My stride hastens, and my eyes scan the desolate coast.
This place is hopeless and lethal, swarmed by tainted wolves, but slicing through them with the Shadowblade is effortless, and I’m grateful for the distraction.
The cool salty breeze coming from the watery graves of Rhessian Deep is invigorating. The waves are ferocious, biting the coast as if trying to claim the remains of the countless shipwrecks back. I let the foam wash over my boots, listening to the music of the surf. The sea will always be there, even after our cities crumble to dust and memories. There’s something about this bay, its savage beauty made greater by the death lurking in its depths, all the bones and ruins scattered around contrasting the eternity of the sea. The silver ladder of moonlight over the water is mesmerizing to watch but—
Wait.
My nostrils flare, and all my senses focus on a certain spot in the black water: a faint vibration in the breezy air, a distant call of magic old and forgotten.
The Candle! Too bad it is beyond the shallows, deep into the traitorous water. Maelstroms swirl around it, open and hungry like lethal black flowers. This would be a challenge even for an excellent swimmer like me.
I rummage through the rubble around and find a halfway well-preserved boat, and quickly empty it from the bones and rags rotting inside. The oars are gone, but there is a wide plank lying inside that can work. When the boat is afloat, I jump in and push away from the shore. The dark water around me is unruly, steering the bow to the side and sometimes spinning it as if warning me about the dangers ahead. Not that it would make me change my mind. Rowing with the plank, I go deeper, and the waves are swelling, nearly as tall as houses now. My tiny boat climbs up before crashing down. Not for a second do I falter.
Just like in a battle, my mind is locked in survival mode.
Live through this and bother with strategy and consequences later.
The beach is shrinking, yet some instinct makes me look back. There’s someone or something there.
Inhuman, malevolent eyes watch me.
A seven-foot-tall beast stands on his hind feet, his muscles glistening in the moonlight.
Watching. Waiting.
“Woodrick.” The wind steals my words.
The Elders are smiling upon me tonight. What a treat! I will get to kill a shifter. Probably one hired to end me. One I want to kill before he finds Talysse.
Make yourself look vulnerable.
Make them strike first.
Moving to the bow of the boat, I place my weight just when it plunges into the abyss of darkness and foam. Just as predicted, it capsizes instantly. Ignoring the biting cold and struggling with the insidious current, I swim underwater in the direction of the coast. Reaching the shallows, I let the surf wash me ashore, then roll on my back and start coughing and spitting water. It’s a stupid trick, but then again, Woodrick is not known for his brains.
The show must’ve been quite convincing, as the stupid beast buys it immediately. He knows he has to be quick and take advantage of my weakened state, as my Shadowblade is well-known and feared.
He may be quick, but it’s not enough. I’m on my feet in the blink of an eye, pierce him mid-leap, and step away not to be crushed by his heavy, muscular body. The red glow in his eyes fades, and I scoff, disappointed, before dispatching my blade. I was expecting more of the kingdom’s most feral shifter.
The pockets of his tattered pants are empty: no evidence that my enemies paid him. Another disappointment. Letting the sea claim his body, I sit on the soft sand, still panting. Sacrificing my boat for this kill was worth it; Talysse shall be safer now. The thought of her lying dead somewhere on this cursed beach makes me want to spill blood and burn cities, shatter mountains and grab Atos by the throat, demanding he return her to me.
The waves are roaring now, and the pungent scent of seaweed stings my nose. Gathering rotting planks and barrels, I try to tie them with a rope and build a raft. The powerful currents have brought whole underwater forests to the surface. The smell gets more intense—seaweed and salt. Something odd draws my gaze—a straight path of foam leading from the coast to the shipwreck holding the Candle.
By Heroy’s beard! What’s going on there?
Damned be all Dark Dryads and their powers! Just like us Shadowblade wielders, their magic comes from Atos himself and the night—the Unseelie element, before it got corrupted by the Hex.
But this particular Dark Dryad is clever and takes full advantage of her power over plants. Her inky frame is blurred by the distance but still recognizable. With her hands up, she is summoning thick, twisted vines from the bay depths. They writhe and entwine, building a narrow but relatively safe path over the tall waves.
She’s building a fucking bridge of seaweed.
I wave my hand and deepen the shadows around me, my body melting into the gloom, and head her way. When the Dryad steps on the shaky bridge, extending over the tempestuous maelstroms and crashing waves, I follow.
The night becomes a demon, summoning howling winds and crashing waves. The Dryad’s lithe figure shrinks in the distance as I set foot on the narrow bridge, swaying precariously over the stormy sea waters. The thick seaweed vines are slippery, and each gust threatens to plunge me into the roaring abyss below. A few controlled breaths steady my step, and the Shadowblade slips into my hand, its dark glow pulsating with power.
The wind is screaming in my ears, salty droplets blurring my vision. The coast behind me fades. The skeletal remains of the shipwreck grow with each step, the magic of the artifact inside calling me. The bridge shakes violently, and suddenly, she stands before me, her eyes glinting with malevolence. She twists her fingers, summoning more roots and vines from the very fabric of the bridge, causing it to groan under the added weight.
She looks like a dark, twisted version of Viridis, her cracked lips stretching into a smile, displaying sharp, blackened teeth. Dark Dryads are remnants of a sinister Unseelie experiment during the war, who tried to turn the peaceful forest dwellers into ruthless weapons; one of the many evils my kind has unleashed upon this tormented world.
