Chapter 28: The Roar Beneath the Waves
The warm pulse of Aqualorn's coral walls gently awakened the trio from their slumber. Ripples of bioluminescent light shifted across the domed ceiling, mimicking dawn in a place untouched by the sun. For a moment, all was calm. But the weight of purpose returned swiftly.
Valen rose first, adjusting the clasps on his armor, polished to a gleam by the sea's magic overnight. Marcus stretched and scanned the room warily, his eyes always looking for threats—even here. Alexander sat silently for a moment, then looked to his palm again, where faint traces of Poseidon's mark still shimmered.
After a quick meal of strange, jelly-like fruits and energizing saltbread, they returned to the Elder Hall. The council awaited, already in discussion. Elder Neressa stood with a large conch shell in her hands, which unfurled to reveal several items—each humming with ancient enchantments.
"We offer you these," she announced, "as gifts of Aqualorn. May they aid you in surviving what lies ahead."
To Valen, she presented a long, double-edged blade of aquasteel, its core forged from deep-sea crystal. The weapon hummed with resonance, a whisper of water magic wrapped around every strike.
To Marcus, a set of reinforced ocean-hide armor layered with kelp threads that pulsed with protective magic. A belt of throwing daggers, shaped like manta fins, completed his gear.
To Alexander, they gave a trident—not the size of a full weapon, but more a focus rod. It shimmered with divine markings only he could read. It pulsed as if it recognized him.
"And finally," Neressa continued, "our guide."
Larren Rohn stepped forward, armored now in full battle regalia—a sleek, scaled cuirass, greaves woven with coral veins, and a cloak that trailed water vapor behind him. A curved blade rested at his hip, and an aquatic spear strapped across his back.
"I will go with them," he said firmly.
There were murmurs among the elders.
"You're the clan heir—"
"That is why I must go," Larren interrupted. "If our world is changing, I must understand it. And if these surface warriors are part of that change, I must see them for what they truly are."
Neressa paused, then nodded.
"So be it. May the tide favor you."
The journey to the cave took hours. They rode on the backs of tidebeasts—massive sea creatures with the power to swim beneath the desert's floating sands. As they broke through the surface near the entrance, wind whipped across their faces. The cave loomed like a wound in the world.
Its mouth was wide, jagged with obsidian and seastone. The air stank of sulfur.
They descended.
The cavern pulsed with strange heat, as though it were alive. The walls glistened, wet with condensation, but beneath that sheen—scorch marks.
"This place wasn't carved by water," Marcus said, eyes narrowing. "It was burned."
They moved cautiously, the echo of their footsteps swallowed by thick air. After an hour of descent, they entered a vast chamber lit only by the faint glow of magma veins across the rock floor.
Then they heard it.
A growl. Low. Rumbling.
Then—a roar.
From the shadows emerged a massive beast—canine in form, but grotesquely large. Its fur burned like embers. Its jaws dripped lava. Its eyes were pits of molten gold.
"A Hellhound," Larren whispered, stepping back. "A true one. Not a summoned shade. This one's real. Ancient."
The beast snarled, and without warning, lunged.
The battle began in chaos.
Valen was the first to meet its charge, crossing blades with its flaming fangs. Sparks flew as the beast's jaw clamped down on his sword, nearly snapping it in two. He kicked off its head and backflipped away.
Marcus darted in from the flank, daggers flashing. He aimed for the joints, slicing at the beast's legs. But its hide was too thick—it barely flinched.
Alexander raised his trident. Water surged from the air itself, forming a barrier just as the Hellhound exhaled a burst of flame. Steam exploded across the chamber.
Larren leapt over them all, spinning his aquatic spear and bringing it down on the hound's back. It roared, bucking him off like a wild beast.
"We can't kill it like this!" Marcus shouted, ducking under a swipe.
"Then weaken it!" Valen replied. "Force it into a corner!"
They attacked in turns. Alexander kept the fire at bay with his divine waters. Marcus cut through the smoke and shadows. Larren struck like a serpent, dancing between flames.
Valen bore the brunt of its wrath—blow for blow, parry for parry, even as his armor singed and his arms ached.
The Hellhound adapted.
It leapt to the walls, bounding like a wolf. It summoned a ring of fire, encircling them. The heat was unbearable.
Valen coughed. His vision blurred.
Marcus was limping now.
Alexander was pale, sweat dripping as he forced water to fight fire.
Larren bled from a gash across his side, yet still stood tall.
The beast was wounded—but it was enraged.
It reared back, eyes glowing like suns, and leapt.
In that moment—something broke.
Valen screamed, unleashing a war cry that echoed with divine power. He dashed forward, blade glowing red with Ares' blessing.
Marcus spun into the air, hurling every dagger he had left—each infused with the light of the Celestial Blade's truth.
Alexander knelt, slamming the trident into the ground.
Water erupted—pure, divine, cold as the deepest sea. It wrapped around the Hellhound mid-leap, chaining it.
Larren took the final move.
He hurled his spear straight through the beast's chest.
A final howl shook the cavern.
Then—silence.
The Hellhound crashed into the stone, flames dying out.
Smoke rose.
They didn't cheer.
They could barely stand.
Valen fell to a knee.
Marcus collapsed beside him.
Alexander leaned on his trident.
Larren simply sat, staring at the scorched ground.
The beast was defeated.
But something about its presence still lingered.
And they all knew—this was only the beginning.
End of Chapter 28.