The sea was eerily still.
Yet, it wasn't the calm kind that existed, ones where the soft breeze tended to lull you into sleep.
No, it was like a restless churn of something below, waiting to rise above the black waters and devastate everything.
From the balcony carved into Khaz Vordun's upper citadel, Ryn could see nearly the entire expanse of the sea. The beam still burned in the distance, a narrow pillar of light piercing upward into the fractured sky.
The crack above had not closed.
It lingered there, like a wound across the world.
Ryn rested his hands against the cold stone railing. The ocean wind tugged faintly at his coat, but even that felt somewhat muted.
"Stop."
The word left his mouth quietly.
Nothing happened.
No weird magic or some kind of phenomenon occurred. Just a single word.
Ryn exhaled slowly.
That was how it should be.
And yet the memory of that moment on the airship refused to leave him.
