The air on the deck of the Aeon's Wing had become a battlefield of competing wills. The violet light of Califer's projection pulsed like a sickly, rhythmic heartbeat, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to claw at the wood beneath our feet. Kaelen's blade whistled through the air as he lunged, his movements jerky and unnatural—a puppet being yanked by invisible, cruel strings.
"Kaelen, stop!" I screamed, parrying his strike with the flat of my blade.
The shock of the impact vibrated up my arm, rattling my teeth, but it was nothing compared to the look in his eyes. He was in there, buried beneath the violet rot, screaming behind a silent mouth. His face was a mask of agony, his muscles straining against his own impulses.
"He cannot hear you, Reaper," the projection of Califer hissed. He stood calmly amidst the spray and chaos, his form flickering like a dying candle. "He is mine. He has always been the weakest link in your chain—the one who cared for the weapon more than the cause."
"He is more of a man than you will ever be!" I roared, ducking a strike that sheared a splintering chunk out of the mast.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Kaelen lunged again, the real Elara stepped forward. She didn't look at Kaelen; her focus was entirely on the shimmering, oily image of Califer. She raised her brass-sphered staff, and the atmosphere grew heavy with the scent of ozone and deep-sea brine.
"You are a thief of shadows, Califer," Elara's voice boomed, echoing with the primal weight of the tides. "You hide in the minds of children because you fear the light of the true sun."
She slammed her staff down. A wave of translucent blue energy rippled outward, colliding with the violet aura of the projection. The air screamed. It was a clash of fundamental forces: the ancient, protective magic of Aethelgard versus the twisted, parasitic sorcery of the Hive.
The projection snarled, his face distorting into something monstrous. He raised a hand, and shadows erupted from the deck planks like black bile, weaving into dark serpents that lashed out at Elara. She didn't flinch. With a flick of her wrist, she commanded the sea spray to rise, freezing the shadows mid-air into jagged statues of ice before shattering them with a pulse of sound.
"Lysia, the boy!" Elara shouted over the roar of the magical gale. "The projection is his anchor! If you don't break the connection, his mind will burn out from the strain! He is the bridge—collapse it!"
I ducked under Kaelen's clumsy overhead cleave and stepped into his guard. I didn't reach for my steel. Instead, I reached for the silver-blue glow of the Scroll still humming within my veins—the power I had feared was now the only thing that could save him.
The knowledge I had gained whispered to me from the depths of my blood: The Key does not just open doors; it unlocks souls.
I grabbed Kaelen by the shoulders. The violet light in his eyes flared, stinging my skin like a thousand needles. I felt Califer's presence inside him—a cold, slimy thing that tasted of grease and old iron.
"Kaelen, look at me!" I commanded. I channeled the silver-blue light through my palms, forcing it into his chest.
It wasn't a gentle process. Kaelen convulsed, his back arching as the two energies warred within his marrow. In that touch, I saw flashes of our childhood in the Hive—the shared rations, the blood-soaked bandages, the whispered promises to survive another night of training.
"You aren't his weapon!" I hissed, pressing my forehead against his. "You are my brother! Come back!"
Inside the mental landscape, I saw a black, rusted chain wrapped around Kaelen's heart. With a surge of will, I visualized the Aegis Scroll as a searing white blade. I struck the chain.
In the physical world, the projection of Califer let out a piercing shriek of agony. Elara seized the moment, her staff glowing with the brilliance of a collapsing star. She lunged, burying the brass sphere into the projection's chest.
"Return to the dark!" she cried.
The projection exploded in a shower of violet sparks. At the same moment, the black chain in Kaelen's mind shattered into dust.
Kaelen collapsed into my arms, the violet glow in his eyes snuffing out like a doused flame. He gasped, his lungs hitching as he sucked in the clean, salty air. "Lysia..." he wheezed, his voice his own again—small, tired, and human. "I... I couldn't stop him. He was in my head."
"I know," I whispered, holding him tight, feeling the tremors in his hands. "But he's gone now. You're free."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Dread-Sovereign—the Hive's massive flagship—was still out there, looming through the mist like a vengeful god, but the magical tether was severed. Elara stood panting, her scales duller than before, her staff smoking from the discharge of power.
"That was only a fragment of him," she said, her voice grim. She looked toward the horizon, where the Hive's flagship was turning, its heavy cannons glowing with a new, terrifying light. "He knows where we are. He knows who I am. And now, he knows you can fight back."
She turned to me, her nebula-eyes searching mine for any sign of weakness. "We have to reach Aethelgard before the moon reaches its zenith. If the 'Lock' and the 'Key' are not unified by then, the gates won't just stay closed—they will collapse, and every soul in the sanctuary will be erased from history."
I looked at Silas, who was already barking orders to the crew. I looked at the recovering Kaelen, and finally at the blood-stained deck of the Aeon's Wing. I was no longer a Reaper, and I was no longer a girl singing to ghosts. I was the bridge between a dying kingdom and a new dawn.
"Then let's stop running," I said, the power of the Scroll settling into a steady, cold resolve in my gut. "Tell your sailors to catch the wind, Princess. We're going home to end this."
I watched the horizon, where the violet storm brewed. For the first time, I wasn't afraid of the dark. I was the thing that would burn through it.