The sea was never quiet.
It was always moving—crashing, breathing, growling against the black rocks that circled Aerindal like a warning. Even on peaceful days, the waves whispered danger, reminding everyone why no one dared to leave the island.
But that morning, the sea did not move at all.
Kael was four years old when he noticed it.
He stood barefoot on the cliff path, his small hands wrapped around the cold stone fence. Below him, the ocean lay flat and smooth, stretched out like glass. No waves. No foam. Just an endless blue that felt wrong in a way he couldn't explain.
His chest tightened.
"Kael."
His father's voice cut through the silence.
Kael turned. Arden Eryndor was fastening his sword at his waist, his movements quick and tense. The blade looked old—older than most swords Kael had seen—but it carried a weight that made the air around it feel heavy, as if it remembered things people had forgotten.
"Go inside," his father said. "Now."
Kael didn't move.
"Where's Zeik?" he asked.
For a brief moment, Arden froze.
Then the ground shook.
Not enough to knock Kael down, but enough to make the stone beneath his feet tremble. Far below, at the edge of the island, something dark rose from the sea.
Kael had no name for it. Years later, people would call them monsters. At that moment, it was simply wrong—too big, too quiet, shaped like the sea had grown teeth.
Another shadow surfaced beside it.
Then another.
Alarm horns screamed across Aerindal.
Arden dropped to one knee in front of Kael and gripped his shoulders. His hands were shaking.
"Listen to me," he said, his eyes locked onto Kael's. "Whatever happens, you do not come outside. Do you understand?"
Kael nodded, his throat too tight to speak.
"And no matter what you hear," Arden continued, his voice lowering, "you protect your brother."
Before Kael could ask what that meant, his father was already running.
Kael followed.
He didn't remember choosing to. His legs just moved, carrying him down the path as fast as they could. Smoke rose ahead. Steel clashed. People shouted—fear and orders blending into noise too loud for a child to understand.
He found Zeik near the training grounds.
His brother was older—eight or nine—and held a wooden practice sword too tightly. His knuckles were white. But Zeik wasn't scared.
He looked angry.
"Kael!" Zeik shouted when he saw him. "You weren't supposed to be here!"
Before Kael could answer, the air tore open.
Something stepped out of nothing.
Not from the sea. Not from the sky. It simply appeared—tall and pale, its shape wrapped in shadows that bent the light around it. Its gaze swept the ground and stopped on Zeik.
The pressure hit Kael all at once.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground.
Zeik screamed—not in fear, but in pain.
The thing reached out.
Arden's sword struck it from the side, sparks exploding across the stone. His father stood between Zeik and the creature, his blade glowing faintly, as if responding to something unseen.
"Run!" Arden shouted.
The creature staggered back—not hurt, but surprised.
More shapes formed behind it.
Kael didn't remember being pulled away. He didn't remember who grabbed him or when the world turned into shouting and shaking ground.
There was only one thing he remembered clearly.
Zeik turned his head.
Through the chaos, his eyes met Kael's.
They weren't afraid.
They weren't angry.
They were apologetic.
Then Zeik was gone.
Kael woke up screaming.
He was alone in a dark room, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. The air smelled of medicine and smoke. Somewhere outside, voices murmured—low, tense, afraid.
His father never came back.
Later, they told Kael that Arden Eryndor died protecting the village. That he fought until his sword broke. That the creatures vanished as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving only ruins and questions no one wanted to answer.
They told him Zeik had been taken by outsiders.
Humans, some said.
Weapons from beyond the sea, others whispered.
No one spoke about shadows stepping out of empty air.
No one spoke about power.
And no one ever explained why, on the day Kael lost his brother and his father, the sea had gone perfectly still.
But sometimes—when Kael slept—he dreamed of silence.
And of something buried deep inside him.
Something the world had forgotten.