The dawn light was a brittle pale when the River Wren weighed anchor and slipped back into the churning estuary. High above, gulls wheeled against slate skies, their cries lost in the roar of the tide. Lena stood at the bow, the Loom orb's gentle pulse at her hip a steady comfort amid the ship's pitching.
Behind her, Captain Vess shouted orders to her crew, maneuvering the barge toward the open sea that stretched beyond Crescent Hollow's sheltered waters. Aiden joined Lena, hands tucked into his coat pockets against the chill. He glanced at the orb's case. "The circumstances ahead will stretch this case's wards to their limits," he murmured.
Lena nodded. "We built it to withstand storms and shadow. The real test comes when we reach the Spire."
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1. The Silverfang's Ghosts
By mid-morning they left the estuary for the Sapphire Gulf, its waters turning deep cerulean under fleeting sun. Rowan and Caldwell poured over nautical charts below deck. "These currents run strange near the Sable Spire," Rowan observed, tracing a jagged line with his fingertip. "There—an underwater ridge. We'll have to skirt it to avoid shoals."
Caldwell peered over his shoulder. "It's also where the old legends say spirits of drowned sailors linger. They could react to the Loom's beacon."
Lena pressed a palm to her satchel and closed her eyes, summoning the orb's calm clarity. Guide us safely, she whispered.
Above, Kaeda and Morrigan scanned horizons from the masthead. Their ward-lights glowed faintly on the rigging, protective lanterns against any unseen threats.
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2. Tempest in the Gulf
Afternoon clouds roiled suddenly into storm-black columns. The breeze stiffened into gusts that tugged at the sails. A tremor of panic rippled through the River Wren's crew as waves rose, hissing against the hull.
"Barrel into it!" Captain Vess bellowed, helm wheeling.
The barge plunged, decks plunging into the crests, spray stinging Lena's face. She gripped the rail, teeth clattering. Below deck, Maya's tracking sigil glowed, marking no intruders—but Lena felt ghostly presences brushing past like cold hands.
"Spirits," Kaeda called down. "They're drawn to the orb's light!"
Morrigan swooped from the mast, wings scattering saltwater. "I'll scatter them!" She drew a deep breath and released a volley of ward-runes, each burst of raven-black magic dissolving wraith-shapes that swirled above the deck.
Lena drew her own rune in the air, weaving threads of compassion that soothed the spirits into harmless motes. The storm raged on, but the presences faded.
Aiden joined her on deck, wrapping her in his coat. "You saved us again," he said, voice a soft harbor.
She exhaled, leaning into him. "The orb's light guides—and attracts. We'll need to navigate carefully."
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3. Beacon on the Horizon
By late afternoon, the storm spent itself. The water calmed to a simmer, and the sky cracked open in bruised purples. On the horizon, the Sable Spire rose like a jagged tooth against the dying light—an impossibly tall black tower crowned by fractured battlements.
Lena's breath caught. The spire's stone walls seemed slick with moss and tide, windows yawning dark as empty eyes.
"Gods," Rowan muttered. "It's more foreboding than the maps suggested."
Caldwell closed his journal. "Anchorage lies just beyond that point. We'll ride out the night and land at dawn."
Kaeda tapped her staff. "No one sleeps. Watch your posts."
Lena clasped her sketchbook. "I'll keep the orb ready."
Aiden slipped an arm around her waist. "Rest when you can."
As the River Wren drifted toward the shadow of the spire, Lena's gaze fixed on its apex. Somewhere within those walls lay the final corruption she had to face—and the heart of the Veil-breaker's domain.
Her heart thrummed in tandem with the orb's pulse, each beat a vow: she would not falter. Together, they would weave a new dawn for two worlds—no matter how dark the night ahead.