Hours later…

The storm of battle had passed, but Pearlbay still bore its scars.

Ash drifted over the broken docks like gray snow, mixing with shattered timbers and ropes still hissing with seawater. The tang of salt and smoke clung heavy in the air, coating the tongue like rust. Guardians hauled wreckage aside with raw hands, while others dragged sea-fiend carcasses toward the tide, praying the waves would carry them away.

At the center of the square, Lira bent low over a wounded fisherman. Her hands glowed faintly, though her energy was thin after days of fighting. "Hold still. Breathe. That's it—just breathe." The man flinched but obeyed, relief breaking through the grime of his face as the wound closed, leaving only a pale scar.

Kaen leaned against a wall nearby, running a rag across his twin blades before wiping blood and seawater from his arms. His chest rose with slow, deliberate breaths, each exhale a hiss of exhaustion that refused to admit defeat. "Hnh. Damn tide won't quit. Feels like the sea itself hates us."

The square was weary but alive. Until a new voice cut the quiet.

"Greetings, young fellas."

Too smooth. Too polished.

They turned.

At the edge of the market lane stood Merran Duskail, ledger tucked neatly beneath one arm, his smile sharp enough to cut. His silk cuffs gleamed faint in the pearl-light of the evening. He stood as if untouched by battle, not a fleck of dust nor a drop of blood staining his clothes.

Khael's gaze narrowed immediately. His grip lingered near the hilt of his sword.

"(This man… Merran. The merchant who's always sniffing around the pearls.)"

Merran spread his hands wide, as though unveiling some hidden treasure.

"Terrible business with the sea, I hear. Such sorrow. But life must go on, doesn't it? Trade, after all, is the blood of survival. I happen to have a wide variety of goods perhaps something to pique your interest?"

Kaen barked a laugh, no mirth in it. He crossed his arms.

"What, you trying to sell us fish hooks while the docks are still burning?"

Juno's brows drew tight, his deep voice rumbling low.

"Strange time to push wares."

But Merran's smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew sharper.

"Strange times make for urgent needs, don't they? Especially for warriors such as yourselves. I carry maps… supplies… even rare trinkets. A man never knows when such things might save a life."

The square had grown still. Behind him, fisherfolk paused their work, whispering among themselves. Elder Neria lingered not far, staff resting against the stones, her old eyes fixed on Merran with a weight of suspicion.

Khael stepped forward, keeping his voice calm but laced with iron.

"Merchants usually know the pulse of a village better than anyone. Tell me, Merran… what do you think of these attacks?"

For the briefest flicker, Merran's smile twitched. The mask almost slipped. Then it was back again, smooth as glass.

"The sea is wild. Always has been. I'm but a humble trader. I don't pretend to know the secrets beneath the tide."

But his eyes gleamed too knowing, too sharp.

Ceyla's arms folded across her chest, lightning sparks faintly flickering at her fingertips without thought. Her whisper was a growl.

"(This guy stinks like old bait… why do I feel like he knows more than he's saying?)"

Kaen muttered low, so only the guardians could hear.

"He's too clean. Too… ready. Like he's been waiting for this exact moment."

Lira, still kneeling by her patient, glanced up and spoke softly.

"And the people trust him? After all this?"

No one answered. The silence in the fisherfolk's eyes was answer enough.

Khael's gaze swept over the square, the wounded with bandaged arms, the fisherfolk clutching nets instead of weapons, his own companions slumped with exhaustion but unwilling to let go of the fight. Even Rael lingered at the edge, silent and withdrawn, his blade still stained though his hands trembled faintly. The smell of salt and ash clung to everything. Even days later, Pearlbay had not healed.

"(It's been days since the tide first rose… and still the waves grow stronger. Monsters don't appear in numbers like this without cause. Something is stirring beneath us. I need to know why. And this man knows something.)"

Khael's eyes locked on Merran's ledger, tucked too neatly under his arm. His voice was even, but the steel was there.

"Hmm… do you have some maps?"

Merran blinked once, then chuckled softly, as though pleased by the request.

"Maps, you say? Why yes, yes indeed. I've traveled many coasts, traced countless harbors and caves. For the right price, I could part with a few."

With a flourish, he snapped open the ledger. Pages turned lists of goods, neat columns of numbers but his hand hovered just a little too protectively over certain sheets.

Ceyla's eyes narrowed, her voice cutting through the stillness.

"Maps of what, exactly? The caves? The reefs? Or something you shouldn't even know about?"

Merran's grin widened, but his words flowed smoother than oil.

"I trade in knowledge, my dear. Fisherfolk, sailors, explorers—they all leave behind stories, and I simply… collect them. You never know when such information proves useful."

But Khael wasn't fooled. His expression didn't change, but inside his thoughts burned.

"(This man's too clean. Too polished. If he has maps of the sealed caves or the trenches below Pearlbay, then he's more than a simple merchant. He knows something. The question is….how much?)"

The square held its breath.

Then Elder Neria's staff struck the stones, the sound like a crack of thunder in the hush. Her voice was sharp, cutting through all pretense.

"Merran. Show them your maps. All of them."

The merchant hesitated. Just long enough for everyone to see. Just long enough for suspicion to harden into certainty.

The ledger snapped shut with a sound far too loud in the silent square. Merran's smile remained, but his eyes gleaming, calculating betrayed the faintest spark of something else.

And for the first time, Pearlbay's guardians knew the battle wasn't just with the sea.

To be continue

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