Chapter 34 — Salt, Scales, and Shattered Promises
The crash of waves against the shore seemed to mock their desperation. Joanna gripped the splintered mast of their makeshift raft, her frost-blue eyes narrowing at Bennett. "A raft? You'd stake our lives on driftwood and delusions?"
Bennett leaned back, his smile sharp as the salt-crusted rocks beneath them. "Got a better idea, Lady Frostveil? Or would you prefer to starve here, nibbling roots while your magic rots?"
Joanna's knuckles whitened. "If I still had my powers, I'd freeze your tongue to the roof of your mouth."
"Ah, but you don't. None of us do." Bennett gestured to the skeletal trees clawing at the sky. "This island's a leech. It's sucking the magic from your veins—and that beast out there?" He nodded to the black horizon. "It's the parasite's guardian. Break free of its grip, and your spells return. Simple."
"Simple?" Joanna hissed. "What if the nullifying field spans leagues? What if our magic needs days to recover? We'd be adrift, starving, praying for storms to spare us!"
Bennett shrugged. "Better than certain death here. The roots are nearly gone. No fish. No game. Just bones and salt." He kicked a pebble into the surf. "Your call. Die slow… or gamble on the sea."
The Pact of Desperation
By dawn, the trio stood ankle-deep in tide pools, staring at the jagged cliffs. Tools were nonexistent—no blades, no ropes, no hope.
Joanna's armored gloves flexed. "My gauntlets are ornamental. Useless for chopping."
Vivian sniffled, clutching the dormant fire dragon curled around her shoulders. "M-My L-Lord Ember… he's too weak to melt even a twig."
Bennett's gaze lingered on the dragon's scales. "Not melting. Cutting."
The girl recoiled. "N-No! His scales are his pride! You can't—"
"Pride won't fill our bellies." Bennett knelt, meeting her tearful stare. "Two scales. That's all. He'll heal… or we'll die."
Vivian's resolve crumbled. With trembling hands, she whispered an apology to the wheezing dragon, her faint magic loosening two crimson scales the size of dinner plates.
Blades of Betrayal
The work was brutal. For hours, Bennett and Joanna ground the dragon scales against wave-smoothed stones, edges sharpening to serrated blades. Blood blistered their palms, salt stung their wounds, but neither spoke. Survival had become a language beyond pride.
By dusk, they'd felled three ironwood trees. Vivian wove vines into ropes, her sobs harmonizing with the dragon's mournful whimpers.
Joanna paused, watching her sister wipe snot on her sleeve. "You're cruel," she muttered to Bennett. "Using her love for that beast against her."
He didn't look up from lashing logs. "Cruelty's a luxury we lost with breakfast."
The Unspoken Sacrifice
The raft took shape—a skeletal thing of driftwood and desperation. Bennett lashed hollow gourds beneath it for buoyancy; Joanna sacrificed her moth-wing cloak for a sail.
It was Vivian who shattered the fragile peace. "W-What about Lord Ember?"
Silence.
The dragon lay listless on the shore, ribs jutting like shipwrecks. Bennett's jaw tightened. "He stays."
"No!" Vivian lunged for the raft's edge. "I won't leave him! He'll die!"
Joanna caught her wrist. "And if we stay, we die. Choose, little sister."
"I-I hate you!" Vivian wailed, collapsing onto the raft. "Both of you!"
Bennett turned away, but not before Joanna saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes.
Into the Abyss
They pushed off at dawn, the raft groaning under their weight. Bennett and Joanna rowed with scaled blades, muscles screaming. The island shrank behind them—a fanged silhouette against blood-red skies.
"Anything?" Bennett barked.
Joanna clenched her fist, summoning a wisp of frost. Nothing. "Two hundred meters. Keep rowing."
Vivian stared blankly at the horizon, her tears drying into salt trails.
At three hundred meters, the sea convulsed.
A roar split the air—primordial, hungrier than the void. The water beneath them bulged, forming a liquid mountain that collapsed into a whirlpool.
"Row!" Bennett howled, but the raft disintegrated like kindling.
The Beast's Embrace
Cold.
Darkness.
Pressure crushed Bennett's ribs as the vortex dragged him deeper. Saltwater burned his lungs. Somewhere above, Joanna's muffled curses and Vivian's screams echoed through the abyss.
So this is how it ends, he thought dimly. Not starved. Not slain. Just… swallowed.
Then—
A flash of crimson.
Scales.
Claws.
Lord Ember's emaciated form torpedoed past him, jaws aglow with feeble fire. The dragon latched onto a shadowy mass—something vast, tentacled, wrong—and bit down.
The beast shrieked. The whirlpool faltered.
Bennett's vision blurred as he floated upward, buoyed by a final act of loyalty from a creature he'd doomed.
Damn you, he thought, whether to himself, the dragon, or the gods, he couldn't tell. Damn us all.
Chapter 35 — Echoes of Abandon and the Whispering Walls
Bennett's consciousness returned in fragments. The first sensation was warmth—a softness cradling his throbbing skull. His body felt as though it had been unraveled and clumsily stitched back together, every muscle screaming. When he pried his eyes open, the faint glow of bioluminescent sand cast an ethereal haze over the cave.
His head rested on Joanna's thigh, her armored legs rigid beneath him. Vivian lay curled against his chest, her damp hair plastered to his chin. Both women stirred as he shifted, their synchronized groans echoing off the cavern walls.
"Where… are we?" Joanna rasped, recoiling as she realized Bennett's position. She shoved him off with a hiss. "Keep your filthy head to yourself!"
Bennett rolled to his knees, wincing as saltwater dripped from his tunic. His legs burned as though flayed. "Relax. I didn't choose the pillow."
Joanna ignored him, turning to Vivian. The younger mage sat up, her soaked undergarments clinging transparently to her skin. Bennett's gaze flickered—unintentionally, then less so—to the faint silhouette of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric.
Joanna snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Eyes up, gutter rat."
"I'm observing our surroundings," Bennett lied smoothly, though his cheeks flushed. He gestured to the cavern's phosphorescent walls. "We're in a sealed pocket. Air's stale but breathable. That waterway"—he nodded at the dark channel lapping nearby—"is our only exit."
Vivian shivered, arms crossed over her chest. "L-Lord Ember… saved us. The whirlpool… he pushed us here. I felt his claws."
Bennett's throat tightened. The dragon's final act—a suicide charge against the leviathan—hung unspoken between them. He cleared his throat. "Let's focus on living. Test your magic."
Both women closed their eyes, summoning incantations. Nothing. Joanna slammed her fist into the sand. "Still blocked. This cursed place…"
"So we swim," Bennett said grimly.
"Into that?" Joanna glared at the ink-black water. "We'll drown before finding the surface."
"Or stay here and starve." Bennett traced the glowing sediment on the wall—tiny crystalline shards emitting faint radiation. "Your choice, Lady Frostveil."
Threads of Desperation
Hours passed. Hunger gnawed. Vivian's teeth chattered, her modesty preserved only by Joanna's tattered cloak. Bennett paced the cavern, frustration simmering beneath his calm facade.
"Tell… a story," Vivian whispered suddenly. "Like before. Please."
Joanna scoffed. "Fairy tales won't—"
"Once," Bennett interrupted, kneeling beside the shivering mage, "a thief named Ali Baba discovered a treasure cave guarded by forty killers. The entrance opened only to the words 'Open Sesame'."
Vivian's eyes widened. "D-Did he escape?"
"He did." Bennett pressed his palm to the cavern wall. "But sometimes… the real treasure isn't gold. It's realizing you'd trade it all for one more sunrise with those who matter."
Tears spilled down Vivian's cheeks. She placed her small hand atop his. "T-Try it. Please."
"It's just a story, Viv," Bennett murmured.
"Try it."
Her desperation cracked his resolve. With a theatrical flourish, he tapped the wall. "Open Sesame!"
Nothing.
Vivian's shoulders slumped—then stiffened. The wall rippled like liquid mercury. A skeletal hand pierced through, gnarled fingers beckoning.
"Guests… at last," croaked a voice older than the sea itself. "Come… and meet your fate."
The Crone's Gambit
The wall dissolved into a shimmering archway. Beyond it sprawled a labyrinth of coral-threaded tunnels, lit by floating orbs of trapped starlight. The hand's owner materialized—a hunched figure draped in kelp robes, her face a web of barnacles and scars.
Joanna drew Vivian behind her. "What are you?"
"Keeper of the Drowned," the crone wheezed. "You tread where magic dies… and truths rise." Her milky eyes locked onto Bennett. "Your dragon's sacrifice bought passage. Now… pay the toll."
Bennett stepped forward. "What toll?"
The crone's laugh rasped like grinding shells. "A memory. A secret. A lie." She pointed at each in turn: Joanna, Vivian, Bennett. "Trade one… or rot."
Vivian trembled. "W-What kind of lie?"
"The kind that poisons souls." The crone's claw hovered over Bennett's chest. "Yours reeks of regret, little liar. Why flee a throne? Why play the hero?"
Bennett froze. Joanna's gaze sharpened. "Throne? What is she—"
"Choose!" the crone shrieked. The walls shuddered, seawater seeping through cracks. "Truth… or tomb!"
Chapter 36 — The Hollow Guardian and the Veil of Lies
The skeletal hand hung in the air, its gnarled fingers curling like dead roots. Bennett's pulse roared in his ears as he stepped forward, pressing his palm into the undulating wall. It yielded like cold gelatin, swallowing his arm to the elbow.
"It's… passable," he rasped, throat tight. Behind him, Joanna and Vivian clutched each other, their ragged breaths echoing.
"What if it's a trap?" Joanna hissed, though her trembling betrayed her bravado.
Bennett didn't answer. He gripped Vivian's hand, her palm slick with sweat. "Trust me?"
She nodded, eyes wide.
One step. Two. The wall rippled, its surface swallowing them whole. Darkness clamped down—a suffocating void devoid of sound, scent, or warmth. Bennett's mind raced: What if the magic fails? What if we're entombed here, crushed between stone and—
Light.
They stumbled into a cavern vast enough to swallow castles. At its heart hovered a figure shrouded in black, feet inches above the ground. His face—gods, his face—was a nightmare etched in translucent flesh, skeletal contours visible beneath paper-thin skin.
"Why… fear?" The voice slithered from his lipless mouth.
Bennett forced his spine straight. "Why shouldn't we? You dragged us here. That beast—was it yours? The whirlpool? Answer!"
The figure laughed—a sound like bones rattling in a tin coffin. "Gratitude, little morsels. Were it not for my spell, the Leviathan's bile would've dissolved your bones."
Joanna recoiled. "Leviathan? Those are myths—"
"Myths?" The figure drifted closer, rancid breath frosting the air. "Your ignorance reeks." With a wave, the cavern shifted. Walls sprouted stone tables; ceilings flattened into gilded arches dripping with phantom chandeliers. Vivian gasped as a velvet-cushioned chair materialized beneath her.
"Illusions," the figure sneered, noting their awe. "Even magic cannot conjure sustenance. Sit. We… parley."
Bennett's stomach growled. "Food. Water. Now."
"Impossible." The skeletal lips twitched. "These comforts are lies to soothe your frailty. My power bends reality… but not hunger."
Vivian tugged Bennett's sleeve. "H-He's stronger than Archmage Therin. Even the Royal College couldn't—"
"Names," the figure interrupted. "Respect demands reciprocity."
Bennett squared his shoulders. "Bennett of House Rollin, son of Count Raymond, Vice-Commander of Roland's Imperial War Council."
"V-Vivian Frostveil," the girl stammered.
Joanna glared. "…Joanna. Just Joanna."
The figure's hollow eyes gleamed. "A noble, two mages… richer fare than the last sacrifices."
Bennett's blood chilled. "Sacrifices? To whom?"
The figure spread his arms, robes billowing like funeral shrouds. "My master—known by many titles. Mortals call him… the Demon."
Threads of Revelation
Silence choked the cavern. Vivian's whimper broke it.
"Lies," Joanna spat. "Demons are bedtime tales to frighten children."
The figure whirled, robes snapping. "Fool! What is a god but a demon draped in gold?" His bony finger jabbed at Joanna. "Your precious deities abandoned you here. My master? He preserves. He collects. He remembers."
Bennett stepped between them. "And you? What's your name in this… collection?"
A rattling chuckle. "I am Crist Du'lier Soniere Alabaster Kira Yigral. Keeper of the Abyssal Archive. Harbinger of—"
"A servant," Bennett cut in. "Just a servant."
The figure stilled. "…Yes."
"Then take us to your master." Bennett's voice hardened. "If he wants sacrifices, let him claim us himself."
Yigral's jaw creaked open—a grotesque smile. "Brave words… for meat." He floated backward, gesturing to a newly formed iron door. "Beyond lies the Archive. Survive its trials… and audience awaits."
Vivian clutched Bennett's arm. "D-Don't. It's a trick—"
"Trick?" Yigral crooned. "Or your only path? The Leviathan guards these waters. Return now… and its jaws await."
Joanna gripped her dagger. "We'll take our chances."
Yigral's laughter echoed. "Run, then! The tide rises. Your bones will join the others… picked clean."
Bennett stared at the door. Rusted hinges. Bloodstained handles. No choice. Never a choice.
"We go forward," he said quietly.