by S D Simper
Dauriel looked at Tallora, regret in her gaze. The flame at her feet died; her body lost its shine, though clouds still gathered above. “We would be foolish to not expect a trap. Morathma may not realize we know of him, and so he will likely try to surprise us.” She stared into the orb, and even Tallora could feel the radiant power it emitted. “Yu’Khrall is our priority, but I will instruct our ships to shoot at Morathma as soon as he appears. Hopefully, it’ll banish him. If not, he’s your priority, Goddess Ilune.”
Tallora gasped, relief flooding her. Beside her, Ilune’s smile faltered, but she didn’t care. She stepped forward, hesitant to embrace her wife given what she held. “Why, though?”
Dauriel’s gloved hand clutched the orb tight as her arm fell slack. She stared at the ground, and every word held pain. “Because if by some miracle I actually live through this madness, I want to be someone worthy of you.”
Tallora dared to take her hand, rapidly shaking her head. “You’re more than worthy.”
“I wouldn’t be if I put myself before my people. Before yours. Before you.” Dauriel squeezed her hand, then wrapped her arm around her, mindful to keep the orb away as she clung with all her might. Tallora held her, the finality weighing her down like an anchor. “My soul is heavy,” Dauriel whispered, “but when I think of you, I feel peace. Even on my darkest days, I feel I have something to live for.”
“I love you,” Tallora said, and when Dauriel kissed her, by Staella’s Grace, it was with all the passion in the realms.
The water churned. Tallora and Dauriel stumbled apart before clinging to the other. From beyond, a rapid expanse of ice crawled toward them. “So it begins,” Dauriel said. Her silver gaze settled onto Tallora. “Find safety. Stay below deck or swim away, I’m begging you.”
“I want to help you if I can.”
“You can’t. And I can’t be distracted worrying for you.”
Tallora nodded, knowing in her heart that Dauriel was right. But as she stepped away, a great wave rose from the depths. The ship tilted precariously. From beyond, Tallora heard screaming.
A massive tentacle rose from the ocean, shadowing an unfortunate vessel in the distance. The single appendage was nearly as wide as the ship, and when a second rose to match, all the world paused. Tallora watched, transfixed upon the sight.
The tentacles crashed down. The ship shattered. Men’s screams filled the air.
“Prepare harpoons!” Dauriel cried, and her ship scrambled to obey. “If you spot Morathma, fire at will, but in the interim Yu’Khrall is your focus—if you see his eye, don’t hesitate!” She looked to Ilune, who radiated wicked glee. “You know what you need to do.” The goddess gave a swift nod and rose into the air, flying off to some distant ship.
Dauriel looked to the sky, holding up the orb as the gathered clouds crackled with lightning. She spared a single glance for Tallora, then looked to where Yu’Khrall had vanished.
Their ship nearly capsized as a massive tentacle rose before them. Tallora stumbled, gripping the mast of the ship for support, but Dauriel stood tall, serenity on her features as she watched, waiting.
When the tentacle rose to its full height, the orb flashed. Tallora screamed as lightning burst from the sky, striking Yu’Khrall’s appendage. It flailed and retracted, the massive burns upon the scaled skin bearing fractal patters.
Dauriel looked again to Tallora. “Go!” she cried, desperation in her voice. Tallora obeyed, though it ripped her very soul in twain. She disappeared below deck, stumbling as the ship tilted wildly.
She managed to find Dauriel’s room, unsure of where else to be. Water soaked the bottom, a few inches deep—Tallora spotted the open window. She ran to it, taking care to hike up her trousers, and shut it. Beyond, the dark sky flashed—a bolt of lightning struck the sea, and the hair on Tallora’s arms raised in response.
One of the ships came precariously close, and Tallora wondered if it would strike them. But from the sides came an outpouring of . . . people?
A beam of light rose into the sky—Ilune shone as a magnificent beacon, her godly form made manifest. Her laughter rang through the sky, echoing off the clouds. “I heard you missed me,” she said, her voice as pervasive as the mist from the sloshing waves, and from her hands came a purple glow. It consumed her whole figure, this strange purple flame.
Below the water’s surface, Tallora heard and felt a deep rumble. A cry of pain—it reverberated against the hull of the ship. She peered out the window, a strange discoloration blossoming beneath the surface.
The people throwing themselves overboard swam despite the waves. Some sunk, but a few managed to stay afloat, and Tallora wondered what madness had coerced them to act. Yet their movements were unnatural, frightfully so, and as Tallora squinted, she saw horrid patches of raw flesh on some, others lacking limbs or eyes.
Ilune, the Great Necromancer, The God of Death. So this was the sensitive cargo they had cryptically spoken of; Tallora’s stomach churned, both from the rocking motions and the realization. The undead bit and tore into whatever flesh they touched.
Boils covered the next rising tentacle. Horrid pustules ravaged the smooth surface, seeping black ichor and a gaseous purple flame. Was this Ilune’s doing? It shone in the same shade as her magic.
Ilune’s attention suddenly shifted. Tallora swore she felt that dreadful smile. “Hello, Snake,” her voice boomed.
Morathma had come.
The water beyond slowly swirled, not unlike the clouds above. Countless tentacles suddenly burst from the center, sending raucous waves across the water. A sheet of ice spread from his body—one ship became trapped by ice, then it was engulfed.
But thunder rumbled; lightning struck. Though the ice still slowly expanded, Yu’Khrall flailed. The great, swirling waves broke the ice apart, leaving precarious chunks to ravage the ships instead, small glaciers in the sea. A wave of cold suddenly struck Tallora, and when ice covered her window, she stumbled back, then shrieked as it crept inside.
She scrambled to the bed as the floor froze solid, the inches of water now a slippery trap. When it rose to consume the walls, panic stole her wits—she ran from the room, taking care to avoid the ice’s path.
Deeper down in the hull of the ship, the icy sheen spread fast. Wood creaked. The temperature rapidly dropped. Tallora sought direction, but when she tried to descend the stairs to the bottom of the hull, filled with cargo, the ship shook.
Tallora lost her footing; she tumbled down the stairs, landing on an icy sheet. Bruised and battered, she grasped a wooden crate as she tried to rise.
The ship tilted, reverberating as if struck. The crate she clung to slid—she let go, lest it crush her—
Only to be smacked by yet another crate. She stumbled into standing, clutching the wall now as she slowly inched back toward the stairs. There was no use in winning this fight if Tallora were killed by the ship’s cargo.
By some miracle, she reached the staircase. She clutched the rail, even as the ship tossed and turned, managing to slowly rise, step by step. Back in the hallway, she slipped on the ice, barely managing to direct herself. Rumbling thunder and booming cries sought to deafen her, but here she fought her own smaller battle—simply trying to not be crushed and consumed by ice. She could survive being thrown overboard, but not being frozen to death.
She saw the stairs leading to the deck. Hands on the wall, she slowly moved forward, though her feet ached from cold. Twice, she slipped, but she stumbled along, nearly sobbing from relief when she grasped the railing of the stairs, not yet frozen from ice.
Tallora pulled herself up the stairs, only to stare into hell.
A gargantuan whirlpool had formed, the armada dotting the sides, slowly being sucked into an abyss of death. Centered was evidence of Yu’Khrall’s body, his tentacles darting up from the water to consume ships at random. Great chunks of ice, larger than the ships, joined the swirling mass. When lightning struck the center, it radiated out, sparks dancing across the waves.
Ilune floated high above, pristine despite the storm. She faced a monster of water, a massive humanoid figure, though not so large as Yu’Khrall. It rose a watery fist, launching it toward Ilune—
Only for her to vanish before it could strike. Her laughter sang loudly across the battlefield, despite the thunder and waves, before she reappeared as a sparkle of silver and purple beyond. From one of the ships, a harpoon shot toward the watery figure, only to burst straight through—had Morathma turned to water? Tallora didn’t understand.
She stumbled forward, then saw Dauriel consumed in silver flame, the orb held before her. She directed an orchestra of death, her hands moving in rhythmic succession, tossing lightning from the sky like her fire, yet in massive form. Her face bore perfect focus—if she noticed Tallora, she didn’t acknowledge her. Sailors rushed about, but Dauriel Solviraes was at peace.
A sparkle in the sky stole Tallora’s attention. Ilune appeared, nearer to the center of the whirlpool, evading yet another of Morathma’s blows. “Is that all you have? I’m surprised you’ve come this far at all—the ocean is not your domain.”
Morathma struck; Ilune evaded with another fit of laughter, and Tallora’s gut clenched, realizing the game. Ever closer to the center, yet she seemed to hardly notice—there waited Yu’Khrall.
Tallora ran up the stairs to the front of the ship, then cried at the top of her lungs, “Ilune, watch out!”
Lost in the winds and rain and rolling thunder, her voice was a drop in a bucket. Tallora screamed as one of Yu’Khrall’s tentacles burst out—
And grabbed the God of Death.
Horrible purple smoke rose from the coiling tentacle, but though Yu’Khrall screamed he did not release her, instead pulling her back. Ilune disappeared beneath the waves.
The world became quiet, despite the deafening storm. A glow shone behind Tallora, as blinding as the sun. When she turned, Dauriel’s body filled with glorious light.
Her body morphed and grew, expanding to accommodate this new being. Brilliant wings burst from her back as she rose into the air, as translucent as moonlight and just as bright. Hair flowed down her back, tightly braided at the top of her head—her face was Dauriel’s, yes, but not, ineffably changed to match her progenitor. The flame at her skin rose, consuming her, brilliantly burning to outshine the villains before her. Yet Tallora saw the figure within the fire, a powerful goddess, exalted above the rest.
Neoma didn’t speak. She clutched the orb, tiny in her hands. It was not lightning that burst from her fingers, but a torrent of silver flame.
As wide as Yu’Khrall’s tentacles, it burst through Morathma’s figure, yet not dispelling in the water—instead, Morathma cried out as steam rose from the hole in his form. The relentless silver flame continued its onslaught to Yu’Khrall—fire burst from the center, steam rising amidst his rumbling cry.
When the fire dissipated, Neoma held a small bit in her hands, caressing it like a pet as it rose and grew and swirled around her hands. “You disgust me,” she spat, the words booming within the cloud cover.
Her gaze was fixed to Morathma, and the elemental figure finally spoke. “Delightful to see you too,” he said, the words deep yet wispy, like sand caught in a desert breeze. His tone held no politeness, but a sharp, piercing ire.
His watery fist rose to strike Neoma, but she stood her ground; she held up a hand, the silver swirling in a torrential, fiery whirlwind. The water did not touch her. Steam rose around her; Morathma’s fist burst into rainfall, then the fire struck his face.
Tallora marveled at the display, the beauty of her magic as she effortlessly tossed it around her hands and blasted the Desert Sands. Not true flame, though it burned hot and could become it—but pure magic. When he moved to touch her again, she simply glowed like the moon. At his touch, her light became blinding, then burst, sending silver flame across the gargantuan whirlpool the world had become.
Tentacles rose; Neoma’s wings brought her higher into the sky as she blasted smaller balls of silver fire at each appendage. All the while, Morathma attempted to barrage her with his own mysterious power, but though Neoma dodged and absorbed what she could, Tallora’s heart raced with panic. Helpless on the deck, she gasped when a burst of jagged ice jutted from the waves to impale the great goddess—
By Staella’s Grace, she dodged—or perhaps Neoma’s own grace—but Tallora’s gut churned at every blow, at every gorgeous display of flame and water and ice. Morathma sought to drown her, yet Tallora noticed substance within him, something darker, murky—mud? Sand?
She stared a moment too long before realizing he looked not at Neoma, but at her. His great fist came down upon her ship—Tallora screamed as it cut in twain. She grabbed the mast on instinct, then looked up at the sky. Neoma stared, stalled in the conflict—
And was then swatted by tentacles. Neoma tumbled through the air but righted herself. Her flame rose once more.
The bisected ship sank slowly. Sailors scrambled about, some managing to grab hold of the ship and others falling into the sea. Tallora quickly shed her clothing as the water came to greet her. But a shadow covered her; Yu’Khrall’s tentacle crashed down—
She plummeted deep below the waves.
Though surely bruised, Tallora lived, and she nearly hugged her tail for joy as her legs sealed together. Yu’Khrall was a mass before her, but his golden gaze was reserved for the world above.
Swim away, her gut screamed, yet far below Yu’Khrall was Stelune.
Instead of the familiar towers of home or even the toppled ruins, Tallora saw a great expanse of ice. Enormous, formless sculptures grew within the once great city, creating a jagged dome around the valley—the top of which was shattered, as though recently broken through by Yu’Khrall. She dove deeper, drawn to her former home. The world above became quiet. Beneath the depthless waters, Tallora moved in a trance toward the shield of ice . . .
Only to see a graveyard.
Tallora lost feeling in her tail, yet she slowly continued onward, stunned by the silence, the peace amidst the nightmare around her. A thick sheet of ice coated the ruins of Stelune, and frozen within were the faces of her kin. Survivors of Stelune lay in stasis—either dead or sleeping, she did not know—along with citizens of Iids. She swam over the translucent surface, horror slowly twisting her gut. Perhaps they had rejected him. Perhaps this was the price of pledging. Perhaps it had been a lie all along—Tallora didn’t know.
The floor sloped, revealing more. Not merely her own people—the Onians who had come to aid them, punished for their kindness. All around, Tallora was surrounded by ice, yet the chill outside was nothing to the chill within her soul.
One stood out, trapped in an outcropping jutting from the center. That bluish mop of hair was unmistakable, and those eyes—bright and filled with light, even in stasis—stared beyond her, seeing nothing at all.
Tallora placed a hand upon the ice before Kal, an agonized cry escaping her throat. It echoed loud among the silence, reverberating across the high, broken dome. Despite the turbulence beyond, peace remained here, the quiet eerie and damning.
Tears filled Tallora’s eyes, escaping and freezing into tiny, sparkling droplets as they joined the sea. Within her blood, something hot and furious pulsed, and within the ruins of a city she had once loved, surrounded by the bodies of her frozen loved ones, Tallora whispered the beginning of a prayer. “Goddess Staella . . .”
Whether it was within her or behind, Tallora could not say, yet a new presence settled, one she had come to know.
“I have to do something,” she thought.
They merely sleep. They can still be saved.
Tallora removed her hand from the icy wall. “How?”
It is not a small thing, what you ask for. You know the price.
The words held sorrow, yet Tallora felt only conviction. “Use me,” she said out loud.
It shall be a noble end.
Searing heat filled her. Tallora gasped, burning yet not,
tingling as something settled inside her, filling her own limbs with theirs. She grew, body twisting as light radiated from every pore. Brilliant wings burst from her back, gently floating among the waves, yet her tail remained, and when she blinked, she saw the universe—facets of light, cracks in the world leading to others, even tendrils of magic. She knew it all like her own skin.
“Be free,” she said, but they were not her words, and in the wall of ice, she caught the barest flash of her reflection and saw divinity glowing within.
Then, her mirror shattered as a thousand cracks split through the ice. Like a spider’s web, it spread wide, growing up and then down, scattered all across the floor beneath—
When it burst, she heard the gasping breaths of countless voices, heard children cry, yet it filled her with hope. Her lips smiled as the figure within her did, yet it was her own words that spoke to the familiar boy before her. “Kal!”
Kal swam forward, precocious as his gaze traveled up and down her body. He seemed so small—perhaps half her size. “Tallora?”
“Yes,” she replied, and it was two tones, two voices melded together—one familiar, the other musical and soft. “Kal, Yu’Khrall is fighting Neoma as we speak. You have to lead your people away immediately.”
“I will. I tried before, but they were already—”
“It’s all right.” She smiled—it was her own doing this time. The presence within her waited. “Go. Save our people.”
He nodded, his gaze lingering a moment before he sped away and called for order.
Tallora.
The voice was within. Tallora froze.
Time is of the essence. We must go.
Where?
To save Solvira and the sea.
Tallora placed a hand upon her heart, the rapid beating beneath her skin unnatural. Will there be enough time?
You are stronger than you know. You have life enough in you for this.
Tallora immediately rushed through the water, sparing a final glance for her people’s exodus. They would be safe; that much she knew.