-Year 7335, Decatry Island – Dennis Decatry Port-
The sea had never seemed threatening to me. In books, in stories, it was just a backdrop — something beautiful to look at from afar, with seagulls and ships in the distance. But there, at the end of the pier, with the icy wind cutting my face and the smell of salt and rotting fish filling my lungs, the sea felt alive. And it wasn't a friendly kind of alive.
"Impressed?" Sara asked beside me.
"It's big."
"The sea is always big, Ethan."
"It's not just the sea. It's everything."
Dennis Decatry Port buzzed with activity. Warships anchored along the main pier, flags of various houses fluttering in the wind — the golden lion of Remadís, the white moon of Lunos, the cat and vines of Eladir, the black octopus of Graylor. And in the distance, dominating the horizon, the ship that would take us to the Derylini peninsula: the *Wind of Derylini*, a boat of dark wood with blue sails and the Decatry crest — the white tiger with blue stripes — painted on the prow.
"It's fast," Ana said behind me. Her voice was calm, almost bored. "Father had it prepared on purpose. He doesn't like delays."
"Your father likes control," I replied.
"He does. And he's right. Control is the only thing that prevents chaos."
Ariny, as always, said nothing. She just stared at the horizon, her blue eyes lost somewhere among the waves. Sara, on the contrary, trembled with excitement.
"We're going to see the academy! Really, we really are!"
"We haven't arrived yet, Sara," Ana cut in. "First, the boat. Then the sea. Then the peninsula. Then the academy. Everything in its time."
"You have no enthusiasm."
"I do. I save it for when it's useful."
Gustavo, the butler, had stepped down from the carriage and was speaking with a port official, gesturing toward the *Wind of Derylini*. Our luggage was already being loaded by stevedores. The smell of tar and wet wood mixed with the murmur of the crowd.
That was when the boom came.
There was no warning. No shout, no alarm, no bell ringing. Just the sound — a sound that seemed to come from the ocean floor and the sky at the same time, a deep roar that made the ground vibrate beneath my feet.
"What was that?" Sara asked, her voice higher.
"I don't know," I replied.
The crowd on the pier began to run. Not away from something — nowhere. They just ran, shoved each other, screamed. The duke's soldiers tried to form a barrier, but they were trampled.
"Back to the carriage!" Gustavo shouted, running toward us. "Go back to the inn, now!"
Ana didn't move. She was looking at the sea.
"Ana, come on!" I shouted.
She pointed.
"It's too late."
The wave came before I could react.
It wasn't a normal wave. It was a wall of dark, almost black water, covered in foam white as ground bone. It hit the pier with the force of a giant's fist. Ships were lifted from their moorings like wooden toys. Men, crates, barrels, everything was swept into the water.
I fell. Something hit my back — a barrel, perhaps — and I landed on my knees on the wet ground. The taste of salt filled my mouth. I coughed.
"Sara! Ariny!" I shouted.
"I'm here," Sara's voice came from behind me. She was clinging to a wooden post, eyes wide. Ariny was glued to her, one hand on her sister's shoulder, face pale.
"Ana? Where's Ana?"
"There," Ariny said, pointing.
Ana was standing. Alone. A few feet from the pier, facing the sea. The waves lapped at her ankles, but she didn't retreat. Her golden hair flew in the wind. Her right hand held a dagger — the same one she'd used to cut the paper, days ago.
"What is that?" Sara whispered.
The creature emerged from the depths.
I can't describe it. I have no words. It was enormous — much larger than any ship in the port. Its body seemed made of black ice, but not ordinary ice. It gleamed, pulsed, as if there were red lava running inside it. Tentacles thick as oak trunks rose from the water, smashing into vessels, buildings, the pier. Its head was a formless mass of ice, without eyes, just a vertical slit that opened and closed, exhaling a freezing vapor that froze everything it touched.
"Krakeriar," I heard someone shout. An old sailor, on his knees, praying. "Krakeriar has awakened. We're dead. We're all dead."
The monster roared. The sound was shrill, like wind in a cavern, but amplified a thousand times. Glass shattered. People fell with hands over their ears.
The soldiers attacked. Spears, arrows, swords. All useless. Krakeriar's tentacles swept the pier like brooms of death. Bodies flew. Blood mixed with salt water.
"Back to the carriage!" I shouted. "Everyone!"
Gustavo was on the ground; one of the tentacles had hit the carriage. The vehicle was destroyed, wheels broken, roof dented. The butler moved, trying to get up, but his leg was twisted.
"Gustavo is down!" Sara pointed.
"I'll get him," Ariny said, the first time I'd heard her speak with such conviction.
"No!" I shouted. "Stay here. I'll go."
I ran. Sword in hand. The black blade with red veins. *Andy's sword. Arthur Erréndias's sword.*
I grabbed Gustavo by the arm and dragged him behind a pile of wreckage. He groaned, but was conscious.
"Stay here. Don't move."
And then, I don't know why, I turned toward the monster.
*I'll help. I'll make a difference.*
A tentacle came down on me like an ice whip. I rolled. Dodged by inches. The ice shattered the stone floor where I'd been.
"Ethan, no!" Sara shouted.
I stood. Ran toward the monster. Sword raised.
I struck.
The tentacle was smaller. My blow hit squarely. The blade sank into the ice — maybe two inches. Then it stopped. The ice began to regenerate around the blade, trapping it.
I pulled. It wouldn't come out.
The tentacle moved, throwing me aside. I hit a wooden barrel with my back. The sword stayed stuck in the ice.
"The sword..."
I looked at my arm. It was covered in ice. A thin blue layer, from fingers to elbow. The skin burned. The cold was so intense it felt like fire.
"I can't... I can't..."
Sara screamed. She and Ariny were on their feet, hands raised. Sara tried to throw a fireball — a hesitant flame, the size of a fist. It hit the monster's body. Fizzled out without leaving a mark.
Ariny created a wind shield in front of us. Ice shards hit it, but didn't penetrate. For how long? I didn't know.
"It won't work," Ariny said, her voice tense. "The monster is too strong."
"Then what do we do?" Sara asked.
No one answered.
Ana advanced.
I saw her walk toward the monster, alone. Fallen soldiers around her, screams, blood. She didn't run. Didn't shout. Just walked, dagger in hand.
"Ana, come back!" I shouted. "You'll die!"
She didn't hear me. Or she heard and ignored.
Krakeriar noticed her. The tentacles rose, ready to crush her. Ana threw the dagger with a strength I didn't know she had. The blade spun in the air and embedded itself in the monster's vertical slit.
Krakeriar howled. Not in pain — in annoyance.
Three shards of red ice shot from the creature's mouth. Fast. Precise.
Ana dodged the first. Dodged the second. The third hit her in the chest.
The ice pierced her. Entered through the left side, exited through her back. Dark blood gushed out.
She fell to her knees.
"NO!" I shouted.
I ran. My frozen arm hung limp at my side. My other hand was raised, empty.
A shockwave hit me before I could get near her. It wasn't from the monster. It was from her. Ana's body glowed — a red, dark, pulsing glow. The wound on her chest closed. The ice melted.
Ana stood.
Her eyes were red. Not bloodshot — red. Glowing. Her golden hair darkened at the tips, as if someone had set it on fire and the fire had given up halfway.
"What... what's happening?" Sara whispered.
The sky darkened. Not with clouds — with a red light that came from nowhere and everywhere at once. The people on the pier stopped running. They looked up. At Ana.
She rose from the ground. Not flying — hovering, inches off the ground. Her feet didn't touch the earth.
The index finger of her right hand rose, pointing at the monster. The finger was still bloody — Ana's blood, from the wound that no longer existed.
She said nothing. Just pointed.
Divine energy gushed from her finger like a river of lava and lightning. Red, black, gold. It tore through the air with a hum that made my teeth rattle.
It struck Krakeriar in the center of its body.
The monster didn't have time to roar. The ice evaporated. The tentacles melted. The head disintegrated into shards that turned to vapor before touching the ground.
The sky glowed gold.
The red disappeared. The golden light lasted only a second — but it was as if the sun itself had descended to witness what had happened.
Then, silence.
Krakeriar no longer existed. Only a cloud of icy vapor over the calm waters.
Ana fell. Not hovering, not floating. She fell like an empty sack, inert, her golden hair (still darkened at the tips) spreading on the wet ground.
"Ana!" I shouted.
I ran to her. My arm still frozen, the rest of my body aching. I knelt beside her. Her chest rose and fell. She was alive.
"Your... your wound... healed," I said, dazed. "How?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes were closed. Her face pale.
"Ana, wake up!"
Nothing.
"Leave her," said a voice behind me. "She's in shock. Her body hasn't adapted yet."
I turned.
A boy stood on the wreckage of the pier. Hair coppery blonde, green eyes, blue and gold armor — different from anything I'd seen in Endomyar. He wore no helmet. His face was young, maybe my age. But his eyes were old. Very old.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Lindériu Derassi," he replied, with a foreign accent. "Holy warrior of Aryster."
Behind him, on the horizon, a black and gold ship burned. The sails were on fire, but the hull still floated. The symbol of Aryster — a double-headed eagle with crossed swords — was painted in gold on the prow.
"Your ship," I said.
"It burned. But it survived." Lindériu looked at Ana. "She received the blessing of Anorys. God of destruction."
"What?"
"Your friend. Chosen of Anorys. That doesn't happen every day."
"She... she killed the monster?"
"She killed it. With the god's help, of course." Lindériu crouched beside Ana. Touched her forehead. "She's hot. Too hot. The divine power is burning her insides."
"Will she die?"
"No. But she needs rest. She needs to learn to control this." He stood, looked at the sea, then at the destroyed port. "And she needs a boat. Like all of us."
Sara and Ariny approached, staggering. Sara was crying. Ariny was pale, but dry-eyed.
"Will she be okay?" Sara asked.
"She will," I replied, not knowing if it was true.
Gustavo, leaning on a soldier, also approached. His leg was twisted, but he didn't complain. He looked at Ana, then at Lindériu.
"Holy warrior of Aryster," he repeated, with respect. "Your fame has reached Decatry."
"Good or bad?"
"Both. The gods have chosen you and your companion. That frightens people."
Lindériu didn't reply. He just nodded toward the figure descending from the burning ship. A tall man, black hair, silver crown, dark cloak. King Arésyu of Aryster. Behind him, a girl with black hair and black eyes, skin pale as the moon. Livia, the princess.
"Your ship burned," Gustavo said. "Ours was also destroyed by the monster."
"Then we're all on the same pier."
"So it seems."
King Arésyu approached. His eyes swept over the group, lingering on Ana longer than on the others.
"She was chosen by Anorys," he said. It wasn't a question.
"She was," Lindériu replied.
"Then there are four chosen ones in Aryster alone. And now a new one in Decatry."
"Two, if you count the boy." Lindériu pointed at me. "He's Macano's chosen."
King Arésyu looked at me. His black eyes were cold, calculating.
"Chosen of the first god. Interesting."
"I don't feel chosen," I said, my voice weak. "I can't do anything."
"Not yet," Lindériu replied. "Not yet."
The icy wind swept the pier. Dennis Decatry Port lay in ruins. Broken ships, bodies on the ground, buildings on fire. The monster had disappeared, but the smell of death remained.
I looked at Ana. At Sara and Ariny. At Lindériu, at King Arésyu, at Princess Livia. At the calm sea that, minutes earlier, had spit out death.
I am Macano's chosen. The strongest god, they say. And I couldn't protect anyone.
What kind of chosen am I?