The day was growing late, and the sky was growing bloodied. I watched the distant landmass ahead for any sign of response to our fleet, but there was nothing. When I was not watching for ships, I thought of Novakrayu, Protis, and the others. They would begin their attack tonight. Thinking back, I should have coordinated more properly between my Soulborne and the mercenaries, but what was done was done. They would react to Protis's, and the gate would be secured; I was confident of it.

As for our ship, it had gone eerily quiet of any dangers since the attack upon Emalia. She recovered quickly enough, for she was resilient and their Spell weak. In truth, their Artifact was a paltry thing, and interrogating a living mind was much more difficult than a Dead, lingering Soul. My destruction of it was a practical act, for I aimed to show the others of the ship that such Sorcery was immoral and below me—if that did any good in casting us in a better light, I don't know. We killed three of their people today, so it would not surprise me if winning hearts and minds was a fool's errand. However, I'd also charged my Corrupted Eye for future use with the dissipating Soul power in the skull. Not all was for appearances.

We were in a group, the four of us. Emalia and Sovina stood a little apart, speaking with their heads intertwined in an intimate conversation. Perhaps on what happened. On how she felt. I didn't know, and it was not my place to pry.

Demetria stood next to me, arm brushing up against mine as we swayed with the ocean's waves. Her loosely curled hair was held back in an elaborately braided bun, a few loose silver strands caught in the wind. She found me looking and smiled.

"Just appreciating the view," I murmured, offering my arm.

She slid her own through it and leaned against me. "You were impressive earlier."

"In Sorcery?"

"In restraint."

I shook my head and glanced away. "I did not feel it. This attack… It was all too familiar to me."

"I understand. And yet you composed yourself well. And if not for your sense of Sorcery, we would not have saved Emalia."

"Sovina was returning anyway."

"She might not have been enough."

I considered that. "There is something unique about her. Sorcery is a dull blade upon her, not quite as effective as it should be. As if her Soul is naturally bolstered against outside influence."

"Curious." Demetria squeezed my arm. "Do not change the subject. You did well, my love. Do not accuse me of flattery or kind lies. You know I speak the truth."

"Of course. I am sorry." She was right. For as long as I could remember, I'd been someone who always wanted more from myself. And after Demetria's death so long ago, that expectation only grew more demanding.

Demetria was not dissimilar, proving my point as she said, "I have never been a strong Sorcerer, but now, I feel even weaker. The man in there with the Artifact might have been my equal."

"You've other talents far more useful."

"Yes, in most cases. But in the times that Sorcery is necessary, little else can matter."

I nodded. "I understand." She was like Feia in strength. And if I didn't want to repeat my errors of the past, then she had to be independently potent in case I couldn't be there. "We will procure or make Artifacts to augment your strength. In this age, they are far more effective due to their stability."

"I've noticed that. It's as if Sorcery is naturally rebellious. Why?"

"I do not know. I wished to find out, but how or when is the issue."

She looked ahead and went to say something, then paused, frowning. I followed her gaze. The horizon was watery with the evening sun reflecting off waves, creating a hazy horizon that blended the island's distant blur of land. But there, in that unclear distance, were small shapes.

Ships.

A call was made behind me as others noticed the approaching vessels, still quite distant. They shouted it from ship to ship. They were a ways off, and it would take a long time to reach them. I wondered if we could make it before nightfall. My hand found Demetria's, and we watched in silence, a shared anticipation, heavy and thick.

The breeze was strong, and the sea calm. We carried forth in a straight line toward the other ships, which we soon found to be a small fleet not unlike our own. The details emerged as we drew closer. Triangular sails upon sleek, lower-lying vessels—I imagined this afforded speed and agility lacking in our hulking cargo ships. A few larger vessels among them that stood tall with three masts and banks of oars, as well as platforms at the fore and aft for fighting.

I realized we'd closed enough distance to make out details in but an hour. The sun was still out, though sinking fast. I peered at the sky, our sails, and the approaching ships, trying to do the calculations.

"Ah, sir," someone said.

I turned and appraised the sailor holding a beaten old cap in his hands. "Yes?"

"The captain reports our arrival soon." He glanced back anxiously. "At nightfall, sir."

"So soon?"

"The wind's with us, sir. They're tacking upwind. Not fast, but with as many oars as they've got, they're making good time. Must have sixty men on a single ship to do that…" he trailed off and looked fearfully at me. "Yes, sir. We will meet them within the hour as the sun sets."

"They should be hesitant to engage us at night. This may work in our favor."

"Will you do it soon?" Emalia asked me.

I stared at the isle's ships. "A little longer. Let us get closer." I glanced at the sailor and nodded. "My thanks."

He scurried off. I didn't like to be feared. Respected, obeyed, yes, but not feared. Not from… I realized what I was planning on doing to them. To everyone here. They should fear me. How can I claim to be above it?

"So what's the plan?" Sovina asked, leaning in. "We going to try and make friends and swap ships?"

"It depends on how they respond to my signal," I replied. "I would prefer not to use the rowboat."

"We'd be exposed in that."

"I know," I said, staring at the sea. A long approach with no reliable escape. It would be the crux of the endeavor, certainly. "If they meet our ship, one-on-one, it would be for the best."

In the meantime, I found my Shell and communicated with it as best I could, limited as I was by its lack of intelligence. No issues thus far. I paced the deck in anticipation, arm behind my back, taught expression ever-forward. Boyar Elizar asked me how we might handle the negotiations, and I told him to let me lead. He accepted easily enough, still wary and frightened of me as he was. No matter. I needed space anyway.

Minutes dragged along.

The closest island ship had red sails. Banks of oars almost hanging off the sides, close to the water. A massive protruding ram capped in bronze at the front, coming to a slight point. Shapes moving along the deck. Still too distant for details about them.

I stood at the bow upon the raised platform, Demetria beside me, Emalia and Sovina further back, both watching for details I missed and keeping an eye on our exposed rear in case any more priests had it in mind to attack us. I closed my eyes. Let the senses expand. There was not much life on the seas, for the organisms below were smothered by water, and yet, our small fleet had over a hundred men alone, giving some latent, ambient fuel to work with. I pulled in the power of Souls, amplified through the bronze and ivory diadem atop my brow, fueled it with the Corrupted Eye's reserves, channeled it through my body. I was a tower struck by lightning, its energy coursing through me in an instantaneous blast of power desperate for release. I directed it upwards in a funneled arc of violent Sorcery. It rippled and spat and flared as it coursed high into the sky like a powerful bowshot of fire. Green and sickening. Two hundred feet into the air, it slowed, then stopped. The dense blast of Sorcery expanded quickly. Far beyond expectations.

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I slumped forward upon the railing, Demetria supporting me. "Are you alright?"

Looking up, I smiled. It was Soulfire, yes, but something tainted with my own Soul energy, made personal. Distinct. It was my face, cast into the sky as best I could manage. It looked like a skull of Soulfire, severe and demanding. Not so much like me, perhaps, but the message was all the same. If she were there. If anyone knew about me… I hoped it would be enough.

The image dissipated within seconds. Whisps of Death caught in the wind, fading from existence.

Sailors shouted in shock and awe before discipline took over, and commands were issued for a slowed approach. Our speed decreased, and we began to coast forward. The other vessels in our fleet drifted to a near stop as we continued. I watched the approaching ships. After a long pause, most raised their sails. Only one kept forward, its oars pulling it along.

I sighed, forcing myself to stand up straight. The Spell had exhausted me. It was a grand display, and it was more than I initially intended, but I was caught up in the moment. Sorcery was ever-unpredictable now.

Emalia started as if she realized something, then turned to me and asked, "What does your sister look like? How will we recognize her?"

"She is tall and shares my colorations, though she has long pale hair. You will recognize her as my sister if you see her."

"Good. We can help look."

I nodded, watching the ship become less distant by the second. My heart pounded. I licked my lip, but my tongue was dry. Gripping the railing for support, I peered with a hungry gaze. She would be there. She had to be.

Oars rising, falling. The forward thrust of the ram above cutting water.

Soon, they were within range of my Sorcery. I used Soulsight to search the deck for Sorcerers. There were a few—their auras burning brighter than most. A sign of the energy they held within them for fuel. The stronger one was, the hotter they burned. None were much more powerful than Demetria, which would then disprove Maecia's presence. Unless she lost much from the attack. More than I. Or she furthered in her extremism and found a way to weaken herself… I tossed the thought aside. That would be madness. Ultimately, she was more practical than that.

No, Maecia was not on the ship.

So why was it approaching alone?

"Slow now!" I shouted behind me. "I want to stop before them!"

Much murmurs. Much grumbling. But they wouldn't have followed through with my plan if they wanted safety. And so our speed dropped, and we fell into a drift.

Demetria's hand came over mine. "Whatever we find…"

"I know."

A ghost of a smile passed over her face, and she looked forward, too. Awaiting.

I felt for the Shell once more. For a brief moment, I felt nothing, and fear rose like a serpent in the grass, poised to strike, and then I sensed it, roaming, watching and seeing nothing.

The ship was within a bowshot's distance.

I could hear the sounds of the oars splashing in and out of the sea. No voices. They were silent. As were we. Everyone was quiet in anticipation. Fear and dread for most. I more than anyone, perhaps. Of what I would find. What I wouldn't.

When we came close enough, I leaned forward, almost over the railing. The rowers were in covered banks of sorts attached to the sides of the ship, hovering over the water. The deck was subsequently wide and unobstructed. What looked like a ballista was being operated at the bow, held up on a small platform above the ram, joined by archers. All followed our movements with a slow swivel as we neared, decks side-by-side. Their sails had countless ropes crisscrossing the masts, tied off across the ship. Figures moved amongst some of the ropes. I looked to the sailors. The people themselves.

They were pale. Not close to Demetria's or my coloration, but unnatural for a regular human. Like that of sand mixed with ash. They wore layered tunics and colorful cloaks over leather, padded armor, or even banded mail. Armor on sailors meant at least a semi-professional force with resources to supply it and wealth to fund it. I looked for weapons and noted javelins, short swords and axes, and a few curious contraptions resembling sideways bows that I believe were called crossbows, but none were held threatening. Next, I identified the Sorcerers. They were standing in a group, likely for a joined Spell if need be. They wore silk robes that shimmered in the setting sun.

I glanced to Demetria. She noticed them too. Sorcerers often wore such robes to designate their status in Pethya. Back then, mine had gold thread and cost a fortune, delineating my status. I saw no such gold amongst these Sorcerers.

Before I could shout out across the water, they called forth.

"Who dares claim his mantle?" one of the Sorcerers shouted. An older man of light grey hair, wearing an odd beard.

The language had some differences, but I recalled it all the same and laughed aloud in a burst of relief and joy. It was unmistakably Pethyan.

"What are those devils saying?" Boyar Elizar asked behind us. "Do they think we can speak such a tongue?" He raised his voice. "Do you not speak Vasian, Islanders?"

"Quiet!" I hissed at him, then faced forward. I stepped closer to the side of our ship to address the speaker in my native tongue. "It is I, Daecinus Aspartes, Magistros of Sorcery, brother of Maecia Aspartes. Do you recognize me, Pethyan?"

The Sorcerer gasped. All aboard stopped and stared. I felt taken aback. What was going on?

"You've returned! To uphold your oaths! Our Souls be true, we knew it would be!"

"What do you mean?" I asked, then shook my head. We had to be quick about this before the Novakrayuans figured out what was going on. "Never mind that. Does Maecia live?"

"It is Daecinus!" the Sorcerer shouted, elated, hands thrown to the sky. "Praise our Hubris! Blessed is our Strife! He has returned!"

"Listen to me! Does Maecia live?"

Another Sorcerer answered for him, shaking off her own shock, a woman in her middle years. "Last we saw Honorary Episcos Maecia, fifteen years ago, she was alive and well, great Returned One."

"What is happening?" Elizar sputtered.

I paid him no mind. Demetria called out to the Sorcerers, "We require aid. We have come in ruse, the four of us, under false pretenses to trick those of Novakrayu." She gestured to Emalia and Sovina, designating them as the two others, who watched on with some comprehension, for it was clear we had succeeded. "The others here will soon learn the truth. They are no allies of ours."

"Great Martyr!" the woman gasped. "She has returned!"

"It's a religion," I said in amazement. "As if we're people of legend."

Demetria nodded. "We might very well be. If they know of Maecia, then perhaps she passed on our story, and it grew legs of its own."

"Or she constructed it. Such a thing would not be unexpected of her."

The initial priest addressed us once more. "We shall board at once!" He turned and shouted commands to others on the ship. We were too far to cross now, but their rowers began turning the vessel, repositioning it to make a closer pass.

"They are coming to board for discussion," I said to Elizar.

He was staring at me. "Who are they? How can you speak their tongue?"

"We studied it, of course," Demetria lied, smiling. "Did you think we came unprepared? These people are an ancient one. Their culture was once tied to Vasia."

He took a step back and looked around in a panic. "They look like you. Gods! They look like you!"

Demetria went to advance and continue pushing the lie, but I snatched her arm to stop her. She looked at me, and her face fell in understanding. The time for peace was over.

Sovina asked, "Daecinus, Demetria, what are we doing?"

"Buying time," I answered and took a deep breath. Appeasement was over. Now, I would take up the mantle, as my new countrymen said, and fulfill my role. Standing tall, I faced the crew, staring at us in dawning shock as Elizar ran away. "All who hear me know this: should you attempt to resist us, to endanger us, I shall not hesitate to pull your Souls from your bodies and leave you as bare husks. Their ship shall meet ours, my group will board, and we shall leave. If you wish to attempt to intervene, then know your death will follow."

"They'll fight us," Sovina grumbled. "Too many of them not to try."

"Perhaps." I watched the sailors, the warriors, and the few lower boyars who had joined. I was tired from the earlier signaling. A fight would not be advantageous.

I took off my diadem and handed it to Demetria. The fleeing power almost hurt. "You are fresher than I."

She took it and put it upon her brow. Her purple eyes flared vibrant as her grip on Sorcery was improved through the potent Artifact. As she prepared a defense, should it come to it, I looked at Emalia.

"We cannot leave them be," I said. "Not if we want Novakrayu to be free of violence."

"I know." She bit her lip, hands clenched before her. "There are no civilians here."

"There are not."

Emalia nodded to herself, then stared at me. Our eyes met, and an understanding was had. "I knew it would come to this," she said. "It is necessary for protecting everyone."

"It is."

No one moved as the Pethyan ship came back around. It slowed beside us as ropes were tossed over, dragging our vessels together. This agitated our sailors and warriors, who seemed to prepare to rebuff their crossing. As one man went to throw a spear, Demetria crumpled him with Sorcery. He fell screaming. My love's face furrowed in concentration and sadness. She was not a killer, not like I, and yet she would do what had to be done. All else retreated at the sight of that. Someone below screamed. I felt for my Shell. It had engaged someone.

"There is resistance," I whispered, but could not determine much more.

People started to panic. Our group moved closer to the Pethyan ship.

Elizar drew a sword and held it high. It shook with fear. "We cannot let Novakrayu fall! Think of your families! Your children! Voiya!" He stepped forward to charge, then his skin shrunk in, and he gasped, choked, and blood burst from his nose, mouth, eyes, and ears. His screams drowned out by the gurgles of death. The Pethyan Sorcerers had joined in. Everyone moved. Some ran. Others drew arms and charged. A narrow bridge fell onto our ship, and quickly, a column of Pethyan marines stormed across, armed and armored for close combat. Over their heads, Sorcerers sent arcing Spells of necromantic death, disintegrating flesh and boiling blood. Demetria attacked anyone who came too close, so Sovina simply stood there, her blade out defensively. I watched on, something near regret bubbling at my throat, yet never quite manifesting as more. Novakrayuans died by the second. Be it axes, blades, arrows spat from the bow contraptions, or Sorcery, the result was the same—none had even come to threaten our party, let alone the boarding enemy.

Pethyans met us, quickly shuffling us aboard.

The head Sorcerer came to me, eyes wide and mouth gaping. "Daecinus Aspartes in the flesh… Great Magistros of old, what would you have us do?"

Behind, men screamed and died. A party of peace and treaties, destroyed. I tried not to consider the cruel irony of our actions. "The fleet is not armed with rams nor siege engines, but they do bear many warriors that would threaten us. I want them destroyed."

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