Lutrian hurried to Roy's side the moment the demon spoke, his breath catching in his throat. "Captain," he said, his voice unsteady, "if he is hostile, we might be in serious trouble. Even Lady Brinevein didn't feel this dreadful."
"Right," Roy murmured, his own brow knit with a tension he refused to let show. He started to step forward, a calculated display of authority.
A sharp intake of breath came from Lutrian, who immediately placed himself in Roy's path, his arms raised protectively. The slight quiver in his knees betrayed how utterly outclassed he felt. He glanced back at Roy, his expression a mask of grim resignation. "I know I am not strong enough to stop a being that can sail the skies like that… but I will not let him cut you down without him losing a few of his fingers first."
The demon glided inward, his movements eerily silent. "So," Vorthas asked, his voice silky, polite, almost pleasant, "do I have permission?"
Roy straightened, a subtle signal to Lutrian. The prince, still tense, reluctantly lowered his arms but did not move from his position. Vorthas's gaze, filled with a mild, almost detached amusement, slid over the prince as if he were a piece of uninteresting furniture.
Finally, Roy nodded. "You want to come aboard, you claim you're peaceful… sure. Come on in." His voice was a performance, a theatrical bravado designed to mask the frantic pounding of his own heart. "But if there is any hostility, I promise you, it will be your last."
A small, almost imperceptible bow from Vorthas. "Of course."
Behind him, the massive, bone-scaled airship descended to water level with a low, hydraulic hiss, its immense shadow dragging across area where Lady Brinevein's defeated fleet once was. As soon as it touched the surface of the ocean, Vorthas turned, selected a nearby chair at the edge of the bridge with the air of a king choosing a throne, and calmly sat, crossing one long leg over the other. Lutrian's hand began to glow, a light-sword forming at his fingertips, but Roy motioned for him to hold.
Vorthas opened his mouth to speak, but Lutrian's patience, worn thin by the day's chaos, finally snapped. "What is this?" he demanded, his voice sharp with suspicion. "Are you here to threaten us? Or to finish us off like a coward while we are weakened?"
A mild, almost imperceptible flicker of annoyance crossed Vorthas's ancient eyes. "I was not speaking to you," he said softly, his voice a quiet dismissal.
Roy lifted an eyebrow at Lutrian, and the prince, with a visible effort of will, reluctantly backed off, though not far. "Fine," Roy said, turning his full attention to Vorthas. "So. Explain yourself. We're not particularly fond of mysteries around here. They tend to explode."
Heavy, metallic footsteps clanged on the walkway as Eryndra and FDR tried to enter the bridge, only to collide with an unseen, shimmering barrier. Eryndra pounded a fist against it, the impact producing a dull, resonant thud, her scowl visible through the wall of pure energy. "Roy! He's sealed us out! And your mana is too low for me to use my Apparition Mode to bypass it!"
A frown creased Roy's face as he whipped around. "I thought you said no hostility!" he said, glaring at Vorthas.
A casual gesture from Vorthas, a lift of his palm. "None at all. I merely wish for a… private conversation. I assure you, I have no intention of harming them. Or you."
"We are done talking if you cannot let the rest of my crew in," Lutrian growled, his hand once again glowing.
Vorthas flicked him a sideways look, clicking his tongue in a gesture of mild disappointment. "Honestly, must you interrupt me repeatedly? It is so terribly… ill-mannered, especially for a prince." His eyes hardened for a brief, terrifying moment. "And it is better, for all involved, if we talk alone."
He snapped his fingers.
The world vanished. The air grew painfully cold, and the very concept of up or down ceased to exist. There was only a crushing, absolute emptiness, a silence so profound it felt as if it were actively devouring sound. Roy opened his mouth to shout, but no sound emerged. Vorthas was a mere silhouette a few steps away. Lutrian was gone.
Then, another figure materialized abruptly between them. Orden, his arms spread wide, his eyes gleaming in the featureless blackness.
"Hey, guys, don't leave me out of the super-secret void meeting!" Orden said, his voice a cheerful, mischievous grin made audible. He clapped his hands once. The oppressive darkness rippled, and Roy found himself in a new, smaller bubble of emptiness, with Vorthas on one side and Orden on the other.
His heart pounded against his ribs. "You… you can just override that?" he breathed, looking at Orden. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You're… well, you're Orden."
A simple shrug from the primordial child, a half-smile on his face. Vorthas, however, regarded Orden with a new, sharp intensity, a flicker of genuine shock dancing behind his calm, ancient eyes, though he kept his voice perfectly level. "A curious intervention," he murmured. "Impressive."
Roy cleared his throat, forcing a bold, if slightly shaky, grin. Don't flinch. Don't scream. Just be the clown. The clown lives longer. "Anyway, Vorthas, you said you wanted to speak. I'm assuming it's not to kill me, or you would have tried to already. Probably."
A mild laugh from the demon lord, a sound that held no humor. "If I wanted you dead, Captain Gunn, I would not have announced my presence. But let us not waste any more time. I have come with a proposal. A sort of… alliance. Short-term, of course. I assure you."
Roy affected a casual, almost bored stance, though his nerves screamed in protest. "An alliance? How do I know you won't just double-cross me the second my back is turned?"
Vorthas chuckled softly, a sound that dripped with a mild, almost paternal condescension. "As I said, if your death was my intention, I could have made my move the moment you engaged Lady Brinevein. I have been watching your… exploits… for months now. I have gleaned many of your secrets. Including your rather reckless release of the Immortal Family." He paused, letting the weight of that statement sink in. "Forming a deal with me at this juncture might be in your most pressing best interest."
A cold bead of sweat trickled down Roy's spine. "So you do know a lot, huh?" He forced a big, theatrical, and probably deeply unconvincing grin. "But maybe that's still not enough for me to trust you."
A sudden, deep laugh rumbled in Vorthas's chest, rising into a near-cackle of genuine amusement. "Trust? Oh, Roy. Your self-assurance is… refreshing." The space between them collapsed in an instant. He was no longer in front of Roy, but directly behind him, his cool fingers gently, almost intimately, brushing through Roy's hair. Roy stifled a yelp, forcing a clownish, exaggerated grin instead as his mind screamed in pure, unadulterated terror.
"There are but three beings on this ship I could not annihilate in a single, silent breath," Vorthas whispered, his voice a low, chilling purr directly in Roy's ear. "I would strongly suggest you drop the tough boy act and show some proper respect. Though, I must admit, you do have a certain… sense of humor. Some might cry in this situation. You… you lean into it. I find that… charming."
Roy exhaled shakily, forcing himself to relax, to actually lean back into Vorthas's hand. "Mmm, a little to the left, thanks. My scalp has been terribly itchy all day."
Orden snorted a laugh, doubling over in the void.
Vorthas shimmered back into view in front of Roy, his eyes glinting with a mixture of satisfaction and amusement. "I will provide you with occasional, high-value intelligence. You, in turn, will strike down the remaining Captains of the Abyssforged Alliance, one by one. Eventually, together, we will confront and defeat the Drowned King. He is strong, yes. But you… you possess an interesting, and entirely unpredictable, potential."
Roy's brow furrowed. "Why do you want him gone? Is it some kind of personal grudge?"
A fleeting, almost imperceptible flicker of genuine, raw irritation darkened Vorthas's face. "Personal enough. The Drowned King took what was mine. My title. My place. My legacy. He rules with no nuance, no… flair. I would like to see him dethroned. Or beheaded. The specific details are unimportant, so long as he is gone. And I require an ally who does not quake at the mere thought of his name."
Roy forced a chuckle, even as his heart hammered against his ribs. "Oh, I quake plenty. Believe me. But I'm also reckless. And possibly completely insane. Still, how do I know you won't just stab me in the back the moment this is all over?"
A genuine smile touched Vorthas's mouth. "I have no desire to be wearing your ribcage as a trophy, boy. In fact, I find I rather like you. I would prefer to keep you alive." He gave an infuriatingly pleasant shrug. "You amuse me. Let us consider that my guarantee."
With a theatrical sigh, Roy spread his arms and turned toward their third. "Orden, what do you think? Should we trust this… this bozo?"
Rocking on his heels, Orden let his gaze flick between them. "Demons love chaos, Roy. And he is quite strong." His stare settled on Vorthas, blunt and unblinking. "But so am I." His eyes narrowed. "And I would hate for all my fun to be ruined by someone so incredibly weak. Who knows what might happen to them then?"
The demon's expression smoothed to neutrality. "You must be a new addition. One who could hold back my power to this extent is a fine choice for this crew, Roy." Darkness thickened around him as he surged the field, yet the shroud met an unseen line and went no farther. Orden's power held, unmoved.
"I see," Vorthas said, a surprised smirk tugging at him before he looked back to Roy. "Well, all I ask is an agreement. I will supply you with leads to key Alliance members and continue to steer their attention away from you. And in the end, we confront the Drowned King together."
Roy drew a breath and extended his hand. "We usually shake on deals where I come from. No weird blood pacts or soul-binding contracts. I hate needles."
Vorthas regarded the offered hand with ancient bemusement. "A strange gesture. But… fine." His fingers closed around Roy's, his voice dropping to a near-purr. "I have faith in you, Captain Gunn. Try to have a bit of faith in me."
A single nod from Roy, the sweat on his brow going unnoticed. The black void around them flickered, then dissolved, returning them to the bright, solid reality of the Nightshatter's bridge. Lutrian, looking pale and shaken, nearly stumbled forward as he was released from whatever pocket dimension Vorthas had sent him to. The rest of the crew, including Eryndra, stood on high alert, their faces a mixture of confusion and relief.
From a side corridor, Father Skeleton ambled around the corner. He caught sight of Vorthas, and paused. "Well, if it isn't little V-Baby! You've grown so much! How is your dear father?"
Vorthas's mask of calm slipped, but only for a fraction of a second. He set his jaw, forcing a small, tight smile. "You killed him, actually," he said, his tone impossibly cool. "So… not great."
Father Skeleton tapped his chin. "Oh, that's right! Good times… I do recall his screams were particularly hilarious as he begged for me not to seize control of all the demon territories." He shrugged. "Well, I'm off to the showers. Toodle-oo." With that, he wandered off, humming and rattling as he went.
An uneasy, almost unbearable tension lingered in the bridge. Eryndra took two slow, deliberate steps closer to Vorthas, her vents puffing out a low, heated hiss. "If you have harmed Roy in any way, I promise you, there will never be a day, a night, or a single waking moment where you will not fear me coming for your neck."
Vorthas simply arched an eyebrow, his mouth curving into a half-smile. "Such… devotion. I do appreciate your spirit." He turned to Roy. "You have a fine crew, Captain. Cherish them. I am certain you will leave a permanent mark upon this world."
"Alright. Just… go. I have a lot to do," Roy said, voice more hoarse than he intended.
A nod from Vorthas. Then, his entire demeanor shifted, becoming almost shy. "Before I depart, Roy… I happened to catch sight of a curious culinary treat among your provisions, during my… surveillance. A small, colored edible treat, impaled on a white stick? Might I perhaps… take some with me?"
Roy blinked. "A sucker? You, the ancient, terrifying, demon pirate monster freak… you want… a sucker?"
Vorthas frowned at Roy's confusion. "Is that so odd?"
With a half-shrug that was mostly disbelief, Roy flagged down a passing Presidroid. "Fill a crate with a wide variety of our finest suckers. And throw in some other sweets, I guess."
Minutes later, the Presidroid returned with the requested gift. Vorthas took one sucker from the top, examining it with a mild, academic fascination, before making the entire crate disappear in a haze of darkness. "My thanks. I shall share these with my crew." He produced a small, pulsating black device from beneath his cloak. "Speak into this demon spore, and it will return to me with your message. Use it if you wish to reach me for any reason. It will take a day or two, but I will surely respond."
Roy snorted. "We have wide-range, instantaneous radios. It's a lot easier that way." He pushed a small, handheld radio into Vorthas's free hand, then demonstrated the button. "There. Call me... whenever."
Vorthas examined the radio with raised eyebrows. "Interesting. Then I shall do so." He nodded once to Orden, then to Eryndra, then turned away. A moment later, he simply stepped off the bridge and ascended into the sky, floating back towards his massive, waiting vessel.
The monstrous craft drifted for a minute in the water, then rose, its engines roaring to life as it launched towards the dark, distant horizon. Lutrian exhaled heavily, collapsing into a nearby seat. "Why is it always something terrifyingly, cosmically weird with you, Roy?"
A quiet figure in the corner, Maelara, rubbed her temples. "I cannot believe I ever dreamed of joining your crew. You deal with elven legends, Vorthas the Dread God himself, and beyond-powerful, candy-stealing pirates… This is absolute, unadulterated madness."
In a sudden burst of joy, Roy cheered. "Guys! I just made friends with a demon!"
Some time later, as dawn broke, the Nightshatter's long-range sensors pinged a wide, sprawling coastline. Roy shuffled onto the bridge, eyes gritty with sleep, and found the world remade in colors and light. Seranovia rose from the lip of the sea like a promise kept, two alabaster spires cutting into the morning. Each spire was veined with runes that climbed in narrow ribs, their letters burning faintly blue, their bells setting a thin silver tremor across the water. Between those needles, whole districts hung in the air. Constellations of mana stones drifted in tidy orbits, the larger ones the size of barrels, the smallest no bigger than coins. Their hum braided into a single, steady note that kept terraces, walkways, and gardens suspended above the harbor.
Marble dominated the shoreline. Palaces and public halls wore it like armor, colonnades marching down to the spray, domes glazed with shell-white tiles. Broad stairs met the tide, slick with mist, while aqueducts spilled water into geometric basins that overflowed into the sea. High above, platforms rode anchors of floating stone, edged with railings of glassy crystal. Trees grew there, roots braided around embedded glyph plates, leaves flashing with trapped motes of light. Ropeways ferried people through the sky. Market barges drifted from terrace to terrace without touching streets, sails stitched with sigils.
The city sounded alive. Prayer chimes clicked in layered rhythms. A thousand voices carried on the wind from sky plazas that hovered like lily pads. Somewhere, a chorus struck a rising line that made the hairs on Roy's arms lift. The air tasted of salt and crushed jasmine, bright as clean metal on the tongue. Gulls carved white slashes through the blue, then veered wide of the hovering districts as if the unseen currents spooked them.
More details rose with every heartbeat. Bridge-arches of translucent stone that showed the sea sliding beneath. Statues that bent their heads to watch passing ships. Lanterns that bloomed to life in daylight, their glow drifting free of the cages and floating beside pedestrians like tame fireflies. Even the shadowed alleys gleamed, polished by a thousand years of feet, each one leading to some sudden view of water and sky.
Footsteps gathered behind him. The crew filed in, bruised, bandaged, bone-tired, and utterly quiet. Even the loud ones did not try a joke. Faces turned toward the city and stayed there. Whatever strength they had left stood at the rail and took in the sight, unblinking, as Seranovia unfurled herself across the horizon and welcomed them with light.
"This is...Seranovia? I guess we made it," Roy said softly. "Despite everything."
Orden beamed. "Ooh, that place looks big! Bigger than I expected! Do you think they have a large marketplace? I want souvenirs."
Roy clapped a hand on Orden's shoulder, a half-laugh escaping his lips. "We'll find out soon enough, kid. Let's prepare to dock."