The alarm horn cut through the air.
Low. Sharp. Urgent.
Kael stopped mid-swing.
A second horn followed almost immediately.
That one meant danger.
"Sea side!" someone shouted.
Kael dropped the practice sword and ran.
The training grounds emptied in seconds. Instructors barked orders. Trainees scattered toward assigned posts. Guards sprinted toward the cliffs, weapons already in hand.
Kael ran with them.
The wind was stronger near the shore. The smell of salt was sharp, heavy.
The sea was moving.
Not waves—shadows.
Dark shapes slid beneath the surface, long and fast. Patrol ships had already pulled back, forming a defensive line closer to the island.
"Positions!" a commander yelled.
Ballista crews rushed forward. Large metal bolts were loaded and locked into place. Fighters with resonance stepped to the front, blades faintly glowing.
Kael stopped near the edge of the rocks.
"What is that?" Tavian asked, breathless, beside him.
"High-grade," a guard replied. "Not a scout."
The water exploded upward.
A massive creature surfaced near the reef. Its body was covered in layered armor plates, dark and uneven. Fins sliced the water as it stabilized itself. Its head rose slowly, wide and flat, with glowing slits where eyes should be.
The ground vibrated as it let out a deep sound.
"Fire!" the commander shouted.
The first ballista bolt flew.
It struck the creature's side and detonated. Steam and debris filled the air.
The creature barely reacted.
A second bolt hit. Then a third.
Still standing.
"It absorbed that," someone muttered.
The creature dove suddenly.
"Watch the ships!" another guard yelled.
Too late.
The sea surged beneath the nearest patrol vessel. The creature slammed upward, ramming the ship's underside. Metal screamed. The ship tilted violently, then flipped.
Men were thrown into the water.
Kael's chest tightened.
"Rescue team, now!" the commander ordered.
Resonant fighters moved fast, leaping from the cliffs and onto the water using bursts of power. Blades glowed as they struck downward.
Another shape broke the surface closer to shore.
Smaller. Faster.
It launched itself onto the rocks, claws scraping stone as it climbed.
"Form up!" the commander shouted.
Three fighters moved in from the front. Fire, ice, and wind hit the creature almost together.
The creature staggered, then released a shockwave. Two fighters were thrown back, slamming into the rocks.
Kael moved.
He didn't think. He didn't wait.
He slid down the rocks and came in from the side, sword held low.
The creature turned toward him.
Its glowing eyes locked onto Kael.
The air felt heavy for a split second.
Kael swung.
Steel struck at the joint between two armor plates.
The blade bit deep.
The creature screamed—a harsh, grinding sound. It twisted toward Kael, claws swinging.
Kael rolled aside just in time.
A fire-resonant fighter struck the exposed joint again. The armor cracked. Another strike followed.
The creature collapsed, body twitching once before going still.
Kael backed away, breathing hard.
"Fall back!" the commander yelled. "More incoming!"
Kael looked up.
Three more shadows moved beneath the water.
This wasn't an attack.
It was pressure.
The fight stretched on.
Ballista bolts fired in steady rhythm. Fighters rotated in and out, some limping, some bleeding. One creature tried to retreat and was cut down before it reached deep water.
Kael stayed near the edge, striking when openings appeared, pulling back when they didn't.
A sudden scream cut through the noise.
Kael turned.
One of the rescue fighters had been dragged under.
The water closed over him.
No one came back up.
By the time the final creature retreated, the shore was littered with debris, broken weapons, and blood.
Three patrol ships damaged.
Five fighters injured.
Three dead.
The sea slowly calmed, as if nothing had happened.
Kael stood near the rocks, hands shaking, his sword darkened with blood that wasn't his.
Tavian stood beside him, pale but upright.
"That wasn't random," Tavian said. "They came prepared."
Ronas approached, his expression hard.
"These weren't wild," he said. "They adapted to our patterns."
Kael looked out at the sea. "So they're learning."
Ronas didn't deny it.
Night fell without celebration.
Fires burned along the cliffs. Guards doubled patrols. The elders met behind closed doors.
Kael sat outside Ronas's house, cleaning his blade again.
Lyra stood nearby, arms crossed.
"You shouldn't have gone in," she said.
"They were outnumbered," Kael replied.
"You could've died."
"So could they."
She didn't answer.
Later, Tavian arrived, holding a bundle of papers.
"I checked the records," he said. "These attacks… they line up with training days. Large-scale resonance use."
Ronas stepped out, having heard enough.
"Meaning?" he asked.
Tavian hesitated. "Meaning they react when too much power is used."
Kael stiffened.
"They're tracking resonance," Kael said.
"Yes," Ronas replied. "And responding."
Silence followed.
That night, Kael trained alone.
Not strikes.
Control.
He stood in the dark, breathing slowly, focusing on the pressure in his chest. It was stronger than before, pressing outward, restrained by something unseen.
He clenched his fists.
"Not yet," he said quietly. "I'm not ready."
The pressure didn't fade—but it didn't break either.
Far out at sea, a distant vessel changed course.
Data updated. Threat level adjusted.
Aerindal had been noticed.
And Kael, still fighting with steel alone, was running out of time.