Chapter 13: The Drowning
Water struck Amara like a wall of iron—cold, crushing, absolute.
She was ripped from the ruins, hurled into the sea's raging mouth. The world spun into a vortex of salt and shadow, the ocean's roar consuming thought, breath, and fear alike. She sank. Fast. Hard.
But she didn't fight it.
She didn't flail against the weight pulling her under. Instead, in a radical act of surrender—one born not of weakness, but of will—she let the sea take her.
Not defeat. Descent.
Because something was calling her from the deep.
Not death. Something older. Fate.
The satchel burned against her hip, its ancient magic flaring like a beacon. Her blood pulsed with the rhythm of something beyond her own heartbeat, syncing with the sea's primal thrum.
Images blurred through the dark:
The manor—burning.
Callan—falling.
Her daughters—laughing, weeping, faces framed by memory and moonlight.
And beneath it all, a single desire screamed inside her chest—
"Let me reach it."
She kicked deeper. Harder. Driven by grief. Rage. Love.
And then—she saw it.
Nestled among sea-silt and shattered stone, half-buried beneath the skeletal roots of the broken seal—the Meteorite Blade.
Its hilt shimmered with cold starlight, casting ripples of pale illumination across the ocean's black throat.
Amara reached.
Her lungs shrieked. Her body faltered. Her vision blurred.
But her hand never stopped.
And that's when it opened.
A glowing eye.
Massive. Close. Watching.
The Leviathan.
It wasn't a beast.
It wasn't a myth.
It was a god.
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The Leviathan Speaks
> "Do you come to bind me, like the ones before?"
The voice didn't echo through water. It slammed into her soul.
"Or to become like me—forgotten, feared, free?"
Amara gritted her teeth, her vision swimming.
Everything inside her screamed for oxygen. For air.
But more than breath, she wanted vengeance.
More than revenge, she wanted her daughters.
More than any of that—
She wanted her freedom.
> "Neither," she answered, her thoughts sharp as forged steel.
"I choose the tide. I choose us."
And she grabbed the blade.
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The Awakening
The moment her fingers closed around the hilt, the ocean cracked open.
Power—raw, wild, elemental—surged into her body like a lightning strike. The blade erupted with brilliant cosmic light, illuminating the abyss like a newborn sun.
Symbols on her satchel flared to life.
Silver-blue veins of magic lit beneath her skin, glowing like galaxies etched in flesh.
The Leviathan roared.
Not in anger.
In recognition.
Chains once buried in myth shattered.
The seal—the Kraken's Eye—fractured wider.
And across her chest, a glowing sigil spiraled into being. Serpentine. Iridescent. Pulsing with divine force.
Her body shimmered, her skin gleaming with the sheen of salt and starlight.
When she opened her eyes again, they were no longer Amara's.
They were the ocean's.
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Queen of the Deep
She rose.
Not swimming.
Not struggling.
She ascended, radiant, effortless, divine.
The blade in her hand shimmered with purpose.
The Leviathan circled her—not chained, not conquered.
Chosen.
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Witness
High on the cliff above, Bandit—the feathered bard-turned-scoundrel—stared in dumbstruck silence. His ever-present flask slipped from his paw and splashed into the sea below.
> "Bloody tides…" he whispered.
"She actually did it. She chose the Leviathan."
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Author's Note
That's it. She went full mythical. No turning back now. Amara just bonded with a sea god, claimed a blade older than time, and might be glowing in places she didn't even know she had. Next chapter? The fallout. The reckoning. And oh yeah—who the hell was that voice in the shadows before she got baptized by tidal fury?
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Mini Glossary:
Kraken's Eye – A massive oceanic seal created to bind the Leviathan. Now broken.
Leviathan – A godlike sea entity, once bound, now awakened by Amara's blood and blade.
Meteorite Blade – A legendary weapon forged by the Sky-Smith. Can only be wielded by a blood-bound heir.
Satchel – An enchanted item Amara carries, tied to her family's legacy and infused with the blade's magic.
Bandit – Amara's reluctant companion. Feathered, sarcastic, possibly drunk 90% of the time.
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