The group huddled in the shadows beneath the cargo deck as the ship groaned against the churning waves of the dark sea. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to weigh heavier with every passing minute. Aiden could hear faint screams from above, carried by the wind, but he couldn't tell if they were real or just echoes conjured by his strained mind.
Kieran leaned against a crate, his face pale. He wiped sweat from his brow, muttering, "I hate boats."
Rowan stifled a laugh, crouching beside him. "The great Captain Kieran, brought low by a little rocking? You'd think someone with a shield that size would have more backbone."
Kieran shot her a glare. "Laugh it up. At least I didn't lose my mind at the school fragment when a few desks started moving."
Rowan flushed and jabbed her spear into the floor for emphasis. "That was one time. One. Time."
Aiden offered a weak chuckle, but his hands trembled as he gripped his knees. The ring on his finger pulsed faintly, its glow inconsistent. He turned away from the bickering, closing his eyes to steady his breathing. The whispers had grown louder since they'd boarded, clawing at his mind with insidious promises and doubts.
Sylva floated closer, her glow soft but concerned. "You're struggling," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the noise in his head.
"I can't stop imagining things," Aiden admitted, his voice shaky. "The whispers… it's like they know exactly what to say to get under my skin. I can barely focus, and I keep catching myself almost using…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the faint shadow tinting the light of his ring.
Kieran straightened, his nausea momentarily forgotten. "It's normal to feel overwhelmed in situations like this," he said firmly. "When I feel like I'm about to lose it, I focus on my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slow and steady. It's not a cure-all, but it keeps you grounded."
"You're too in your head," Rowan said, leaning back against the crate with a casual shrug. "I just stop thinking and go for it. Works every time."
Aiden blinked at her. "That actually… makes sense."
Rowan froze, then scowled. "It's not supposed to. You're not supposed to agree that easily."
The small exchange lightened the tension, but only for a moment. A scream from above pierced the air, sharper and more immediate than before. The group stiffened, their humor evaporating.
Sylva's light dimmed. "We should move."
The group moved cautiously through the narrow corridors of the ship, shadows skittering in the corners of their vision. Aiden's ring glowed faintly, illuminating the rusted walls and pooling water beneath their feet.
The first attack came suddenly—dark, sinewy forms lunging from the shadows. Rowan reacted instantly, her spear flashing as she drove it through one creature. Kieran blocked another with his shield, slamming it into the wall with a grunt.
"Aiden, keep your head clear!" Kieran barked. "Don't let them get in your head."
Aiden focused, summoning chains of light to wrap around the shadows, holding them in place for Rowan and Kieran to finish off. But each time he used the ring, the whispers grew louder, and his vision blurred with flickers of crimson.
"I'm fine!" Aiden called, though his grip on the ring tightened.
Sylva hovered near him, her voice urgent. "Control your breathing, Aiden. Remember what Kieran taught you."
He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment to steady himself. The whispers receded slightly, and the ring's glow brightened. With renewed focus, he summoned spikes of light, driving back the remaining shadows.
The group emerged into the cold night air, the scent of salt and decay filling their lungs. The deck was illuminated by faint, flickering lanterns, casting eerie shadows across the ship. At the bow, the Sentinel stood tall, his crimson ring glowing like a beating heart. His presence was suffocating, the air thick with malice.
A line of captives stretched along the deck, their faces pale with terror. The first in line was thrown overboard, their scream swallowed by the dark sea below. A massive kraken-like shadow rose from the depths, its tendrils writhing as it devoured the offering.
Aiden's blood ran cold as he spotted Darya standing beside the Sentinel, her fan clasped tightly in her hands. Her face was calm, her expression unreadable, but her posture was tense.
"She's watching them die," Rowan hissed, her knuckles white around her spear. "She's just standing there."
Sylva hovered beside them, her glow flickering faintly. "She's made a choice," she said softly. "But that doesn't make her irredeemable."
"Open your eyes, Sylva," Rowan snapped. "She's not a protector. She's a monster."
"Fertilizer for the tree," the Sentinel said, his deep voice resonating across the deck. He turned to Darya, who stood nearby, her expression carefully neutral. "For Yggdrasil to grow, it must feed. Humans—your emotions, your pain, your fear—are the perfect fuel. The stronger the emotions, the better the tree blooms."
Darya hesitated, her fingers twitching at her side. "And the Core?" she asked, her voice steady but low. "Where does it fit in all of this?"
A murmur rippled through the captives as the Sentinel continued, his glowing eyes locked onto her. "The tree split itself, long ago. To survive, it divided its being into two: the Core and Sylva. One side thrives on darkness and despair, the other on hope and resolve. Two halves of the same whole."
Darya stiffened, her hand tightening on her fan. "You're saying Sylva and the Core are connected?"
Aiden turned to Sylva, his heart sinking. "Is that true?"
Sylva's glow dimmed further, her silence a confirmation. "It's… complicated," she said, her voice heavy with sorrow.
Darya stepped forward, her voice steady but low. "It's necessary. Without it, the tree will wither, and both worlds will fall."
The Sentinel regarded her with amusement. "And you believe that absolves you, Darya? That your logic makes you righteous?"
"It makes me practical," she replied, though her voice lacked conviction.
The line moved forward, and Amara reached the front. She stood defiant, her hands balled into fists as she glared at the Sentinel.
His glowing eyes narrowed. " Perhaps you'd prefer an alternative. Join us, Amara. Embrace the Core, and you can wield power beyond your imagination. You can be free of fear, of pain."
Go ahead," she spat. "Throw me in. I'd rather face the kraken than become like you."
The Sentinel chuckled, a sound like grinding stone. "So noble. So predictable."
The Sentinel raised his hand, the kraken's tendrils surging upward in response. Darya's grip on her fan tightened, her body tensing as if she might intervene. But she didn't move.
Rowan couldn't take it anymore. "That's it. We're going."
Kieran nodded, his shield glowing faintly. "Agreed."
Aiden hesitated, his gaze lingering on Darya. "She might—"
"She won't," Rowan interrupted. "Let's go."
The group burst from their hiding spot, weapons drawn as they charged onto the deck. The captives gasped, hope flickering in their eyes. The Sentinel's eyes narrowed as he raised a hand. "Ah, Sylva's chosen. Come to interrupt my work?"
Darya hesitated, her eyes flickering between the Sentinel and the group. Her hand tightened around her fan.
The group readied their weapons as the kraken's shadow loomed larger. The deck trembled beneath their feet, and the line of captives screamed as chaos erupted.
Darya hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping back, her loyalty to the Sentinel solidifying. "You've chosen your path," she said, her voice cold. "And I've chosen mine."
Amara's glare burned into Darya as she spat, "You're a coward."
The Sentinel laughed, the sound echoing across the sea. "Let the games begin."
Darya didn't respond, her fan snapping open as the battle began.