"What's happening?!" the father shouts as freezing seawater rushes into the cabin, soaking the lavish carpets and climbing the walls.
"Dear God!" the mother cries, her voice trembling with fear.
"Just some rough waves!" the captain yells over the chaos, though his grip on the doorframe betrays his own unease.
Then, the ship's bell tolls—a deep, resonant sound that cuts through the wind and rain. They all know what it means.
Moments from disaster.
"Mom, I'm scared!" the young prince whimpers, clutching his mother's dress as the ship lurches violently.
"It'll be alright," his father murmurs, running a hand through the boy's damp hair, though the fear in his eyes says otherwise.
Footsteps thunder from above. A watchman bursts into the cabin, breathless and wide-eyed.
"A sea beast!" he cries. "It came out of nowhere!"
A third impact shakes the ship, a sickening crack echoing through the hull. A hole splinters open above them, rain pouring in.
And then, through the storm—an eye.
Massive, golden-amber, unblinking. Looming above the ship, half-hidden by the towering waves.
A monstrous roar rattles the sky as the mother and nobles scream, but Arthur does not. He simply stares back, transfixed.
Sea beasts do not attack ships this small. By all accounts, this thing should not be here. And yet, it is.
"We're going to die!" Arthur's mother sobs as the creature's enormous tentacles rise into the air.
A slow, deliberate strike. The ship splits in two, the force sending the crew and passengers into the churning waters below.
Arthur's father collapses to his knees, gripping the shattered remains of the deck, whispering, "Is this how it ends?"
And yet, the beast does not strike again. It looms closer, the storm raging around it—drawn to something.
Drawn to Arthur.
The boy steps forward, seawater swirling around his ankles.
"What do you seek, Great Tide?" Arthur murmurs, as if speaking to an old friend.
"Arthur!" his mother screams, but he does not turn back.
The beast extends a massive limb toward him.
"Why me?" Arthur whispers, the wind tearing at his hair, his garments billowing in the storm.
"Have you lost your mind?!" his father bellows, scrambling to reach him—
"Oh my," a voice purrs from the shadows. "What an interesting turn of events."
Arthur's father freezes. "Who goes there?!"
A figure stands just beyond the broken deck, cloaked in darkness.
"You wouldn't know my name," the stranger replies smoothly. "But if you interfere, I will kill you."
Arthur steps onto the beast's hand, ignoring the screams behind him.
Something stirs in his mind, something ancient. His chest rises and falls in quick breaths before—
A laugh.
A wild, unhinged laugh as he throws his arms wide.
"How long has it been?" Arthur cries, as though speaking to the sky itself.
The figure on the wreckage smirks. "The prince of the sea has risen once again."
"What are you saying?!" his mother sobs, horror in her eyes.
Arthur turns to face them—no longer the frightened boy they once knew. "You must be my vessel's parents," he says, almost amused. Then, with a flick of his wrist—
The beast moves.
A single, effortless swipe of its massive limb sends the remains of the ship scattering into the sea like dust.
The stranger watches with interest. "So, you've truly returned."
Arthur turns, eyes narrowing. "And who are you?"
A low chuckle. "Do you not remember me, fallen god?" The stranger steps forward, the rain parting around him. "I fought by your side, all those millennia ago. Do you not recall my name? Boreal, the immortal."
Arthur watches him carefully. "So, you've stayed true to your title. What do you want?"
Boreal grins. "Oh, just to welcome you back."
Arthur's eyes darken. "Do not insult me with lies."
Boreal laughs. "Then allow me to be honest. Our time to rid the world of the gods is near."
Arthur tilts his head, a slow smile creeping onto his face. "So be
"Well, now that you've found yourself a host, where do you plan to go next?" Boreal asked, his voice laced with amusement as he studied the Prince of the Sea.
The prince smirked, his golden eyes gleaming like the sunlit waves. "Wherever promises the most excitement."
Boreal chuckled. "Speaking of excitement, I've devised quite the heist. Far beyond these waters lies something that rightfully belongs to me, and I intend to reclaim it."
The prince grinned, but the mirth in his eyes flickered as his expression turned serious.
"A more pressing matter presents itself," he admitted. "The boy is resisting me. His rejection could dull my edge in combat."
Boreal tilted his head. "Nevertheless, I doubt he has the strength to cast you out—not at a time like this."
"Then it is of little concern." The prince dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand before turning his gaze back to Boreal. "Now, if you could have your beast provide me with a lift, I would appreciate it."
Boreal's lips curled into a smirk. "Oh? The almighty Prince of the Sea, speaking with such weight, yet his voice hasn't even dropped? It's quite the sight."
The prince scoffed. "Do you mock me?"
"Only a little." Boreal laughed, his tone boyish and teasing.
The great beast rumbled as it reached for Boreal, lifting him effortlessly into the air.
———————————————————————————
Meanwhile,intheGrandCastleofOralia…
The great hall was silent, save for the low murmur of candle flames flickering against the stone walls. A vast, circular table stretched across the chamber, where advisors and lords sat in tense anticipation.
One of them finally spoke.
"My lord," the advisor began, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I bring urgent news concerning our kingdom."
The king's gaze, sharp as a blade, landed on him. "Speak."
The advisor swallowed hard before continuing. "The trade routes between us and the elves are under attack by bandits. While the elves are more than capable of defending themselves, the real issue lies elsewhere. The leader of the northeastern tribe believes we are behind these attacks. As a result, they have ceased all trade with us."
A heavy silence followed.
"Come closer," the king commanded.
The advisor hesitated but obeyed, pushing himself up from his chair and approaching cautiously.
Without warning, the king's hand shot out, seizing him by the throat in an iron grip.
"Do you think I care for the starving wretches of the elven lands?" the king growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Trade was never about them—it was about maintaining my image. But the people no longer concern themselves with the elves, and if they do not care, neither do I. To hell with their resources."
The advisor choked, his fingers clawing at the king's hand as his face turned a shade closer to blue. Around the table, the other officials cast uneasy glances at one another but dared not intervene.
The king's eyes burned red with growing fury. "If you have no good news to bring me, then do not speak at this table again."
The advisor's struggles weakened.
"King Melidict."
The voice cut through the air like a blade.
The king's expression shifted instantly. His grip loosened, and the advisor crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.
Melidict turned toward the speaker, his previous wrath now replaced with an eerie calm.
"Ah, Miseria. What trouble brings you today?" he asked, his voice smooth, almost pleasant.
The king waved the advisor away as if he were nothing more than an insect. The man scrambled to his feet and hurried out of the chamber without looking back.
Miseria stepped forward, her presence commanding despite the waterlogged boy cowering behind her. "I came across the remains of a ship caught in the center of a mana-induced storm. Its origin appears to be linked to a beast." She gestured to the boy. "I also found him—a child of the Pershuka Dynasty. Do you have any idea why they would attempt to cross into our lands? And in an old ship, no less?"
The king's brow furrowed. "I had intended to speak with the boy's father, but seeing as he is no longer among the living, that is no longer an option." He exhaled, studying the boy for a moment. "We will house him until we can establish contact with the Pershukas."
Miseria's gaze lingered on him. "And the ship?" There was something in her tone—just the faintest trace of suspicion.
"They believed it would be the best way to remain unnoticed across such a vast distance," the king answered without hesitation.
Miseria studied him for a moment before nodding. "I will escort the boy to an empty chamber, Your Highness."
As she turned to leave, the boy stayed close to her side, his drenched form trembling ever so slightly.
Once the doors shut behind her, the king turned back to the gathered lords.
"Now, let us proceed with the meeting."