View source for The Moonlit Seas 5 - The Monsters we Become

<nowiki>*</nowiki>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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I often wonder, what makes a monster, Is it blood? Are they born? Or is it our actions that turn us monstrous? If a man commits monstrous acts to stop a monster, does that make them both the same? There is a line somewhere, but where it lies is another question entirely.

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Lying in her quarters on the Gambit, Lenore found herself struggling with her newfound gifts. She could feel the ice wrapped around her heart, extending to her fingertips, and the whispers in the silence that echoed within her soul. In these moments, she often found herself reflecting on the aftermath of the chaos she had unleashed upon the seas.

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The mast of the Calimport warship splintered with a deafening crack, its massive frame collapsing into the churning sea below. Black powder charges erupted, sending plumes of fire roaring into the night, illuminating the chaos like a grotesque painting. The screams of sailors trapped in the icy grave Lenore had created echoed across the waves, a haunting symphony of agony that lingered long after the flames had consumed them.

On the deck of the Gambit, the crew of the Kraken stood in stunned silence, their faces flickering in the firelight. Blood slicked the planks beneath their boots, mingling with the salt spray of the sea. While Rylan and the others moved with grim efficiency to finish the fight, Lenore's gaze was fixed on her hands. The frost-covered tips were a cruel reminder of the power she had unleashed... A power that now felt like a living thing, coiled inside her, waiting to strike.

She had frozen men where they stood, their hearts turning to ice. She had commanded the sea itself, bending it to her will with a flick of her wrist. And yet, as she stared at the destruction she had wrought, she felt no triumph... Only a hollow, gnawing fear. The power had saved them, but it had also changed her. She could feel it, like a second heartbeat, pulsing in time with the whispers that now lived in her mind.

Ballin, the grizzled dwarf, was fearful at first. He and Kael both approached her with caution after witnessing what she had summoned from the depths. Mira, ever brash, had no such reservations, thinking only of her friend. Together with Rylan, they guided Lenore below deck while the others worked to right the ship for travel once more.

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The voices came to her in quiet moments like these. They whispered from the depths, their words a low, insistent hum that filled her mind like the tide rolling in.

"You are not weak." they said. "You are not powerless. You are ours."

Lenore tried to shut them out, to bury them beneath the noise of the ship and the laughter of the crew. But they were always there, a constant presence that grew louder with each passing day. They spoke of power, of the things she could do, the changes she could make. They promised her strength, but at a cost she could not yet understand.

She found herself both terrified and entranced by the possibilities that coursed through her. It was intoxicating, the way the sea responded to her every breath, the way the ice obeyed her commands. But it was also dangerous, a force she could not fully control. And the voices... they were always there, urging her to embrace it, to let it consume her.

Lying awake in her bunk, hands trembling as she stared at the ceiling, the voices were louder now, their whispers more insistent. A darkness crept in at the edges of her mind. It was hunger. She wanted to resist it, to push it away, but she felt herself slipping, losing control until she stirred from a restless night and made her way to the deck of the ship. There, the whispers of the waves and her mind could commingle, calming the storm brewing within her.

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Rylan found her on the deck later that night, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out at the sea. He didn't say anything at first, just stood beside her, his presence a quiet comfort.

"I don't know what's happening to me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I... I killed him, all of them, Rylan. I didn't have to, but I did. And I wanted to."

Rylan's hand found hers, his grip firm and steady. "You did what ya had to do," he said, his voice low. "They would've killed us if ya hadn't."

"But that's not why I did it...not entirely," she admitted. "I hated them. I wanted them to suffer. And now? now I'm afraid of what I might do next."

Rylan pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she trembled. "Ya're not a monster, Lenore," he said firmly. "You're just... lost in the waves of somethin... grander."

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That night, within his cabin, Lenore confided in Rylan, her voice trembling as she spoke of the voices, of the darkness that seemed to grow with every passing day. She told him of her fear, of the craving that gnawed at her, threatening to consume her.

"I don't know what's happening to me," she whispered, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm afraid I'm becoming something... something I don't want to be."

Rylan listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When she finished, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "You're not alone," he said firmly. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together. Ya hear me? Together."

Lenore nodded, her heart aching with the weight of everything she had shared. She found silence within his arms as they lay in the cabin, embracing each other. His calloused fingers brushed the hair from her face as he leaned in...

(These two are like rabbits! Well damn... that was a clever use of an ice spell...)

...As they lay in bed, contented with the moment, staring at the sky through the small port window, her demons subsided... if only for the moment. She found herself smiling. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew one thing for certain: she was not alone. And for now, that was enough.

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The Gambit headed for Sheirtalar, "The Shining City by the Sea." where they could rest, resupply, and where Lenore could find passage back to Calimport. But as the ship drew closer, Lenore felt a growing sense of dread as the voices within her called for blood. Dread of her hometown, the place she had fled all those weeks ago. The thought of returning filled her with a fear she couldn't explain.

"If I were to return home like this..." she told Rylan one night, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid of what I might do..."

Rylan frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. "What do ya mean?"

"I'm afraid I won?t be able to stop myself," she admitted. "I'm afraid I'll burn it all down."

Rylan was silent for a long moment, his hand resting on hers. "Then we won't go...not yet, at least. Not until you learn to control the swell within you." he said finally.

But Lenore knew it wasn't that simple. The voices were growing louder, their promises more tempting. She could feel the power inside her, restless and hungry, waiting for the chance to break free. And she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold it back.

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As the city came into sight, its lanterns flickering in the twilight, the Gambit sailed calmly into port. Lenore stepped onto solid ground for the first time in months with a strange sense of unease. She felt the presence before she saw her.

A woman waited on the docks... Lenore's own blood knew she was waiting for her. Clad in long, flowing robes of midnight blue, her dark hair braided with beads of sea glass. But it was her eyes, icy and framed by burnt umber skin, glowing like the depths of the ocean in moonlight, that held Lenore captive.

The woman tilted her head as if listening to something only she could hear. "The sea has taken you, little tempest," she said. Her voice was both soft and powerful, a tide pulling at Lenore's very soul.

Lenore swallowed hard. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. "One who understands." She stepped forward, close enough that Lenore felt the unnatural chill radiating from her. "The power inside you... it is not just yours. It never was."

Lenore shivered, not from fear but from the recognition in the woman's gaze. She had walked this path before.

"What is it you want from me?" Lenore demanded.

The woman did not turn. "What do you want from it, child? Strength? A way to keep the ones you love safe?" She finally looked at Lenore, her glowing eyes piercing through her. "Or do you wish to be lost and drown in what you have become?"

Lenore clenched her fists. "I will not lose myself."

The woman stepped closer, lifting a hand. "Then you must decide who is in control... You, or the power. If you wait too long, like many in life, the choice will be made for you."

She was not lost yet. But the tide was rising.

Rylan approached the pair with caution, stepping beside Lenore with his hand at the hilt of his blade. His calm eyes wandered over the woman, assessing the threat before them. "What do you know of this... power?"

A cackle split the woman's lips, her dark skin creasing in lines of enjoyment as the beads within her hair jingled together, mimicking the sound of rain. "More than most, less than some. I know it well, as it is the same brine coursing through my veins." Her mischievous smile widened as hints of frost danced across her fingertips.

The warlock's smile sharpened, her frost-kissed fingers curling like the crest of a wave. "Names are currency in the deep, little tempest. But you may call me Nerissa." she said, the syllables rolling like distant thunder. Behind her, the lantern light seemed to fray, shadows pooling unnaturally at her feet... shadows that twitched, serpentine, as if something unseen stirred beneath them.

Rylan's blade hissed free of its sheath, but Nerissa merely flicked her wrist. The air thickened, a sudden, biting cold seizing the steel until it crackled with rime. "Peace, storm-child," she purred, her gaze sliding to him. "Your fire is wasted here. This is a tide even you cannot outrun."

Lenore stepped between them, ice prickling beneath her skin in answer to the warlock's challenge. Her eyes did not leave the woman's fingers as she saw the likeness of her own powers within the mysterious figure before them. With a determined nod, she met the old warlock's gaze, the same depth staring back. "Show me..."

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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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Seek solace, weary wanderer, at the Sibayad Bathhouses! Where the waters run pure and the fires burn bright!

Tired from the road? Aching from battle? Or perhaps simply in need of a moment's peace away from the clamor of the world? The Sibayad Bathhouses offer you a sanctuary like no other, our bathhouses are renowned across the lands for their restorative waters and skilled attendants

Whether you are a noble of high standing, a humble traveler, or a battle-hardened adventurer, the Sibayad Bathhouses welcome you. Our doors are open from dawn till the witching hour, and our attendants are ever-ready to serve.  
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