----Chapter 31----
Brooke stirred, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes, a constant beat like the far-off ocean's sigh. Her eyelids felt leaden, sealed shut by a fatigue that permeated her very core.
When she finally managed to open them, the sight that met her was not the familiar confines of the Raventale's cabin or the bright expanse of the shore, but a ceiling of intricately woven reeds, foreign yet strangely calming.
She lay on a bed of fragrant leaves, the air thick with their earthy sweetness. A thin, rough spun blanket covered her, scratchy against her skin.
The air itself was cooler than the salt-stung breezes she remembered, laced with the scents of damp earth and flowers that hummed with strangeness.
A cold knot tightened in her stomach. Her breath hitched. Where was she? What had happened?
The last thing she remembered was the colossal shadow rising from the sea, Astares' name tearing from her throat, and then a crushing weight that had buried her in the past.
Her vision sharpened. Two familiar forms sat slumped on the floor beside her.
Bob and Bruce, pale with exhaustion, leaned against the edge of her bed, each clutching one of her hands as though anchoring her to the world.
Warmth spread through her chest despite the ache in her limbs. They had stayed. They had watched.
A weak groan escaped as she tried to sit up. Muscles screamed in protest. The room swam. Circular walls of woven reed filtered the sunlight into shifting patterns.
Before she could gather her bearings, the door of reeds rustled. Azre and Enix entered.
Azre's stern face softened for a fraction, a flicker of relief betraying her usual steel, while Enix's dark gaze, sharp and secretive, lingered on Brooke with a rare glint of concern.
"Brooke," Azre rumbled, voice low and steady, like stone grinding against stone.
"You are awake. That is good."
She and Enix settled onto carved stools, Azre's rune-carved greatsword leaning casually yet ominously near the entrance.
"Azre?" Brooke rasped, her throat dry as sand.
"What happened? The sea. Astares." The name burned her tongue like bitter ash.
Azre nodded slowly, eyes distant. "It was as you saw. The Lord of the Eastern Sea rose. Its presence shook the island. Chief Olka and his tribe fell to their knees.
Rubal was quick. He caught you before your body struck the earth."
Enix's voice cut in, calm but shadowed. "Astares did not strike. Its golden eyes fixed on you.
A luminous mist spilled from its snout and cloaked you. It was testing. Or searching for something inside you."
Brooke's pulse spiked. "Something inside me?"
Azre frowned, her voice grave. "A light burst from your body. It clashed against the shadow of the beast, not as enemies, but like two old forces recognizing each other. The tribe whispered of omens, though none dared say them aloud."
Brooke swallowed, unease crawling up her throat. "Where are we?"
"In Rubal's home," Enix said, gesturing at the hut.
"He persuaded the chief to let us remain. Claimed it was his duty to care for you."
As if summoned, the door stirred again. Rubal entered, a small bottle of green liquid in hand.
For a heartbeat, Brooke froze. Something about the line of his jaw, the cast of his eyes, was an echo she could almost name, a shadow of memory.
Then it was gone, leaving only unease.
Rubal knelt beside her, gentle but purposeful.
"This will dull the pain," he said softly, his voice carrying an unexpected melody, ancient yet young.
Supporting her back with surprising strength, he guided the bottle to her lips. A bitter, floral warmth spread through her chest as the drink slid down.
"It is Lumiflora," he explained quietly. "It grows only near the whispering falls at the island's heart. Its petals glow in moonlight, and we brew it for pain. A blessing from the land, from Astares."
Brooke's eyes lingered on him, suspicion flickering.
No deceit clouded his face, only a concern that seemed to weigh on him, a hidden fear flickering in his gaze that he quickly masked.
It left her unsettled, both comforted and pricked with recognition she could not name.
The door swung open, and in walked Faetalis, casually lugging a huge stack of firewood.
Right behind her was another person, a girl who looked like she was barely a teenager.
She had long blue hair that flowed like water, shiny scales on her cheeks, and a snake's tail.
Her clothes were white and blue, decorated with sparkling seashells. But Brooke's breath caught in her throat when she saw the girl's eyes golden and glowing, the same eyes she'd seen on the beach.
The girl rushed forward, voice chiming with warmth. "Hello! Are you all right now?"
Bob and Bruce startled awake at the sound.
Rubal's expression shifted into reverence. "She is Astares."
The world narrowed. Brooke's lungs seized. "What did you say?" Her whisper cracked, laced with terror and fury.
Her hands shot under the blanket, fingers curling around her twin guns.
Her mind raced, the image of the serpent that had stolen her family blazing, a monstrous presence now clothed in human skin.
Astares recoiled, golden eyes widening, darting behind Rubal like a frightened child. She trembled, her small frame almost folding in on itself, gaze flickering between Rubal and Brooke with desperate need.
Rubal lifted his hands.
"Wait. Brooke, listen. You do not understand. When you fell, Astares chose you. She gave you her blessing."
Brooke's knuckles whitened on the triggers.
"Blessing? That thing destroyed my life." Her voice cracked with years of grief and fury.
Rubal's eyes pleaded. "Astares, tell her. Tell her why."
Astares stepped from behind him, hesitant, her scaled hands trembling. Brooke's heart hammered. Rage and memory burned like wildfire, her family's faces, the broken ship, the endless sea.
Yet before her stood not a leviathan, but a trembling girl. The guns in her hands quivered, her fury battling the doubt clawing at her chest.
With a ragged breath, she lowered them, though her eyes stayed hard. The air thickened, tension pressing against every breath.
Bob and Bruce shifted nervously. Azre's hand twitched near her sword. Enix's shadow seemed to stretch unnaturally at his feet.
Brooke's voice was strained, cutting. "Speak. But know this. I may not believe a word."
Astares swallowed. Her voice emerged soft, fragile.
"When I saw your face, I remembered. Long ago, I swam where I should not have. A whisper pulled me, even I could not resist. It led me to your ship."
She shook, fingers twisting together.
"My form is vast. Even my smallest shift creates a ripple. I lost control. There was a flash, red light, from the ship. And then…"
Her voice broke. "I destroyed everything. I did not mean to."
Rubal stepped quickly, voice tight. "That is enough. Brooke should not—"
Astares pressed on, voice cracking.
"There was something aboard. A book. A tome. It called to me."
Her golden eyes shifted suddenly, locking on Enix. She drifted toward him, nostrils flaring as though scenting something unseen.
Then, with an unnerving, childlike curiosity, she crouched low, her gaze fixed on his lengthening shadow, her own eyes narrowing as if deciphering a secret.
Azre's hand went to her sword. "What troubles you, Astares?"
Astares tilted her head, almost innocently.
"Can I play with him?"
Enix's jaw clenched, his eyes betraying the faintest flicker of unease before shuttering again. Silence pressed heavy until a knock rattled the woven door.
Two children entered, their faces solemn. Dolan and Mera, their small bodies marked with black circle tattoos across their stomachs.
Brooke's eyes caught it, a faint shimmer beneath the ink, alive with quiet energy.
"Rubal," Mera said shyly, bowing. "The trial awaits."
"The chief summons you," Dolan added, urgency in his voice.
Faetalis cocked her head, curiosity bright.
"Why can children of the tribe speak our tongue?"
Rubal paused, his smile appearing a fraction too wide, a touch too quick, a mask over something deeper. "Because I taught them, of course."
He turned to the children.
"I must go. The tribe calls. Take care, my friends."
His eyes lingered briefly on Brooke, an apology unspoken, before he strode out, steps sharp with hidden weight.
Far beyond the hut, waves broke on the shore. A ship bearing the sigil of Tharen and the Trinity of the Abyss scraped against the sand.
"At last," Tharen exhaled, relief and hunger mingling. The spectral crew dissolved like smoke on wind.
Anon stepped forward, his eyes glinting with dark anticipation.
"The door to Daath's altar lies here. And nothing will keep us from opening it."