In the absolute darkness, a lone vessel glided across the black waters of a restless, endless sea. It moved like a ghost, silent and swift, its jagged silhouette barely visible against the starless void above. The mast—fashioned from the twisted spine of a demon, draped in the pale, leathery skin of a fallen Beast—groaned beneath the battering winds, creaking like an ancient thing remembering pain.
There was no moon. No light. Only the cold gleam of the metal hull slicing through the water and the soft, rhythmic crash of waves—like whispered warnings from the deep.
No voices. No birds. Not even the wind dared to howl here.
But the calmness… was a lie.
Far away, deep within the Ashen Burrow, a timer was running down to its final breath.
A lone candle flickered, melting steadily into a coiled homemade fuse. When the flame reached the cord, it would crawl—slow and inevitable—toward its payload: carefully placed charges made from dry fungi and volatile tree rassin.
It wasn't built to explode. Not really.
No… it was designed to *linger*.
To burn slow. To rekindle.
To smolder like a living thing, the way wildfires do—ravenous and relentless.
And its target was no forest.
Just one tree.
One ancient, gluttonous, godforsaken tree.
The flames would draw the horrors of the Dark Sea like blood in water. And once they came, once they tore into the Soul Devourer's flesh, it would finally bleed. And where it bled, *[A Stubborn Legacy]* would creep in—sinking its fungal claws into weakened roots, spreading like poison through every branch.
A war of rot and flame. A parasite fed by the death of a predator.
---
Sunny sat at the oar, hunched and silent, steering the grotesque little vessel with steady, deliberate strokes.
The carapace creaked beneath him—the bones of a nightmare stitched into the shape of a boat.
They were headed west.
There was no map. No guiding stars. But Sunny didn't need them.
Burned into his mind was a mark—cold, cruel, and precise.
The Crimson Spire. He could feel its shadow like a phantom pain, tugging his sense of direction forward like an anchor line from a distant world.
That ghostly scar in the shape of a tower… it would lead them home.
Above, the sky was black and hungry. Below, the sea churned like ink—impossibly deep and filled with monsters that had never seen sunlight.
More than once, he felt them stir.
Massive, ancient things that brushed the underside of the boat with lazy interest. Shapes too big to fight. Too old to understand.
Their presence oozed malice.
Predators of a forgotten age.
And Sunny—weaponless, skin burned, soul ragged—could only sit there and *hope*.
Hope they didn't notice.
Hope they weren't hungry.
---
Hours passed. Time bled away into the waves.
And then… something shifted.
The constant pull on his thoughts—faint but suffocating—began to loosen its grip.
Like chains falling off in slow motion.
His breath hitched.
The fog in his mind, always there like a film over glass, started to thin. Thoughts became clearer. Emotions sharpened. He could feel *himself* again.
And then—
A sound.
Like shattering glass.
It echoed through his head, as crisp and final as a death knell.
He blinked.
The last tendrils of enthrallment slid away like oil on water.
The tree was gone. Its influence severed.
He was free.
Sunny leaned back, a soft exhale escaping his lips. A smile tried to form, but it came out weak—almost afraid.
His mind was his again.
It felt like breathing after drowning. Like waking from a nightmare that had *never* seemed like a dream.
Clarity came rushing back in all at once, harsh and overwhelming.
He would never have to see that vile, mind-twisting parasite again.
Not in dreams. Not in memory. Not in waking.
**[You have slain an Awakened Terror: Soul Devouring Tree.]**
**[Your shadow grows stronger.]**
**[You have received an Echo: Soul Devouring Tree.]**
**Shadow Fragments: [463/1000]**
---
It was a beautiful, terrible thing—freedom.
Nephis stood still for a moment, her pale eyes sweeping the horizonless dark. The sea around them was ink and shadow, deep enough to swallow gods. Somewhere beneath the keel, horrors stirred in their sleep, and above, the wind dragged its cold fingers across the sky like a shroud being pulled tighter.
They were adrift at the edge of oblivion.
And yet—free.
Balanced on a cursed boat cobbled together from monsters and dreams, held together by desperation, they floated on the surface of a starving abyss. Their lives were little more than a gamble now, dependent on the whim of whatever eldritch thing called these waters home.
It was insane. All of it.
But sanity had never lasted long in the Forgotten Shore.
Here, the world itself had lost its mind long before they arrived. In this broken place, sometimes the maddest decision was the only one left worth taking.
Nephis exhaled softly, the sound lost in the wind.
Near the stern, Alice clutched the oar with both hands, her knuckles pale and tight. Her brown hair had come undone in the chaos, strands clinging to her damp cheeks.
But there was a determined glint behind her dazed eyes—because Puffy was nestled in her lap again, safe and real.
For now, that was enough.
The boat rocked as Cassie shifted slightly. Just a soft movement, yet it rippled through the vessel like a question. She said nothing at first—only passed the magical staff into Nephis's waiting hands, her expression unreadable in the dark.
Then, she moved closer to Sunny.
Sunny whose very existence reminded her of her failure as a leader.
He was unconscious—his body slumped, breath shallow. The burns were still fresh and angry on his skin, angry welts that hadn't yet been soothed by her. All he had was rest, and even that was fitful. His face was pale and strained even in sleep.
Cassie hovered beside him for a moment, unsure. Her hands trembled as she reached out, then slowly, almost reverently, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him.
A shiver passed through her. She pressed her face into his chest, and her whole body began to shake.
Nephis felt her breath catch.
She heard the sound of quiet, broken sobs, muffled by fabric and skin.
"Thank you… thank you…" Cassie whispered, the words trembling as they escaped.
The girl held him like that for what felt like a long time. The tears didn't stop—silent, bitter, full of guilt. She cried like someone who had almost lost something too important to name.
And then… finally… she let go.
Cassie pulled back, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Her movements were stiff and hollow, like someone returning to a body after their soul had wandered too far.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Nephis blinked.
She didn't understand.
Cassie hadn't done anything wrong.
But she didn't ask.
Instead, she said nothing, and kept watch.
Because the sea was always watching, too. And the leviathans that slept beneath them didn't care for tears.
---
They passed it at dawn.
A colossal stone hand, rising from the sea like the limb of a god. It reached for the heavens—fingers outstretched in a gesture so delicate, so heartbreakingly *human*, it almost didn't belong in this world of monsters.
It had been carved by someone who knew beauty.
By someone who loved what they made.
Even Nephis, trained to see only utility, found herself pausing. The craftsmanship was exquisite—almost divine. A moment of grace in the middle of a graveyard.
But there was no time to wonder who the sculptor had been.
What mattered now was simple.
They had made it.
They were here.
The city awaited them, its broken towers lit by the first trembling rays of morning light.
End of the first volume