Kale sat on his makeshift leaf bed, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. It wasn't much—just layers of dried leaves bundled together beneath him—but it felt better than sleeping on dirt or cold wood. The upgraded shack held up well through the night. The vines he wove into the structure kept most of the cold air out, and the thick layers of leaves packed between the wooden beams trapped warmth inside. He hadn't woken up shivering even once. That alone felt like a small miracle.
But Kale wasn't one to rest for long. Morning light filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting soft golden lines across the floor. His mind was already racing—not about food or warmth this time, but about something he had overheard weeks ago while lurking near a group of mercenaries sharing stories by a fire.
The youngest one had leaned in close, eyes wide with excitement. "Hey, hey dude," he said, voice low and full of wonder, "I heard some seekers talkin' 'bout the Ocean havin' layers."
Another scoffed, tossing a twig into the flames. "Layers? Like what, some kinda cake?"
"Nah, seriously," the third mercenary cut in, older, quieter, voice rough like wind through dead trees. "They say there's three main parts to it. First is the Shallows. Basic stuff. Huntin', survival, findin' water—y'know, things any decent seeker can do."
The younger one blinked, clearly impressed. "So that's where they start?"
"Yep," the old man replied, nodding slowly. "That's where most stay. But then… there's the Deep Currents. That's where the real power is. Magic, artifacts, potions that can turn a man into a beast or summon storms with a word. Some say that's where humans learned fire. Where cities rose. And fell."
A silence followed, broken only by the crackle of firewood.
"What about the third layer?" the young one finally asked.
The older man smirked, shaking his head. "You don't wanna know, kid. They call it the Ancient Waters. Ain't no secret vault or hidden treasure. Just… too dangerous. Most who go down there don't come back right—if they come back at all."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Some vanish. Some return speakin' tongues no one understands. Others? You look at 'em and feel like somethin's off. Not quite human anymore."
The young one swallowed hard. "So why would anyone go there?"
The older man gave a dry laugh. "Some are stupid. Some are desperate. And some… think they're gods."
•---•
Kale remembered their words now, replaying them like an old song stuck in his head. At the time, he thought nothing of it—just drunken tales passed around a fire. But now?
Now he couldn't stop thinking about it.
Could he really dive deeper into the Ocean? Could he reach the Deep Currents—where humanity first grasped magic and built wonders beyond imagination?
He closed his eyes, steadying his breath. He reached inward, toward the familiar pull. Inhale. Exhale. A gentle tug—and then, like a wave washing over him, the world around his shack faded.
In its place came the Ocean.
Golden streams stretched endlessly before him, their liquid glow rippling with quiet energy. Threads of insight danced in the air, swirling like fireflies in twilight. Swirls of golden dust floated lazily, forming fleeting patterns that dissolved just as quickly as they appeared. This was the Shallows, the layer he had always known.
But today, he didn't want to stay here.
Focusing harder than ever before, he let himself be pulled downward.
The shift was subtle at first, like sinking into still water. The golden light dimmed slightly, the threads tightening, coiling closer around him. The Ocean responded to his intent, guiding him gently past the familiar, into something far older.
This was the Deep Currents.
Knowledge here felt different. Richer. More dangerous. He could feel it pressing against his thoughts, whispering in languages he didn't fully understand. Here, the air itself seemed heavier, charged with something far beyond mere survival.
Visions flickered before him—fragments of understanding not meant for beggars in the woods. He saw ancient hands shaping tools from stone, conjuring flames from empty palms, forging weapons that never dulled. He saw cities rising from dust, their foundations built upon knowledge drawn from these depths.
Then, movement caught his eye.
From the vast expanse above, something massive drifted through the currents—a creature unlike anything in the Shallows. Its form was elegant, almost majestic, shaped like a whale but glowing with the same radiant light as the Ocean itself. Golden threads wrapped around its body like rivers of thought, pulsing with intelligence and purpose. As it swam through the currents, smaller shapes followed it—glowing fish, spiraling birds made of ink and gold, creatures born from knowledge too ancient to name.
Kale stared in awe. These weren't just animals. They were projections—living embodiments of wisdom so deep it had taken physical form.
And then came the whispers.
Not voices. Not words. Just presence. A feeling of being watched—not by danger, but by understanding. As if the Ocean itself knew he was here, stepping into a realm few could reach without years of training.
Hadn't those mercenaries said Seekers needed intense focus to enter this place? Chants. Meditation. Hours of effort?
Yet for Kale, it had been simple. Almost natural.
Wasn't he supposed to struggle? Wasn't he supposed to fight to reach this place?
Instead, he had slipped into the Deep Currents like stepping from one room to the next.
His heart pounded, not from fear, but from something else entirely—wonder. Doubt. Maybe even dread.
He turned his gaze upward again, watching another luminous whale drift silently through the sky of the Ocean, trailing golden dust behind it like falling stars. Below, strange shapes moved through the waves—some resembling deer with antlers made of pure knowledge, others like wolves woven from forgotten truths. There were even ruins half-submerged in the currents, their inscriptions pulsing faintly, offering glimpses of civilizations lost to time.
Kale swallowed hard. This was the layer that changed the world.
And yet… it felt easy.
Wasn't reaching the Deep Currents supposed to take effort? Wasn't it something only trained Seekers could access after years of meditation and study? He hadn't chanted, hadn't entered a trance, hadn't even tried very hard. One moment he was in the Shallows, the next—he was here.
Why did it feel so natural?
Kale reached out instinctively, brushing a thread with his fingers. Another vision surged into his mind—Seekers kneeling in temples, eyes closed, breathing in unison, repeating chants passed down for generations. Sweat dripped from their brows. Some collapsed afterward. Others bled from their noses.
It took effort.
Then why was it so effortless for him?
He pulled himself out of the Ocean, blinking rapidly as reality snapped back into focus. The dim light of his shack replaced the golden glow, and the scent of damp wood filled his lungs instead of the crisp, weightless air of the Deep Currents.
Kale sat in silence for a long moment, staring at his hands.
If the Deep Currents held the secrets to magic like fire, then he needed to learn it. Fire had lifted humanity from the ice age. Fire had given warmth, light, protection.
And now, Kale intended to claim it for himself.