Recovery was slower than I had anticipated. It wasn't just my body that needed time to heal—it was my very soul. The energy left behind by the deep's attacks burned within me like a lingering curse, sapping my strength even as I fought to regain it.
Every day was a lesson in patience and endurance. Ka'ruk, the elder lizardman who had saved me, ensured I stayed put, his gruff words leaving little room for argument. "You rush out there now," he'd say, his voice a raspy growl, "and you'll be dead before you take your first step."
And so I waited.
During this time, I met Dren, the human I had glimpsed when I first arrived. Unlike the others, he seemed calm, collected, and far more methodical. While most of the settlement's inhabitants carried the scars of desperation, Dren exuded an air of experience, as if he had learned to thrive in this chaos rather than merely survive it.
Dren, it turned out, had a history of mentoring newcomers, though he rarely admitted it outright. "If you're going to live here," he said one day, tossing a blade carved from the fang of some aquatic predator toward me, "you're going to need more than luck."
Dren's lessons were sharp and to the point. He wasn't one to sugarcoat things, and his critiques often bordered on brutal.
"Let's start with the basics," he said one morning, crouching over a slab of driftwood he had carved into a crude map. It showed the island and its surroundings in rough, jagged lines, with symbols marking different areas of importance.
"This is the settlement," he began, tapping the center of the map with his finger. "It's safe here—well, as safe as anywhere can be in the Forbidden Poles. The deep doesn't attack us directly, not unless someone's stupid enough to provoke it."
I nodded, leaning closer to study the map.
"To the west, you've got the coral ridges," he continued. "Good hunting grounds. Plenty of mid-tier beasts that'll test your skills without outright killing you. Usually."
He moved his finger northward. "The waters here are swarming with Eel Serpents. Fast, deadly, and unpredictable. They'll fry you alive with a single shock if you're not careful, but their hides are worth a fortune."
"And the east?" I asked, noting the ominous markings in that direction.
Dren let out a low, humorless laugh. "That's Abyssal Behemoth territory. If you see the water boil, you run. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Just run."
A shiver ran down my spine, but I forced myself to nod. "Understood."
The geography of the area was just the beginning. Dren also taught me about the creatures that inhabited these cursed waters.
"Every beast has a weakness," he explained, holding up the same dagger he had tossed to me earlier. "You just have to figure out what it is before it figures out yours."
He demonstrated proper hunting techniques using a crude dummy made of driftwood and seaweed. "Aim for the joints," he instructed, his movements fluid and precise. "Sever the tendons, paralyze them. Once they're immobilized, you go for the kill. Quick, clean, efficient."
I tried to mimic his strikes, but my movements were awkward, my strikes clumsy. Dren sighed and adjusted my grip. "This isn't about brute strength," he said. "It's about control. Precision. Every strike has to count. Damage the goods, and you might as well have not bothered."
We trained for hours each day, my muscles burning with the effort. Though I stumbled and failed more times than I cared to admit, Dren's relentless guidance pushed me to improve. By the end of each session, I was left exhausted but determined.
Beyond combat, there was the matter of survival. The settlement operated on a delicate balance, with its inhabitants relying on the bounty of the Forbidden Poles to sustain themselves.
"Everything here has value," Dren said one evening as we sat around the fire. "Pelts, fangs, bones, even the poison sacs. It all goes to the trade post. The stronger you are, the more you bring back, the better your chances of surviving."
He paused, his gaze fixed on the flames. "But don't get greedy. That's how most end up dead. They push too far, take on more than they can handle, and the deep swallows them whole."
His words stuck with me. Greed wasn't a temptation I had to worry about—not yet. For now, my focus was on survival, on learning the skills I needed to navigate this brutal new reality.
As my body healed, I began to explore the settlement in earnest. It was a patchwork of huts and lean-tos, cobbled together from driftwood and scavenged materials. The air was thick with the smell of salt and smoke, a constant reminder of the sea's presence.
The people here were a mix of species and backgrounds. Most had the hardened look of seasoned survivors, their expressions guarded and their movements deliberate.
Among them was Ka'ruk, the lizardman elder who had saved me. He wasn't as talkative as Dren, but his presence commanded respect. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of years spent battling the unforgiving world around us.
"The Forbidden Poles were not always this way," Ka'ruk said one evening, his eyes distant. "Once, they were a place of wonder, a realm of endless possibilities. But something changed. The gods marked these waters, sealing away their secrets and condemning all who dared to enter."
"What are they protecting?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.
Ka'ruk shook his head. "No one knows. Some say it's a treasure of unimaginable power. Others believe it's something far more sinister. Whatever it is, the deep ensures that none who seek it return alive."
His words only deepened the mystery, fueling a spark of determination within me. If there was something worth protecting here, then perhaps there was also something worth fighting for.
By the time my wounds had fully healed, weeks had passed. The lingering energy from the deep's attacks had finally dissipated, leaving me stronger but wary. I had spent my recovery absorbing every lesson, every piece of knowledge that Dren and the others could offer.
But now, it was time to put that knowledge to the test.
I stood at the edge of the settlement, the salty breeze tugging at my hair as I stared out at the vast expanse of water. The sea glittered under the light of the moons, a deceptive beauty that hid the horrors lurking beneath.
"Ready?" Dren's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I nodded, tightening my grip on the dagger at my side. "As ready as I'll ever be."
He smirked, his sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "Good. Then let's see if you've got what it takes."
But before we could take a step, a distant roar echoed across the waves, sending a chill down my spine.
"What was that?" I asked, my heart pounding.
Dren's smirk faded, his expression turning grim. "Trouble."
The hunt would have to wait. For now, the deep was calling, and it wasn't going to wait for me to be ready.