The Iron-Spine Mountains were a distant, uneven line against the northern sky, a harsh reminder of rock and bloodshed. To the south lay the Sea of Tears, a huge, swirling mass of dark blue water that separated the edge of the world from the Golden Continent.
They called it the Sea of Tears not because of the sailors who died in its storms, but because of the salt. It was so salty that regular ships couldn't stay afloat for long; the wood would rot in days. Only the Empire's fancy Gilded Galleons, with hulls protected by some kind of sun-powered tech, could make the trip.
Lyra stood on a lonely part of the southern shore, her Shroud of Shadows flapping in the bitter, salty wind. Behind her, Malachi sat on a piece of driftwood, his body shaking into his fist. Away from his library, he looked fragile.
The Empire controls every port between here and the Sun-Throne, Malachi coughed. They've got 'Solar lights' every ten miles. Anything that tries to fly over this water without their permission gets fried to a crisp before it even hits the water.
Lyra stared out at the horizon. The Eclipse-Core in her chest vibrated softly, somehow in sync with the crashing waves. She could feel the heavy weight of the water—the pull of the moon was strong.
I'm not using a ship, Lyra said.
Malachi raised an eyebrow, confused. Really? You planning to sprout wings and dodge those lights? Or maybe you'll just hitch a ride with the fishes?
I'm walking, Lyra replied.
She stepped toward the shoreline. As soon as her boot touched the wet sand, the water pulled back. It didn't splash; it moved away as if it was scared.
Eclipse Art: The Frozen Path of the Deep.
Lyra reached inside, tapping into her power. She didn't blast out cold air. Instead, she focused on the salty sea, the heavy minerals. With a sharp breath, she channeled a bit of the moon's gravity.
The water didn't turn into ice. It turned into Salt-Glass.
A bridge of clear, sharp, white crystals shot out from the shore, reaching a hundred feet into the waves. It was hard like stone and so cold that it steamed.
Get up, old man, Lyra said, not turning around. I'm not waiting for the tide.
Malachi grumbled, clutching his bag of scrolls. Six hundred years of peace, and I end up following a crazy woman onto a bridge made of salt. My family is going to laugh at me.
As they began walking across the open ocean, the sun started to rise. This was the worst time for someone who used lunar power—the Noon-Day Peril. Out here, there were no trees to hide under, no caves to crawl into. The sun was like a big, bright eye.
Three miles from the shore, the first Solar light spotted them.
Attached onto a floating black platform, the light was made of brass mirrors. When it picked up the Cold feeling coming from Lyra's bridge, the mirrors turned with a mechanical hiss.
Target locked, a robotic voice echoed across the water.
A beam of sunlight, focused through a huge ruby lens, shot down from the tower. It was built to melt pirate ships and sea monsters in seconds.
Lyra didn't stop. She didn't even look up.
Malachi, hold the Shroud.
She grabbed the edge of the black cloak and tossed it up. When the solar beam hit the cloth, the Shroud didn't just block it; it sucked it in. The black cloth shimmered, the shadows inside swirling as they absorbed the heat.
Lyra felt the power move through the Shroud and into her. Her Shadow-Veins pulsed. She took the stolen heat, spun it through the Eclipse-Core, and sent it down into her feet.
The bridge of salt-glass sped up. It shot across the waves super fast, the crystal path appearing faster than anyone could follow.
You're using their own stuff to travel, Malachi yelled over the wind. That's not nice!
I call it smart, Lyra yelled back.
But the Sea of Tears had its own protectors.
Deep below the salt-glass bridge, a big shadow started to rise. It was longer than a ship, an old monster known as a Salt-Kraken. They couldn't see, and they felt the world through the vibrations of the water. Lyra's crystal bridge was like a dinner bell.
The water around them started to bubble. A huge tentacle, covered in barnacles and as thick as a tree, burst from the waves and slammed down onto the bridge.
The salt-glass shattered.
Lyra grabbed Malachi by his robes and jumped into the air. They floated for a second, held up by the moon gravity she was using, as the Kraken's head—a scary mix of beaks and pale eyes—broke the surface.
I've never liked seafood, Lyra hissed.
She pulled out the starlight-covered claymore. The sword didn't glow; it seemed to drink up the light.
Eclipse Art: Shadow Stitching.
She didn't swing at the monster. She swung at its shadow on the water.
The claymore cut into the dark reflection. The Kraken let out a silent scream under the water as its body was stuck to its shadow. It tried to dive, but it was like its skin was nailed to the sea.
Lyra landed on the Kraken's big, leathery head. She jammed the sword deep into its brain.
She didn't just kill it. She used her Eclipse-Core to suck out its life force.
The Kraken's life force—thousands of years of cold, deep-sea power—was sucked into the sword and into Lyra. Her energy channels opened up. The Salt-Burn she'd been feeling vanished, replaced by a strong, ocean-like energy.
Her powers started to get stronger. She was reaching the next level.
As the Kraken's body turned into a salty husk, Lyra stood on top of it. She looked south. The Solar lights were all turning, ruby lenses focusing on her.
They know I'm here, she said, her silver hair now streaked with bits of purple.
They've known since you broke the gate, Malachi said, wiping salt from his eyes. But now they see you're not just a rebel. You're dangerous.
Lyra raised her sword toward the nearest light. Good. I'm tired of being the one who gets hurt. It's time they learned what it's like to be hunted.
With one stomp, she broke the Kraken's remains and sent a new, even bigger bridge of salt-glass shooting toward the horizon.