On the third day of their voyage, the weather turned. What had been clear skies and favorable winds suddenly gave way to a dead calm. The sea became a mirror, reflecting the cloudless sky so perfectly that the horizon disappeared, creating the unsettling illusion of sailing through endless blue.
The boat drifted, motionless without wind to fill its sails.
"This isn't natural," Professor Nyala said, scanning the empty horizon. "We're being watched."
Saguna felt it too; the prickling awareness of eyes upon them. The jasper stone he'd charged the previous day grew warm against his chest where he kept it in a small pouch. He pulled it out, finding it glowing faintly with a warning pulse.
"Something's coming," he agreed. "But not from any direction I can point to."
Radji, ever methodical, had been checking their position against the stars each night. "We're approximately six hours from Teluk Jati," he reported. "Assuming we could maintain our previous speed."
"Which we can't without wind," Osa pointed out, trailing his fingers in the unnaturally still water. He frowned. "The water feels wrong. Like it's listening."
Professor Nyala's expression darkened. "Form the triangle," she ordered without explanation. "Now."
They had practiced the formation dozens of times over the past two days. Without question, they moved into position—Saguna at the bow, Radji to starboard, Osa to port. Each drew forth their element, creating a triangle of power that connected between them.
The fire came easily to Saguna now, flowing from his core to his hands without resistance. He shaped it into a protective sphere that hovered before him, casting its light across the glassy water. The three marks on his neck burned, one line of the triangle now permanently illuminated since their advancement to the first tier.
"What exactly are we facing, Professor?" he called.
Before she could answer, the water twenty yards from their starboard side began to bubble. Not with heat, but with cold—frost forming on the surface despite the warm day. Something was rising from below.
"This is not a Soul Drainer," Professor Nyala said, her voice tight. "This is someone who once walked the Academy halls. A Speaker who turned from our ways." She raised her voice, addressing the disturbance directly. "Show yourself, Marius. I know your signature well enough."
The bubbling intensified, then stopped abruptly. The surface tension broke as a figure rose from the depths, not emerging with a splash, but gliding upward as if ascending stairs. A tall, gaunt man stood upon the water's surface, his feet not breaking the mirror-like plane. His skin had an unnatural gray cast, his lips stained black as ink. He wore robes that might once have been the purple of Academy faculty, now faded to a sickly lavender and tattered at the edges.
"Professor Nyala," the man said, his voice carrying a strange echo, as if speaking through stone. "Still collecting children to sacrifice to your precious Veil?"
"They came of their own choice, Marius," she replied evenly. "As did you, once."
"My name," the man said, each word leaving a visible ripple across the water's surface, "is Marius Gall now. The Bitter Tongue. A title I earned through... discipline." His black lips curved in what might have been a smile. "Something you failed to teach me."
Saguna felt a chill that had nothing to do with the unnatural cold emanating from the stranger. There was a wrongness to this man, a corruption that went beyond his appearance. The marks on his neck flared in warning.
"What do you want?" Professor Nyala demanded, though her tone suggested she already knew.
"The Triumvirate, of course." Marius's gaze shifted, examining each of them in turn. When his eyes met Saguna's, the whispers in his mind grew suddenly louder, more distressed. "So it's true. The Walker's blood runs in this one."
Saguna instinctively intensified his fire, preparing to defend himself. Marius merely laughed.
"Oh, I'm not here for you, fire-child. Not yet." His gaze shifted to Osa. "I'm here for the Speaker. The water-marked. The one whose potential I recognise so... intimately."
Osa's water shield rippled with his discomfort. "Sorry, not interested in whatever creepy offer you're about to make."
"Not an offer," Marius said, raising one gray hand. "A demonstration."
He spoke a single word—not in any language Saguna recognized, but something older, heavier. The sound seemed to distort the air around it, leaving a visible ripple.
As he spoke, the water around him seemed to darken, and Saguna could have sworn he saw faces—desperate, pleading faces—rippling just beneath the surface, watching them with hollow eyes.