Location: Siren's Delight (Cargo Hold → Main Deck → Storm's Edge)
Time: Hour of the Basilisk (Dusk) → Hour of the Shadow (Midnight) → Hour of the Storm (Tempest)
I. The Crossbow's Kiss
Location: Siren's Cargo Hold
Time: Hour of the Basilisk
The bolt punched through Lysander's left shoulder before he could move.
"Damage Assessed:"
"Shoulder: Pierced (Non-Vital)"
"Bolt Composition: Obsidian-Tipped (Blood Magic Contaminant Detected)"
The first mate's black eyes gleamed as he reloaded. "The priestess wants your parasite alive. She didn't specify the condition of its host."
Lysander's training took over.
He charged through the pain, leading with Daekar's dagger. The Valyrian steel sang as it carved through the crossbow's wooden stock—and kept going, biting deep into the man's forearm.
The blood that spilled wasn't red.
Black as tar, it hissed where it struck the deck, eating through the wood like acid.
"Warning: Corrupted Blood Identified"
"Origin: Forbidden Temple Rites"
"Effect: Fatal to Unprotected Flesh"
The first mate laughed through the pain, his wound already knitting shut with unnatural speed. "You'll need better steel than that, dragonlord."
Behind them, the shadowkin eggs pulsed, their dark shells drinking in the lantern light.
II. The Viper's Strike
Location: Siren's Main Deck
Time: Hour of the Shadow
Lysander burst onto deck, blood streaming down his arm. The first mate followed at a stroll, twirling a serrated hook knife made from the same black substance as his blood.
Above them, the sails billowed against a sky turned the color of bruised flesh. The storm came unnaturally fast—one moment calm seas, the next swells high as temples.
Nyessa stood at the helm, her sea viper coiled around her neck like a living necklace. She took one look at the combatants and smiled.
"First blood pays the burial fee!" she roared to the crew. "Five silvers on the black-eyed bastard!"
The sailors formed a rough circle, placing bets as the two men circled each other.
"Combat Analysis:"
"Opponent: Bloodbound Temple Acolyte"
"Advantages:"
Rapid regeneration
Corrosive blood
"Weaknesses:"
Predictable attack patterns (Ritualized Temple Training)
Reliance on blood magic (Disruptible)*
The first mate struck first—a vicious overhead slash meant to cleave skull from spine. Lysander pivoted, letting the blade graze his ribs as he drove Daekar's dagger upward.
The Valyrian steel found its mark: the soft tissue beneath the chin.
"Critical Hit:"
"Damage: Brainstem Pierced"
"Unexpected Effect: Valyrian Steel Disrupts Blood Magic"
The acolyte's black eyes bulged as his healing failed. His blood turned red mid-air, splashing across Lysander's face like warm rain.
The crew cheered. Nyessa's viper hissed in approval.
Then the first lightning bolt struck.
III. The Stormborn
Location: Siren's Delight (Storm's Edge)
Time: Hour of the Storm
The sky split open.
Rain fell in sheets, each drop burning like vinegar on skin. The waves rose higher, their crests foaming with unnatural phosphorescence. And through it all, the lightning came—not random strikes, but targeted, hitting the same mast three times in succession.
"System Alert: Magical Storm Detected"
"Origin: Temple of the Fourteen Flames (Pursuit Protocol)"
"Primary Threat: Stormborn Sentinel (Approaching)"
Nyessa spun the wheel hard to port, shouting orders to reef sails. "This is no natural squall!" she bellowed over the wind. "Your priestess plays dirty!"
Lysander wiped blood from his eyes. "She's not my priestess."
The parasite chose that moment to convulse, its form writhing against the Maw's grip. A new sensation flooded Lysander's mind—not pain, but direction.
"The eggs," he gasped. "They're calling it!"
Nyessa's golden eyes narrowed. "Then give the bitch what she wants."
She grabbed a harpoon gun, loading it with a barbed head marked with runes. "Storm's got an eye. Find it, and we live."
Lysander's thermal vision activated, cutting through the rain.
There—a patch of unnatural calm amidst the chaos, where the waves didn't break and the rain fell upward.
"Target Located:"
"Stormborn Sentinel (Maelora's Construct)"
"Weak Point: Core of Frozen Lightning"
Nyessa fired.
The harpoon flew true—straight into the eye of the storm.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the world exploded in light.
IV. The Price of Passage
Location: Captain's Quarters
Time: Hour of the Storm (Abating)
The storm died as suddenly as it began.
In its wake, the Siren's Delight floated on eerily calm seas, her sails tattered but intact. The crew tended to wounds, casting wary glances at Lysander as he followed Nyessa belowdecks.
The captain's quarters smelled of salt, snake venom, and saffron. Charts covered every surface, many marked with routes no sane sailor would attempt.
Nyessa poured two glasses of Lysene firewine, downing hers in one gulp. "That storm wasn't just magic," she said. "It was a message."
She flipped over one of the charts, revealing a blood-stained map of the Saffron Straits.
"The Temple doesn't just want you dead. They want you gone."
Lysander studied the map. Beyond the straits lay only uncharted waters and the occasional notation:
Here be leviathans
Waters that boil at midnight
Isle of the Forgotten
"The eggs," he realized. "They're not just cargo. They're bait."
Nyessa's viper coiled tighter around her wrist. "For what?"
The parasite answered before Lysander could—projecting an image into both their minds:
A city under the waves, its spires intact despite the crushing depths. And within it...
Something that stirred at the eggs' presence.
"Warning: Entity Recognition Failed"
"Hypothesis: Pre-Valyrian Abomination"
Nyessa refilled her glass with shaking hands. "We make for the Straits at dawn. But first—" She produced a bone needle and a vial of luminous ink. "Your passage requires more than coin."
She gestured to the space over Lysander's heart.
"Every sailor bound for cursed waters wears the mark. Yours will be special."
The needle dipped into the ink—which Lysander now realized was mixed with his own blood, collected during the fight.
"What does it do?" he asked as she began to etch.
Nyessa's smile held no warmth. "It lets the deep things know you're claimed."
Outside, the waves began to glow blue.