The Moonlit Seas 7 - Toll of the Depths
*The book is bound in dark brown leather, the cover depicts a circular portrait of a ship sailing toward the moon on a calm sea as rays of light cast along the water. The edges of the painting have an intricate lattice of silver. *
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There is power in blood...a hint of the life it holds, forever tying it to its source. Used in many rituals and spells, a single drop of one's blood in the wrong hands can have devastating consequences.
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Within the tome in Lenore's hands, the ink bloomed outward like rippling water at each touch of her fingers as she rested on the railing of the ship. Nerissa had told her during their meeting at the docks of the next trial to come: to collect the blood of the depths themselves. To hunt a creature touched by the same forces as herself and bring back a single vial as an offering.
The pages within the book depicted a dragon turtle... a formidable creature even before being enhanced by the same magic that flowed through Lenore's veins. While Rylan pleaded with the crew to let them go after it alone, they refused. Mira rested a hand on his shoulder, smirking. "Come now, Captain, we're all in this tub together. Besides, if you both went off and got sunk, I'd have to look for another ship to freeboot on. I'm fond of this one!"
The crew cheered in unison and celebrated in the tavern before retiring for the night. While they had rooms in the tavern, Rylan had always struggled to sleep on solid ground... or so he claimed. This was the excuse he fed to Lenore as she found him in her doorway in the middle of the night, shirtless and leaning in dangerously close. She could feel his breath cascade over her as...
(How on earth are they not waking anyone else in this tavern!!! Gods, the walls can?t be that thick!)
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...As the sun began to rise, the Gambit cut through the pre-dawn mist like a blade, her sails taut with a wind that smelled of iron and salt. Lenore stood at the prow, Nerissa's book strapped to her side, its whispers now a constant murmur beneath the crash of waves.
The crew moved with grim purpose. Kael adjusted their course with his charts, Ballin twisted a sturdy oar in his hands, and Mira tested the weight of her daggers with a pirate's grace. Only Rylan lingered close, his hand brushing hers as he scanned the horizon.
"Dragon turtles don't hunt these waters," he muttered. "Not unless summoned."
Lenore's frost-kissed fingers tightened on the rail. "Nerissa said it's been changed... fed on..." She hesitated, the warlock?'s words slithering back. "The deep has teeth, child. Sometimes it bites back..."
Mira sidled up, her red hair a banner in the wind. "Changed how.... Bigger? Angrier? On fire?"
"Worse," Lenore said. "Hungrier."
As she looked out into the fog, a large shape, at first thinking it was an island but slight movements above the waves hinted at a more nefarious source..
Kael cursed, nocking an arrow fletched with raven feathers. "Dead ahead!"
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The sea erupted.
It wasn't a dragon turtle... not anymore. It had become something more, touched by the very depths Lenore served. Its shell was a mosaic of barnacles and eyes, human and otherwise. Bioluminescent tendrils writhed from its jaws, and its eyes burned with the same abyssal blue as Nerissa's magic. When it roared, the sound was a chorus of drowning voices.
"Offeringsss...." it hissed, the word rippling the water. "Leenoooorrre.... The blood of the marked... for the deep's embrace..."
Ballin spat over the rail, hefting his oar. "Aye, come an' get it, ye overgrown crab!"
The battle began in chaos.
Kael's arrows sliced through the mist, each shot finding the gaps between the creature's armored plates. Mira danced across the deck, daggers flashing as she severed tendrils that lashed toward the rigging. Ballin bellowed a dwarven war cry, his oar cracking against the beast with a sound like splitting mountains.
But it was Rylan who moved like the storm itself... a blur of cutlass swings, drawing the turtle's wrath with taunts and slashes. "Eyes on me, ya barnacled bastard!"
Lenore's power surged in response, the sea churning at her command. She threw up walls of ice to shield the Gambit, but the turtle shattered them with a swipe of its tail. The voices in her mind crescendoed. "Deeper. Strike deeper."
"I'm trying!" she snarled, frost spreading across the deck.
The turtle lunged, its maw gaping. For a heartbeat, Lenore saw the abyss within its throat... a darkness that pulled.
Rylan tackled her aside as the jaws snapped shut where she'd stood. "Now, Lenore! Do it now!"
She scrambled to her feet, hands blazing with eldritch cold. The crew's shouts faded beneath the roar of her pulse. This wasn't just ice...this was the Fathomless's gift. A gift that demanded reciprocity.
"Bleed it," Nerissa had said. "But do not kill. The deep claims its own."
Lenore leapt onto the rail, the Gambit's hull groaning as the turtle reared. She screamed with the rage of the tempest itself thrusting her hands to its underbelly, where the armor thinned. The cold poured out of her, not as frost, but as a thousand needle-thin spears of black ice.
The beast howled, shaking the waves themselves.
Its blood, thick and iridescent, cascaded over Lenore, burning where it touched her skin. Gritting her teeth, she filled the vial Nerissa had given her, the glass searing her palm.
"Enough!" Rylan hauled her back as the turtle retreated, its wounds already knitting with unnatural speed. It submerged with a final, baleful glare, the sea swallowing its vengeance.
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The crew tended their wounds in silence that night, the Gambit anchored in eerily still waters. Kael nursed a split lip, Mira bound a gash on Ballin's arm, and Rylan...
Lenore found him at the stern, staring at the vial of dragon turtle blood. It pulsed faintly, alive in a way blood shouldn't be. "You're angry..." she said.
"Aye." He didn't look at her. "That thing... it knew yer name."
She touched his arm, her fingers leaving frost on his sleeve. "I'm still here, Rylan. Still me..."
He turned, pulling her into an embrace. "For how long? That warlock's trials... what more of ya will they take... I see it, and the crew does as well. Look at your eyes already Lass.."
Lenore flinched. She'd avoided mirrors since the first trial. Once vibrant and full of life, her eyes had taken on a deep hue of the ocean's depths themselves. Her skin grew pale, and frost often touched her lips as she drew breath.
Before she could reply, the ship's bell rang... once, twice... though no hand struck it. Nerissa stood atop the mainmast, her robes merging with the night. "Adequate," she called down, smiling. "But the third trial will not be so... merciful, little tempest."
She vanished, leaving only a ripple of unease.
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When they arrived back in Sheirtalar, Lenore placed the vial on the chapel's altar. The blood slithered into the coral-lined pool, hissing as the blue water turned violet. The book's pages fluttered open, revealing a new phrase: "The heart of the storm awaits."
And beneath her breath, the voices purred: "Soon, little one. Soon...'
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Written by Trevor Highdale
Any likeness to folk, or events in the world is merely coincidence, this is a work of fiction. Written for entertainment.
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