Two days had passed since the Kelpie threaded the Twins. The narrow passage between those twin islands had been a calculated risk—one that had saved them days of sailing according to Yrrig, but not without cost.

  Zyren winced as he hammered another nail into a splintered plank. The ship's wounds were numerous: torn sails flapped overhead like tattered flags, broken ropes dangled from the rigging, and the hull creaked with every swell as if complaining of its mistreatment. The strong currents and unpredictable winds had demanded every sailor's attention just to keep the vessel from being dashed against the rocks. No one had slept properly for two days.

  "That passage wasn't built for easy sailing," Thaln had explained earlier, his webbed fingers tracing the route on a weathered map. "The Pelagor designed it that way—a test and a barrier. Those who belong can pass. Those who don't..." He'd trailed off, gesturing toward the horizon where they'd passed the wreckage.

  Zyren had seen it too—the broken spine of a human naval vessel... The sight had turned his stomach, but he'd forced himself to look. To remember.

  Not just the wreckage—but the people.

  Faces from the Swift Breeze rose unbidden in his mind: the wiry deckhand... the gruff but fair captain... the stillness after the pirate attack, the quiet grief that settled on the deck like mist.

  "The humans don't stop their attempts to attack Thalpharos," Thaln had said, his usually melodic voice hardened with ancient grudge. "They've been trying for generations. The sea claims them every time."

  Now, as Zyren worked the damaged deck, he found an unexpected comfort in the physical labour. It was better than brooding, better than dwelling on all the revelations that had upended his understanding of his life. The familiar motions of repair work—skills he'd picked up during his brief time aboard the Swift Breeze—gave his hands purpose while his mind sorted through the chaos of recent events.

  He was so focused on fitting a replacement plank that he didn't notice the changing landscape until a shadow fell across his work. Looking up, he froze, hammer suspended mid-swing.

  The cliffs of Thalpharos rose before him like sentinels, their faces carved by centuries of storms. Layers of greenstone and hardened algae-sediment created striations in the rock face, telling a geological story older than any human empire. The late afternoon sun caught the mineral deposits embedded in the stone, making sections of the cliff face shimmer with an almost ethereal light.

  Zyren stood, mesmerized by the sight. As the Kelpie drew closer, he could make out the settlement itself—unlike anything he had ever seen or imagined.

  Buildings of weathered coralcrete and salt-blasted timber clung to the land like barnacles to a hull. They weren't constructed so much as grown, their foundations merging with the living rock. The structures seemed to breathe with the wind, designed not to resist the elements but to move with them. Vine-root anchors secured larger buildings, while stone-grown flora—bred over generations to withstand gales—provided both protection and camouflage. The roofs bowed downward like sails reefed in high wind, channeling rainfall into stone cisterns beneath.

  "It almost makes up for the trouble of coming here," said a familiar voice behind him.

  Zyren tensed but didn't turn. Kaelith. It was the first time she'd attempted conversation with him since that first storm. Throughout their journey, she had maintained a professional distance, acting as if nothing had happened between them—as if she hadn't deceived him, hadn't led him into danger. That pretense had bothered him more than the deception itself.

  "I can see you still aren't over it," she continued, filling the silence that stretched between them. Her voice had lost its usual edge, sounding almost... vulnerable. "I'm sorry for deceiving you. Seemed like the only way to get you on board."

  "Got that right," Zyren replied through clenched teeth, his eyes still fixed on Thalpharos.

  Kaelith moved to stand beside him at the railing, her profile illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. For once, she wasn't armed to the teeth—just a simple dagger at her hip. Her hair, usually tied back for practicality, hung loose around her shoulders, making her look younger, less hardened.

  "All I wanted was to bring you to the Captain. Safe," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "Then he would have talked with you." She didn't sound dismissive as she usually did; her voice carried an honesty he hadn't heard before, almost apologetic. "I never thought we would face Bruln. Even the Surnai were a surprise. Guess they were alarmed by what Bruln did to the humans."

  "Still, you never told me the truth," Zyren said, finally turning to look at her. The anger he'd been nursing hadn't faded, but it had transformed into something colder, more controlled.

  "Things started to get out of hand, and there wasn't time. I tried to get to the Kelpie as quickly as possible." She paused, studying his face. "What would you do if I told you the truth? Get back alone? I couldn't risk that."

  "Maybe." The word came out harsher than he intended. It was hard for him to talk to her, to be this close without feeling the sting of betrayal. Still, he could see the logic in her words. Now he knew what she had been bringing him into, not that he had come to terms with it. He hadn't been made prisoner or badly treated by anyone. Despite that, he couldn't forgive her.

  "Just wanted to say that I only lied about the reason to be in Thornhold and why I needed your help. Everything else was true." Her eyes met his, unflinching. "I gave you time to come to terms with it." She turned away from him, her shoulders set in a rigid line. "I can wait a bit more."

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A question that had been gnawing at him suddenly surfaced. "What about the human near our camp?" he asked, his voice low.

  "I killed him," she replied without turning back, the words falling between them like stones, ending the conversation.

  As Kaelith walked away, Zyren's mind raced with questions. Was the soldier a scout? A lost patrol? Had he seen them? Or had Kaelith simply eliminated a potential threat? The casual way she'd admitted to taking a life—as if it were nothing more than clearing brush from a path—left him cold. Yet hadn't he done the same in the Burned Forest? On the Swift Breeze? The line between survival and murder seemed to blur more with each passing day.

  As the Kelpie moved past the visible reefs, Zyren marveled at how the landscape transformed. Smaller islets bristled with what appeared to be natural formations but, on closer inspection, revealed themselves as artificial underwater columns—defensive structures disguised as part of the environment. Towering, dark-leafed kelparbor trees lined the inner cliffs, their massive trunks twisted by constant wind, their roots plunging deep into the rock face. They were part of the forests that spread across the archipelago, creating a natural windbreak against the worst of the storms.

  The harbor itself was a marvel of adaptation rather than construction—a natural cove enhanced by generations of careful cultivation. Coral had been guided to grow in specific patterns, creating breakwaters and docks that looked as if they had formed naturally over centuries.

  As they approached the main dock, Zyren noticed another vessel departing. It moved like a blade dragging through bone—straight, heavy, and silent. Its hull, crafted from weathered oak treated with pitch and tar, looked almost black in the fading light. There was no carving or crest on it, just rivet lines, seams, and reinforced planking. Along the waterline, iron strapping held the boards together, clearly designed to endure the harshest conditions.

  "Is that another pirate ship?" Zyren asked Thaln as the Pelagor passed by, supervising the docking preparations.

  "That's from the Morozari," Thaln replied, his webbed hands working a complex knot with practiced ease. "We trade with them, and they give us supplies to withstand the humans."

  Something in Thaln's tone caught Zyren's attention. "Isn't that good?" he asked, noting the unease in the Pelagor's posture.

  "Our biggest threat is the human Empire," Thaln replied, the words coming out with the cadence of something rehearsed many times. He sighed, his gills fluttering slightly. "Sometimes you do what you got to do." The resignation in his voice spoke volumes.

  The Kelpie finally made it to the docks, and Zyren got his first close look at Thalpharos's inhabitants. There were other Pelagos, similar to Thaln but not quite the same. Where Thaln's skin bore the marks of his life at sea—weathered, scarred in places—these Pelagos had a more vibrant appearance. Their skin seemed to shine with an inner luminescence, their eyes a more intense greenish-blue than Thaln's faded hue. Some moved in and out of the water as if there were no difference between the elements, their movements fluid and graceful.

  Thaln watched his kin with a mixture of pride and something else—a wistfulness, perhaps, for a life he might have led had he not chosen the path of resistance. "We have to meet Urdan now," he said, a nostalgic twinkle in his eyes as he observed his people. "Bruln is already there."

  The walk from the harbour to the caves took them through the heart of Thalpharos. As they climbed the winding path up the cliff face, Bruln fell into step beside Zyren, his massive form casting a long shadow in the late afternoon light.

  "Quite a place," the Cragling rumbled, his amber eyes taking in the settlement below. "Never thought I'd see anything like it."

  Zyren nodded, surprised by the almost reverent tone in Bruln's usually gruff voice. "It's... not what I expected."

  "None of this is," Bruln replied with a dry chuckle.

  They walked for almost an hour, following a path that wound through the settlement and up toward the cliffs. The buildings gave way to more natural formations—caves carved by water and wind over millennia, enhanced by careful Pelagor craftsmanship. As they approached a particularly large opening in the cliff face, the sun seemed to hesitate at the threshold, its rays unable to penetrate the darkness within.

  "This is the last thing I'll force you to do," Urdan said as they stood at the entrance, his massive frame silhouetted against the fading daylight. His voice was solemn, carrying the weight of what lay ahead.

  The three of them—Urdan, Bruln, and Zyren—followed Thaln into the cave, leaving the warmth of day behind. The temperature dropped immediately, and the sound of the sea became a distant memory, replaced by the soft echo of their footsteps on stone.

  "The Pelagos are an independent people," Thaln explained as they descended deeper into the earth. Phosphorescent algae grew along the walls, providing just enough light to navigate by. "We always were part of the resistance. That is why we are protected by the storms, the sea, and the ground."

  "Starting to preach your blessings and gods?" Bruln smirked, his gravelly voice bouncing off the narrow walls.

  "That's a whole different talk," Thaln replied, unperturbed. "You are benefiting from the work of countless generations." His webbed hand traced a symbol carved into the stone—ancient, worn smooth by the touch of many hands over time.

  Zyren had been focused on each step, wondering where they were headed, but the phrase "countless generations" broke through his concentration. "How long have you been fighting the humans?" he asked, the question directed at no one in particular.

  It was Urdan who answered, his deep voice rumbling in the confined space. "The fight started before any of us was born."

  The simplicity of the statement carried an immense weight. This wasn't just a rebellion or a resistance—it was a legacy, passed down through blood and bone, older than any of them.

  "We arrived," Thaln interrupted, pointing to an archway ahead.

  The passage opened into a circular chamber, carved with the same precision as the rest of the cave system but distinct in its purpose. Unlike the utilitarian tunnels they had passed through, this room bore intricate carvings along its walls—symbols and patterns that seemed to shift in the dim light, telling stories Zyren couldn't read.

  In the center stood a single desk, its surface covered with scrolls, books, and loose papers. Behind it sat a figure, holding a pen poised above a document.

  The chamber was lit by the same phosphorescent algae, but here it had been cultivated to provide more illumination, casting the room in an ethereal blue-green glow. The light played across the figure's features as they looked up at the newcomers.

  Its skin was seafoam colored, with a translucent quality that seemed to capture and hold the light. Ashen blonde hair fell over its back and behind two thin, slightly pointed ears. As they entered, the angular-faced creature turned to regard them fully, revealing subtle ridges along its cheekbones and a pair of pearl-white eyes that seemed to see beyond the physical realm. A faint smile curved its lips—neither welcoming nor dismissive, merely acknowledging.

  "Meet Iskareth," said Thaln, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper.

  Zyren felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the cave's temperature. Something told him that whatever came next would change everything—again.

  Thank you for reading this chapter.

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