I knew I had to leave the islands.
The gods might have turned their attention elsewhere, confident in their annihilation of the Ixorym, but I couldn't trust that oversight to last. Some archaic force, perhaps tied to the altar's awakening, seemed to shield me from their sight for now. That reprieve wouldn't last forever, and staying on these blood-soaked lands was inviting death—or worse.
The journey across the island was grueling. My limbs ached from the strain of the battles, and the oppressive grief weighed heavily on me. Even as I sprinted, images of the dead haunted my vision, the silence of their absence louder than any sound.
Hours passed before I reached the edge of the island. The shoreline stretched endlessly, the roaring waves promising freedom but also peril. There was no time to rest, no time to think. I dove headfirst into the waves, desperate to escape before the gods decided to return and ensure no embers of resistance remained.
I had thought I could easily traverse the seas to reach the main continents. My arrogance, born from years of Ixorym superiority, blinded me to the challenges ahead.
The water was hostile. It didn't just resist me; it attacked me. The very currents seemed alive, thrashing me about with a vengeance, as though the ocean itself rejected my existence. The salt stung the wounds I hadn't even realized I carried, and the icy chill sapped my strength with every stroke.
But it wasn't just the water.
The seas were teeming with life—predators that had thrived in this harsh environment. Aquatic beasts, vast and strange, emerged from the depths. Some bore sleek, scaled bodies that shimmered in the faint light filtering through the waves. Others were grotesque, their forms alien and their movements erratic, as though driven mad by something in the water.
I fought. I resisted. My claws slashed through flesh and fin, my instincts guiding me as much as desperation. Yet for every beast I fended off, another seemed to rise from the depths to take its place.
I don't know how long I fought. Time had lost meaning amidst the chaos. My vision blurred as exhaustion set in, my movements sluggish as the endless battle dragged on. Then, I saw it.
A shadow.
It rose from the abyss, swallowing all light in its path. It wasn't a single shape but a massive presence, as if the sea itself had become a living creature. The water thundered as the immense form came closer, the sheer size of it incomprehensible. All I could see was shadow in every direction, an all-consuming darkness that threatened to pull me under.
I struggled against the waves, my body screaming in protest. I couldn't die here—not yet. Not after everything. But my strength had been spent, and I could only watch helplessly as the shadow closed in.
The surface broke, sending waves crashing over me. My heart pounded as a massive fin—shaped like that of a shark but far too large, far too ancient—breached the water. The beast beneath it moved with terrifying grace, a predator at the apex of a food chain I didn't belong to.
I waited for death.
But instead, something else rose from the depths.
Claws.
They were massive, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. The talons gleamed with a strange, otherworldly light, and they tore through the water with precision and power. I felt the pressure of the water shift around me as the claws scooped me up, lifting me from the sea's wrath.
The last thing I saw before consciousness fled was the silhouette of the colossal shark-like beast, its glowing eyes fixed on me with an intelligence that sent chills through my fading awareness. The waves thundered once more, and then there was only darkness.
I awoke to the sound of waves lapping gently against the shore. The salty scent of the ocean lingered, mingling with the earthy smell of damp wood and dried herbs. My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself lying on a makeshift cot inside a small, dimly lit hut.
The structure was simple, its walls formed from woven reeds and driftwood. Light filtered through cracks, casting dappled patterns on the floor. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with strange artifacts—shells, bones, and containers filled with brightly colored powders and liquids.
Pain flared as I tried to sit up, and I collapsed back onto the cot with a groan. My body was a patchwork of bruises, cuts, and burns. My claws, though dulled and chipped, still bore faint traces of dried blood.
"Ah, you're awake."
The voice was gruff but not unkind. A figure emerged from the shadows—a lizard-like creature with a wiry frame and skin the color of deep green. Their eyes glowed faintly, and their gills flared as they studied me.
"You're lucky," the figure continued, setting down a clay bowl filled with some steaming liquid. "Most who get caught in the Deep's Wrath don't come back."
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, and the words came out as a rasp. The figure handed me the bowl, and I drank greedily, the liquid warm and soothing as it slid down my throat.
"Where… am I?" I finally managed to croak.
The figure chuckled. "Far from where you started, that's for sure. This is the Reef of Lost Tides, a place for those like you—adrift, unwanted, and alive against all odds."
I stared at them, trying to piece together what little I could remember. The clawed beast that had lifted me from the water, the shadow of the shark-like titan… It all felt like a fever dream, yet my battered body was proof enough that it had been real.
The figure leaned closer, their glowing eyes narrowing. "You've been marked by the Deep. That's dangerous. But it also means you're stronger than most."
Their words stirred something within me—a flicker of the power I had felt during my incomplete awakening. I clenched my claws, the faint embers of resolve reigniting.
I didn't know where I was, or why I had been saved. But one thing was certain. This was only the beginning.