Fate of the Marked

Primal Sins

Left alone with my thoughts, my eyes lingered on the endless darkness of the ocean. The ship creaked softly beneath me, a steady rhythm that should've been comforting, but the void of the sea was anything but. Hours seemed to stretch into an eternity, and still, nothing happened. The deck had emptied—Eryon and Susan had gone below to rest—but I remained. Sleep felt distant, like an old friend I hadn't seen in years. The warming spell I'd cast earlier helped combat the biting cold, and I focused on its hum, grounding myself.

Every now and then, I lightly punched my own arm, testing the shield spell I'd activated earlier. A faint shimmer met each strike. It was still active. Good. I wasn't sure why I felt the need to test it so often, but there was something satisfying in feeling the flow of my mana, controlling it with precision. No, I didn't just understand it—I could feel it now.

But then, my thoughts froze.

Somewhere in the distance, a shape cut through the abyss. A massive, serpent-like silhouette slithered beneath the surface of the ocean, illuminated faintly by phosphorescent flashes that danced along its body. It was enormous—far larger than anything I'd ever seen before. My chest tightened as panic set in, and I found myself glancing around the deck, my heart hammering in my chest. Was anyone else seeing this?

"Do not panic," a voice came from beside me, calm and steady. Rowan stood there, his lance resting casually in his hand as if he were waiting for a drink at a tavern. His piercing gaze was locked on the water, following the shifting shape. I envied his composure.

"What is that?" I whispered, barely able to tear my eyes away from the creature.

"An ancient one," he replied, his tone even. "The dwarves call it The Deep Sovereign."

The name sent a shiver down my spine. "What is it doing here?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Existing," Rowan said simply. "It's been here longer than most of the lands we know. Predates the demons, predates the gods, some say. A force of nature, nothing more."

My panic didn't subside. "What if it attacks us?"

"It won't." He turned his eyes to me, his expression calm but firm. "It's dangerous, yes. Deadly. But harmless if left alone. Like most ancient creatures, it's ruled by instinct. You'd do well to remember that."

Torran joined us at the railing, his broad figure barely jostled by the shifting ship. He handed Rowan and me mugs of hot Draeven Brew, the steam curling into the frigid air. I wrapped my hands around the mug gratefully and took a long sip, letting the warmth spread through me. My nerves were still raw after seeing that... thing beneath the waves. This was my first encounter with something so ancient, so vast, so powerful. The experience left my thoughts racing.

Rowan, as composed as ever, glanced at Torran. "We just saw The Deep Sovereign."

Torran chuckled, not with humor, but with a kind of knowing exasperation. "Ah, that one. I've crossed paths with it a few times. Seen it sink a ship once—fools tried fishing it out of the water. Didn't even have time to scream. You don't mess with it; you leave it alone. Always."

My curiosity surged despite my lingering unease. "If it's so ancient... older than demons, older than gods... how many creatures like that are out there?" I asked, still sipping the brew as I tried to keep my voice steady.

Torran leaned against the railing, his gaze on the dark horizon. "A few," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "Seen my fair share in all my years sailing. Though not many live to tell about them." The hot Draeven Brew on my hand suddenly goes cold.

He took a long gulp from his mug before continuing. "This sea, for instance, hides more than its share of ancient beasts. There's The Deep Sovereign, of course. That one's always lurking, always watching. You give it respect, and it'll let you pass." He paused, swirling the last of his brew in his mug. "Then there's another."