The air was thick with a palpable tension, each of them frozen in place as the silence stretched.
The darkness around them seemed to press in harder, suffocating, and thick with a sense of foreboding.
"What?" Elliot's voice broke through the stillness, barely more than a whisper. He felt a cold shiver run through him, unease clawing at the back of his mind. "What do you mean? I'm not holding anyone's hand..."
Amiyan's words, sharp and laden with fear, cut through the murk. "You're messing with us."
But there was something in his voice—a tremor that couldn't be ignored.
"I'm not." Elliot's tone was firm, though even he could hear the slight unsteadiness that had crept into his words.
Without a moment's hesitation, the group instinctively stepped back, their movements synchronized by the sudden spike of terror.
Wuxian drew his sword with a swift motion. The blade gleamed faintly, an aura spilling from it that cut through the dense darkness.
And there it stood.
A figure, no taller than a child, its form humanoid yet undeniably alien. Black scales shimmered faintly beneath the sword's glow, its small horned head tilted with a childlike curiosity. Eyes—large and glowing with an otherworldly green—met theirs. They were wide with an innocent, almost unearthly wonder.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Wuxian's grip tightened on his sword. "What is this...?"
Elliot's voice cracked the silence, barely above a murmur, as he stared at the creature. "A child?"
The creature blinked, its eyes gleaming as if it had found something it was drawn to.
Without warning, it took a small, swift step forward and then, in a motion so sudden it seemed unreal, it ran.
Elliot didn't even have time to react as the child collided with him, its small, scaled arms wrapping around his torso.
It clung to him like a child seeking comfort, burying its face into his chest as if it had found something it had long been searching for.
Wuxian's sword remained raised, his body tense, ready to strike. "Elliot—"
"Wait!" Elliot's voice rang out, stronger now, a command laced with something that even surprised him.
His hand instinctively reached down, pressing gently against the creature's back as it continued to cling to him, its warmth odd and soothing.
He could feel the rapid beat of its small heart through the scales, a rhythm not entirely unlike his own. "It doesn't feel hostile."
Wuxian's eyes narrowed, but he didn't move. The room was still, save for the soft, steady sound of the creature's breathing.
Elliot stood there, cradling the small figure against him, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.
A foreign feeling surged within him, something neither familiar nor entirely his own.
The creature's presence was a strange comfort, like a forgotten memory tugging at his soul, an unknown connection.
And before he could fully process it, the strange sensation blossomed like a flower in the dark—an aching emotion he couldn't name.
And then, as though a dam had broken inside him, Elliot felt it: tears.
Warm and unbidden, they fell from his eyes, staining his cheeks with a depth of sorrow he hadn't known he could feel.
They dripped silently down, slipping into the creature's scaled skin, as if the child had called forth something buried deep within him—an emotion that was not his, yet it felt so painfully familiar.
The creature, feeling the warmth of his tears, hugged him tighter, as if to offer some kind of silent comfort.
It was not a hostile embrace but one of unspoken understanding, as though it, too, shared in the strange grief that had awakened between them.
Wuxian's sword lowered ever so slightly, his brow furrowed with confusion. Amiyan stood still, his voice barely a whisper. "What is happening?"
But Elliot didn't have an answer. He could only stand there, the child in his arms, the tears still flowing, his chest tightening with an emotion he had never expected—an ache that felt as if it were not entirely his, but somehow tied to this moment, this place.
The creature pulled away just a fraction, its green eyes locking onto his. A silent conversation hung between them.
Elliot swallowed, struggling to find his voice. "I... I don't know," he whispered hoarsely, his breath shaky. "But it's like... it's like I've known you before."
The creature tilted its head, the glow of its eyes intensifying, as though it, too, had felt the unspoken connection. The air around them hummed with an unearthly energy, and for a moment, it felt as if the whole world had gone silent.
Wuxian stepped closer, his eyes softening just a fraction. "Elliot..."
But Elliot didn't answer. He didn't need to. Because deep within him, he felt something stirring, something ancient, something beyond the words that might ever explain it.
The tears continued to fall, unnoticed by anyone else but the creature, who continued to watch him with its innocent, yet wise eyes.
In that moment, Elliot felt both fragmented and whole—a strange paradox, as though this creature, this child, had awakened something in him that had laid dormant for far too long.
________
Meanwhile, Amara paced along the edge of the crumbling shore, her fists clenched tightly as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill. "I told them! I told them it was too dangerous!" Her voice cracked with frustration and fear.
Roshan, kneeling nearby, her usually composed face now pale and stricken, barely managed to speak. "Amara... they're strong. Elliot, Wuxian, Amiyan—they're not the type to give up." Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to believe her own words.
Amara whipped around, her eyes burning. "How are we supposed to believe that when we saw that thing swallow them whole? You saw it, Roshan! That titan—it just... consumed them!"
Roshan's hands trembled as she clasped them together. She stared out at the dark, churning waters where the titan had disappeared. "If anyone can survive, it's them."
Amara shook her head, her voice low and haunted. "This time, it wasn't just odds. It was a monster. A colossus."
Before Roshan could respond, a distant sound broke through their grief—the low, rhythmic thud of drums carried on the wind. Then came the glint of sails against the horizon, banners fluttering ominously in the breeze.
Roshan stood abruptly, squinting at the approaching vessels. "Ships..." she murmured, a glimmer of hope rising in her chest. "The fleet! It must be reinforcements—Isantanah or the Pygmaians!"
Amara's heart leapt at the sight, her voice lifting with desperate relief. "They made it! We're not alone—thank the heavens!"
But as the ships drew closer, that glimmer of hope turned to dread. The banners were not those of Isantanah nor the Pygmaians. They were dark, adorned with a white circle that resembles the moon in the night sky.
Roshan's breath hitched. "No..."
Amara's face hardened as realization struck. "That's not our fleet."
"It's the Realm of Yomi." Roshan's voice dropped to a whisper, her hands curling into fists.
Amara gritted her teeth, fear giving way to anger. "Out of all the realms... why them?"
The fleet drew closer, their ships larger, more menacing than anything either woman had seen before. Their sails bore history of conquest and cruelty, and the waters around them churned unnaturally, as if the ocean itself recoiled from their presence.
Roshan took a step back, her voice shaking but resolute. "This isn't good. Yomi never send fleets for diplomacy."
Amara drew her weapon, her knuckles white as she gripped the hilt. "If they want a fight, then they'll get one. But not here. Not while we're outnumbered." She turned to Roshan, her eyes fierce. "We need to warn the others. This just got a lot worse."
Roshan nodded, her mind racing. "And pray that Elliot and the others come back... before it's too late."