The cold winds of the Ashen Expanse howled against the group as they descended the craggy slopes of the mountain. The silver beacon in the sky—the sigil of Eryndral's Bastion—still shimmered faintly, a distant reminder of their next destination. But the weight of their recent battle lingered like a heavy shroud.
Drakar led the way, his steps sure but deliberate. The emberlit tattoos on his arms dimmed to faint lines, as though resting after the surge of power they had unleashed in the fight against Vareshka. Emberfang padded silently beside him, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. Behind them, the others followed, their expressions a mix of weariness and determination.
Kaelen broke the silence, his voice light but edged with tension. "You know, I'm starting to think we should keep a tally. How many ancient spectral entities have we faced now? Three? Four?"
Seris glanced at him, wiping soot from one of her daggers. "If you're counting, you're not paying attention."
Kaelen smirked. "Oh, I'm paying attention. I'm just trying to decide if I should be impressed or terrified."
Elaria, walking just behind Drakar, gave a soft chuckle. "Terrified is the safer bet." Her frost-blue eyes flicked to Drakar. "But there's little time for humor. The sigil calls us to Eryndral's Bastion, and yet we have another problem to solve first."
Drakar nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "The Hollowing Sea."
The name alone sent a chill through the group. The Hollowing Sea was a place of legend and dread, a vast expanse of turbulent waters and jagged reefs where ships vanished without a trace. Whispers spoke of the sea's cursed depths, haunted by the remnants of ancient wars and forsaken gods. And yet, it was their next destination—the location of the second shard, as revealed by Vaelen's Codex.
Preparations for the Journey
The group reached a small grove sheltered from the biting wind, where they set up a temporary camp. The glow of the campfire cast flickering shadows on their weary faces. Taronis unslung his shield and sat heavily on a rock, his expression pensive.
"The Hollowing Sea," he murmured. "If the stories are true, it's a graveyard. Ships, souls, entire fleets… all lost."
Elaria spread out the Codex of Eryndral, the ancient tome's glowing pages illuminating the dark. She traced a finger over the inscriptions, her brow furrowing. "The shard lies beneath the sea, in what the Codex calls the 'Sanctum of Whispers.' It's protected by wards that twist the minds of those who approach."
Kaelen leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Twisted minds? Sounds like a party."
Seris shot him a sharp look. "This isn't a joke. If those wards are real, they'll be more dangerous than any void beast."
Drakar's voice cut through the conversation, low and steady. "Then we break them."
The group turned to him. His emberlit gaze glowed faintly in the firelight, a reminder of the power he carried.
"The Bastion can wait," Drakar continued. "If the shard is under the Hollowing Sea, then that's where we go. No wards, no curses will stop us."
Emberfang growled softly, as if in agreement. Taronis nodded, his resolve hardening. "Then we'll need a ship and someone who knows those waters."
The Mysterious Captain
By dawn, the group had descended into a port town at the edge of the Ashen Expanse. The town, known as Blackwater Haven, was a grim place—its docks lined with rotting wood and its streets filled with the smell of salt and decay. Sailors moved about with wary glances, their conversations hushed as though afraid to disturb the sea's restless spirits.
Kaelen wrinkled his nose. "Charming place."
Elaria ignored him, her focus on finding a guide. The group made their way to a dimly lit tavern near the docks, its sign swinging in the breeze. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the murmur of low voices.
A figure sat alone at the far corner, cloaked in dark leathers. A wide-brimmed hat obscured their face, but the faint glow of enchanted trinkets on their belt caught Drakar's eye.
Elaria approached cautiously. "We seek passage across the Hollowing Sea."
The figure tilted their head slightly, revealing piercing gray eyes beneath the shadow of the hat. "Then you're either fools or desperate."
"Both," Kaelen muttered, earning a glare from Seris.
Drakar stepped forward, his presence commanding. "We have no choice. Do you know the waters?"
The figure leaned back, studying him. "I know them. But my services aren't cheap, and neither is survival."
Drakar's emberlit tattoos flared faintly. "Name your price."
The figure's lips curled into a faint smile. "You don't pay in gold to cross the Hollowing Sea. You pay with resolve." They stood, their full height revealed—tall and wiry, with a strange grace. "Name's Solen. If you can keep your courage, I'll take you there."
A Glimpse of the Sea
As the group followed Solen to the docks, the Hollowing Sea came into view. Its waters were a churning mass of gray and black, the surface shimmering with unnatural patterns. Strange cries echoed across the waves, as though the sea itself whispered warnings to those who dared approach.
Solen gestured to a sleek, shadowy vessel moored at the edge of the dock. "This is the Night's Veil. She'll get us where we need to go… if you're ready to face what lies beneath."
Drakar stepped onto the deck, his companions close behind. He turned to face the sea, his expression unyielding.
"Ready or not," he said, his voice steady, "we're going in."