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  The sea behind St. Editha began to rise.

  At first, it was only a ripple—subtle, like the breath of a sleeping giant. Then it lifted, slow and deliberate, water bulging upward, stretching toward the sky.

  “Disturbance at the rear!” Jinn shouted from the mast, his eye pressed tight to the telescope.

  His voice broke.

  “North! North!” he cried.

  “Flank right!” Therson commanded.

  He turned the wheel with all his strength. The wood groaned in protest, the iron bolts whining as the ship resisted the redirection.

  Behind them, the serpent sea monster surfaced just enough to bend the ocean with its body. Its back pushed the sea upward, displacing entire walls of water that chased the ship like moving cliffs.

  Then the smaller creatures arrived.

  The water around the hull erupted as four-limbed beasts burst out of the waves. Their backs were armored like armadillo shells, jagged with central spikes. Their faces were brutally simple—shark-like, rows of pointed teeth, eyes black and empty.

  One landed directly on the main deck.

  It bounded forward, straight for Therson at the wheel.

  But Terry moved faster.

  He kicked sideways.

  The impact snapped through the air like thunder. The creature flew, twisted midair, and smashed against the railing before tumbling back into the sea.

  Another creature leapt at Terry.

  He did not think—only reacted.

  A single massive punch met bone and shell.

  The beast vanished overboard.

  More surged up.

  Therson released the wheel.

  His great sword sang as it drew free.

  He sliced upward.

  The blade met flesh and shell—splitting one beast in perfect half. Blood sprayed across the deck like warm rain.

  He swung right.

  Another beast flew back into the waves.

  A thrust—clean, brutal.

  The third creature died through the chest.

  Behind him, one beast leapt for The Guardian.

  The Guardian staggered back toward the captain’s cabin and twisted his body at the last second. The beast sailed past him, shattered the rear window, and vanished into open air.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Some of the creatures turned… back.

  They leapt into the water, tearing into the rising serpent’s blood, feasting despite its size. The sea foamed red.

  The ship pressed forward.

  And then—

  The water changed.

  The current accelerated unnaturally.

  The sea began to twist around itself.

  Jinn’s voice cracked from above:

  “Whirlpools… to the right…!”

  He adjusted the telescope with shaking hands.

  “North… whirlpool north… northwest—multiple!”

  Whispers of water rose around the hull. The ocean began to spin in massive circles, pulling at the ship’s underbelly.

  Jinn dropped to his knees.

  For the first time—he prayed.

  “Bank left!”

  “LEFT!” Therson roared.

  He turned the wheel hard.

  The ship resisted.

  The pull toward the whirling water grew stronger. The hull groaned. Nails shrieked. Wood complained like something alive being torn.

  Lucille slammed her staff against the deck.

  A circular diagram burned into the air.

  A creature emerged—a humanoid being of moss and bark, with four transparent wings, brown carapace, small horns, and glowing green eyes.

  It pushed against the ship.

  Not enough.

  Water slammed against the starboard side.

  A spiraling column.

  Not natural.

  Baldirion’s magic.

  The ship lurched sharply sideways.

  Another whirlpool appeared ahead.

  “Straight the jib!” Therson commanded.

  Lucille’s summoned creature strained its wings, pushing harder.

  More spirals of water rose from the sea, flung by Baldirion’s will.

  The St. Editha surged forward, escaping the pull of two massive rotating seas.

  Silence.

  Breath returned.

  But the sky told another story.

  Darkness rolled in like a curtain dropping.

  The Dark Cloud Passage had begun.

  The rain came softly at first.

  Then violently.

  Cold drops slammed into the deck like hail. The air smelled sharp—salt, iron, ozone.

  The sky cracked.

  Thunder rolled like the sound of the world splitting.

  Far ahead, a wall of lightning stretched like a glowing curtain across the horizon.

  The wind howled.

  The waves began to grow.

  First, house-high.

  Then, two houses.

  Then, three.

  The ship lifted and fell violently.

  Stomachs turned inside out.

  Water flooded in sheets across the deck.

  A crack of light streaked down.

  Lightning hit the mast.

  Wood exploded.

  The sail burned instantly.

  Half of the fore pole snapped and slammed sideways.

  “Hold her straight!” Therson shouted.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  A wave rose in front of them.

  Not a wave—

  A moving mountain.

  There was no turning back.

  “Take the wheel!” Therson shouted to Baldirion.

  Baldirion grabbed it.

  Therson fell to his knees.

  He pressed his forehead to the pommel of his great sword.

  The storm roared above him.

  Then—

  He launched.

  Higher than the mast.

  Higher than the sail.

  Higher than fear.

  His eyes ignited.

  A silhouette of a bull rose behind his spirit.

  He swung once.

  The mountain of water split in half.

  The sea parted as if obeying.

  Then his body dropped.

  He hit the deck.

  Unconscious.

  The ship passed.

  Lucille and Lyra dragged Therson’s body.

  They opened the captain’s room.

  Laid him beside Barang.

  The Lord’s cracked body barely moved.

  The storm continued.

  And something screamed beneath the ship.

  A sudden impact threw everyone sideways.

  The hull bent.

  A tentacle burst upward, coiling around the center mast.

  Wood fractured.

  Ropes snapped.

  The tentacle coiled again.

  Squeezing.

  Groaning.

  Terry grabbed Therson’s great sword.

  It didn’t move.

  Too heavy with will not his.

  Instead, he wrapped both arms around the tentacle and squeezed.

  It didn’t budge.

  Hop slashed.

  Her dagger bit, but the flesh held.

  Lucille collapsed to one knee.

  Her summoning strength was gone.

  The tentacle tightened.

  Then—

  The Guardian held the wheel.

  Baldirion walked forward.

  His voice was calm.

  Dead calm.

  He touched the tentacle.

  It began to crystallize.

  Ice spread from his palm.

  He raised one finger.

  The tentacle shattered into fragments of frozen flesh.

  The sea erupted.

  A gigantic octopus rose.

  Double the size of the ship.

  Eyes like black pits.

  Baldirion lifted from the deck.

  A circular diagram burned into the air.

  Above the beast.

  A stone spire launched downward.

  It struck.

  The creature vanished beneath the sea.

  Silence fell.

  Rain still poured.

  Waves still rose.

  But Baldirion descended.

  Exhausted.

  Breathing hard.

  The ship creaked.

  The storm watched.

  And far ahead—

  Darker waters waited.