When the sun rose over Frostfang after the night of the drowned assault, it was a red, raw wound on the horizon, painting the battered ramparts in streaks of crimson and gold. Smoke still rose from the pyres where fallen soldiers and shattered undead alike had been cast into the flames. The scent of scorched brine clung to the air, a grim perfume of war's aftermath.
Aldric stood on the wall, armor dented and splattered with salt and gore. The steady weight of exhaustion pressed behind his eyes, but the wolf-king would allow no one to see weakness.
Below him, survivors picked through the wreckage of the piers, hauling up torn nets, severed limbs, and blackened, warped timbers. The harbor stank of oil and decay. Crows circled greedily, their shrill calls echoing off stone.
Beside Aldric, Kaelin leaned against the parapet, breathing hard. Her hammer rested at her feet, still streaked with rusted blood.
"I counted three hundred dead," she said. "Half ours, half theirs."
Aldric nodded grimly. "Better than none of ours. But the sea is not finished with us yet."
Kaelin's jaw flexed. "No. She'll come again. Like a vengeful mother."
---
Beneath the Waves
Maerlyn arrived, cloaked in wet seaweed and woven shells, trailing a cold wind as if she brought the depths with her. The witch's presence caused soldiers to recoil, but she ignored them, eyes fixed on Aldric.
"There is more," she rasped, her voice a keening that made even the bravest men twitch. "What you have seen was but a taste. The ocean's true children have yet to stir."
Aldric's fist tightened around the parapet. "Then speak plainly, witch. We are done with riddles."
Maerlyn's black eyes glittered. "There is a city beneath the sea. The Black Shoals. It was once a fortress of those who bound the serpent, older than your oldest songs. When the serpent died, its death-cry woke the sleeping lords of that place."
Rowena, climbing up to join them, paused. "A city… alive?"
The witch nodded, her necklaces of bone clicking together. "Alive. Dreaming. It dreams of drowning the world."
Aldric felt a cold horror, deeper than any wound. "Then we must go to it," he said. "If its lords can wake, we must end them before they come here."
Kaelin barked a humorless laugh. "Go under the sea? What, shall we sprout gills?"
Maerlyn did not smile. "I can lead you. There are ways. Paths through the deeps that even the sea forgets."
---
The Choice
That night, they gathered in Frostfang's shattered Great Hall. Torches guttered in broken sconces. Banners still stained from battle hung limp in the still air.
Aldric spoke, voice steady.
"I would not ask this if there were another road. But if the witch speaks truth, then to the sea we must go. Strike at its heart before it rises again."
Kaelin crossed her arms. "You want us to follow a witch into the abyss, Aldric?"
Rowena stepped forward. "I will go."
Kaelin turned on her. "You're mad!"
Rowena's eyes burned with iron resolve. "If it ends this, I will follow. The land is already dying. If the sea claims it too, there will be nothing left."
Kaelin met Aldric's gaze. "And you?"
Aldric nodded once. "I will go."
The hall fell to a hush, broken only by the sound of rain rattling against the glassless windows.
Kaelin spat on the stones. "Then I go too. Because if you die down there, wolf-king, I'll see you dragged back to stand before me."
Aldric smiled, a sharp, tired grin. "That's the spirit."
---
Into the Dark
Preparations took days.
Maerlyn gathered coral runes, dried sea-creature hearts, scales from the serpent's corpse, and bones of unknown origin, weaving them into twisted charms. The soldiers watched in wary horror, crossing themselves whenever she passed.
Rowena trained with a new bow — a weapon of sharkskin and sea-dragon bone, its string woven with silver thread that sang when drawn.
Kaelin reforged her hammer, infusing it with storm-iron that sparked at every blow, promising ruin to anything that challenged her.
Aldric donned a breastplate etched with warding glyphs, the work of half a dozen terrified smiths. On the back of his neck, Maerlyn painted a spiral rune to protect his mind from what lay beneath.
The final night before departure, Aldric stood in his private chamber, hands resting on a table strewn with maps and charts. Rowena entered without knocking.
"You're troubled," she observed.
"I'm taking you all into hell," Aldric said, voice rough.
Rowena's expression softened. She crossed the room, took his hand. "I'd rather go to hell with you than wait here to die."
Aldric pulled her close, the scent of her — bowstring, sweat, a hint of lavender — steadying him.
"We will come back," he said.
Rowena looked up, fierce and unafraid. "Yes. We will."
---
The Descent
At dawn, they marched to the shore.
Maerlyn waited on the sand, her strange ship bobbing among the breakers, its hull stitched from the hides of giant rays, sails of sea-lion skin catching a foul wind.
The soldiers who watched could barely look at it without turning away.
Rowena shivered. "Is it…alive?"
Maerlyn tilted her head, a smile like a shark's. "In a fashion."
They boarded, one by one, Aldric first. The deck felt wrong underfoot — warm, pulsing faintly, as though it drew breath.
When they cast off, the sea swallowed them instantly, fog rolling in to devour even the shore behind them.
Kaelin stood at the rail, white-knuckled. "I hate boats."
Rowena smirked. "This hardly counts as a boat."
Maerlyn began to chant, low and guttural. The ship responded, diving beneath the surface like a whale. The water closed over them, cold and crushing, but the ship's hull did not break. Instead, it opened, a translucent membrane allowing them to see out into the deep.
Aldric stared, breath caught in his throat, as vast shapes moved through the darkness — leviathans with pale lamp eyes, schools of bonefish swirling like living storms, forests of drowned kelp waving from the ocean floor.
And beyond them, a light. Sickly green, throbbing, calling.
"The Black Shoals," Maerlyn announced. "The city that dreams."
---
The Dreaming City
They emerged in a cathedral of coral and bone, towers curling like the horns of monstrous beasts. Statues of half-human, half-octopus lords leered from every archway, hands outstretched as if begging or cursing.
At the heart of this drowned empire, a palace rose — built of giant scallop shells fused with brass and whale ivory, so large it seemed to swallow the very ocean around it.
Rowena's voice came as a whisper. "It's beautiful."
Kaelin grimaced. "It's death."
Maerlyn steered the ship through the twisting streets, the water growing murkier, thicker, until they reached a plaza paved with black glass. There, the ship settled like a living rock.
They stepped out, feet sinking into silt.
Everywhere, eyes watched them — not living eyes, but things sculpted into the coral itself, following their every move.
Aldric drew his sword. "Let's finish this."
---
The Silence Before
They advanced toward the palace, moving in eerie stillness. No fish, no crabs, no sign of life — only the creaking of coral bones.
At the great doors, they found a mural: the serpent, bound in chains, bleeding from a hundred wounds, surrounded by robed figures chanting.
Rowena traced the painted faces. "These were the serpent's masters."
Maerlyn nodded. "And they still dream of its return."
Aldric stepped forward, heart pounding. "Then we break their dream."
Kaelin cracked her knuckles. "Aye. Wake them up the hard way."
---
Within the Palace
The doors opened to their touch, revealing a throne hall flooded in green light. Shadows writhed on the walls, twisting in patterns that set Aldric's teeth on edge.
At the far end of the chamber, figures waited — six, draped in robes of sea-silk, their faces hidden behind masks of crab shell and fish bone.
One rose, a voice rolling like the tide.
"You who murdered our guardian — why do you come?"
Aldric raised his sword. "Because you would drown the world. I will not allow it."
The robed figure tilted its head. "Then drown with us."
The floor erupted, a thousand hands of coral bursting upward, grasping for their ankles, their throats, their hearts.
Kaelin roared, swinging her hammer, shattering coral limbs.
Rowena fired arrow after arrow, each tipped with Maerlyn's magic, burning holes through the sea-witches' defenses.
Aldric advanced, blade glowing with runic light, cutting a path toward the robed council.
And Maerlyn stepped behind him, staff blazing with black flame, her grin terrible.
"Let the dream end," she hissed.
---
The Battle Below
The palace shook, ancient walls cracking as power tore through them. The six sea-lords raised their hands, weaving tides of crushing water and boiling currents to drown the invaders.
Kaelin hurled herself forward, breaking through their ranks like a thunderclap, hammer smashing robes and bone masks into drifting shards.
Rowena found the high priest, arrow nocked, whispering a prayer before letting it fly — straight through its heart, green ichor spilling into the water like spilled ink.
Aldric faced the last of them, blades clashing, magic roaring. The sea-lord was impossibly strong, each blow like a crashing wave, but Aldric stood unyielding, every movement the dance of a wolf who refused to die.
He feinted low, then struck high, driving his sword through the sea-lord's throat. The creature screamed, the sound breaking windows and shaking coral from the ceiling.
One by one, the lords fell, until only silence remained.
---
The End of the Dream
The city began to crumble. Towers broke like rotten teeth, arches splitting apart as the power that sustained them fled.
Maerlyn lifted her staff, chanting a final binding spell to keep the ruin from swallowing them alive.
The ship, waiting in the square, opened its maw to receive them.
They ran — through collapsing pillars, over shards of glass, until they leapt aboard, Maerlyn sealing the ship behind them.
As they rose through the water, the palace collapsed in on itself, vanishing into dust and silt.
And Aldric, watching the ruin fall away, felt something inside him settle.
For the first time in weeks, the sea was quiet.