The world seemed to hold its breath.
The serpent of water coiled high, towering over the battlefield, its eyes glimmering with a cold, alien light. Every soldier, whether friend or foe, faltered beneath its shadow. Shields dropped, blades wavered—warriors who moments before had screamed defiance now stood in stunned silence.
And then the sea itself stirred.
The tide surged outward in a single sweeping motion, as if some ancient giant had exhaled from the deep. Waves rose higher than walls, carrying with them the roar of centuries. What had been battle cries were drowned beneath the symphony of a storm unchained.
Nunna stumbled backward, her boots slipping on soaked earth. Her pulse hammered as the ground trembled, as though the ocean's heartbeat had become her own. Fear was no longer enough to name what coursed through her veins—it was reverence. Something vast and ancient had awoken, and she was standing at the edge of its gaze.
For a fleeting moment, she thought she heard it—a voice carried in the waves. Not words, not sound, but a summons that pulled at her very soul.
And she realized, with a chill that rooted her where she stood:
this was not a battle between men.
This was the awakening of the sea.