Boom! Boom! Boom!
The warships, held at readiness through the long watch, unleashed their fury the moment the sea monster stirred and their king commanded the attack. Countless shells tore through the night sky like falling stars, hurtling toward the abomination that rose from the depths.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The five great cannons of the Oak Shield fired in rapid succession, three-shot bursts that echoed like thunder across the waters. The first shell had scarce begun its arc toward the beast before the third already cleared the barrel's mouth. The other warships mirrored this deadly dance, their own guns speaking with even greater haste and fury.
Several thousand shells screamed through the darkness toward their quarry—power enough to set the night ablaze, shake the very foundations of the sea, stir both wave and sky, and scorch the very storm itself. Even should but one shell in ten find its mark, surely it would be enough to crush this mountain of flesh and bone to fragments.
Like Faria Flowers, none among the fleet believed they might take the sea monster alive. When the bombardment ceased, they would count themselves fortunate to salvage naught but scattered remnants from the churning waters.
Yet the sea monster suddenly leaped high into the air, its massive bulk defying the laws of gods and men, and loosed a piercing shriek that cut through the night like a blade.
"Aaaaang!"
Invisible waves of sound spread outward, their passage made visible by the white mist and clouds that marked their terrible trajectory. The cry expanded like ripples on a pond, racing toward the unknown distances beyond the fleet's formation.
Like an endless maelstrom, like a vast and terrible storm of the mind itself.
Countless souls were seized by a strange rapture, abandoning all troublesome thoughts to stand in blissful stillness, drinking deep of the simplest peace the beast offered. One by one, hundreds of warships fell silent, their crews surrendering to an untimely slumber that promised only doom.
Ding~~
Those blessed—or cursed—by the Graceful Light found themselves cast into dreams of the seven hells: burning flames that consumed without destroying, freezing ice that bit to the bone, needles and blades that pierced flesh, flaying knives that stripped skin from muscle, demonic voices that pierced the ears, vibrations that rattled the very brain, and the drowning suffocation of the deepest waters.
From these torments, men woke in sorrow and horror!
The first sight that greeted their eyes was a sky ablaze with fire, the first sound a continuous roar that filled their ears like the voice of wrathful gods.
Countless shells exploded overhead in brilliant bursts of flame and thunder!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Not upon the sea monster, nor even near it, but in the empty air above—some detonating scarce a ship's length from the cannon mouths that had birthed them! The deadly bombardment had become naught but a grand display of fireworks, beautiful and terrible and utterly useless.
Gods preserve us...
The sea breeze carried no great strength, yet Faria Flowers found each breath a struggle. Whether it was the heightened perception granted by the light curtain, or simple awe at the various terrors and ill omens she witnessed, she could not say.
"Continue the barrage!" Lord Beric Dondarrion commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos like a sword through silk.
The Oak Shield and her sister ships roused themselves from their unnatural silence, beginning another round of attack. Bang! Bang! Bang...
Once more the sea monster loosed its bewitching cry.
"Aaaaang!"
Again the grand fireworks bloomed above the night sky, allowing those aboard ship and watching from distant shores to witness this man-made symphony of light and thunder—a concert of destruction that sang only of their own futility.
Faria Flowers finally broke free from her trembling paralysis.
In that moment, she noticed something that kindled hope in her breast: a handful of solid shot had crashed into the sea near the monster, sending up great columns of white water that caught the light of the explosions above.
Though the sea monster dodged these scattered projectiles with fluid grace, suffering no wound, this meant at least that their cannons retained some worth—that hope yet lived!
She moved to report this observation to her superiors, but Lord Beric's voice rang out across the light curtain before she could speak.
"Load solid shot!" he commanded.
The cannons fell silent for a heartbeat, then roared back to life with renewed urgency and purpose.
Below decks, the scene was far different. In darkness, helplessness, and weakness, men sat in silence, sinking ever deeper into fear of the sea monster and the strange perceptions wrought by the light curtain. They huddled like sheep before the wolf, weak and bleating.
Faria Flowers saw that her lord father was among them, and even Euron Crow's Eye bore that same dull, vacant expression upon his weathered face.
Yet beyond the porthole, the battle raged with epic fury. They fought a conflict that would echo through the ages, and whether they claimed victory or tasted defeat, history would remember this night until the ending of the world.
She summoned her courage and walked toward the deck. Her choice was made; she must see it through to whatever end awaited.
Stepping from the cabin's confines, she emerged into brightness and warmth.
The cannons thundered without cease, hot steam and white mist wreathing the warship like a shroud, making every breath warm and moist—as if she stood within some strange and vibrant hot spring.
She looked about with wondering eyes.
Every soul upon the deck moved with focus and efficiency, though few faces were familiar to her. Most bore the king's colors and served in his personal guard.
Faria understood then that the Oak Shield had passed into His Grace's control. Warlocks held the wheel and commanded the sails, while other soldiers guarded doors and cabins, manned the great guns, and stood ready for whatever commands might come.
As for the ship's original sailors and crew—what role could they play in such a battle as this? They could only cower in the cabins with her lord father, powerless to act, offering prayers for peace and victory over and over, begging the gods that the sea monster would not single out the humble Oak Shield for destruction.
Many had already begun to doubt that victory was possible.
Faria Flowers refused to waver in her faith.
She walked to the ship's prow and took her place beside Lord Beric, then turned toward the port side. The Oak Shield faced the sea monster with her port guns, the five great cannons hurling shot without pause, each discharge making the warship shudder as if she might founder at any moment.
Beric Dondarrion spared her but a glance. Battle demanded his full attention, and this was no time for idle conversation.
"Adjust the range! We must not allow the beast to reach the Graceful Light!" Lord Beric tracked the monster's movements through his looking glass, watching as it writhed and twisted through the water.
Most of the warships had switched to solid shot by now.
After several volleys of concentrated fire, the greater part of the sea monster's bulk had vanished beneath the waves, leaving only a few massive tentacles visible above the surface. These lashed about, dodging the incoming projectiles while reaching hungrily toward the Graceful Light.
The attack proceeded with mixed success.
Yet fortune smiled upon them in one regard—the sea monster drew ever farther from the Graceful Light. Once the royal vessel crossed beyond the "fishing net," the beast would no longer be able to pursue their king.
The fishing net...
Lord Beric's eyes widened as understanding struck him like a thunderbolt, and he envisioned a scene of terrible consequence!
"Aaaaang~~~~~"
The sea monster loosed another cry that bewitched all living things.
The fierce bombardment ceased for a moment, as if the very air held its breath.
Splash~
The creature drew all its tentacles close and sank beneath the waves, its entire bulk vanishing into the dark depths.
"Aang!"
A muffled cry rose from the seabed itself, the sound carrying through water and wood to rattle their very bones.
In the next instant—
Rumble~~~~~
The entire sea convulsed! Like some ancient volcano that had slumbered for a thousand years suddenly awakening in terrible fury!
The sea's surface became as boiling water, great bubbles rising from the depths to burst upon the waves in countless thousands—dense as the pores upon human skin opening to release their heat.
The warships drifted helplessly upon the chaotic waters like leaves upon an autumn wind.
Before any could comprehend what was happening, the corpses of fish and sea creatures filled the ocean, surging back and forth with the waves from every direction. Water spouts lifted the dead, waves pushed them forward, and they crashed against the ships' decks in endless succession.
Warships, for all their might, cannot hold back the sea itself.
The reeking corpses struck freely against ankles and thighs and even faces, making all feel with dreadful clarity the true power of the ocean's rage.
Only in nightmares could such a scene exist.
The sea within sight had been transformed into a realm of death in mere moments.
Could this sea monster truly wield such power?
The light curtain blazed with urgent warnings, revealing the truth to all who fought in this battle.
The orange-red dots upon the battle map had been swept clean away, leaving only vast empty spaces where once had shown the positions of their defenses. Only the dark mark of the sea monster still pulsed with baleful light.
It had been depth charges all along!
The sea monster had detonated the depth charges, creating this scene of devastation!
The terrible suspicions about the creature's true nature had not come to pass.
Yet rather than relief, this revelation brought only heavier hearts and graver concerns.
The fishing net was gone—utterly destroyed.