrashed and sails snapped. The mast groaned under pressure, rigging flailing like angry serpents.
The storm had arrived—just as the old sea legends said it would.Captain Drayk's voice thundered across the deck, cutting through the chaos.
Captain Drayk:
"Hold fast, you sea-born mongrels! Lash the sail line or you'll be shark bait before dawn!"
His black coat flared behind him, soaked and whipping in the gale. His hand gripped the wheel like a seasoned predator claiming his throne. He wrestled it left as a mountainous wave threatened the bow.
Crewman:
"Starboard tension's snap—!"
Captain Drayk (snarling):
"Then grab the gods-damned spare and fix it or I'll use your spine to plug the hole!"
The crew obeyed without hesitation. No one questioned Drayk—not here, not now.
Grey planted his boots against the slanted deck, one hand gripping a support beam.
Grey (gritting his teeth):
"Anchor rune—Set!"
Then he dashed into the chaos—grabbing a falling crewman mid-slip and tossing him toward the inner rail.
Itarim (roaring):
"Keep your footing, old man!"
He slammed a crashing barrel with a forward punch, shattering it mid-air before it could strike anyone.
A bolt of lightning struck the mast. The ship trembled.
Grey lunged forward, gripping the damaged rigging and slinging it around a support post with an uncanny flick of the wrist.
Itarim (to Grey):
"Think she's watching?"
Grey, soaked and breathing hard, offered a grim smile.
Grey:
"Let's give her a show."
Drayk watched the storm, his grip never leaving the wheel.A wall of water surged ahead—then stopped.
Stopped.
A deep, reverberating growl rumbled beneath the hull.
Captain Drayk (eyes wide):
"She's here."
From the heart of the trench, a ripple cracked the ocean's surface.
Then—something breached.
A towering spiral of serpentine flesh. Gleaming violet scales, larger than shields, shimmered in the lightning's flash. Eyes like twin abyssal lanterns glared down at the ship.Her roar split the clouds. Waves curled backwards from her emergence. The storm seemed to kneel before her presence.
Grey narrowed his eyes, cloak flapping in the storm.
Grey (quietly):
"Time to earn that share of the loot."
He leapt from the deck,dashing across the rain.
Vael'Zathar hissed, swiping at him,he spun mid-air, barely dodging, then launched a conjured lance into her side. It sparked on her scales.
Itarim (grinning):
"Tough girl."
He crouched low, beast energy crawling over his fists.He vaulted upward, landing a blow on her left eye ridge. It knocked her slightly sideways—but not enough.
Vael'Zathar howled, swiping with a tail fin the size of a house. The Wavesworn Fang rocked violently, nearly capsizing.
Captain Drayk (barking):
"Brace! Secure ballast! Don't let her split us!"
He adjusted course expertly, dodging a direct ram from the beast's lunge.
> "Steady… steady. I'll give you the angle, boys. Make it count."
Grey landed back beside Itarim on the prow.
Grey:
"She's toying with us."
Itarim (smiling):
"Let's toy with her back."