Morning came gray and heavy. A fog had crept over the waters during the night, thick enough that the horizon disappeared. The sails of the Eryndor hung damp and pale against the mist. Every sound seemed muted, swallowed by the haze. The men moved slower, their voices hushed, as though the fog itself listened to them.
Ardyn stood on deck with the others, but he felt apart from them. The hum within him had grown restless through the night. He had dreamed of golden light, of a crown gleaming on a throne of coral, of a voice that whispered his name with every wave. When he woke, the whisper had not left him. It pulsed now beneath his ribs, deep and unrelenting.
Captain Dorn appeared, his cloak damp with mist. He scanned the waters with sharp eyes, though there was little to see beyond the veil. His voice carried steady over the deck.
"Keep your heads, men. Fog is no curse, only a veil. It will lift soon enough. Stay sharp and keep your ears open. What you cannot see, you may yet hear."
The crew nodded and bent to their duties. Some coiled rope, others adjusted sails, others checked the rigging. Yet unease lingered among them. Sailors feared fog more than storms, for storms were seen and fought, while fog was the unknown that pressed close and silent.
Ardyn tried to work, but his gaze kept drifting to the water. The surface lay still, broken only by the wake of the ship. Yet in the stillness he thought he saw shadows moving below, slow and vast. He blinked, and the shadows were gone. But the hum within him thrummed harder.
By midmorning the fog thickened. The men grew tense. Brannick barked orders, his voice gruff to mask his own unease. Lanterns were lit along the deck, their glow feeble against the gray. The world shrank until only the ship and the mist existed.
It was then the first sound came.
A low moan drifted across the water, too deep to be wind, too long to be the creak of timber. The men froze where they stood. Ardyn felt the sound vibrate through his chest, a note so vast it seemed older than the sea itself.
"What was that" a sailor whispered, his eyes wide.
"Whale," another muttered quickly, though his voice shook.
But Ardyn knew it was no whale. The note was not the call of any creature he had heard in all his years at sea. It was something else, something that reached past the ears and into the bones.
The moan came again, closer this time. The lanterns swayed on their hooks. Men crossed themselves or muttered prayers. Captain Dorn's face was set in stone, but his eyes narrowed.
"Hold steady," he commanded. "No fear. Fear feeds the sea more than blood."
The men tried to obey, but whispers spread among them. Some said it was a ghost ship drifting near. Others swore it was the cry of drowned sailors seeking company. Brannick cursed them all for cowards, but even he gripped the railing tighter than usual.
The fog shifted suddenly, parting like a curtain. Shapes loomed in the gray. The crew gasped as a dark silhouette glided past the bow. It was no ship, though its size was as great as one. The shadow slid beneath the surface, leaving only ripples. No man spoke.
Then the water lit.
Golden light flared beneath the waves, brighter than before, casting the fog in eerie glow. It spread wide, pulsing like a heartbeat. The men staggered back from the railing, eyes wide in terror.
"Saints preserve us," one cried.
"It is the deep fire," another whispered.
But Ardyn stepped forward. His hands trembled, yet his eyes locked on the glow. It was the same light he had seen, the same call he had felt. The crown was near. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name.
The hum inside him surged, nearly lifting him from his feet. His breath came quick and shallow. He gripped the railing to keep from leaning overboard. The voice in his mind was no longer faint. It spoke with clarity, with command.
Come.
Ardyn gasped. The word echoed through him, drowning all thought.
Brannick seized his arm, pulling him back. "Do not listen, boy" he hissed. "Do not even look"
Ardyn tried to speak but no words came. His eyes burned with the glow.
The light pulsed again, brighter, then vanished. Darkness swallowed the water, and the fog closed thick once more. The hum in Ardyn's chest faded to a faint throb.
The deck erupted with voices. Men cried out, shouted questions, cursed the sea. Fear spread like fire. Some clutched charms at their necks, others spat over the side to ward off ill luck.
"Silence" Captain Dorn roared. His voice cut through the panic like a blade. "You are sailors, not children. What you saw is nothing that will sink us, unless you let fear do it first. Back to your work"
The men hesitated, but under Brannick's glare they obeyed. Slowly, order returned to the deck. Yet the fear did not leave their eyes.
Dorn turned his gaze on Ardyn. The captain's eyes were sharp, piercing, as if he had seen the way Ardyn had leaned toward the light. But he said nothing, only held Ardyn's gaze a moment before moving on.
That night, no man slept easy. The fog lingered, and with it the unease. Ardyn lay in his hammock, staring into the dark. The hum inside him had not gone silent. It pulsed softly, steadily, like the beating of a second heart.
He closed his eyes, but the crown was there waiting. Gleaming gold, resting in darkness, its shape as clear as if he held it in his hands. Voices whispered around it, low and countless, promising power, promising destiny.
Ardyn pressed his hands to his ears though he knew it was useless. The crown was in him now.
At dawn, when the fog at last began to thin, the crew gathered on deck with hollow eyes. Brannick muttered to Dorn that men would start breaking if the sea played more tricks. Dorn gave no reply, but his jaw was set.
Ardyn worked in silence, his thoughts heavy. He could not tell the others what he knew, what he felt. They would see him as cursed. Perhaps they would be right.
As the sun rose pale above the horizon, the fog lifted enough to reveal the open sea once more. Relief spread through the men, though it was fragile. The memory of the golden light remained etched in their minds.
Ardyn stood at the bow, eyes on the endless water. The hum within him had not faded. It never would.
The crown was waiting. And the sea itself watched.