Golden Feathers - Wings of Avail

Chapter 1. The Ship in the Storm

Amid the southern Kaltin seas, where many maps would end lied an endlessly brewing storm. For however far back, there is no telling of when or how the storm was formed. It is only known that it has been ravaging the seas for centuries on end. It spans far east and west, creating an artificial boundary between the world and whatever lies hidden south.

The storm is called by many names, but sailors would often call it Reveree's Wrath after the ancient storm god. It was befitting as the tales of the ancient deity would describe Reveree as one full of rage and vexation, but also one that was abstaining and withholding. As some tales would suggest, the never-ending storm was a manifestation of Reveree's bottled-up fury towards the northern gods, the same gods that had banished Reveree from the high courts of Aligard. 

Kane wasn't much of a believer in such superstitions, but he was starting to think otherwise as howling gales of wind rushed down upon him, nearly deafening him in the process. Rain pelted him like hailstones, bruising his skin underneath. Rolling thunderous clouds rumbled in the distance as lightning sparked the skies with such violence that one would go blind if not careful.  

The surrounding sea was a torrent of rain downpouring without an end. Waves rose and crashed upon one after the other, clashing like the sea was at war with itself. The ship rode along the backs of the crashing waves, striding around and through danger at every moment. Though, with little control over what way the ship would go, it was a dance along the lines of survival and complete destruction. 

It's a miracle the ship had made it this far into the sea, Kane thought.

It had been several weeks, or as many as Kane could keep track since the voyage began. But there was little difference between this day and the day before as the storm never ceased for a moment. There was no pause in rain or wind, not even for a second. 

And by consequence, mania ensued on the ship as Kane watched his fellow crewmates frantically moving about on the upper decks, trying to keep the ship intact along with keeping themselves onboard. There was little chance for Kane to see the lower decks, but he could imagine the same level of chaos. 

Wood would split and break, and ropes would loosen and snap. No matter how he looked at it, the ship was constantly in a state of nearly falling apart. It didn't help that the ship was makeshift. Like a collage, the ship was built with a variety of ship parts forming what should be a grand vessel. However, there were many imperfections, some even critically flawed. The hull was jagged with planks overlapping one another. The decks were uneven with holes that fell to the lower decks. And the worst of it all were the masts, which were all tied together by ropes of all sorts of lengths and thicknesses.

If not for the crew's desperation, they all would have been swimming in the deep sea a long while ago.

Yet, everyone knew it would be like this, including Kane. From day zero, they all got a good look at the skin of the storm, peering deep within the hell they were about to put themselves through. But there was no other way. It was either going through the storm or remaining stranded on that lonely island.

As Kane recalled, some did remain on the island, believing that they could meet a peaceful end eventually, for however long that may be. But the rest of the crew couldn't hold back their yearning to get back to their homeland. It had been too many years to count since they had been on that island. Too many years since they felt the warmth of their homes and families. And far too many years since they had been forcefully ousted from their war. 

The bottled-up anger and longing they each had on that day before entering the storm was immense. It was almost frightening from Kane's perspective, as their feelings drove them like madmen. Would a sane person push themselves to go through the terror of a storm such as this?