Elias Thorne, known to the crew as "Salty" Thorne for reasons that were as much about his disposition as his decades at sea, spat over the port rail.
The chunk of spit was whipped away by the alien wind, disappearing into the uncomfortable dark waters of the Sea of Ten-Fold Shadows.
Salty wasn't a man given to displays of emotion, but if he were, his current one would be a potent cocktail of disbelief, ingrained suspicion, and a grudging, deeply buried curiosity.
He was old school.
Sixty-two years he'd been on Earth before this… this madness. He'd sailed everything from leaky fishing trawlers in the North Atlantic to majestic clipper ships on the spice routes, back when such things were more than just museum pieces.
He knew the sea. He knew its moods, its dangers, its fickle cruelties and rare, breathtaking beauties. Or at least, he thought he knew the sea.
This place, this alien ocean under a sky of wrong stars, was something else entirely. And the Aeternus, his beloved war-barque, transformed into some kind of… magical stealth battleship, as the young'uns called it, was a constant source of disorientation.
His System-assigned role, Master-at-Arms - Ship's Security & Discipline, felt both familiar and absurd. He knew how to keep order, how to handle a cutlass or a belaying pin in a brawl. But what good was that against creatures that could swallow the ship whole, or against… well, against her.
Nythara Aeonwings. The dragon. Salty still couldn't quite wrap his grizzled head around it. Dragons were for storybooks, for the carvings on ancient maps that warned "Here Be Dragons."
They weren't supposed to be sleeping in your cargo hold, radiating a power that made the hairs on your arms stand up and the fillings in your teeth – the new, System-implanted ones – ache with a strange resonance.
He'd been one of the most vocal skeptics. When Captain Mallory had announced their new… passenger, Salty had grumbled loud enough for most of the quarterdeck to hear. "No good comes from trafficking with such creatures," he'd muttered.
"They're chaos. They're destruction. They demand worship, or sacrifice, or both." His likability was that of a bear with a hidden heart of gold, gruff but ultimately loyal and protective of the crew in his own way.
His skepticism was born of long, hard experience with the unpredictable and often malevolent nature of the unknown.
Now, several days after Nythara's rescue, the Captain had ordered all off-duty crew to assemble in the main mess. Nythara, he'd said, was ready to begin sharing her promised "sea-lore."
Salty had come, of course. Orders were orders, even in this upside-down world. But he'd positioned himself near the exit, his hand instinctively resting on the heavy, System-enhanced nightstick at his belt. Just in case.
The mess hall, usually a place of boisterous camaraderie and the smell of whatever vaguely edible concoction their new Chef - Nutrient Synthesizer, a bewildered former mess cook named Cookie, had managed to produce, was hushed.
Nythara sat at the head of the largest table, not on a chair, but on a series of reinforced crates Hammer Kovács had grudgingly provided.
Even in her human guise, she dominated the space, her presence an almost physical force. She wore simple, dark clothing provided by the ship's stores, yet she managed to make it look like royal raiment.
Her storm-grey eyes, ancient and wise, swept over the assembled crew.
Captain Mallory stood beside her, along with Valeria Chen, the sharp-as-a-tack Navigator, and Idris al-Arif, whose charming smile seemed a little strained in the dragon's presence.
The core image: Nythara holding court in the mess hall, skeptical Salty Thorne in the background. Salty watched, his own eyes narrowed, missing nothing.
"You have questions," Nythara began, her voice a low alto that resonated in Salty's chest. "About this sea. About your journey. About survival. Ask."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, young Finn O'Malley, Valeria's yeoman, piped up, his voice a mixture of awe and nervousness. "This… Sea of Ten-Fold Shadows, ma'am… Dragon… er, Ms. Aeonwings. Is it true there are ten layers to it?"
Nythara inclined her head.
"More or less. Imagine the ocean not as a flat plane, but as a book with many pages, each page a different reality, a different 'fold' of existence. Some are thin, almost transparent, their currents bleeding into one another. Others are thick, dense, their laws of nature wildly different from what you know. We currently sail upon one of the 'Upper Folds,' relatively stable, if… gravitationally challenging for your kind."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"And these… Shadow Lines that you mentioned?" Valeria Chen asked, her voice crisp and professional, though Salty noted she kept a respectful distance.
"They are currents of raw, unmaking energy," Nythara explained, her expression growing serious.
"Rifts in the fabric between the folds. Some are predictable, like underwater rivers. Others are wild, chaotic, appearing and disappearing with little warning. To cross a Shadow Line unprepared is to risk being pulled into a deeper, darker fold, or worse, into the Unmaking Void that lies beyond all layers."
A shiver went through the assembled crew. Salty felt it too, a cold dread that had nothing to do with the temperature of the mess hall.
He'd faced hurricanes, rogue waves, even pirates in his time. But this… this was cosmic horror, on a scale that dwarfed mortal understanding.
"How do we avoid them?" Captain Mallory asked, his voice steady.
"Avoidance is not always possible, nor always wise," Nythara replied.
"Some Shadow Lines, if navigated correctly, can be used as 'Way-Gates,' shortcuts between the folds, or across vast distances within a single fold. But it requires knowledge, skill, and a… sensitivity to the whispers of the deep. A sensitivity your mechanical instruments, however advanced, may not possess." Her gaze flickered towards Valeria's data-slate.
Valeria frowned slightly but didn't argue. Salty had to admit, the dragon had a point. Their fancy System navigation was good, but it hadn't warned them about the megalodon, nor the full extent of the slaver fleet's capabilities.
"You said you could teach us," Riku Tanaka, the young Gunnery Cadet, said, his eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Teach us to… sense these things?"
Nythara looked at him, a flicker of something unreadable in her ancient eyes.
"Perhaps. Some mortals are born with the 'Echo Sense,' a latent ability to feel the resonances of the folds. Others can learn, with time and discipline. But it is not a simple skill. It requires opening your mind to perceptions beyond your five senses, to listen to the silence between the waves, to feel the subtle pressures of unseen currents."
She then began to speak of the creatures of the deeps. Not just the colossal, brute-force monsters like the megalodon, but stranger, more insidious beings.
The 'Chronomites,' tiny creatures that fed on temporal energy, aging ships and sailors prematurely if they strayed too close to their swarms.
The 'Sirens of Sorrow,' whose songs didn't lure sailors to their deaths with promises of pleasure, but with echoes of their deepest regrets, driving them to madness and despair.
The 'Kelp-Wraiths,' sentient forests of carnivorous seaweed that could ensnare and consume entire vessels.
With each description, the mood in the mess hall grew heavier. Salty watched the faces of his crewmates.
The younger ones, like Finn and Riku, were pale but fascinated.
The older hands, men and women who, like Salty, had thought they'd seen it all, looked grim, their ingrained sea-wisdom being systematically dismantled and replaced with something far more terrifying.
Salty himself felt a strange conflict. His skepticism was still there, a hard knot in his gut.
This all sounded like the ramblings of a madwoman or the tall tales of a dockside drunk. But… there was a conviction in Nythara's voice, a depth of knowledge in her ancient eyes, that was hard to dismiss.
And they had seen the megalodon. They had felt the crushing gravity. This world was undeniably, terrifyingly different.
Then, Nythara spoke of Caer Danu, the free city that was their tentative destination.
"It is a place of trade and treachery, of fleeting alliances and ancient grudges," she said. "Built upon the bones of a fallen giant, its cliffs rise from a nexus of powerful currents. Many races, many factions, converge there. You will find wonders and horrors in equal measure. And you will need to be… discreet about your origins. And about me."
"Why?" Captain Mallory asked.
"Because, as I have said, dragons are coveted and feared. And the rulers of Caer Danu, the enigmatic 'Veiled Council,' have a particular… interest in beings of power. They might see me as a threat. Or as a prize."
Salty snorted. "So, we're sailing into a pirate den with a dragon in our pocket, hoping no one notices. Sounds like a fine plan."
The words were out before he could stop them. Several heads turned his way, some with disapproval, others with a hint of agreement. Nythara's gaze, cool and appraising, settled on him.
"Your skepticism is… understandable, Master-at-Arms Thorne," she said, her voice even. "You have spent a lifetime learning the rules of your old world. It is difficult to accept that those rules no longer apply."
"Rules are rules, dragon-lady," Salty retorted, his stubbornness flaring. "And common sense is common sense. Hiding a creature like you is like trying to hide the sun at noon."
"Perhaps," Nythara conceded. "But even the sun can be veiled by clouds. And sometimes, the most obvious hiding place is the one least expected."
She then did something that surprised Salty. She smiled, a genuine, almost mischievous smile that crinkled the corners of her ancient eyes. "Besides, Master Thorne, who said anything about hiding? Perhaps 'strategic discretion' is a more apt term."
There was a ripple of amusement through the crew. Even Salty felt a grudging respect for her composure, her refusal to be baited. She wasn't just a monster; she was intelligent, articulate, and possessed a dry wit that was… disarming.
Later, after the meeting had broken up, Salty found himself on deck, ostensibly checking the security of the gangway (though they were leagues from any land). He was still mulling over Nythara's words, the vast, terrifying scope of this new reality she had unveiled.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Nythara herself approaching, moving with a silent grace that was unnerving in a being of her implied size and power.
"Master Thorne," she said, her voice softer now, without the resonance it had held in the mess hall. "May I have a word?"
Salty grunted, which he supposed passed for assent. He wasn't about to tell a dragon 'no.'
They stood by the rail, the alien wind whipping at their clothes. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Nythara said, "I understand your mistrust. In my long existence, I have seen much betrayal, much foolery, from mortals and immortals alike. Caution is a virtue, especially in a sea as treacherous as this."
Salty was taken aback. He'd expected a rebuke, or perhaps a veiled threat. Not… understanding.
"It's not just caution, ma'am," he found himself saying, the 'ma'am' slipping out unexpectedly. "It's… this is a lot to swallow. Dragons. Magic. Ten bloody layers of reality. It's enough to make an old sea dog wonder if he's finally lost his mind."
Nythara looked out at the churning water. "Your world was one of… simpler truths, perhaps. But even there, did you not have mysteries? Depths unexplored? Forces beyond your full comprehension?"
Salty thought of the unexplained disappearances in the Bermuda Triangle, of the strange lights sometimes seen beneath the waves, of the sheer, overwhelming power of a Category 5 hurricane. "Aye," he admitted. "The sea always has its secrets."
"This sea merely has… more of them," Nythara said. "And its secrets are often more teeth." She turned to him, her storm-grey eyes meeting his.
"I do not ask for your blind faith, Elias Thorne. I ask only that you keep an open mind. Judge me by my actions, not by the fears and legends that cling to my kind. We are on the same ship, sailing the same perilous waters. Our survival depends on our ability to trust each other, at least enough to face the common enemy."
Salty looked into those ancient eyes, and for the first time, he saw not just a monster or a legend, but a fellow traveler, a being who, for all her immense power and age, was also, in her own way, a castaway, a survivor.
He saw a weariness there, a loneliness, that resonated with something deep within his own old, salty soul.
He still had his doubts. He still had his fears. But something in her words, in her gaze, had chipped away at the hard shell of his skepticism.
"Alright, dragon-lady," he said, the gruffness back in his voice, but with a new, almost imperceptible note of… something else. "You've got a point. We're in the same damn boat. For now." He paused.
"But if you start demanding sacrifices, or try to eat the ship's cat, you and I are going to have words."
Nythara actually chuckled, a low, rumbling sound like distant thunder. "I assure you, Master Thorne, I have no designs on your feline shipmate. And my dietary requirements are… surprisingly flexible."
As she walked away, leaving Salty alone with his thoughts and the vast, alien ocean, he found himself rubbing his grizzled chin.
A dragon with a sense of humor. What was this world coming to?
He still wasn't sure he trusted her. But maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe her. And in the Sea of Ten-Fold Shadows, that was a start.