The storm had arrived abruptly, its winds howling and waves crashing against the ship. The crew scrambled in a panic, trying to secure the sails and keep the ship steady. But what happened next chilled them to their bones.
From the depths of the storm, a colossal shadow emerged—something enormous, a ghostly apparition rising from the tumultuous sea. The crew stopped in their tracks, their gazes fixed on the terrifying sight.
A huge creature, with the torso of a dragon and the lower half of a kraken, towered above the ship. Its dark blue scales shimmered in the flashes of lightning, and its six eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light as they focused on the Dalyla. The storm seemed to intensify as the beast's massive form loomed closer, its tentacles swirling beneath it.
A booming voice echoed across the sea, vibrating through the very air itself.
"Good! Now the trial will begin under the sea!" The Leviathan's voice was deep and resonant, filled with an ancient power that made the very ocean tremble.
The crew fell silent, fear gripping their hearts. The sisters, too, stared wide-eyed at the apparition. The myth was no longer just a story. It was real.
The creature's gaze seemed to pierce through them all, its intent unclear, but the danger was undeniable. What would this trial be, and why had it come now, in such a terrifying form?
Lightning split the sky as the Leviathan's massive form surged closer, its kraken-like lower half rising from the sea in a tangle of writhing tentacles. Water churned violently around The Dalyla as if the ocean itself had turned against it.
Ramla, Adea, and Nea stood frozen near the railing, their eyes wide with horror as the creature loomed above them. Then, without warning, the Leviathan's tentacles shot forward—lightning-quick—wrapping around the three sisters in a smooth, terrible motion.
"No!" Jason shouted.
He sprang forward, ignoring the shouting crew, his feet slamming against the soaked deck as he rushed toward the railing. One of the tentacles brushed past him, and with no thought for his safety, he leapt onto it, digging his fingers into the slick, scale-lined surface.
"Let them go!" he roared, summoning every ounce of strength his cultivated body could give.
The Leviathan turned one of its glowing eyes toward him. And then—
*WHAM.*
A massive limb struck him like a falling star. The world spun. His ribs cracked. Breath left his body. And Jason was flung like a stone from a sling, hurtling through the storm-ripped air.
He didn't even have time to scream before the sea swallowed him whole.
Darkness.
Cold.
Silence.
He sank deep into the depths, the light from the storm vanishing far above. Then, just as his consciousness slipped away…
*Air.*
Jason's eyes snapped open with a gasp. He was lying on stone—wet, rough, and strangely warm. A faint blue light flickered across the cavern walls, casting eerie shadows that danced like spirits.
He coughed hard, water spilling from his lungs. Around him, the crew of The Dalyla lay sprawled on the cavern floor, unconscious but alive. Jason's clothes were soaked, his cloak clinging to him like seaweed. Every part of his body ached from the impact.
The cavern was vast, hollowed out from dark rock with glowing coral veins along the walls. Bioluminescent water lapped gently against the shoreline of a hidden subterranean lake.
Jason's breath came in ragged bursts as he pushed himself upright, eyes scanning for the sisters—but they were nowhere in sight.
They were gone.
And the Leviathan's voice still echoed in his mind like a curse:
"The trial begins under the sea!"
The sound of gasps and groans echoed through the cavern as one by one, the crew of The Dalyla stirred awake. The captain was the first to sit upright, coughing and blinking at the strange blue glow illuminating the cavern. His grizzled face twisted with confusion as he took in the surroundings—the stone floor, the underground lake, the pulsing coral light.
"What in the name of the gods…" he murmured, then his eyes fell on Jason, already standing.
Jason didn't speak. His gaze was locked on the dark waters at the edge of the cavern, heart pounding. Something was shifting beneath the surface. Rising.
A shape emerged from the lake's depths—huge and slow and spectral. Water rippled in perfect silence as a great horned head surfaced, black-blue scales glistening with a ghostly sheen. Six glowing eyes opened one by one, casting rays of cold, pale light across the cavern. The Leviathan's head hovered above the water, impossibly large and impossibly still.
All sound died.
Every sailor froze in place, breath caught in their throats. Even the captain, a man who had faced down sea monsters and pirates alike, found his hand trembling near the hilt of his cutlass.
The phantom head peered at them all, eyes scanning each soul like it could see through flesh, bone, and memory.
Then its mouth opened, and its voice rolled through the cavern like the deep rumble of the ocean floor:
"You trespass in sacred waters. You ride upon a path forbidden to mortals—unless the pact is honored."
The crew dared not speak.
The Leviathan's eyes narrowed.
"Three were offered. The sisters of flesh, of mingled blood. Their presence grants you passage. But passage… must be earned."
Jason stepped forward, his ribs already healed. "Where are they?" he demanded, voice steady despite the fear clawing at him. "What have you done with them?"
The Leviathan's gaze shifted to him.
"They are where they must be. Their hearts will be weighed. Their truths revealed. As will yours."
Jason's fists clenched. Around him, the crew muttered in confusion and fear, but no one dared speak above a whisper.
"A trial begins," the Leviathan continued. " Of strength… will and soul. Survive it, and they may live. Fail, and the sea will forget your names."
With that, the ghostly head began to recede, dissolving into mist and memory as it sank once more into the black waters.
The cavern fell into silence again, save for the captain's breathless whisper:
"…Trial of soul…"
Jason turned to the crew, his voice hard and clear. "We're going after them. Whatever this thing wants, we give it. We pass its damn trial. Or we die trying."
No one argued.
And the darkness ahead waited.
The stillness didn't last.
As the phantom head of the Leviathan vanished into the dark lake, the glowing coral veins along the walls pulsed once—then again, faster—before flaring with blinding blue light. The ground beneath Jason and the crew rumbled, and before anyone could react, a sudden force lifted them from their feet.
They didn't fall—they were being pulled.
Light swallowed them whole.
________________________________________
Jason hit solid ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him. But when he looked up, the setting had changed.
Gone was the cavern.
Now, they stood on a wide, circular stone platform—massive, ancient, and suspended above a churning abyss of water. Faintly glowing runes pulsed across the arena's surface. Around him, every member of The Dalyla's crew had been transported to the same place. The captain. The sailors. All of them looking just as stunned and bewildered as he felt.
Then, a sound like thunder cracked above them—and the Leviathan's voice returned:
"This is the First Trial. All who seek passage must be proven. One shall rise. The rest shall yield."
The crew began to shout over one another.
"Proven how?!"
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You can't ask us to fight each other!"
But there was no response.
Instead, the air shimmered, and a ghostly barrier rose around the platform, enclosing them within a dome of translucent energy.
Jason stepped forward. "Wait. No killing," he said aloud, as if testing the rules. "You didn't say this is to the death."
The Leviathan's voice boomed again:
"Correct. There will be no death here. No blood must stain the pact. But there will be only one standing."
Jason exhaled slowly, jaw tightening.
It was a battle royale.
Fists. Steel. Grit. Honor.
No death—but no holding back, either.
The captain cracked his neck, glancing toward Jason with something like reluctant respect. "Guess we find out who's got the fire to finish this."
All around, the sailors began to spread out, forming wary stances. Some were brawlers. Others knife fighters. One or two looked like they'd rather jump into the sea than fight a comrade—but the Leviathan's will was clear. The path forward led through combat.
Jason's eyes scanned the platform. He wasn't eager to hurt anyone—but he'd survive. He'd pass. He had to.
Because somewhere, below the sea, those sisters were watching.
And he would not fail them.