“Charlie, wake up!”

  It feels like the world itself stands above Charlie Bykof as he lies coughing up water under the sunset of the deck, barely inching back into consciousness. Every single Navaen soldier in each individual vessel of Raeis’s fleet observes in anticipation, paying Charlie the attention—and respect—he deserves. An older-looking Navaen man pushes his way through the crowd until he’s directly in front of Raeis, my guild, and me.

  The elderly nomad averts his head to the sky.

  “Thank you, Navae. Oh, thank you. I have but one more thing to ask of you.”

  He gets to his knees.

  “Please, blessings upon the man who shielded my son from death. Invicta Navae.”

  The sunset dips just below the horizon, and the air shifts into a colder temperature.

  Then, it happens. Charlie’s eyes open, widening. Coughing a mix of seawater and blood onto the floor, he regains his footing. Alexandria, Sevilla, Antarc and I rush to embrace him in a hug, taking him right back to the floor he came from. Sevilla embraces him the hardest.

  “Charlie, since when could you do that?” She asks.

  Charlie laughs, weakly

  “What… Happened? What changed, Charlie? And so abrupt, it’s just—”

  I cut off Alexandria.

  “I’ve always seen glimpses of something. He’s never been weak. He’s been suppressing himself.”

  Antarc holds Charlie almost as tightly as I do.

  “Zadahn’s known him longer than any of us. That being said, well, you didn’t care to mention he had island-leveling capabilities?”

  Raeis walks over from a conversation with a group of his legionnaires as he sends them to inspect the rubble of the collapse.

  “Though Charlie’s feat is nothing to scoff at, the structural integrity of a Depth’s Fragment is nowhere near that of an actual island. Still, I share your perplexion, Golden Roundtable. There is a string of fate connecting each of you—something preordained. It is times like these, where your potential frightens me.”

  Frightens? That word lingers. He truly may believe we have what it takes for Celtor. Butterflies fly rampantly in my stomach, realizing again that my city is now much more than just a distant daydream. Since the day I read that book, since the moment I stepped foot in that cave, it’s all led up to something more. I’ve always questioned the concept of destiny, watching friends of mine in the legions be massacred indifferently like sheepstock in the Aratel sands—thinking, ‘How could that be their destiny?’ Watching those young Navaens lose their lives to these Broodlords, just mere moments ago. I have no choice but to believe that with willpower comes the strength to shape my own path ahead, and Raeis has reaffirmed that belief. He’s given me strength, and I’m indebted to him beyond any treasure or worldly possession.

  “Thank you, Chief. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  His face changes.

  “Dajara, Xaraeis, Kamuta, and Miyara. We are all indebted to Miyara. She was a kind, kind soul.”

  The chief turns around momentarily, gazing up at the sunset with what looks to be a tear forming in his eye. The tear crystallizes, and Raeis crushes it in his fingers, turning back around.

  “It is another failure of mine. I gave the advancement order too late—”

  “N-not true, Chief Raeis.”

  Charlie finally speaks, cutting off the Bloodfrost Imperator in a moment of grief.

  Raeis wears a puzzled and sorrowful expression.

  “I hesitated far too long. M-my delay caused Miyara’s death. I’m sorry—”

  “Charlie, you can’t possibly think that’s true, can you? If it weren’t for you, everyone would’ve died. You genuinely saved somebody.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The elderly man stands.

  “You saved my son.”

  “Sure, I saved him from death, but… I-I watched Miyara’s last interaction with him, and for the rest of his life, that image of her smiling back at him in her final fleeting moments will be etched into his head all because I waited too lo—”

  “Repeat the first sentence of what you just said.”

  Charlie is undoubtedly still Charlie, still unnecessarily burdening himself with guilt. The father interjects.

  “Uhm… Sure… I-I saved him from death, but—”

  “That’s it. You don’t need to say anything else, Charlie. Because without you, my little boy wouldn’t have had the chance to even process the emotion, to grieve. To live through it. I am indebted to you forever. You are no Home-lander. None of you are. My son lacks the willpower for these legions. Once he’s recovered, I will ensure he lives a long and fruitful life with a nice woman in our outpost—and without you, Charlie, he’d be lying on the ocean floor rather than a warm bed.”

  Raeis’s gaze hardens, and the legion of elite warriors watches silently. Alexandria, Antarc, Sevilla and I nod humbly at the warrior’s words.

  “What’s your name? And your son’s?”

  “My name is Azrael, and my son is Prozen.”

  “Where is Prozen now?”

  “Being treated by Navae’s best medicinals in the lower decks.”

  I feel guilt just thinking about the weight Prozen must feel on his shoulders. The sole-survivor of his squad. I can’t imagine how it feels watching the life of someone you love get discarded effortlessly like a poorly-written paper.

  All of a sudden, a blood-curdling scream rattles us from below our feet. A paralyzing sensation cascades across my spine, as I feel something truly unsettling emanating from below. The screaming continues, echoing louder, as we run towards the source.

  “What’s going on?!” I ask Raeis as almost fifty people run through the cafeteria towards the source.

  “I don’t know, but something isn’t right.” Charlie’s eyes briefly flash white once again.

  “Do you guys feel that? That sinister sensation?” Alexandria asks, clutching her flintlocks firmly, with sweat dripping down her furrowed brow.

  “I do. And I wish I didn’t.” Antarc says, cracking his knuckles and outstretching his arms. I nod, and so does Sevilla. The legion of Raeis’s elite follows closely behind us as we approach the door to the medicinal quarters, and the screaming reaches a terrifying peak.

  We slam through the door.

  Once-white walls, now painted in cruel gouts of red. Two Navaen nurses cower, sobbing in the corner, and my eyes widen in fear. Prozen stands in the middle of the room, unrecognizable, drenched in his own blood, and a dagger on his waist.

  “WHERE IS SHE? ?D??R??O??W??N? ?T??H??E??M? ?A??L??L?. ?A??L??L? ?M??U??S??T? ?F??A??L??L? ?B??E??N??E??A??T??H? ?C??E??L??T??O??R? ?I??T??S??E??L??F?. ?T??H??E? ?W??O??R??L??D? ?I??T??S??E??L??F? ?W??I??L??L? ?D??R??O??W??N? ?U??P??O??N? ?T??H??E? ?W??R??A??T??H? ?O??F? ?T??H??E? ?D??E??P??T??H??S?. WHY ME, WHY DID I SURVIVE?”

  He viciously scratches himself, digging his chipped nails deeper and deeper into his skin. Up, and down, repeatedly. He moves erratically. Blood spouts across the floor and walls, landing in tiny puddles. We’re all frozen. Even Raeis stands still, comprehending the sight. The atmosphere is riddled with dread. I feel bile rise in my throat—I can’t look away.

  He tears at his eyes, as his father pushes through the crowd of shell-shocked nomads.

  “PROZEN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”

  Plop. His eye falls to the floor as he sporadically bursts around the room, clawing at his stomach.

  ?P??L??U??C??K? ?T??H??I??N??E? ?E??Y??E??S?, ?T??H??Y? ?B??L??O??O??D? ?R??E??S??O??N??A??T??E??S? ?B??E??L??O??W?. ?S??E??E??K? ?B??E??N??E??A??T??H?, ?A??N??D? ?Y??O??U? ?W??I??L??L? ?F??I??N??D? ?T??R??U??T??H?.HELP.. ME.. FATHER..”

  He gurgles in pain, and all of a sudden, I notice his eyes welling with tears. My heart drops.

  Prozen shifts his eyes towards the nurses. All goes still. He lunges, grabbing his dagger. Azrael screams as tears flow through his eyes, and he plunges his spear into the back of his son.

  Before anyone can react, he retracts it, turning the tip of his spear upon his own heart.

  “Forgive me, Navae.”

  He and his son collapse simultaneously, meeting the cold indifference of the floor as the boat sways in the ocean. The son coughs blood.

  “”?M??i??y?a??r?a?… ?M??i??y?a??r?a?.. ?P??l?-?p??l??e?a??s??e?…”

  He mutters incomprehensible prayers as his screaming crescendos. Silence. He’s gone.

  The soldiers mutter behind us, their voices trembling with confusion and dread. Raeis steps forward.

  His gaze sweeps across the room and rests briefly on the bodies of Azrael and Prozen. He closes his eyes, just for a moment.

  Then he speaks.

  “Insanity does not take prisoners. It makes no offers. It demands no answers. It comes when it pleases—and it stays when it is fed.”

  He’s greeted by a solemn silence.

  “We do not yet know what poisoned the boy’s mind. Perhaps it was trauma. Perhaps it was a curse. Perhaps something older, deeper, touched him when the Depths swallowed his spirit. But what I do know… is that the universe has no law against cruelty. The Drowned Gods are as indifferent to mercy as they are to murder.”

  A few soldiers lower their heads.

  “Let this be your reminder,” Raeis continues, voice like carved obsidian. “Strength is not a shield against madness. Faith is not immunity from despair. Keep your wits sharp. Sleep with a blade beside you and one eye open. This world will not cradle you.”

  He looks back toward the father and son.

  “I have fully recovered from Cai’als shallow wound. A ceremony will be held for Azrael and Prozen when we dock at Minitrysa. The outpost is close. When we arrive, I will address the legion regarding the coming war. Until then… carry your burdens quietly. We all must.”

  Raeis turns and exits without another word. The soldiers follow somberly, and so do my guildmates and I.

  We return to our quarters, but none of us speak. No one eats. No one sleeps. We lie still in our bunks, staring at ceilings or walls, as if trying to forget what we’ve seen—or prepare for what’s to come.