Magnus sat in his cabin, the soft glow of a Willpower-infused lantern illuminating the scroll he had purchased from IRIS. The dossier was a treasure trove of information about Rayhal, and he had spent hours poring over its contents. The seven empires, their histories, their wars—it was a lot to take in. But what fascinated him most were the ancient ruins scattered across the continent. The idea of uncovering secrets lost to time, of wielding power beyond imagination, filled him with a sense of purpose.
He leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. The journey to Rayhal was more than just a chance to prove himself; it was an opportunity to carve out a place in a world that valued strength above all else. He thought of his brother, Galeheart, and the pressure of living up to his legacy. He thought of his family's expectations, the weight of their name and the responsibilities that came with it. But most of all, he thought of himself—who he was and who he wanted to become.
As he closed the scroll, a faint vibration ran through the ship. At first, he thought it was just the usual creaking of the hull, but then it grew stronger. The lantern on his desk swayed, its light flickering. Magnus stood up, his heart pounding. The vibration turned into a violent shockwave, rocking the ship so hard that he had to grab the edge of the desk to keep his balance.
"What the—" he muttered, his voice drowned out by the sound of crashing waves and the panicked shouts of the crew.
He rushed out of his cabin, joining the throng of passengers who had spilled into the corridors. People were shouting, their faces pale with fear. Magnus pushed his way through the crowd, his instincts telling him to get to the deck. As he reached the stairs, he noticed that even those who had purchased luxurious suite tickets were out of their rooms, their fine clothes disheveled and their expressions frantic.
When he finally made it to the deck, the scene was chaotic. Crewmates were shouting orders, trying to secure loose cargo and calm the passengers. The ship was still rocking, but the waves themselves were oddly calm. Magnus leaned over the railing, his eyes scanning the water. The surface of the ocean was vibrating subtly, as if something massive was moving beneath it. The faint sound of small waves breaking against the hull was the only indication that anything was amiss.
"A storm is coming," a voice said beside him, "and a rather big one at that."
Magnus turned, startled. A man had appeared out of nowhere, standing so close that Magnus could have reached out and touched him. He hadn't heard anyone approach, hadn't sensed any presence. It was as if the man had simply materialized beside him.
The man was tall and lean, with an air of quiet authority. His hair was a silvery gray, tied back in a loose ponytail, and his eyes were a piercing shade of blue that seemed to see right through Magnus. His face was lined with age, but there was a sharpness to his features that suggested he was far from frail. He wore a long, dark coat made of a material that shimmered faintly in the moonlight, its edges embroidered with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and change as Magnus looked at them. Beneath the coat, he wore a simple tunic and trousers, both black and unadorned. His boots were polished to a mirror shine, and a small, curved dagger hung at his belt.
The man's presence was unsettling. Even as Magnus looked at him, he couldn't shake the feeling that the man didn't quite exist—that he was more like a shadow or a figment of his imagination. There was no aura, no sense of Willpower, nothing to indicate that he was even there. And yet, he was.
"It does seem natural," the man continued, his voice calm and measured, "as if…" He trailed off, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Magnus stared at him, his mind racing. "When did he get here? When was someone standing by me? His presence… I can't sense it. Even when I'm looking at him, it's like he doesn't exist. H-he is dangerous."
"As if what?!" Magnus demanded, his voice sharp with a mix of shock and curiosity. The man's words had broken his train of thought, and he needed to know what was going on.
The man turned to look at him, his piercing blue eyes studying Magnus with an intensity that made him feel exposed. For a moment, the man said nothing, as if weighing whether Magnus was worth the explanation. Then he shook his head.
"Never mind," he said, his tone dismissive. "It shouldn't be what I think it is. Something of that caliber shouldn't be near this region."
Before Magnus could respond, the man turned and walked away, his movements smooth and unhurried. Magnus watched as he disappeared into the crowd of onlookers, his dark coat blending seamlessly with the shadows. It was as if the man had never been there at all.
Magnus stood there for a moment, his mind racing. The encounter had left him unsettled, but there was no time to dwell on it. The ship was still rocking, and the crew was struggling to maintain order. He took one last look at the ocean, its surface still vibrating faintly, and then headed back to his cabin.
A Restless Night
Back in his cabin, Magnus tried to calm his nerves. The shockwave, the mysterious man, the eerie calm of the ocean—it was all too much to process. He sat on the edge of his bed, his hands trembling slightly as he ran them through his hair.
"Who was that man?" he muttered to himself. "And what did he mean by 'something of that caliber'?"
He lay down, staring at the ceiling. The encounter had shaken him more than he cared to admit. The man's presence was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn't just that he couldn't sense the man's Willpower—it was that the man seemed to exist outside of the Loom entirely. It was as if he was a void, a blank space in the fabric of reality.
Magnus closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts from his mind. He needed to rest. The journey to Rayhal was far from over, and he would need all his strength for the challenges ahead. But sleep didn't come easily. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the man's piercing blue eyes, heard his calm, measured voice.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Magnus drifted off into a restless sleep. His dreams were filled with visions of the ocean, its surface churning with unseen forces, and the man in the dark coat, watching him from the shadows.