The storm had caught them like a ravenous beast
shortly after they left the Isle of Currents. The Tempestamic Ocean, which had
roared with dark waves before, now writhed in a chaos of water and wind, black clouds
spewing lightning that tore across the sky. Kain gripped the oars with
calloused hands, his fingers wet with salt dripping from his tattered gray
tunic, falling in cold drops onto the soaked wood of the boat. The vessel
rocked violently, groaning beneath his feet, and he felt the weight of the
dampness on his broad shoulders, hardened by years of hunting relics in
forgotten places. In his pocket, the Ruby pulsed—a blood-red stone he'd pulled
from the sword's sheath on the island, now warm against his thigh, as if alive.
"Hold on tight!" he shouted to Lirien, his hoarse
voice nearly swallowed by the thunder. A colossal wave loomed ahead, a wall of
dark green water threatening to engulf them. Without thinking, Kain plunged his
hand into his pocket, the Ruby glowing in his palm. Heat surged up his arm, and
the stone transformed—its edges sharpened, its glow stretched, molding into a
short sword with a faceted blade, deep red like forged blood, the hilt adorned
with swirling wave patterns. His brown eyes flashed, and he leapt to the bow,
legs buzzing with an energy he didn't understand. With a swift spin, he sliced
the wave in half—the blade flared, the water parted into foam, and the boat
slipped through unharmed, gliding into the mist forming beyond the storm. But
the power faded fast; his legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees, panting,
the sword reverting to a stone in his hand.
"This thing nearly killed me," he growled, drumming
his fingers on his pocket as he stood, heart racing. "What's this damn stone
doing to me?"
Lirien, clinging to the boat's edge, turned to him,
her wet blonde hair plastered to her face in rebellious strands. Her green eyes
gleamed with a mix of relief and caution, her pale hands trembling slightly
against the wood. "You cut a wave like it was paper," she said, her voice
steady despite the tremor. "If you don't understand it, you'd better learn
fast."
Kain snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching
into a crooked grin. "If I go down, I'm taking you with me, girl." He returned
to the oars, his defined arms tensing as he guided the boat away from the
storm, the fog thickening around them like a suffocating veil.
The Fracture Sea revealed itself slowly, a
nightmare of stone and water. Twisting channels snaked between islands of black
rock, their jagged shapes rising from the surface like the remnants of a
shattered world. Some resembled broken towers, leaning at impossible angles,
cloaked in dark moss that devoured the light. Others looked like fossilized
claws, their sharp edges worn by time but still menacing. The water was a deep,
near-opaque green, reflecting shadows that moved without source—shapes Kain swore
weren't there when he looked straight at them. The air carried a scent of salt
mixed with something metallic, sticking to the throat.
"This isn't the ocean I know," he muttered,
adjusting the oars to dodge a serrated rock jutting from the water, covered in
white barnacles that glowed faintly in the mist.
Lirien leaned forward at the bow, her faded blue
tunic clinging to her slender frame, her worn boots leaving puddles on the
wood. "No one sails here," she said, her tone laced with uncertainty. "It's a
lost place. Fishermen from the Isle of Currents say the Fracture Sea swallows
anyone who ventures too deep—a graveyard of ships and men. Some call it cursed.
Others say something lives here… something that roars like the sea and doesn't
want to be found."
Kain pulled the Ruby from his pocket, the stone
glowing blood-red against the dim light. "If it swallows, it's because there's
something it doesn't want me to find. And I'm good at poking around where I'm
not welcome." With a playful flick of his wrist, the Ruby transformed into the
faceted sword, its blade casting crimson reflections into the mist. He swung it
through the air, testing its light weight. "This thing saved me back there. I
want to see how far it takes me—maybe it'll make me fly, who knows?" He winked
at Lirien, sarcasm blending with genuine fascination.
She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a
sharp smile. "You nearly sank cutting that wave. If there's a beast here, I
hope it swims worse than you, or we'll end up fish food together."
Kain laughed, a short, dry sound that echoed in the
fog. "I'll cut it in half before it gets close." He pointed the sword at her in
a teasing gesture, the blade lighting her face for a moment before he stowed it
in his pocket, where it reverted to a warm stone.
The boat glided into a narrower channel, the
islands closing in like the walls of a maze. To the left, a small island caught
Kain's eye—a mound of black rock crowned by a skeletal tree, its exposed roots
gripping the stone like claws. Deep gouges scored the base, marks that looked
like scratches from something massive, their edges coated in greenish slime
that pulsed faintly. He frowned, rowing closer.
"Look at this," he said, jutting his chin toward
it. "That's not erosion. Looks like something dragged its nails here."
Lirien leapt from the boat with agility, her boots
splashing in the shallow water as she ignored Kain's grunt. "It doesn't look
like anything I know," she admitted, crouching near the gouges. Her fingers
hovered over the lines, hesitating before touching the slimy residue. "The old
folks on the Isle of Currents talk about a beast… Tashkivor, they call it. They
say it roars like the sea, leaves marks like these. Just rumors, I
thought—stories to scare kids."
"Rumors don't scratch stone," Kain shot back, tying
the boat to a jagged rock and jumping onto the island. He crouched beside her,
running his fingers over the gouges, feeling the stone's chill and the slime's
subtle pulse. "This isn't old. Whatever did this was here recently."
Lirien fell silent, her eyes fixed on the marks.
"My father believed those stories," she said, her voice softer. "He was a
fisherman. Said he heard Tashkivor once, on a night like this—a moan from the
sea's depths. He never came back to prove it." She took a deep breath, standing
abruptly. "I thought it was just his fear."
Kain glanced at her, catching the wound hidden
beneath her teasing tone. Before he could reply, Lirien froze, her body tense.
"Kain," she called, her voice low and urgent. "Stop the boat. Now."
He obeyed, gripping the oars to slow it until the
boat floated nearly still. "What is it?" he asked, standing, the wood creaking
under him in the damp air.
Lirien pointed to an island on the right—a smaller,
jagged formation piercing the mist. At its base, nearly hidden by dark moss and
slime, was a carved symbol: three upward-curving lines like breaking waves,
bisected by a vertical crack. The etching was weathered but visible, catching
the faint light in deep grooves.
"I know this," Lirien said, leaping to the shore
with a fluid motion. She crouched near the stone, water lapping at her boots as
she hesitated before touching the symbol. "I've seen this design on the Isle of
Currents. My father marked it in the corners of his maps, like a warning. He
called it the 'Mark of the Fractures.'"
Kain tied the boat and joined her, his boots
sinking into the wet ground. He traced his fingers over the symbol, feeling its
rough texture. "High Fractures," he murmured, echoing a name he'd heard before.
"You said the rumors spoke of a graveyard of ships… and something that roars.
This is starting to feel like more than a fisherman's tale."
Lirien nodded, her lips tight. "The old ones said
the High Fracture Sea got its name from the islands—broken towers of a
shattered world. But they talked about a sign, a mark left by something that
split the land and sea together." She pointed to the crack in the symbol.
"That's the fracture. My father believed it was Tashkivor's warning, that the
beast made this place."
Kain snorted, but the sound came out tense. "A
beast that carves stone? That's new." He drew the Ruby, and it glowed before
transforming into the faceted sword, its facets mirroring the symbol's curves.
"This thing in my pocket's liking it. It's damn hot."
Lirien turned to him, her pale face contrasting
with her bright eyes. "If this is the Mark of the Fractures, we're not just in
a graveyard. We're in its territory." A faint tremor rippled through the
ground, and she stood, wiping her hands on her tunic.
A deep moan sliced through the air—a low wail
rising from the waters and echoing across the High Fractures. The ground shook,
and Kain stiffened, his hand on his pocket. "Did you hear that?" Lirien asked,
her voice a whisper as she stepped closer to him.
"Yeah," he replied, his tone sharp. "And it's not
the wind." The Ruby flared as it became the sword, pulsing with red light. The
moan came again, louder, reverberating through the islands until the boat
rocked. The water rippled, a wave rising against them. Kain gripped the sword,
heat surging up his arm, and darted at super speed—in a blink, he slashed the
wave with the blade, the water parting into foam. But the power faltered; he
stumbled, bracing on the sword to keep from falling.
"Kain!" Lirien shouted, running to him. "What did
you see?"
"Something big," he growled, panting, the sword
reverting to stone. "But too fast to catch." He pulled Lirien back. "Get to the
boat. Now."
Suddenly, a weak gust of wind cut through the mist,
deliberate and cold. On the opposite island, a hooded figure appeared for an
instant, its outline indistinct against the gloom. A pale glow flickered in its
hand—perhaps a stone, pulsing faintly before vanishing as the figure moved,
swallowed by the fog. The wind pushed the boat deeper into the channel, the
islands closing like a trap.
"Who was that?" Lirien asked, gripping the edge,
her knuckles whitening.
"No idea," Kain replied, pulling the oars hard, the
boat slicing through the water. "But they're toying with us." A shadow darted
beneath the boat, swift and dark, and before they could react, the deep moan
echoed again, closer. The Ruby pulsed hot in his pocket, and Kain felt a chill
up his spine. The Fracture Sea was a living enigma, and they were inside
it—with something, or someone, watching from the shadows.