Tempest Bound: The Fisherman's Lure

Chapter 5:Uncharted Waters

Early early sunlight tenderly painted the sky in exquisite pink and gold, thereby highlighting the Horizon's Call. But the tranquilly of the dawn did not help to ease the pain that had crept into Seraphine's chest. Perched on the ship's rail, she stared out over the apparently calm surface of the great sea. The deeper seas lay treasures as old as the earth itself, ahead broad and uncharted. She inhaled deliberately, felt the faint pulse of the mark on her ankle—a reminder of her duty, her bond to the water, and the legacy she had inadvertently inherited.

Beside her Rowan slept with his tail coiled under him, his scales catching the dawn light in a shimmer nearly ethereal. Though he couldn't stand, his weight near her was as solid and rooted as any anchor. His voice was austere; his usual lightheartedness replaced by a weight that echoed hers.

Having gathered provisions and studied over charts showing simply empty, uncharted waters, they had prepared as best they could have. The crew had been briefed; their expressions revealed a mix of fear and respect for the journey ahead. Still, Seraphine couldn't get rid of the feeling she was marching into the future without any real idea of what lay ahead despite all their planning.

Old Man Harlow headed toward them, his expression less than usual. Usually laughing or mischievous, his lined face showed the knowledge of a thousand storms; today his eyes simply bore caution. He looked long and searchingly and gave Seraphine his broken, harsh voice.

"You're about to enter waters no mortal was meant to cross," he remarked, his voice low and sorrowful. "The Coral Crown lives in an area protected for millennia by species older than any narrative can account for. Before you challenged was simply taste. There are far darker things hiding those depths.

Looking at him, Seraphine felt a chill crawling up her spine. She had realized, in some sense, that this route would be dangerous, but hearing from Harlow felt more actual, more present. Her voice hardly above a whisper, she asked, "What kind of things?"

Harlow's eyes went far-off, his thoughts evidently wandering to memories he would much sooner leave buried. "Sea witches, lass," he replied, his eyes looking sad. "Strong individuals who naturally carry the ocean's force next to your or I breathes. Long ago, they fought with each other, each one longing the might of the Coral Crown. Some say they are still down there, their spirits imprisoned to the depths by curses past even time itself.

As Seraphine tried to visualize these ancient, strong witches—creatures who had once been mortal but had evolved something else completely, something linked to the darker currents of the ocean—a chill raced through her.

"And then there are the siren queens," Harlow remarked, his voice still sinking much lower. "Rulers of their kind, each one defending secrets more ancient than the oceans themselves. They fought war over the Crown once; if they realized you were looking for it, well, let's just say they would not enjoy the intrusion.

Turning to face Rowan, Seraphine saw in his eyes the same concern she felt. She had heard tales about sirens and their deadly tunes, even if queens—leaders with their own kingdoms—each one more powerful than the next—were a concept she found difficult.

Rowan gently laid a hand on her shoulder; his touch was solid and consoling. "We will have to exercise caution," he said consistently. "Traveling down this road grows more dangerous the deeper we go. The people who protect the Crown are dedicated to do so using all available means. Should they ever have doubts about our intentions...

Seraphine nodded, weight of his words covering her like a thick shawl. But even with the worry biting at her core, she felt a great will developing inside her. Her father had sought this route before hers, had faced similar threats, and although he had not survived, she sensed his spirit with her now, a continual presence pulling her ahead.

Harlow corrected him; a flash of respect softened his cheeks. You have lass, yer father's spirit, he murmured. Still, remember the Crown will test Ye. It will make you question everything, even the things you most treasure. Those who try to dominate the water are not forgiven by it.

Seraphine kept a steady look and unbroken will even though she gasped forcefully. She would have to meet whatever was ahead independent of the costs.

Getting the ship ready for the long journey into uncharted waters and securing supplies, the crew worked tirelessly. Every squeak of the deck and every breeze seemed to have a silent warning, a reminder of the risks they would soon face.

As they moved farther from recognized shores, the sea shifted. The water deepened, almost black in the depths, and the waves developed an odd restless quality as though something under them watched, waited. The air thickened and smelled like salted tang, a taste of the old powers slinking under their skin.

Rowan stayed close to Seraphine, his tail hanging over the deck, his nervous focus fixed far out. She could sense the flickering pain in his eyes and strain in his jaw. He was not free from the anxiety these waters stirred, even with all his security and might.

"Harlow was right, you know," he remarked, breaking quiet. "From anywhere else, these seas are special. Strong stuff exists here that does not want us here.

Seraphine nodded; his words sank down over her. She had felt it too, a careful eye just out of sight following their every movement. Aware of their path and ready to test them wherever, the ocean itself appeared alive.

As the sun sank below the horizon and created long shadows across the ship, Old Man Harlow called the sailors one more warning. His face was chiseled with anxiety; his eyes dark and somber.

"Listen well, all of you," he said, his voice ringing above the crew whispering. "Once we start into these oceans, there won't be turning back. Protectors of the Crown are relentless and antagonistic to visitors who violate policies. Talk at this point if any of you have questions right now.

The crew threw tense glances at one another while none of anyone stepped forward. Driven by commitment to see this expedition through to the end and loyalty, they were committed.

Seraphine studied Harlow, her will clear-cut. We're ready.

Harlow nodded slowly, a little reverence shining in his eyes. Then could the sea show Ye mercies.

Nightfall gave the sea a strange silence. The ship replaced the usual noises of waves and wind with a horrible calm like a dense fog. Her heart hammering in her chest, Seraphine stood on the edge of the deck peering down the black horizon.

Then a feeble and spooky song began to waft across the space. First faint, almost whisper-like, it grew stronger, drawing her toward the edge of the ship like a silken thread. The music was wonderful, magical, a sound that seemed to speak directly to her soul. Promising warmth, comfort, and answers to questions she hadn't ventured to ask.

Her senses subdued to everything else, her ideas fogged by the song, she moved automatically toward the brink. She believed she was weightless, flying, drawn to the source of the melody with an unspoken longing.

But as she neared the brink, a hand grasped her shoulder and fast drew her back. Rowan's words cut into the mist with keen tone. "Serape!" Ignorance about it won't help either.

She blinked, the magic broken, and the fog lifted out of her head. Her pulse thumping, she raised her head toward Rowan to find the horror in his eyes.

His voice low, he said, "It's the sirens' song." "The first trial of our travel. Following it will help you to disappear from their view.

Hard swallowing, Seraphine's pulse picked with speed as knowledge hit her. They had only begun, yet already the ocean was testing them, luring them with deadly beauty.

As they traveled deeper, the terrible melody grew louder. Through the darkness they began to discern forms—small boats, aimlessly drifting filled with other sailors who had fallen asleep to the song. Their dead, blank eyes and pale, sunken cheeks forewarned anybody who answered the sirens of what was to come.

Seraphine squeezed Rowan's hand, her determination hardening. She refused to let the music define her. They would face the obstacles ahead side by side.