The Shattered Crowns

The small wooden hut looked even more pitiful up close. Its crooked frame leaned slightly to one side, the salt air having eaten away at its edges. Fishing lines hung haphazardly from the dock, some frayed and tangled, others swaying with the breeze. A battered wooden boat bobbed in the waves nearby, its hull patched with mismatched boards.

Akash frowned as they approached, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade. "Is that thing supposed to take us across the sea?" he asked, his lips tightening in discomfort.

Daenys stepped ahead of him, her voice low but firm. "Yes. I told you this wouldn't be a safe trip. The old fisherman has plenty of superstitions about the sea, so don't break any of them. Let me do the talking and try not to irritate him."

Akash huffed but said nothing as they reached the door. Winter stepped forward and gave it three sharp knocks. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a voice, raspy and irritable, called out from inside.

"Go away! I've got no business with you!"

Winter waited a beat before replying, her tone calm but pointed. "And here I thought I had free passage so long as I came during the morning. An old associate of yours recommended you. Lutavari says hello."

There was a long pause. Then, slowly, the door creaked open. A man stepped into view, his face deeply tanned, almost reddish, from years under the sun. His hair was long and gray, tied back with a simple piece of twine. Sharp brown eyes darted to the group before narrowing suspiciously.

"I thought I told you Slingers to stay off my boat," the man said, his voice sharp. "Waters get rocky when your kind sets foot on it. I don't need Makeeth tipping my ship because of you."

Akash blinked, his brows furrowing. "You're an elf," he said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop himself.

The fisherman's eyes flashed with irritation as he leaned forward, gripping the edge of the door. "I'm not just some elf, boy," he snapped. "I'm a Sunreacher Elf. You'd do well to remember that."

Akash didn't back down. Instead, he leaned closer, his curiosity plain on his face. "There are different kinds of elves? I thought the Pureblood elves were the only ones."

The fisherman scoffed, shaking his head. "That's because you don't know a damned thing. Purebloods are useless fools, stuck up their own arses. Sunreachers know the truth. We're the only ones worth a damn."

Winter's voice cut in, dry and amused. "Ah yes, the Sunreacher Elves—infamous pirates and smugglers. Truly the only good elves."

The fisherman glared at her but didn't argue. "Better than the Bloodless Elves or the Frostbloods," he muttered. "Don't even get me started on those bastards."

"Enough," Winter said, her tone firm. "Will you take us across the sea or not?"

The fisherman sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do I have a choice?"

Winter didn't answer, instead pulling a small pouch from her belt and tossing it to him. The sound of coins jingling filled the air as the elf caught the pouch, his scowl softening slightly.

"Fine," he grumbled. "At least you pay better than most folk. But don't expect me to like it."

The door swung open fully, and the fisherman stepped out into the light. His weathered skin was a deep brownish-red, his long gray hair tied neatly back. A thin walking stick rested in his hand, and he used it to motion toward the dock.

"Follow me," he said curtly, hobbling toward the boat.

The group followed, their footsteps crunching against the gravelly shore. The fisherman's sharp gaze flicked to Elys as the massive feline padded silently alongside Akash. His scowl deepened.

"That beast of yours better behave," the fisherman muttered. "If it jumps overboard or tips the boat, I'll toss it in the sea myself."

Akash patted Elys reassuringly. "Elys doesn't like water. He'll stay put," he said confidently, though the cat promptly nipped at his hand in protest.

"That doesn't comfort me," the fisherman grumbled.

The boat was even smaller than it had looked from a distance. It was barely wide enough for them to sit side by side, and the mismatched boards that held it together groaned softly with every movement.

The fisherman climbed aboard first, moving with the ease of someone accustomed to the waves. He gave the group a sharp look and motioned for them to follow. "Get on and sit where you can. And don't lean too far over. This thing's barely stable as it is."

Winter stepped aboard without hesitation, taking a seat near the stern. Daenys followed, carefully lowering herself onto the wooden bench. Akash helped Mirak climb in next before swinging himself into the boat with practiced ease. Elys jumped in last, settling at Akash's feet with a low, disgruntled growl.

With a rough shove, the fisherman pushed the boat off the dock and leapt aboard, his movements quick despite his age. The boat rocked as the waves caught it, but it soon settled into the rhythm of the sea.

"Grab an oar," the fisherman ordered, pointing to the two long wooden paddles. "The wind's against us, and I don't fancy getting hit by a rogue wave."

Akash and Mirak each took an oar, their movements awkward at first but gradually finding a rhythm. The boat began to glide forward, cutting through the waves as they rowed.

The shore grew smaller and smaller behind them until it disappeared entirely, swallowed by the vast expanse of water. All around them, the sea stretched endlessly, the gentle waves broken only by the occasional crest of white foam.

The fisherman leaned back against the stern, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. "Row faster," he muttered. "We don't want to get caught out here when the waves get rough."

"Doesn't sound very reassuring," Akash grumbled under his breath.

The fisherman ignored him, his voice rising into a soft, high-pitched tune.

"Oh, sweet river, how you flow,

The sun ever rising on the peak.

Many boats will you strike low,

You make us all look so meek.

Yet, oh so sweet and everlasting,

How the sea calls to me, passing."

The words flowed like a melody, and Akash found himself humming along, though his tune was far less in key.

"What's the song about?" Mirak asked between strokes of the oar.

The fisherman glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "It's a Sunreacher shanty. A sailor's song. We sing it to honor Makeeth, the god of the sea. Keeps us safe while we row."

Akash raised an eyebrow. "You've got sea gods now? Seems a bit superstitious."

The fisherman scowled. "Superstition keeps us alive, boy. Try singing something else and see how far that gets you."

Before Akash could reply, the boat gave a sharp lurch. The waves around them began to swell, rising higher and crashing harder against the hull.

The fisherman's expression darkened. "Shit. Rogue wave incoming."

He grabbed the tiller, his knuckles white as he barked orders. "Row faster! Move with the rhythm, or we'll get swept under!"

The roar of the sea grew louder, and the air seemed to thicken as the wave began to form. It loomed over them like a wall, its crest hissing as it surged forward.

Winter's voice cut through the chaos. "Row as fast as you can! I'll hold it back!"

She thrust her staff forward, her breathing already labored. Atta swirled around her, visible only as faint ripples in the air. The energy pushed against the wave, holding it in place for a moment, but the strain was evident in the tightness of her jaw and the trembling in her hands.

"This isn't my flow," she bit out through gritted teeth. "I'm not a Steady Flow Voda. I can't hold it for long!"

The group rowed harder, their muscles burning as they fought against the current. But it was clear the wave was gaining. It inched closer with each passing second, its massive form casting a shadow over the small boat.

The wave loomed larger with every passing second, its crest towering over the small, fragile boat. The roar of rushing water drowned out the group's frantic breathing and the creak of the oars.

Winter's face was a mask of focus, her body trembling as the Atta pushed through her staff. The flow fought her with each moment she held it, the sheer force of the wave clawing hungrily at the edges of her resistance.

"Row faster!" Daenys hissed, her voice sharp with panic.

"We're trying!" Akash snapped, his muscles straining as he drove the oar through the water.

But it was clear the wave would reach them before they could escape its path. The shadow of the crest loomed closer, hissing and curling as if alive, ready to crush them.

Mirak's hand drifted into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small vial of crimson resin. His heart pounded as he stared at Winter's shaking frame, at the desperation in her clenched fists and furrowed brow. She was losing ground.

He tightened his grip on the vial. If Winter couldn't hold the wave, maybe he could help. Maybe he could do something for once—anything to stop being the coward who hid behind others.

He pulled the vial out, the glass catching the faint light of the stormy sky. His hand trembled as he stared at it.

"Mirak, no!" Winter's voice cut through the noise, sharp and desperate. "Stop! Now is not the time to try an Awakening!"

But her words were little more than distant echoes in his ears. The world around him dulled, and all he could feel was the pull of the resin. It thrummed faintly in his hand, almost as if it were alive, as if it were calling to him.

His thumb twisted the cap open, and the air shifted instantly. A pressure sank onto his chest, deep and unrelenting, as if the sea itself were pressing down on him. He inhaled sharply, his pulse quickening.

The resin glowed faintly, a soft crimson light spilling from the vial as it vibrated in his palm. Mirak's lips parted in awe, a grin spreading across his face. He could feel the Atta now, faint strands of energy swirling around him, beckoning him to reach out and take control.

"Mirak!" Winter yelled, her voice cracking with urgency. "You don't know what you're doing! Stop!"

Akash and Elys lunged for him, but it was too late. The resin surged, the energy bursting from the vial in a violent wave of light.

For a brief moment, Mirak felt invincible. The Atta coursed through him, filling every inch of his body with a tingling warmth. He had done it—he had awakened. The power was his now, and he could use it. He could help.

But the warmth quickly turned to heat. Then pain. The vial in his hand began to sear his skin, glowing brighter and brighter as the energy swelled out of control.

"Let go of it!" Akash shouted, tackling him to the floor of the boat. The force of the tackle knocked the wind out of him, but Mirak couldn't drop the vial. His hand refused to obey him, clenched tightly around the burning glass as if it were fused to his palm.

The light from the resin intensified, its glow searing into Mirak's vision. Heat radiated outward, and then—

Boom.

A violent plume of fire erupted from the vial, shooting into the sky like a blossoming flower of flame. The wave in front of them was consumed in an instant, the fire tearing through it with a deafening roar.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then the boat splintered apart.

The force of the explosion tore through the fragile vessel, flinging its passengers into the water. Mirak hit the surface hard, the icy waves swallowing him whole. His body screamed in pain as the cold bit into his skin, but that was nothing compared to the burning agony in his hand.

His eyes darted to the place where his hand should have been. Instead, there was nothing—just a mangled, charred stump where his wrist ended. His mind reeled, the pain so sharp and overwhelming he couldn't process it.

"Akash!" Daenys' voice cut through the chaos, high-pitched and frantic.

Mirak's head snapped up just in time to see Akash and Elys struggling in the waves. The sabertooth tiger clawed at the water, its roars muffled by the sea. Akash shouted something, his voice hoarse, but the waves pulled him under before Mirak could make sense of his words.

"Daenys!" Mirak choked out, his voice weak and trembling. He reached for her as she flailed in the water nearby, but the current dragged him down before he could get close.

The sea was relentless, tossing him like a ragdoll in its merciless grip. He struggled to stay above the surface, gasping for air as water filled his lungs. His legs kicked uselessly, the weight of the ocean crushing him from all sides.

For a brief moment, Mirak broke the surface again. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for any sign of the others. He saw Daenys clinging to a piece of the boat, her knuckles white as she fought to stay afloat. He saw Winter further away, her staff glowing faintly as she tried to stabilize herself against the waves.

But then the water swallowed him again.

Mirak's limbs burned, his strength fading with every second. He couldn't fight the current anymore. His lungs screamed for air, his vision blurring as darkness crept in at the edges.

"Please," he whispered, though he didn't know who he was begging. "Please… someone…"

The water churned violently around him, dragging him deeper into the abyss. The last thing he saw was the faint glow of Winter's staff, a single point of light in the overwhelming darkness.

And then, everything went black.