The trio prepared themselves at the break of dawn.
The final sight of his mother's tears sang a well-nourished symphony in a mournful timbre. Sylun's speech gurgled in the burden of a mouth he owned, yet none echoed the just tune of the sobs and screams. His eyes flinched as the Kingdom of Ogradia crumbled and blended into the gloaming; the lashing tides and a thick shroud of mist devoured the remains.
They'd sail for less than half a day.
"Land's in sight, Derod." The view polished her faith, as she acquired a short, sharp crescent on her face. "We should reach there soon enough. Prepare yourself and the ship. What's wrong with you now?"
She looked at the remnant of an Anomaly, his head buried in a pale, heaving. He'd already filled it, and he reached for another.
Mara endured a sting in her chest. She staggered, yet she pulled herself back in seconds.
"Wait, I'll be back." She left. The soothing breeze hastened in brisk strides.
Fallen clouds stormed in a massive parade, engulfing the slightest hint of daylight in somber veils. The lightning branched into forks, their temporary brilliance teasing the looming heavens. Thunder drummed, conducting a deafening orchestra.
The calm currents stirred into a more chaotic progression, like aqueous serpents jostling for a single prey. Frothing, enraged waves whipped the hull. Icebergs infested the sea, however, only a few of the jagged, icy heads bruised their ship, forgiven with beggarly damage.
The raindrops descended like bone-chilling tears.
"Oy, bastard, make yourself of some use!" Derod growled as he clawed on the steering. The oppressive airstream buffered most of his voice. "Those sails aren't going to raise themselves. Get going already!"
Sylun jumped and rushed. He hoisted the sails as they billowed in the volley of gales. They stripped portions of the sails and rent them asunder. Raging torrents churned the vessel, dismantling a considerable number of its vitals. He licked the salty blood from his lips and crossed his bony arms like a makeshift shield, but lost his footing. An unseen blow flung him until he crashed headlong against Derod's spine. The navigator limped, despite brushing off the impact, and trudged to his station. He choked the helm and revolved it. Sparing a hand, he reached for the bag strapped to his waist.
"Damn it! Where is it?" his veiny eyes reddened, scouring the surroundings for the leathery sack.
More sturdy, beige tentacles shot from the ravening, dark blue.
The towering limbs housed artilleries of endless suckers, each puffing and blowing, carving to suck in the last glimmer of hope. The suckers broadened into chasms, exposing the interiors lined with unearthly sharp daggers. Sylun dashed.
The slimy pillars plunged at Sylun. He clapped his palms, accompanied with a bout of sharp pain in both. As they parted, a black spark crackled. Confidence rooted in his soul. He directed an attack towards tentacle.
"What the… of all the times, now?" He cursed his luck as the blackened radiance traded its sickening color for white.
His back collided with the rails.
This is it, the words mangled all his thoughts.
A shadow swooped and snatched him from a baneful, inevitable death. They drifted to starboard. Sylun bashed against the edge of the rail as he slipped from the grasp of the savior.
"Why do you have to be such a burden?" she said, catching up with her breath. "Derod, drain the crap out of it already!"
"Your Highness, I lost my soulshards but you need–."
The monstrous appendages slashed through the air and the pouring rain and darted for their next meal. One scooped Derod, coiling around him, crunching on his bones. Its brethren joined in the feast, tearing his limbs from the twisted torso. His head slid into a sucker, awaiting the embrace of countless honed blades. The victim's fate taunted Sylun, and turned his conscience sour. He should've been content with the verdict of fate, yet, just yet, there dwelt a noose ensnaring him into a trap of empathy.
Sylun heard the crackling again, his palms blessed with black sparks, but the hue was subdued to a lesser silver. He guided the barrage of black spears at the tentacle as it crushed the cranium. The tentacle faltered, stretching its sucker and letting the bloodied, headless corpse plunge onto the half-broken deck.
However, the others united, aiming for the intervening pest. They lunged at Sylun, but hung inches away, in midair.
That's the best you got?"
He snapped his fingers. One by one, the tentacles withered, until they were reduced to ashes. The stormy winds disposed of the remains. His eyes were as grey as the clouds, the same shade he fostered at the brothel.
The tempest crept away as the clouds submitted to slumber. The sky was still stained a somber grey.
"Looks like that's the end of it." His stone-cold eyes fell on Derod's mutilated corpse, grinning. "Wow, looks like someone's facing their fair share of karma."
Bones sprouted from the mutilated torso, coated in flesh and skin. The viscous crimson strands grew from opening wounds, stitching the skin at wounds, and organizing the misplaced parts from time to time. Every part regenerated. One would have to doubt their memory twice to tell the difference.
Mara scurried to Derod. She turned him over and bit her finger. A modest portion of blood squirted, which rubbed on his chest. The skin absorbed the fluid. He coughed thrice and sat, collapsing for a time or two.
Sylun rolled his eyes at the sight, spitting. He turned and looked at the spoils of the turmoil they had endured.