The harbor of Driftshore was deathly silent at dawn, as if the port itself held its breath. Crates of fish lay rotting on the docks, their pungent juices mingling with the salty mist. Half-collapsed warehouses smoldered, the last embers of Reeffire still glowing against blackened beams. Tidewalkers in reinforced coral armor scoured each alley methodically, but found only empty shells of what had been a city teeming with life. The mainland envoy's soldiers hesitated in their patrols, unsure whether to pursue rumors or salvage supplies. And everywhere, from the lowest gutter to the highest wharf, the name "Korēn" was spoken in hushed awe and terrified curiosity.
Above them all, anchored precariously in a narrow channel, floated the Tide Dominion war-barge—no longer Elara Volkov's instrument of retribution, but Malik Korēn's trophy. Its great hull, warped by coral inlays and tidal scars, now thrummed with the resonance of the four shards embedded deep within its veins. Servants of the Vein—coral-sculpted gates and pulsing runes—lined the decks, ready to obey Malik's will.
In the vessel's heart stood Malik himself, silent and still, surveying the empty port through a viewport glazed with salt-rimed glass. His cloak hung heavy about his shoulders, the Resonance Codex secured at his waist. Each shard pulsed faintly beneath his skin: the Obsidian Mask's Shade Echo, the Ember Shard's Gloom Echo, the newly claimed Third Coral Shard's Depth Echo, and the Fourth, still singing with raw, untamed Primordial Echo.
Below, Rin moved through the corridors with measured steps, attending to the new crew of Blackscale smugglers and scavengers who had pledged loyalty or bribery. Their faces were painted with equal parts fear and greed, but Malik trusted none. All were tools—useful only until he no longer needed them.
The codex, an atlas of dead empires and broken Vein temples, lay open on a lectern carved from Tidebone. Malik traced a finger along the heavy parchment, lingering on a newly revealed glyph: a spiral of seven points, each representing one shard's resting chamber. Four points glowed now; three lay dormant. One lay beneath the Bonebridge Ruins to the east, a half-submerged labyrinth where ancient guardian constructs still patrolled. Another lay deep in the Drowned Fen swamps, watched by cultists of a rival sect. The final lay at the heart of the mainland's capital, beneath kings and courtiers who prized power over life.
A soft cough broke his concentration. Elara Volkov stood in the doorway—her presence was specter-like, her figure framed by the hatch's red dawn light. She wore no armor; her serpent-scale breastplate was discarded in the brig's hold, replaced by a simple dark coat. Her hair, damp from the waves, clung to her pale cheeks. In her hand blazed a single Vein candle, its flame oscillating between azure and crimson.
Malik did not turn. His voice was calm, measured: "You should not have survived."
Elara's lips curved into a slow smile. "Neither should you." She stepped forward, boots clicking on the coral deck. "You stole my war-barge, my Tidewalkers, even my vengeance. And now you sit here like a god atop my city."
Malik finally turned. His eyes, still faintly glowing, regarded her with cold curiosity. "I did not take vengeance. I took opportunity."
Her gaze flickered. "Opportunists die in opportunistic seas."
He inclined his head slightly. "Then consider this a calm before the storm."
Behind Elara, a single Tidewalker guard emerged, weapon leveled. She held up her hand and it dropped. "I come unarmed."
Malik's expression did not soften. "Why?"
Elara crossed the room in three silent strides. "To bargain."
Rin stiffened at his side, but Malik only gestured for Elara to continue.
"I want half the shards," Elara said. "I want to rebuild the lattice with you—together. The Vein is too large for one mortal man, even one who would bend the Keeper's own servants."
Malik tilted his head. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you lose everything." Her voice was steady now, as if she believed it. "The Tidewalkers will hunt you, the cultists will poison your veins, the envoy will bombard the docks. You cannot hold four shards against the world forever."
He considered her words. Fifty breaths passed before he answered. "And what would you do with three shards?"
She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Control. Consolidate. Command the Spires. The lattice will be ours, and through it, the fate of every Vein-wrought creature across this world."
Malik's lips twitched. "Even Curtain Rats?"
Elara's eyes flashed. "…Yes."
He stood silently, folding his arms. His mind, however, was racing through variables: the loyalty of his new crew, the strength of the war-barge's hull under siege, the Drowned Moon's likely reaction to this unexpected alliance.
Finally, he inclined his head. "On one condition: you reveal everything you learned beneath the Saltspire. Every rune, every chant, every bargain you made with your Keeper."
Elara stiffened. "You'll betray me as soon as you can."
Malik shrugged. "I'll betray you sooner if you lie to me."
She narrowed her eyes, then leaned in. "Bargain enough power to challenge a Keeper, you have to sacrifice something. I… offered my reflections as collateral. I lingered too long in the abyss, and it stained me. I lost half my sight in one eye, and now—my memories sometimes bleed into the lattice. I want them back."
Malik listened. He saw the hidden sorrow in her posture. In her strange, Riverdark eyes hollowed by Pulse Echo.
"Your memories," he said softly, "are no longer yours. They belong to the Vein—and the Keeper."
Elara nodded. "Which is why I need you."
Malik leaned closer, conspiratorial. "We forge the lattice while we still remember ourselves. Once the fifth shard is claimed, the lattice will demand a Binding—a pact that seals us to the Keeper's will. If we do not prepare, we will drown."
Her jaw clenched. "I know."
He studied her for a long moment. "Very well. We share the first five shards. After that… it is kill or be killed."
Elara's eyes brightened with grim satisfaction. "Agreed."
He turned away, opening the Codex to the next page: the route to the Bonebridge Ruins. "Then let us begin."
---
Far below the barge, in a flooded cavern lit by phosphorescent coral, the Vein's currents pulsed with new urgency. The lattice had been awakened once more, and its tendrils stretched outward toward unknown realms. Somewhere, in the twisting network of salt and stone, four shards sang in uneasy harmony.
Above, a lonely sentinel carved from Tidebone watched the dawn. A silent witness to alliances forged and betrayals whispered on dripping decks.
And somewhere, in the drowned depths, the Keeper stirred—its eyeless gaze fixed on the surface, and on the mortal who dared to reshape its world.
Malik Korēn did not know what came next. He only knew this: the game had deepened. Every step forward now carried the weight of destiny—and the echo of ancient chains yet to be broken.
The Leviathan's wake had begun.