The harbor was noisy, yet the clamor felt distant.
I stepped onto the deck, a construction of wood and iron powered by a crystal heart pulsing slowly within the ship's belly. It wasn't the wind that pushed us, but magic forced into submission.
The ship glided forward. The sea parted—not gently, but with efficient violence.
I stood at the railing. The sky above was too blue, too vast. The sea below was too deep. Between the two, I felt like a stain that didn't belong.
Ugh...
My stomach churned.
It wasn't just seasickness. It was rejection. My body was rejecting the fact that this footing was unstable. The world swayed, the horizon tilted.
My hand gripped the damp wooden rail. The grain was rough, digging into my palm.
They said I would get used to it...
But this nausea felt like a metaphor. This instability... maybe it was the only real thing.
I swallowed the sour taste in my mouth. My eyes fixed on the white foam trailing behind the ship, a wake destined to vanish in seconds.
Is this what the rest of my life will be? Drifting without a foothold?
Days bled together into a tedious cycle of sun and moon.
The sky changed. Bright blue rotted into a sullen gray.
The waves, once rhythmic, turned chaotic. Rain fell—not refreshing water, but cold needles striking the skin.
Heat gave way to cold; cold gave way to heat.
By day, the sun burned the back of my neck. By night, storms tried to swallow the ship whole.
I sat in the corner of the cabin, listening to the wood groan every time a massive wave slammed against the hull.
The sound... it was like bones cracking.
Then, a strange silence.
The water began to spin. A giant vortex formed in the distance, a gaping maw leading to eternal darkness.
Our ship was dragged in, the crystal engine roaring—a high-pitched whine that stung the ears.
The crew screamed, their voices thick with panic. But to me, their screams were like murmurs behind a glass wall.
Spare crystals were thrown into the engine furnace. Blinding light exploded. The ship jerked, fighting the gravity of the water, and shot out from the lip of death.
I simply sighed.
A good plan.
That was all. No extra heartbeat.
The next day, the engines were cut completely.
"Don't move!" the captain ordered. His whisper was louder than a shout.
The sea turned to glass. Beneath the clear surface, a shadow passed.
Long, endless. Scales the size of war shields shimmered in the gloom.
A Leviathan.
The creature passed like a god indifferent to the existence of ants on the surface of its water. The silence was so heavy it pressed against my lungs.
The corner of my lip lifted slightly. A thin smile, barely visible.
Beautiful...
There was a peace in being insignificant before a monster of that magnitude.
The final day of the voyage.
We entered the region known as the Realm of Ruin.
An appropriate name.
The sky here had no color, only masses of pitch-black clouds illuminated by violet lightning. The air smelled of ozone and stale salt.
In the distance, the skeletons of old ships drifted aimlessly. Ghost ships. Rotting wood that still screamed the despair of crews long dead.
The fog swallowed us. Cold. Wet.
And then... the sound.
GRRRK!!!
Our ship struck something underwater. Coral? No. Coral doesn't move.
The ghost ship ahead of us shifted, drawn closer as if pulled by an invisible thread.
"Demolition Team! Prepare!"
The captain's shout shattered my daydream.
The ocean exploded.
Not with water, but with flesh.
A giant tentacle, wet and slick, burst from the depths. It was thicker than the mainmast. Suckers on its surface pulsed repulsively, seeking prey.
A Kraken.