The ocean never truly forgives. It merely waits for the perfect moment to swallow whatever remains.
Inside the belly of The Banshee's Wail, the air grew thicker and fouler. The smell of damp wood, stale sweat, and residual Void energy from the lower hold created a suffocating atmosphere. Elian sat on the floor of his cabin, letting his body sway with the erratic rhythm of the ship. His left hand hung limp over his knee, feeling like a lump of lead, numb and unresponsive.
The Ring of Weight seemed to be eating his flesh. The skin around his index finger had turned a dark purple, swollen and cracked from the constant gravitational pressure. Elian no longer felt sharp pain; all that remained was a deep, dull throb, as if his bone was trying to escape his own skin.
He picked up the Basalt-Mana Whetstone given by Barossa. With slow, trembling movements, he began to sharpen the blade of his black Karambit.
Scritch... Scritch...
The sound of friction was like a whimper in the cabin's silence. Elian stared at his reflection in the gleaming blade. His eyes looked more sunken, his androgenous face now etched with lines of exhaustion that made him look older yet more terrifying. He was no longer a clean noble child; he was something forged by hatred and sea salt.
"You look like a corpse that forgot how to rot," Lunaria's voice broke the silence.
Elian didn't turn. "Maybe I did die in that river, Master. What's left is just a curse that keeps walking."
Lunaria stood in the doorway, her grey cloak draped over her shoulders like the wings of a bird of prey. She looked at Elian with an unreadable gaze. Something had changed in Elian since the night in the lower hold. Something darker than mere vengeance. Using blood as a catalyst had opened a door that should have remained closed to a ten-year-old child.
"If you feel like a curse, then make sure you are a curse to your enemies, not yourself," Lunaria said coldly. "Broken Fang is in sight. Get ready. Life there is cheaper than a glass of rotten rum."
***
POV: Silas
Silas stood on the ship's bridge, his wrinkled hand clutching the bone charm around his neck. He could feel a pulse beneath the skin of his throat—not a heartbeat, but something crawling. An energy parasite he had nurtured for years since he first touched a Void relic in the black markets of Azura.
His red, watery eyes stared at the back of Captain Barossa, who was shouting orders to the sailors.
Poor Barossa. Too honest to be a successful smuggler.
Silas hissed softly. The pain in his stomach returned—a hunger that human food could not satisfy. He glanced toward the stairs leading to the lower deck, where the brat, Eli, was hiding.
"His blood..." Silas muttered, his cracked lips curling into a disgusting grin.
Last night, when the seal in the lower hold was mysteriously strengthened, Silas felt it. He smelled an irresistible sweetness. Blood that did not come from a mortal lineage. That blood contained an essence that could evolve the parasite inside him, or perhaps heal his soul rusted by darkness.
He fingered the silver badge in his pocket—a badge he used to communicate with a hidden faction in the Kingdom of Noctis. The message had been sent via magic pigeon before the storm yesterday: Cargo safe. And I bring an additional offering. A boy with holy blood.
Silas didn't care about this ship. He didn't care about Barossa. Forty years he had served the sea, and the sea had given him only a lame leg and a heart full of bile. Now, fate handed him the key out of this poverty.
"Broken Fang," Silas whispered to the wind. "A place where ghosts can be sold, and humans can be forgotten."
He saw the coastline of the Broken Fang archipelago becoming clearer. Black coral reefs jutted from the sea like the fangs of an ancient beast. There, his plan would begin. Barossa would be busy with logistics, and that was when Silas would take "Eli" into the embrace of true darkness.
***
POV: Elian
Elian stepped out onto the deck as the ship began to enter the narrow strait between two large coral islands. The air here felt different—no longer salty and fresh, but smelling of sulfur and burnt wood.
The Broken Fang Islands.
This was a lawless territory. Wooden shacks were built haphazardly on coral cliffs, connected by rickety rope bridges. Pirate ships with tattered flags were docked at piers that looked like giant piles of trash.
Elian felt killing intent from every direction. Hundreds of eyes watched from behind the dark windows of those shacks.
Thud.
The ship docked at the main pier made of giant whale bones.
"Lower the anchor! Guard the cargo!" Barossa shouted. "Jax, Grum! Follow me to the harbormaster's office. The rest, stay on the ship with weapons drawn!"
Elian glanced at Silas standing near the helm. The Quartermaster gave him a smile that made Elian's stomach churn. It wasn't a mocking smile; it was the smile of a predator looking at prey inside a cage.
Elian's Nature Sense vibrated violently. This time, the vibration didn't come from outside, but from a resonance within his soul. He felt the Void Shards in the lower hold crying. They were no longer singing; they were screaming in terror.
Something big was waiting on this island. Something far more terrible than The Watcher.
"Master," Elian whispered, his hand stiff from the ring groping for his Karambit hilt. "Something is wrong. Silas..."
"I know," Lunaria appeared beside him, her hood covering her face completely. "He's smelled rotten since we left. Let him make the first move. We need a reason to cut out his tongue."
Elian nodded. He forced his legs to walk down the ship's wooden gangplank onto the bone pier.
The weight of the Ring of Weight felt crushing, as if this island possessed stronger gravity. Every step made his joints creak. Elian looked like a crippled child, limping behind Lunaria, provoking laughter and lewd whistles from the pirates gathered on the pier.
"Look at that pretty brat! Is he for sale?" shouted a tattooed man with a huge axe.
"I'll pay two silvers for a night with him!" another yelled.
Elian didn't turn. He suppressed the rage burning in his chest. He let them laugh. He let them underestimate him. Inside his head, he had already marked the points on their necks he would tear out if they dared approach.
They walked toward a tavern named The Kraken's Gut. There, Barossa would conduct his information transaction.
However, as they crossed a narrow alley between shacks, Silas, who should have been on the ship, suddenly emerged from the shadow of an old warehouse.
"Young Master Vane," Silas's voice sounded different—heavier, colder, carrying an echo that made Elian's ears ring.
Elian froze. Silas knew his name. Not "Eli", but "Vane".
"Don't be surprised," Silas laughed, showing his bleeding gums. "In this world, there is no secret that cannot be bought. And you... you are a very expensive gift for those who hate the light."
Suddenly, from the darkness of the alley, four figures in black robes appeared. They didn't walk; they floated slightly above the ground. From beneath their robes, dark purple smoke flowed out—pure Void energy.
These weren't port thugs. These were Inquisitors of the Void.
"Hand over the boy, and you will die quickly, Elf," said one of the figures. Its voice sounded like a thousand insects crawling.
Lunaria drew her bow in one fluid motion, but before she could loose an arrow, Silas raised his bone charm.
BOOM!
A blast of black energy hit the pier floor, creating a wall of smoke that separated Lunaria from Elian.
"LUNARIA!" Elian screamed.
He tried to draw his Karambit, but the weight of the Ring of Weight suddenly spiked. The ring glowed black, responding to the surrounding Void energy. Elian fell to his knees, his hand locked to the ground as if a giant magnet were pulling it.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" Silas approached, his rusty dagger raised. "Gravity is the law of this world, Kid. And before the power of the Void, your world has no authority."
Elian gritted his teeth until his gums bled. Amidst the despair and bone-crushing pain, he felt something vibrate inside him. Not Mana, not Aura.
It was the earth beneath his knees. This coral island... he could feel its heartbeat. He could feel the sea water slamming against the reef under the pier.
This World will not let its child be taken.
CRACK!
The ground beneath Silas's feet suddenly collapsed. Not due to an earthquake, but because the coral itself decided to break.
"What—?!" Silas stumbled.
Elian, though still crushed by the ring's weight, felt a surge of pure adrenaline. He couldn't stand, but he could crawl. He lunged at Silas's leg with the dagger in his unburdened right hand.
Slash!
The Karambit blade severed Silas's ankle tendon.
"AAAAAARGH!" Silas roared in pain.
However, the black-robed figures didn't stop. They extended their smoky hands toward Elian.
Darkness began to swallow Elian's vision. The cold he felt in the lower hold now enveloped his entire body. He felt his soul being pulled out.
Is this the end? On this trash pier?
Suddenly, a flash of silver light cut through the black smoke.
Whoosh!
Lunaria's arrow pierced the head of one of the robed figures, exploding it into smoke.
"How dare you touch what is mine," Lunaria's voice sounded like a war goddess in her wrath.
But Silas, though wounded, crawled toward Elian and whispered something into his ear—a sentence that would haunt Elian forever.
"Elara... she isn't in the convent for protection, Elian. She is there to be sacrificed. And you... you just gave us a reason to speed it up."
Elian's eyes went wide. The world around him seemed to collapse.