Vem's muscles burned with the memory of the fight, each bruise a reminder of his clash with the Succubus. The dark waters of the Black Sea lay before him, vast and foreboding, churning with a slow, ominous rhythm that made the hairs on his neck prickle. Each ripple seemed almost alive, a slight glimmer caught in its inky depths, as if it harbored things far beyond his understanding. Aislin knelt beside him, her face pale, dark eyes darting over the water's surface. They hadn't let their guard down since the battle ended, both tense and watchful, every shadow around them a reminder of the Succubus's lurking presence.
Vem took a breath, his chest still tight from exhaustion. "How did you find me?" he asked, his voice a low rasp.
Aislin exhaled sharply, as though the question stirred something buried within her. "I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. I'd heard stories, whispers about the Succubus's illusions, how she'd seduce minds with false visions." She paused, hands clenched tightly in her lap. "I thought if I crafted a vision, something that would lure her out of hiding, I could finally bring her into the open. But I was wrong. I was foolish." Her voice grew faint, almost a whisper. "When I saw her reflection in the water, it was too perfect, too still. And I knew. That image of the fallen angel—it was nothing more than her trap."
They were both quiet for a long moment. Vem took in her words, letting the weight of her confession settle. He studied her profile in the dim light, the set of her jaw, the determined edge to her gaze despite the danger they'd just faced. His wounds throbbed, a reminder of just how close he'd come to being ensnared in the Succubus's deception. And yet, he could not shake the feeling that there was something genuine beneath the illusion she'd woven.
"I don't think it was all a lie," he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he turned his gaze back to the sea. The pitch-black waves seemed to shift with his gaze, as if the darkness itself acknowledged him. "I believe someone—something—was here."
He looked at Aislin. Her eyes met his, and after a beat, she nodded, determination flickering in her gaze. Together, they stood, scanning the sprawling shore around them for anything, any faint sign in this bleak and desolate expanse.
Here, the Black Sea was an anomaly, a vast chasm ringed with sheets of ice that shimmered like broken glass under a muted sky. No sunlight could reach them here, only a faint, eerie glow cast by the sea itself, dark and unending, as if it bled into the earth rather than merely resting upon it.
They began their search. The silence was thick, broken only by the muted crunch of their boots on the frozen ground and the occasional, foreboding rumble from the sea. The surrounding cliffs loomed high, jagged and sharp, trapping the dark waters in a skeletal embrace. Nothing about the Black Sea was natural; it felt ancient, like a cursed wound left to fester for ages, as if its very existence was a threat. Vem watched each ripple and flash in the water's depths with a fierce intensity, hoping for some clue of the fallen angel he had seen in his visions.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a shimmer—barely a flicker—beneath the water's surface. It wasn't the same illusion the Succubus had woven; this was different, real. Vem felt his pulse quicken as he approached the shore, holding his sword close.
Aislin gripped his shoulder before he could move closer. "Be careful. The Black Sea… it isn't like any water we know. It doesn't just swallow light, Vem. It warps, consumes anything that touches it."
He hesitated, glancing down at Seraphina, his blade, with a tight grip on its hilt. But he knew the risks. His weapon was precious, forged with intent and history. With a slight sigh, he took the small piece of cloth Aislin tore from her sleeve and held it over the sea's surface, just close enough for it to graze the edge. His hand tensed as he lowered it, watching as the fabric met the black waters.
Instantly, the cloth began to dissolve, threads unraveling, crumbling as if they'd been submerged in acid. He jerked his hand back, eyes wide as he watched it vanish, each fiber devoured in a matter of seconds.
Aislin sucked in a breath, and Vem turned to her, the two sharing a silent, solemn acknowledgment of the danger they faced. But something else had caught his attention—the faintest gleam beneath the water, something white and bone-like, almost too faint to see without the clarity potion's help.
"Aislin," he said, voice low and cautious, "do you have the clarity potion?"
She nodded, pulling back the folds of her cloak to reveal a collection of small vials, each shimmering with different colors. She handed him a vial with a golden liquid, its color vibrant even in the low light. He uncorked it, the sharp tang of herbs and minerals filling his nose, and he downed it in one gulp, feeling it burn its way down his throat before the clarity washed over him.
The sea's dark surface seemed to thin, and the depth of its horror became clearer. Beneath the waves lay bones—a grim collection of twisted remains, skeletal fragments scattered in tangled piles. Broken ribs jutted from skulls, mangled and warped by the sea's touch, while fragments of armor—once gleaming silver, now rusted and brittle—lay buried in the mix. His eyes widened as he caught sight of something small and strange near the remains: a silver pendant, glimmering faintly despite the bleak surroundings, its heart shape stark against the desolation.
There was a soft gasp beside him, and Aislin's hand shot to her mouth. She knelt down, her gaze locked on the pendant.
"Do you see that?" Vem murmured, his voice hoarse with realization. A part of him knew already—knew what they had stumbled upon, yet he fought the dread that welled in his chest.
Aislin's voice broke the silence, barely audible. "Vem… that's a heart pendant. I've seen one like it before." Her gaze shifted to him, eyes dark with understanding and sorrow. "They wore those, the fallen ones. I remember…"
They fell into silence again, each locked in their own thoughts as they stared at the pendant. The bones around it seemed to sink further into the dark, cold depths, as if drawn deeper by the sea itself.
"We were too late," Vem finally said, the weight of his words sinking into the stillness around them. He felt the futility of their efforts, a heavy ache that pierced through his exhaustion. He straightened, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on the pendant as if it held answers to questions he hadn't yet dared to ask.