Chapter 15: Leviathan’s Bane

The sea boiled beneath the Duskwind.

The leviathan rose like a mountain of nightmares, its black hide glistening with seawater and ancient scars. Dozens of unblinking eyes dotted its massive skull, each one reflecting the pale light of the dawn sky. As it emerged, it let loose a roar that split the horizon—a sound that shattered courage and curdled blood.

But the crew of the Duskwind stood firm.

Mara braced herself against the mast, her hands gripping the Crowncleaver tightly. The blade vibrated in her grasp, humming like a war drum. Beside her, Darion cocked his pistol, and Abyr hefted his harpoon gun.

"Steady!" Abyr shouted, voice cutting through the rising storm. "Brace for the tide!"

The Rise of Terror

The leviathan struck first.

Its massive tail crashed into the sea, sending a wave taller than the Duskwind surging toward them. The ship rocked violently as the wall of water slammed into its side. Barrels broke free, crashing across the deck. One sailor was swept overboard, screaming.

Mara didn't hesitate—she dove forward, thrusting the Crowncleaver into the mast. A pulse of energy burst from the blade, anchoring the ship in place as the wave passed.

Darion grabbed the wheel. "We won't survive another hit like that!"

"I don't intend to let it try," Mara growled.

The leviathan circled, sleek and sinuous. It ducked beneath the waves, vanishing into the deep. The crew scanned the sea, breath held.

"Where is it?" one sailor whispered.

Then the sea cracked.

The creature burst from below, jaws wide. Its teeth were spires of bone, and its breath stank of ages.

Abyr fired.

His harpoon struck the beast's eye. The leviathan howled and thrashed, black blood spraying like ink into the air. But it wasn't enough.

"Reload!" he barked.

The Fury of the Deep

Mara ran to the bow, raising the Crowncleaver high. The blade sang with power.

"Come on, then!" she shouted. "Come see what my mother left for you!"

The sea shimmered. The leviathan paused.

The blade's glow intensified, threads of light weaving through the stormclouds. Then the beast screamed—not in fury, but in fear.

It turned.

"It's retreating?" Darion said in disbelief.

"No," Mara whispered. "It's repositioning."

The leviathan dove again, circling the ship like a predator.

Then it reappeared, not in attack—but in voice.

The air shimmered with a low, guttural chant. The crew froze.

Mara felt it in her bones.

"It speaks."

The voice was ancient and cruel. It echoed inside their minds.

Mara stood firm. "You fear what it opens."

Maria.

The truth struck Mara with the force of a tempest. Her mother hadn't merely wielded the blade—she had forged the bond that bound this monster. The Crowncleaver was not just a weapon. It was a chain.

The leviathan coiled, rising once more.

Chain of the Past

"Abyr! Cannons ready!" Mara yelled.

The crew scrambled. Fire roared as the first volley struck the beast's hide. Scales shattered. The leviathan screamed, slamming a tentacle onto the deck. Wood cracked. A mast snapped.

Mara leapt.

She climbed the remnants of the rigging, Crowncleaver trailing fire.

Darion covered her, bullets piercing one of the monster's fins.

Mara reached the peak and leapt, blade poised.

She landed on the leviathan's back.

The creature bucked, trying to shake her off. She drove the blade deep.

A cry tore from the beast. Not pain—memories.

Visions exploded in Mara's mind—of Maria, bloodied, battling this creature in a storm long past. Of Maria carving the binding runes. Of Maria whispering her daughter's name as she sealed the beast below the gate.

Mara sobbed but did not yield.

"You remember her," she said. "Then remember this—I am her daughter."

She struck again.

Leviathan's Fall

The sea turned crimson.

The Crowncleaver flared, runes blazing like suns. The leviathan twisted in agony, then stilled.

It sank slowly, massive body descending like a fallen god.

Silence.

Then—cheers.

The crew roared, embracing, weeping. They had survived the storm.

Darion helped Mara down from the rigging, eyes wide. "That was…"

"Only the beginning," Mara said, swaying.

Wounds and Warnings

The Duskwind limped through the Sea of Sighs, sails torn, deck scorched. Below deck, they tended wounds and mourned the dead. Seven lives lost. Three injured beyond recovery.

Mara stood alone at the bow, staring at the sinking horizon.

She could still hear it.

The blade whispered in her hand.

Darion joined her. "What did it mean?"

"That something worse is coming."

She opened Maria's journal, rereading the cryptic warnings. Lines she once thought poetic now made sense.

'Beneath the sea, the sealed one sleeps. Its voice calls to the stars. Its hunger wakes.'

"What sleeps beneath the sea," Mara whispered, "was never the worst thing. It was the first thing."

Harbinger's Wake

They reached the edge of the fog by nightfall.

There, waiting with black sails and iron cannon, was Mallik.

Six ships.

Abyr cursed. "No wind. We're dead in the water."

Mara turned. "We still have the blade."

Darion shook his head. "You're barely standing."

"I don't need to stand," she said. "I just need to strike."

She stepped to the prow and raised the Crowncleaver one more time.

The sea bent.

A great wave formed behind the Duskwind, pushing them forward like a divine hand. The ship surged. Cannons fired. Explosions ripped across the night.

The Duskwind dove between the enemy lines, returning fire. One enemy ship exploded in flame. Another was torn by the wave.

The battle was brief. Brutal.

By dawn, only wreckage remained.

After the Storm

They sailed on, battered but alive.

The blade was silent.

Mara sat alone, gazing at the rising sun.

Darion approached quietly. "We lost good people."

"We'll lose more," she said.

He sat beside her. "Then let's make their deaths matter."

She nodded, gripping the journal.

Maria's final words burned in her memory:

"The blade is a key. But it does not open. It seals."

A new journey lay ahead.

And the sea remembered everything.