Nyth stood there in confused silence, his sight stayed fixed upon the figure before him. She towered like a tempest made flesh, a living embodiment of the ocean's raw power.
Her skin was the color of storm-tossed seas, a shifting grey-blue that seemed to ripple with an inner tide. Eyes like roiling clouds held the weight of every hurricane and current, storm-grey and unyielding, and yet deep within laid a warmth. Her hair writhed in dreadlock-like tendrils, thick as seaweed, twisting and curling as if alive, each one moving with a slow, purposeful rhythm, echoing the pulse of the deep. The air around her hummed with the distant roar of waves, and even standing still, she radiated a force that felt like the ocean itself—unstoppable, ancient, and utterly enthralling.
The sound of footsteps followed by a tugging at his clothes, finally sparked movement into Nyth. Looking down, a crab just slightly smaller then Gulp, clacked her claws in excitement. Natasha's voice, calm as always, reached him through the wind, "Reporting for duty, Captain."
Nyth didn't need to look for proof. He felt it in his core, in the deep marrow of his essence. This was no dream. He was truly aboard the Deadwood, adrift upon a strange sea.
Before Nyth could finish his thoughts, Thessora spoke.
"You are awake, Nyth. And yet still dreaming."
"These waters are the Wave-Touched Sea. My domain."
"Where Mortality ends, Divinity thins… and the Void begins."
Nyth's eyes widened at the revelation. This was the Wave-Touched Sea. The last ocean every soul crossed, carried by Velhara's Soul-Seekers.
Thessora did not look away from him.
"Long before you were born," she said, "Solvorn the Elemental Lord bound us."
"We may have shaped the world, but we may not steer it. Mortal lives must break or endure by their own hands."
"The sea does not forget its own," Thessora said. "Neither did you."
"Now," she said, a smile blooming across her face, "before you ask your questions, let me tell you how I met your mother."
She tilted her head, eyes softening. "A few years before you were born, I grew… bored. So I created an avatar and went on vacation."
The atmosphere shifted. The once-terrifying aura of authority ebbed away, replaced by a gentle warmth, like calm seas after a storm.
"And I brought your crew to hear the story," she said, nodding at Natasha.
"I met Vora in the far northern seas," Thessora began, a mischievous glint in her storm-grey eyes. "I chose to be a mercenary naval captain, helping mortals reclaim the frozen, corrupted lands of Orvakis."
The name Orvakis made Nyth's stomach churn. Stories of the god of corruption, the father of monsters, had shadowed the world ever since his landing.
"Vora," Thessora continued, "your mother was sent by her family to provide support to the blockade's founding—and she contracted my ship."
She looked deep into Nyth's eyes. "I have loved many, in many ways. But Vora… she became my little Waverider. She will always hold my heart, just as my children do."
Thessora's gaze lingered on the boundless sea.
"She began quiet, composed, regal, shaped by the Nightweaver's demands. Yet the further she drifted from them, the freer she became. I watched her bloom into a fierce, valiant warrior of the sea."
"By the time our contract ended, I was already hopelessly smitten with Vora. Her violet eyes… how they sparkled under the sun, I could hardly look away. Our second contract? Let's just say I wasn't exactly earning a profit."
"I didn't even ask for a third contract," Thessora said, a faint blush rising to her storm-grey cheeks. "I simply asked where she wanted to go."
"For years we sailed across the blockade, never leaving each other's side. Then one night, as we lay together in our quarters, she told me her family was calling her home."
"That night, she told me she knew who I was—and that, more than anything, she wished she could stay with me. But eventually, her family would force her back home."
"So she asked for something most would consider impossible," she said, a teasing smile on her lips, "but for me? Just a simple body modification—and I was ready."
"She knew that hiding my identity would cause her pain, yet she chose to keep you out of sight—trying to shield you from the Nightweaver's harsh teachings."
"You were born in the eye of a magical storm, delivered by my own hands. The first time I laid eyes upon you, I knew I would need to end the Nightweaver's. Your talent was clear to me—but Vora stayed my hand that night."
"Before you were taken into their stronghold, I would visit often. But the day your affinities were tested became the last day I could keep you in my sight."
"Luckily, I had a friend keep me updated, so I was able to act when you stepped back onto the ocean," Thessora finished, a bright grin spreading across her face.
Nyth stood in silence, digesting the words of his new mother. A delicate hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.
"The mother I remember used to be like that… but everything changed when the family took us in. She loved me still, but she could only keep me safe from the worst of the torments—the call lessons."
"On a Nightweaver's eighteenth birthday, a ritual is held," Thessora said, her voice turning frigid. "It is disguised as a coming-of-age ceremony, but in truth, it is the Elders implanting an obedience curse."
Nyth's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. "How… how could they do that to her?" he spat, his voice trembling with fury. "To my mother… to anyone!"
Rage erupted from Nyth like a tempest unbound, surging from his core in waves of raw, untamed power. The air crackled and twisted around him, electricity and the wind dancing across the deck. Natasha, Scarf, and even the Deadwood itself absorbed the energy, their forms glowing with a fierce, otherworldly light. The ship groaned as if alive, resonating with his fury, and the sea around them rippled in response. Nyth's eyes blazed, reflecting the storm of his emotions, and for a moment, the world seemed to bend to the force of his anger.
"I'll kill them all," Nyth said—and the words tore across the Wave‑Touched Sea like a breaking storm.
Thessora's arms closed around him, firm yet gentle. In that embrace, she taught him how to bend the wild storm of his fury without breaking it.
"I have no doubt of your power, Nyth. You have mastered what is mortal, but to succeed, you must now hone what is divine."
Nyth took a deep breath, letting the storm within him settle. The glowing energy around Natasha, Scarf, and the Deadwood dimmed to a steady hum, reflecting his newfound control.
"I… I understand," he said, his voice quieter now, steady. After a pause, he added, a small smile breaking through, "Mom."
Thessora's eyes softened, a radiant warmth spreading across her storm-grey features.
"That's my little Waverider," she said, her smile bright enough to rival the sunlit sea.
She stepped back, letting him move freely. "Go now, Nyth. Save your mother," Thessora commanded, her voice firm but filled with love.
Nyth's form vanished first, followed by Natasha and the Deadwood. Only Scarf remained aloft, hovering beside Thessora above the shimmering sea.
"Make sure he eats, Scarf," Thessora called out to the crab, a playful lilt in her voice as it too disappeared.