Its head breached the waves first—massive, serpentine, crowned in jagged fins. Water crashed onto the deck in sheets, knocking men from their feet. The Leviathan coiled through the dark, eyes burning like drowned stars—locked not on the ship…
…but on me.
A cold certainty settled in my gut. It was definitely here for me.
The crew erupted into motion. Garen bellowed orders from the starboard rail, hauling a harpoon into place as two deckhands braced the line behind him. Someone loosed a flare that hissed uselessly into the storm-dark sky. Steel rang as blades were drawn—not in hope, but defiance.
It felt like preparing to fight a storm with silverware.
The ship lurched as a coil slammed into the hull. Wood splintered. Men screamed. Lightning skittered along the creature’s spine, crawling over wet scales and snapping rigging like thread. A deckhand was thrown hard against the rail, another dragged back by his belt before the sea could claim him.
“Brace the starboard line!” someone shouted.
“She’s circling—Gods, she’s circling!”
A tentacle—longer than the mast—came down like a falling tower, crushing the forward cannon in a spray of iron and sparks. The Leviathan roared, the sound vibrating through my teeth, through my bones. My crescent mark flared, burning hot, a beacon answering its call.
Alaric was suddenly there, shoving a cutlass into my hand.
“Can’t kill it!” he shouted over the storm. “But we can drive it off!”
The sea surged around us—black, blinding. The Leviathan lunged, jaws yawning wide, teeth curved like ivory scythes. The stench hit me—brine and rot and something ancient.
It didn’t want me dead. It wanted me.
Possessed.
Caged.
I wouldn’t be taken. Not again.
I thought of Garen’s lessons—of pressure points and currents. Of Alaric’s drills, barked orders echoing across the deck as he forced us to fight smarter, not harder. I wasn’t the strongest. I wasn’t the fiercest. Or the most skilled.
But I knew the sea.
And every monster had a weakness.
The memory struck like lightning—the Thalassian Library, a child’s illustration I’d once laughed at. A leviathan pierced clean through the eye with a lance of light. I thought it was a myth then.
I was wrong.
“Harpoons—now!” Garen roared.
Steel flew. One struck true, embedding deep along the creature’s jaw. Another snapped loose, dragging two men to their knees asthey fought to hold the line. Sparks exploded as blades glanced off scale. Alaric moved through the rigging like a shadow, cutting lines, shouting orders, keeping the creature’s focus anywhere but on me.
My pulse thundered. I was so close.
I ran for the bowsprit.
The deck pitched violently. My boot slipped on wet planks and for one terrifying heartbeat, I nearly pitched headlong into the sea. Panic flared, choking the breath from my lungs.
If I fell, I was dead.
If I missed—
“Nerina!” Alaric shouted.
I caught myself on a rope, lungs burning, fingers numb. The Leviathan turned, sensing the shift, its gaze snapping back to me. My mark flared brighter—too bright—pain lancing through my skull as doubt clawed in.
