The days passed in a blur of salt and silence. The further we sailed from Valyria, the heavier the air grew-not with sulfur, but with something unseen, something pressing against my very soul.
The egg had not cooled.
If anything, it had grown warmer.
At night, it pulsed with faint light, as if responding to something beyond my understanding. And in the quiet moments, when I let my mind drift, I could almost hear it. A heartbeat. A whisper of something waiting, something hungry.
I did not speak of it to the crew. They already feared what I had brought aboard. Their unease festered in the corners of the ship, in hushed conversations and wary glances. Even Otherys, who had stood beside me through fire and storm, kept his distance.
I understood their fear. I did not share it.
This was power.
And I would not be afraid of what was mine.
A Storm Without Thunder
It was on the fifth night that the wind died.
The sails sagged, limp against the mast, and the ship drifted aimlessly upon a sea as still as glass. The sky above was a vast, empty void-no stars, no moon, only endless blackness stretching in all directions.
A dead calm.
The crew murmured of curses, of Valyria's ghosts reaching out to drag us back beneath the waves. I ignored them. Superstition would not change the winds.
But the silence-it was unnatural.
No birds. No creaking of the ship. No sound at all, save for the rhythmic pulsing of the egg in my quarters.
And then, just before dawn, I felt it.
A presence.
It slithered through the air like smoke, unseen yet suffocating, pressing down on my chest like an iron weight.
I rose from my bed, reaching instinctively for my sword. The room was dark, but the egg's glow cast faint shadows against the walls. The heartbeat within it was faster now, urgent, as if something was-
A whisper.
Soft. Faint. But right beside my ear.
"Do you hear it, blood of Valyria?"
I spun, sword raised-nothing. Only shadows.
I exhaled, steadying my breath. I had heard it. I knew I had.
And I was not alone.
The door to my cabin burst open. Otherys stood there, breathless, eyes wide with something I had never seen in him before.
Terror.
"You need to come," he said. "Now."
I did not question.
I followed him above deck.
And there, beneath the endless black sky, I saw what had brought fear to even my oldest friend.
A ship.
No sails. No banners. No crew.
Drifting silently toward us on a sea that did not move.
Its hull was scorched black, its mast splintered, its deck empty save for the remnants of something-bones, charred and broken.
A graveyard adrift.
One of the crew whispered a prayer. Another turned and retched over the side of the ship.
Otherys stood beside me, jaw clenched. "This is a warning," he murmured. "We should have never taken that egg."
I stared at the ghost ship, its burned remains a stark contrast against the still waters.
A warning?
No.
This was a challenge.
The past did not warn. It tested.
And I would not turn away.
-----
The ghost ship loomed in the darkness, its skeletal remains casting jagged shadows across the still sea. It was close enough now that I could see the scorch marks-deep, unnatural, as if the very wood had been burned from within.
A curse. A message. A remnant of something that had come before.
The crew whispered behind me, voices laced with fear. Otherys remained silent, his eyes locked onto the ruined vessel.
"You want to board it," he said at last, his voice flat.
I did.
"That ship should not be here," I said. "It should have sunk long ago."
"And yet it has not," Otherys muttered. "Which means something unnatural holds it afloat."
The egg at my hip pulsed with warmth. A response. A recognition.
This was not coincidence.
I made my decision.
"Lower the skiff."
The crew hesitated. One man muttered a prayer to the drowned god, another made a warding sign against dark forces. But they obeyed.
Otherys, to his credit, did not try to stop me. He merely sighed and stepped into the skiff beside me.
"If we die, I'll haunt you," he grumbled.
I smiled. "You already do."
-----
The Dead Do Not Rest
We rowed in silence. The closer we came, the more the air changed. The scent of salt faded, replaced by something older-ash, decay, and something else I could not name.
The deck groaned as we climbed aboard. The wood beneath my boots was brittle, crumbling at the edges, yet it held.
Bones littered the ship, half-buried beneath soot and debris. Not just human-larger, twisted shapes that did not belong to any beast I recognized.
Otherys knelt beside one, brushing away the ash. A skull, elongated, the teeth sharp and curved. He looked at me, expression grim.
"These are not the dead of men."
I stepped forward, my hand resting lightly on the egg. The warmth had intensified. A heartbeat, steady and strong.
Something had happened here.
And then I saw it.
At the center of the deck, half-buried beneath blackened remains, was a pedestal of fused stone. Ancient Valyrian runes were carved into its base, barely visible beneath the soot.
It was a pyre.
A place of sacrifice.
Before I could step closer, the ship lurched.
The still sea rippled, a sudden wave rocking the ruined vessel. The wind howled-a sound that had not existed moments before.
Otherys cursed, drawing his sword. "This was a mistake."
Perhaps.
But it was too late now.
The bones around us shifted.
And from the darkness, something stirred.
The Keeper of the Lost
A shape rose from the shadows, its form barely human. Cloaked in tattered robes, its face was hidden beneath a hood of scorched silk. Yet its presence was undeniable.
The air grew thick, pressing down on me like unseen hands.
Then, it spoke.
"Blood of Valyria. You tread upon cursed waters."
The voice was not one, but many-a chorus of whispers, layered over one another, hollow and distant.
I did not move. "Who are you?"
A pause. Then, slow and deliberate:
"The Keeper of the Lost. The Last Sentinel of Fire."
Otherys shifted beside me, uneasy. "You're a shade," he muttered. "A remnant."
The figure's head tilted slightly. "I am what remains."
Its gaze-or what I imagined was its gaze-fell upon the egg at my hip. The air trembled.
"The ember stirs once more. Do you understand the price?"
A test.
A warning.
Perhaps both.
I met the Keeper's gaze, unflinching. "Power always demands a price."
The ship groaned, the sea churned. The bones at our feet rattled, as if eager for judgment.
The Keeper's voice was softer now, almost... amused.
"Then prove you are worthy to bear it."
The air ignited.
And the trial began.
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Happy Mothers Day and Thanks For Reading, also sorry for it being a bit late. Had a very hectic day