The vessel continued its descent into the abyssal depths, the world around it growing ever darker and more alien. The vibrant hues of the reefs had long faded, replaced by a monochrome palette of deep blues and shadowy grays. The occasional flash of bioluminescence was now rare, and the air—or rather, the pressure of the sea—seemed heavier, as if the depths themselves were pushing against their intrusion.
Theros leaned against the obsidian rail at the prow of the ship, staring out into the encroaching blackness. His golden antlers reflected faintly in the vessel's eerie glow, but even his usual swagger seemed dimmed. He traced his clawed fingers along the railing absentmindedly, a rare flicker of unease crossing his face. It wasn't fear—Theros didn't do fear—but a sense of… expectation, like waiting for a predator to pounce.
He glanced behind him, catching Vaelora watching him from the deck. Her gaze was sharp and steady, as if she were reading his thoughts. He quickly flashed a grin, breaking the tension with a wink. "Enjoying the view, cousin?"
Vaelora didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer, her golden antlers catching the faint light of the runes etched into the vessel. "You're too quiet, Theros. That usually means trouble."
"Trouble? Me?" He straightened, spreading his arms wide. "You wound me, Vaelora."
Her eyes narrowed. "We're not here just to keep you out of trouble. We're here because he ordered us to be."
Theros's grin faltered for a fraction of a second before he turned away, feigning indifference. "Well, then, you're all in for a grand adventure. Consider yourselves lucky."
From the ship's control chamber, Cualon's voice rang out. "Adventure? Or reckless suicide? You're the worst tour guide I've ever had." He emerged onto the deck, his smirk as sharp as ever. "Remind me again—how many sea serpents did we lose count of during that delightful ambush? Ten? Fifteen?"
"Twenty," Merrik muttered, leaning on his trident nearby. "Give or take."
Theros ignored them, raising his voice over the rising tension. "Listen, if anyone's worried about a few overgrown eels, you're free to swim back to safety. The rest of us? We've got a mission. And no one—" he pointed into the inky blackness ahead, "no one—is turning back."
The crew murmured their agreement, though the unease was palpable.
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As if in response to Theros's words, the vessel emitted a low, resonant hum. Its runes pulsed brighter, and the enchanted metal seemed to shudder. A series of soft clicks echoed through the interior, followed by a faint, mournful wail that set everyone's nerves on edge.
Eryk glanced around nervously. "Uh… did anyone else hear that?"
"It's just the ship," Nysa said quietly, her selkie form shifting slightly, her sleek seal-like features glinting in the dim light. "It reacts to the depths. Always has."
"Yeah, reacts to the depths," Cualen quipped, "or whatever's in the depths."
Theros rolled his eyes. "It's a ship, not a seer. It's not telling our fortunes."
Calista tilted her head, listening. "Feels like it's... singing. Like it knows something we don't."
The hum grew louder, almost rhythmic now, like a heartbeat resonating through the hull. Shadows shifted on the edges of their vision, and the currents around the vessel grew unpredictable, tugging at it like unseen hands.
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The unease deepened as the ship pressed onward. Strange currents buffeted the vessel from odd angles, making the journey feel like navigating a labyrinth of invisible walls. Faint whispers—too soft to understand—seemed to emanate from nowhere, curling into the ears of those who dared to listen.
Rythen clung to the railing, his silver scales shimmering faintly with his nervous energy. "Do you feel that?" he asked no one in particular. "Like… like we're being watched?"
"Don't let your imagination run wild, kid," Durak rumbled, though even the now crimson-haired warrior's grip on his axe was tighter than usual.
Theros, overhearing, laughed—a sound more forced than he intended. "Watched? Please. What kind of coward spies on the King of Rascals? If they're watching, they'll regret not attacking when they had the chance."
Yet, as he spoke, his golden eyes flicked to the shadows outside the ship, searching for movement.
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Late into the journey, when most of the crew had retreated to rest or patrol the vessel's interior, Theros stood alone on the deck. The faint glow of the runes illuminated his face as he gazed into the abyss.
For the first time, his shoulders slumped, and his usual confident grin was nowhere to be seen. He tapped his claws against the railing, his mind racing. What are we heading into? And why does it feel like we're walking into a trap?
He exhaled slowly, straightening up again. When he turned back toward the interior, his cocky smirk was firmly back in place.
The whispers grew louder as the vessel neared what felt like an invisible threshold. The ship groaned, its obsidian hull creaking under the growing pressure. Suddenly, an unnatural current slammed into them, nearly capsizing the vessel.
Alarms echoed through the chambers, and Merrik's voice boomed over the chaos. "We've got turbulence! Hold steady!"
The crew scrambled into action, securing equipment and manning their stations. Cualon dashed to the controls, cursing under his breath. "Your brilliant navigation is going to kill us all, Theros!"
Theros laughed as he gripped the railing for balance. "Relax! It's just a little rough water!"
Vaelora shot him a glare. "This isn't natural."
The vessel steadied, though the atmosphere was heavier than before. The crew's nerves were fraying, but Theros clapped his hands together, breaking the silence. "See? Nothing to worry about. Now let's keep moving. Adventure awaits!"
Despite his bravado, the whispers seemed louder now—almost as if they were laughing.
To Be Continued...