The chamber was silent but for the distant crashing of waves. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows across Aurea's anxious face as she leaned over the worn map spread across the ancient table. The inked lines of forgotten coasts, the swirling symbols of lost cities—it all whispered of danger and wonder.
Eryan stood beside her, tall and unmoving, arms crossed as he studied her furrowed brow. He had barely spoken since they returned from their investigation near the rift, but his silence was louder than any words. It was a protective silence, the kind that wrapped around her like a cloak.
"You're really going," he said at last, voice low, steady.
Aurea didn't look up. "We have to. If what we saw at the Skyrift is truly just a symptom... then the Sunken God-Isle might be the wound."
"Then I'm coming with you." His tone brokered no negotiation.
"I never said you couldn't." She allowed a faint, amused smile to brush her lips. "I wouldn't want to face it without you."
There was a pause, then a knock at the door. A hard, familiar rhythm.
Kael.
Before she could speak, the door creaked open and Kael stepped inside, still half-armored, chest rising with quiet breath. His storm-blue eyes locked onto hers.
"So you're planning to disappear into another cursed corner of the world without telling me again?"
Aurea straightened. "It's not like that—"
"Yes, it is." His jaw clenched. "You and Eryan keep running off together like the rest of us are expendable."
Eryan's eyes narrowed. "Don't twist this into jealousy."
"I'm not jealous," Kael snapped. "I'm loyal. And unlike you, I don't keep secrets from her."
"Enough!" Aurea slammed her palm on the map, the parchment trembling. "This isn't about either of you. This is about the world unraveling at its seams."
A tense silence fell.
Then, unexpectedly, another voice came from the hall.
"That's exactly why I should come too."
Riven leaned against the frame, his expression unreadable, eyes shadowed beneath his hood. Unlike the others, Riven never raised his voice. But when he spoke, it always landed like a blade.
"The God-Isle is cursed," he said, stepping inside. "You'll need someone who understands what it means to be hunted by things older than the ocean itself."
Kael scoffed. "You always think that makes you special."
"No," Riven replied. "It just means I know how not to die."
Aurea looked between them, her pulse quickening. She hadn't expected this. She thought it would just be her and Eryan—maybe a small crew—but not Kael, not Riven.
Not all three.
"Do you even know what's out there?" she asked.
Riven reached into his coat, unfolding a brittle page etched with deep runes and saltwater stains. "I've seen it. The God-Isle is waking. The beasts beneath it hunger. You'll need more than a sword. You'll need all of us."
And in that moment, Aurea felt it—the tension between them, not just friction, but tethered fates pulling tighter. Three men, each with his own claim to her heart, each stepping forward not just to protect the world, but to protect her.
She swallowed hard.
"Then we go together," she said.
---
Three days later, the winds screamed over the deck of the Wind's Mercy, a sleek vessel now cutting across the darkened waves. Clouds churned above like bruises, and the map of the God-Isle lay pinned beneath a crystal weight in the captain's quarters.
Aurea stepped out from below deck, sea spray catching her cloak. She found Kael at the bow, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as if it were an extension of his own body.
"You're quiet," she said, stepping beside him.
"So are you." He looked at her. "Are you afraid?"
She nodded once. "Yes."
There was something in his gaze—no mockery, no judgment. Just raw understanding.
Kael exhaled, then said, "When this is over, I want to take you somewhere quieter. Somewhere without maps or monsters."
Aurea blinked. "You… do?"
"I'm not Eryan. I'm not Riven." His voice was a low current. "But I am here. I've always been."
Her heart beat louder than the waves.
Before she could answer, the ship lurched.
From the crow's nest came a sharp call: "Land! Shattered cliffs off the starboard bow!"
They were near. The God-Isle loomed like a broken crown on the horizon, mist veiling jagged spires of black stone.
As the ship drew closer, the mist turned thicker—thicker than natural fog. Whispers filled the wind, unspoken things brushing past ears.
Suddenly, a guttural shriek tore through the fog.
"Get down!" Eryan yelled, dragging Aurea to the deck just as a massive shadow lunged from the sea—scaled, wet, with too many eyes and bone-covered fins.
The beast landed with a crash on the ship's edge, splintering wood, claws slashing.
Kael was already there, blade drawn. "Aurea, stay behind me!"
Riven appeared out of shadow, two curved daggers drawn, dancing between the creature's limbs like a ghost.
Eryan stood firm, channeling aetherlight into his hands, blasting radiant energy into the monster's chest.
The fight was brutal—ripping, roaring, limbs flying, teeth clashing. One claw nearly reached Aurea, but Kael took the hit, blood streaking across his shoulder.
"Don't—touch—her!" he growled.
And when it was over, the beast's body slid from the deck, plunging into the deep. Silence returned—shaking, broken, heavy.
Aurea ran to Kael, grabbing his arm. "You're hurt!"
"I'll live." He smiled faintly. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, and without thinking, threw her arms around him. He held her, tight.
Riven stood back, watching, unreadable.
Eryan turned away, silent.
And though they had reached the isle, the real danger had only just begun.
Far above, on the highest spire of the God-Isle, another set of eyes opened.
A second scream echoed across the sea—one that wasn't of this world.