The storm had passed—but not the trembling.
Every ripple caused sea quakes and earthquakes as the world shook.
Near the shoreline, Skuld stood among scattered debris, her boots sinking into wet sand. The village behind her was a patchwork of ruin and defiance—roofs half-collapsed, torches still burning despite the damp air.
Moana moved from person to person, checking injuries. Maui lifted half-broken huts with his bare hands, setting beams back into place like they were toys. "Damn, we just fixed these huts and they're already being destroyed."
But the sea didn't rest.
Each time a wave came, Skuld felt it—like someone tugging at her chest, pulling her heart in rhythm with another's panic. She looked down at her chest where the white flower—the one Te Fiti had given her rested. Its glow pulsed unevenly, flickering like a heartbeat on the verge of breaking.
"She's scared again," Skuld whispered.
Moana turned, eyes full of worry. "The ocean?"
"No…" Skuld's voice softened. "The new goddess. She doesn't know what she is, or what she's doing. Her emotions are running rampant."
Maui straightened from his work, wiping seawater from his arms. "If that new kid keeps doing this, we'll all be underwater. You can't reason with a tsunami."
"I don't intend to." Skuld closed her fist around the flower. "I'm going to calm her."
Before they could protest, wind gathered around her—light flickering in the air like starlight on waves. Skuld vanished, carried away in a spiral of radiant gusts toward the horizon.
Far below, the sea was a cathedral of trembling sound. Columns of light pierced the darkness, scattering over ancient coral towers and half-buried ruins. Every tremor warped the architecture, as if the world itself was remembering it had once been alive.
Demyx hovered near a broken archway, a bubble of air shimmering around his head. He strummed his sitar, each pluck sending rings of blue light through the water. His expression was oddly serene—somewhere between fascination and dread.
"Mission log… continuing observation of Subject T-F derivative. Emotional instability confirmed. Environmental synchronization approaching critical. She's, uh, definitely still alive. And possibly—what's the term—having a meltdown."
He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Man, I'm not built for this. I'm a recon guy, not a therapist."
His fingers flicked lazily across the strings. A soft melody drifted outward, laced with magic. "There you go, little one. Just chill, yeah? Deep breaths, in and out. Ocean-style."
The water responded—its violent currents easing slightly, the melody echoing back in trembling imitation.
Demyx smiled faintly. "See? Who needs brute force when you've got good rhythm?"
Then the water behind him darkened.
Kurai emerged from the shadows like a phantom, darkness spiraling around her in slow ripples. Her eyes glowed faintly through the dimness, fixed on him with icy focus.
"You again," she said, her voice cold and sharp.
Demyx froze mid-note. "…Oh. Hi there, scary… girl. Didn't see you! Small world, huh? I'll… just leave."
Her blade materialized in a whisper of electrified black light. "You're the disturbance I sensed."
"Disturbance?" Demyx laughed nervously, tapping his sitar. "Nah, I'm just playing some tunes. For… ocean therapy. Very healthy."
Kurai's lips curved into something between amusement and disgust. "If you're going to lie, at least do it well, idiot."
He flinched. "Hey, not cool! Words hurt, you know."
She advanced slowly, the darkness thickening around her. "Explain yourself before I turn that instrument into coral."
"Right, okay, listen," he stammered, backing away. "I'm not here to fight. I'm sitting here playing music. Honest! Really boring."
Kurai didn't wait for another excuse.
The water around her pulsed with darkness as she swung her keyblade in a brutal arc, cleaving through the distance between them. The slash cut through the sea like liquid lightning, the current distorting under the surge of shadow energy.
Demyx yelped, barely throwing his sitar up to block. The impact cracked the water itself—currents fracturing outward like shattered glass. The force hurled him backward into a coral pillar, pain bursting through his ribs.
"Hey—OW! What happened to talking first?!" he shouted, coughing bubbles as he scrambled to stabilize himself.
Kurai followed, relentless. Her silhouette blurred through the water, vanishing in a cloud of dark ripples only to reappear behind him. "You talk too much."
Her blade descended again, the strike grazing his shoulder and slicing the sleeve clean open. A faint line of blood drifted upward into the current, dissolving like crimson smoke.
Demyx's usual grin faltered. "Okay, fine! You wanna dance? Let's dance! Dance Water Dance!"
He gripped his sitar, fingers slamming against the strings in a chaotic rhythm. The sound erupted in waves—magical frequencies shaking the ocean floor. Water surged upward in concentric rings, forming duplicates of himself, each shimmering with light.
The Water Clone Chorus joined his frantic melody, strumming in sync. Each note carried a pulse of blue energy that collided with Kurai's dark flares.
"Shadow Flare Storm!"
Her counterattack detonated in a burst of black fire. The clones burst apart, scattering into foam and vapor. The ocean turned violent again, spiraling with red lightning and roaring pressure.
"Man, I hate field work!" Demyx shouted, his voice cracking as he tried to dodge another slash. "Why do I always get the psychos?!"
"Die weakling," Kurai said coldly, thrusting her hand forward. Darkness spiraled into chains that lashed out, binding his leg. She yanked him forward and slammed him down into the seabed, the impact throwing up a cloud of silt.
Demyx coughed and strummed in desperation—a discordant note, raw and loud. The vibration echoed outward, sharp enough to cut through the darkness.
For a moment, everything went still.
Then the ocean answered.
The sound multiplied, harmonizing with itself in strange, haunting tones. The pressure dropped, and the sea began to glow.
Kurai froze, her gaze snapping downward. Something vast was stirring.
Demyx stared in wide-eyed horror. "Uh… that's not supposed to happen."
The melody he'd struck warped into a deep, resonant hum that vibrated through the ruins. The light below swelled—green and blue, threaded with white.
And then she rose.
From the depths emerged a shape—small, fluid, yet radiating impossible power. A child's silhouette sculpted from the ocean itself. Eyes of seafoam light opened, and the waves began to weep around her.
"So it's you the one who was attacking me," Kurai whispered.
The child tilted her head—no recognition, only a trembling echo of sound. Her voice came out distorted, overlapping Demyx's last note like a reflection through broken glass.
"Heart…? Die?"
The word rippled through the water, and the ruins shuddered.
Demyx backed away, fumbling with his comlink. "Yeah, nope. Not my department. Sending data—uh, somebody else handle this!"
He strummed his sitar once more, the melody opening a swirling dark corridor behind him. "Good luck, scary girl! She seems like your type!"
Before Kurai could move, he vanished into the vortex, the portal collapsing with a final watery echo.
Kurai was left alone—facing the goddess-child whose emotions had become natural disasters. The ocean around her boiled and churned, the light bending into chaotic colors as Te Vera's voice rose again, trembling and broken.
"Kill…?"
The question hung in the deep like a curse.
Kurai raised her blade, shadows coiling around her arm. "You poor thing," she murmured. "You don't even know that you're about to die."
The water convulsed.
Te Vera's hand extended—and the sea itself attacked.