Even though Nyell knew Allen most likely had the situation under control, his heart still skipped a beat as the roaring wave grew closer and closer. The elders were in no better state. Unlike Nyell, they had no knowledge whatsoever of the preemptive actions Allen put into place earlier in the day. In the corner of his mind, a small, disturbing idea bugged Nyell, trying to intrude into his thoughts. Could Allen have known…? Were his enemies that predictable? It was strange how, all of a sudden, the sea was misbehaving when it had been dead calm in Allen's absence. According to the children, the water had been tranquil, so how odd, indeed, that the sea went on a rampage just as Allen returned from his trip. It was bound to stir up some unsavory rumors.
While his mind wandered elsewhere, the wave had now reached the rifts, and just as it was about to swallow the two pieces of land, it shattered with a loud, thundering sound. The water wall dispersed into an indefinite number of tiny drops, glistening under the sun like a thousand stars, before falling back into the sea like a curtain that had suddenly been dropped. In a split second, everything became quiet, and only the heavy breathing of the elders could be heard. They weren't yet past the panic. It would take a while longer for their brains to process what their eyes saw. Not like their emotional state mattered to Nyell, who blatantly yawned before asking Allen:
"Is the meeting adjourned now? I'd like to take a nap, and I think going down and reassuring your people wouldn't do you any harm. I'm pretty sure they're as shaken to the core as the elders are. Even if it was brief, the wave was visible from the harbor toward the end."
"Right," Allen sighed, gently tapping Nyell's forearms as a sign that he wanted him to release his grip, which he did with a reluctant look. Once freed from his embrace, Allen stood up and dusted his robes slightly. "I'll go down and reassure everyone briefly before visiting the rifts. I fear some ships that had been on their way might have crashed into the land. I'd like to organize a rescue party."
'Crashed into the land?' Nyell couldn't help but silently repeat those words. It was something he hadn't thought about, maybe because he was still unfamiliar with ships and the sea. The boats docked at the harbor had to have come from somewhere, and that somewhere was beyond the lagoon. The realization struck like a lightning bolt, and the sleepiness vanished. He had thought there had been no damage whatsoever, but it appeared he was sorely mistaken. How could the White Moon tribe's land truly come out unscathed from a disaster of this scale, even if it was stopped mid-way? He felt like a fool.
"Do you need help with the rescue?"
"Didn't you want to take a nap?"
"My beauty sleep can wait!" Nyell rolled his eyes. "Even dead-tired, I have a hunch I'm more fit than most of your people. I'll be of help."
Allen pinched his lips and seemed hesitant. He let out a long sigh before warning Nyell, "I'm calling it a rescue party, but it's very probable that there won't be any survivors, and that we'll be busy picking up corpses instead. It won't be a pretty sight. Crushed and dismembered corpses will most likely be the norm. Do you still want to go?"
The words were harsh, but so was reality. Not many living beings could survive being squashed against a rock or avoid drowning when submerged in water. Unless something intervened to protect the crew members from a certain death, the probability of surviving was near zero. Even so, they had to go. They could not leave the corpses unattended and sink to the bottom of the sea, lest they wanted to handle water ghouls later on. Allen was the chief of a shaman tribe, and they upheld the duty of appeasing the dead.
"Yes," Nyell nodded, his face a little somber. "We never know. There could have been a miracle."
Somehow, deep in his heart, he was betting on his uncle's presence for that miracle to have happened. It was a faint hope, something that he usually wouldn't dare to entertain. However, he couldn't help it. Somewhere along the line, he had started to put his trust in Allen, and he held that odd belief that if possible, he'd save the people visiting his land.
Or at the very least, those who deserved it.
***
It was a wreck.
Below the cliff where Nyell stood, pieces of wood littered the shore, entangled with algae, cordage, and rocks. Broken masts lay inert as gentle waves washed over them in a steady rhythm, their shredded sails flapping weakly. Many kinds of merchandise had been thrown over the area, along with personal items and shattered glass. Damp food, light clothing, and shoes spread across the border between land and water, floating as they rode the now calm waves. The sight was desolating, if not heartwrenching.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Nyell heard Abby let out a slight, plaintive whine. How could there be any survivors?
"Let's look for bodies," she whispered as she patted Nyell's shoulder. She was accompanied by two other elders and a few guards who had signed up for the rescue party. Allen was not with them, currently busy soothing people's agitated hearts back at the harbor. As such, Abby was the de facto leader of the party.
Nyell did not answer and instead strained his ears, searching for particular sounds. It didn't take long before his ears picked up something amid the noises of the shore and rescue party. A knowing smirk soon curled his lips.
Without telling a word to Abby, he bolted toward a barely practicable path that descended to the shore. The cliff was steep, and because of the last disaster that had struck the rifts, every road had been damaged beyond repairs, and ruined houses dotted the rocky facades. It didn't deter Nyell, however. He was accustomed to navigating a dense jungle with few footpaths. Jumping around, grabbing vines, and pulling himself over obstacles were daily activities for him. He was confident enough to make his way down without losing balance, which he did despite the precarious footholds. He had but split seconds to make decisions and could only count on his reflexes to save his neck.
Of course, Nyell turned a deaf ear to Abby's order to stop his foolishness and climb back up. He could always pretend the roaring wind covered up her voice. Obviously, the elder never went to the jungle, cuddled up in her warm and danger-free territory. Otherwise, she would have known that the werewolves from the jungle were sometimes seen as closer to a feline species than a canine one. It was a comparison their hunters often used to provoke the Black Moon tribe, when they didn't outright call them chimpanzees.
His eyes quickly analyzed the landing space available as Nyell decided to jump off the few remaining meters. There, he veered at lightning speed and ran towards a secluded area. What greeted him was a hole in the rock facade, which had most likely been carved by the waves over the years, smoothing the edges into a haven hidden from above.
A smile bloomed on Nyell's face as his eyes locked with the sailors' terrified yet hopeful gazes. They were cuddling up against each other in a corner, sharing warmth as the temperature was getting colder with the descent of the sun. Some were wounded and in shock, but none seemed to be on the verge of death.
"I'm part of the rescue party," Nyell tried to reassure them, although he had never been good at that. He wasn't even sure they spoke the same language, as their foreign clothes let him know they weren't from anywhere near here. "Don't worry, I'm here to help, and so are the people above us. You can't hear them, but they are there. Let me just warn them of your safety."
Nyell didn't wait for an answer and went outside. He had to stifle a chuckle as he caught sight of the rescuers struggling to descend the cliff. They appeared frantic, most likely due to his sudden disappearance. Some even forgot to hold the rope their comrades had tied onto a tree above and almost tumbled down. But who could blame them? In what world could they face their chief after losing his fated mate? They might as well jump down and commit suicide.
"Guys!" Nyell screamed at the top of his lungs, startling everyone to the point where Abby, who stayed atop the cliff to survey the rescue effort, almost had a heart attack. "There are a dozen survivors down here! It's a miracle!"
And now, for the miracle to continue, they had to hurry and bring the sailors higher on a plateau before the tide swallowed the shore. None had the strength left to face another crushing wave.