Location: Siren's Delight → The Boiling Straits → Isle of the Forgotten
Time: Hour of the Kraken (Pre-Dawn) → Hour of the Drowned Sun (Mid-Morning) → Hour of the Abyss (Noon)
I. The Bone Needle's Kiss
Location: Captain's Quarters, Siren's Delight
Time: Hour of the Kraken
The needle bit deeper with each pass.
Lysander clenched his jaw as Nyessa worked the luminous ink into his chest. The design took shape—a spiraling kraken with eyes of captured lightning, its tentacles wrapping around an inverted pyramid. His blood mixed with the glowing pigment, causing the tattoo to pulse in time with his heartbeat.
"Warning: Unknown Enchantment Detected"
"Composition: Deep Sea Glyphs + Dragonblood + Human Memory"
*"Effect: ???
Nyessa wiped excess ink from the needle with her thumb. "The merlings call this Hah'dra's Promise," she murmured. "Means you're either blessed or damned—they haven't decided which yet."
The parasite beneath Lysander's collar shivered, its shadowy form pressing against the Maw's confines as if trying to see the artwork.
A sudden lurch rocked the ship.
Nyessa's viper snapped to attention. "Right on time."
Through the porthole, the sea had turned milky white, its surface bubbling like a cauldron.
The Boiling Straits.
II. The Screaming Sea
Location: The Boiling Straits
Time: Hour of the Drowned Sun
The Siren's Delight entered the fog bank like a blade sliding between ribs.
One moment—open ocean. The next—a world of swirling mist and phantom shapes. The waters here didn't steam... they screamed. High-pitched wails rose from the depths, the sound of water forced through underwater volcanic vents at impossible pressure.
"System Alert: Acoustic Hazard Detected"
"Danger: Prolonged Exposure Causes"
Cerebral Hemorrhaging
Spontaneous Combustion (5% Chance)
Nyessa stuffed wax plugs into her ears before tossing Lysander a set. "Don't listen to the songs. They'll make you jump."
The crew moved like ghosts through the mist, their mouths moving in silent prayers. Only the ship's boy—a mute child of no more than twelve—seemed unaffected, his bare feet slapping against the deck as he adjusted sails.
Then Lysander saw it.
A shape beneath the waves.
Not a whale. Not a shipwreck. Something vast and angular, moving with unnatural precision. The shadow kept pace with them, matching the Siren's speed turn for turn.
The parasite reacted violently, flooding Lysander's mind with images:
A city of black coral
Altars carved from leviathan bone
Something ancient uncoiling in the dark
Nyessa grabbed his arm, her lips moving soundlessly. "...mark is working..."
The shadow dove deeper, vanishing into the abyss.
The screaming stopped.
III. The Isle of the Forgotten
Location: Approaching Landfall
Time: Hour of the Abyss
The island shouldn't exist.
That was Lysander's first thought as the mist parted to reveal sheer obsidian cliffs rising from the sea like a knife's edge. No beaches. No vegetation. Just black stone and the bones of countless ships impaled upon the rocks.
Nyessa removed her earplugs. "Welcome to where maps end."
The crew crossed themselves—all except the mute boy, who stared at the island with something like recognition.
"System Scan:"
"Geological Anomaly Detected"
"Structure: 87% Artificial"
"Age: Predates Valyria by ~3,000 Years"
As they rounded the northern point, the true horror came into view:
A dock.
Perfectly preserved, carved from the same black stone, its pillars covered in glyphs that hurt to look at. And waiting upon it...
Seven figures in waterlogged robes.
Their faces were hidden beneath masks of crustacean chitin, but Lysander knew—somehow—they were smiling.
Nyessa's viper went rigid. "Hail them," she ordered.
The mute boy raised a conch shell to his lips and blew.
The sound it produced wasn't music.
It was a language.
The figures on the dock answered.
IV. The Drowned Priest
Location: Forgotten Dock
Time: Hour of the Abyss (Continued)
Up close, the robed figures smelled of salt and rotting kelp. Their masks clicked when they moved, the chitin plates shifting like living things. The tallest one—marked by a crown of fossilized teeth—stepped forward.
"You bear the Mark," it hissed, pointing a webbed hand at Lysander's chest.
The tattoo burned in response.
Nyessa shoved Lysander forward. "He does. And he brings gifts."
She snapped her fingers. Crewmen hauled up the crate of shadowkin eggs, the wood now slick with black ichor that hadn't been there before.
The crowned figure tilted its head. "Not gifts. Sacrifices."
It reached out with too-long fingers and peeled back Lysander's collar, exposing the parasite.
"Ah," it crooned. "The little sibling wakes."
Then—
Pain.
The priest's finger plunged into the parasite's void-eye. Lysander's vision whited out as the creature screamed through their bond.
When he could see again, the priest held something—a wriggling black tendril ripped from the parasite's body.
"For the dreaming god," it whispered, swallowing the tendril whole.
"Symbiosis Disrupted:"
"Parasite Integrity: 64%"
"New Effect: Drowned Visions (Intermittent)"
The priest turned toward the island's heart. "Come. The city remembers you."
Behind them, the crate of eggs began to hatch.