CHAPTER 51: THE RAGE OF THE SEA

The waters of the Shivering Sea were restless.

Even in the depths of Submareth, where the city’s coral palaces and obsidian towers gleamed beneath bioluminescent lantern-fish, the tide carried an unease.

Thalassaria reclined before her scrying pool, her teal leylines glowing faintly in the dim chamber.

The mirror of water rippled with images of the surface: Caedrion Ferrondel, leading his army across the fields, banners snapping in the wind.

Her lips parted, and her voice was little more than a whisper.

"My little land-dweller... again you march into danger."

The Naga queen’s long fingers brushed across the water’s surface.

Each ripple sharpened the image of Caedrion on his horse, his armor dark and glimmering with Architect’s runes.

Around him, thousands of soldiers marched in lockstep, disciplined and proud.

To any other, it was a terrifying host. To her, it was beautiful, because it was his.

She knew the truth. His weapons were clever, his soldiers drilled to perfection, but Ignarion’s wrath was not so easily quenched.

They would marshal more resources. They would bleed him dry if they could.

Thalassaria hissed softly, the tip of her tail curling against the stone of her dais.

"I should be at your side. I should be the wave that drowns your enemies, the tide that washes your path clean."

But she was bound to the sea. The humans did not even know she existed, not truly.

To them, the storms and sinkings were "ill luck," not her hand pressing down upon their trade.

For centuries she had contented herself with that illusion, letting them wander blind. Now, it gnawed at her.

One of her generals entered, armored in barnacle-encrusted plate, his face bowed low.

"My Queen. The fleets of Ignarion attempt passage again. Five galleons. They carry grain, iron, and levies from the Ashlands."

Her teal eyes flashed. She didn’t hesitate.

"Sink them. Leave no survivors. I have already made my stance on this clear, The Shivering Sea is closed, any vessel that dares serve House Ignarion will find only a watery grave."

The general hesitated. "Your Majesty, if we keep increasing the attacks, sooner or later the Humans will discover our presence and then-"

"Did I stutter?" Her voice cracked like a whip.

"They chose their allegiance the moment they swore to Veltharion’s gold. Every sack of wheat that reaches Emberhold is a blow against him."

She jabbed a clawed finger toward the scrying pool, where Caedrion’s reflection still burned bright. "And I will not allow that."

The general bowed lower and slithered from the chamber.

Left alone, Thalassaria coiled around her pool again, her gaze softening as though she were a lovestruck maiden instead of a queen feared for a thousand years.

"You see, Caedrion? You are not alone. Every ship that burns, every sailor swallowed by the depths, I do it for you. For us."

The water shimmered once more, casting his image against the vaulted coral ceiling.

She pressed her forehead to the surface, eyes closing as her lips shaped an oath that made even the sea tremble.

"Until the day you finally stand before me, I will make the whole world bleed to prove my love."

---

The five galleons of House Ignarion cut across the black waters, their lanterns swaying in the wind like forlorn stars.

Their holds groaned with wheat, barrels of salted fish, and iron ingots bound for Emberhold.

Above, the sky churned with clouds the color of bruised flesh, heavy with storm.

"Keep her steady!" the captain of the Blaze of Ashra barked, his voice barely carrying over the howl of the gale. "Reef the sails before the mast snaps clean!"

Men scrambled in the rigging, their silhouettes cast against flashes of lightning.

Waves smashed against the hull, cold spray biting exposed skin.

Still, the sailors muttered prayers, not to the Crucible, not to Veltharion, but to the sea itself, for even hardened Ignarion crews knew the Shivering Sea had moods no man could master.

Tonight, it was furious.

A lookout screamed from the crow’s nest. "Shapes! Shapes in the water!"

All eyes turned starboard.

For a moment the lightning revealed them: pale, scaled bodies gliding just beneath the surface, eyes like lamps burning blue-green in the dark.

Dozens of them, circling the convoy like wolves.

"Sea devils!" someone gasped.

The captain spat to banish the omen. "Begone devils!"

But his words were drowned out by the sound of the ocean itself roaring.

A wave, taller than the galleon’s mainmast, surged from the deep.

It crashed down across the starboard flank, sweeping half a dozen sailors screaming into the black.

The sea swallowed them whole, and in the next flash of lightning their cries were silenced.

The ships rocked violently, timbers groaning, rigging snapping.

Barrels split from their lashings and thundered across the deck, crushing men in their path.

Then the Naga struck.

They came with spears of coral and blades of obsidian, leaping from the waves with inhuman grace.

Their scaled torsos gleamed slick in the stormlight, their tails lashing as they landed among the sailors.

The clash of steel rang out, but the humans fought on unsteady footing, their blades slipping as the deck tilted underfoot.

One sailor thrust his pike, only for a Naga warrior to coil around him, hissing, and drag him screaming into the depths.

Another man barely raised his shield before a trident impaled him clean through, lifting him into the air like a skewered fish before he was tossed aside.

The captain drew his sword, shouting for his men to rally, when a voice deeper than the sea itself rumbled across the storm.

"Veltharion’s brood dares trespass my waters again..."

The rain seemed to falter for a heartbeat. Even the waves paused, as if the ocean itself listened.

From the heart of the storm, a colossal figure rose, a wave shaped in the likeness of a woman.

Towering, terrible, crowned in foam and lightning. Her eyes blazed teal like the abyss.

Every man on every ship froze.

Thalassaria’s voice carried like thunder.

"For a thousand years I let your kind pass, with only the slightest toll paid for your past grievances against my people. So long as you remembered your place, I did not take more than was necessary. Yet now you grow arrogant, daring to feed the Lion’s den with my waters beneath your keel. Tonight, you learn humility."

With a gesture of her hand, the sea itself rose.

Two galleons were lifted on walls of water, spun like toys, and dashed against one another.

The crash rang out across the sea, a sound of splintering wood and shattering lives.

Both ships broke apart, their flaming lanterns tumbling into the froth before being snuffed.

The remaining three tried to scatter, their captains screaming orders through horns.

But the Naga were everywhere now, climbing up hulls with clawed hands, bursting from waves with shrieks.

Arrows loosed by the humans bounced harmlessly off scaled hides or were caught mid-flight by shields of chitin.

The Blaze of Ashra attempted a desperate counter.

Ballista crews loosed massive bolts, tipped with Ignarion fire, alchemical pitch meant to burn even on water.

One bolt struck true, piercing a Naga warrior mid-leap and igniting the sea around him. For a moment the crew cheered.

Then the water itself shifted, smothering the flames with contemptuous ease.

The burning corpse was dragged into the deep by his kin, and the sea queen’s laughter echoed like chimes in a graveyard.

"Pathetic."

Another wave surged, slamming against the Ashra’s hull, splitting it open like an egg.

Men fell into the dark, thrashing, only to be pulled down by pale hands. Their screams bubbled up, then vanished beneath the roar of the storm.

The last two galleons tried to flee, their sails straining as they caught what little wind they could.

But currents turned against them, ropes snapped, oars shattered.

Naga swarmed their decks, cutting through sailors like harvesters in a field.

One young sailor, barely more than a boy, crawled to the stern.

He clutched a small amulet of the Crucible, whispering his prayers through tears.

Lightning lit the scene, his hands trembling, lips quivering.

For a heartbeat, the Queen’s watery visage loomed above him, vast and merciless.

Her teal eyes fixed on him as she raised a hand.

The sea beneath him surged, a claw of water sweeping him and a dozen others into the abyss.

Within the hour, nothing remained.

The storm quieted as quickly as it had begun.

Debris floated where five mighty galleons had sailed, barrels split open and grain scattering like ashes across the waves.

No survivors cried for rescue. The Shivering Sea had claimed them all.

Beneath the calm, Thalassaria’s Naga swam in silence, circling their queen’s image still reflected in the darkened waters.

Her voice was a whisper now, soft yet resolute.

"See, Caedrion... this is how much I love you... You don’t know it yet. But when Veltharion and his people starve, it will be my name they curse. For every ship I sink, every life I take, it is another step toward our union. One day you will see it."

Her reflection faded, but her command remained. The Shivering Sea was closed. No vessel loyal to House Ignarion would ever sail it again.