The Sea of Whispers stretched out like a sheet of polished obsidian, its surface unnaturally still, reflecting a sky heavy with clouds that churned in shades of slate and bruise-purple. The air was damp, thick with the briny stench of saltwater and something fouler, like fish left to rot under a pier. Waves lapped lazily against the hull of their stolen skiff, a creaky, barnacle-crusted thing they'd "borrowed" from a fishing village after bribing the locals with their last coins. The boat rocked gently, its timbers groaning as if complaining about the weight of its passengers and their impossible quest. Gulls circled overhead, their cries sharp and mocking, cutting through the eerie quiet that gave the sea its name—a silence broken only by whispers that seemed to rise from the water itself, words too faint to catch but heavy with menace.
Kaelith Varn sat at the bow, her knees pulled up, her tattered cloak draped over her shoulders like a funeral shroud. The shard at her belt pulsed weakly, its glow dimmed to a sickly yellow, like a candle about to gutter out. Her dark hair hung in clumps, matted with salt and sweat, sticking to her gaunt cheeks. Her gray eyes, bloodshot and hollow, stared at the horizon, searching for the anchor the scroll had promised. Her hands shook as she clutched the parchment, its map now a faint shimmer pointing to a reef somewhere in this endless black. The heart's power was a fire in her chest, burning her up, leaving her dizzy and weak. Every breath hurt, and her nose still bled gold sometimes, a reminder of how close she was to breaking.
Torren Ashkarn sprawled across a bench, his big frame taking up too much space in the cramped skiff. His tunic was a ruin, patched with scraps and stained with blood that wouldn't wash out. Bandages wrapped his chest and arms, fresh red seeping through where the Frostspire's spawn had clawed him. His scarred hands gripped the oars, rowing with grim determination, though his face was gray, his dark eyes clouded with pain. Riftweaving had left him a wreck, each spell carving out a piece of him, and he moved slower now, like a man twice his age. Still, he kept going, stubborn as ever, his jaw set against the whispers that crawled under his skin.
Sylvara Ren perched near the stern, her auburn braid tucked under a scarf she'd scavenged from the village. Her green eyes darted to the water, wide with worry, catching every ripple as if it might hide a monster. She'd lost her satchel, her herbs, everything but a dagger now strapped to her thigh, its blade chipped but sharp. Her jacket was too big, stolen from a fisherman's shack, and it swallowed her slight frame, making her look younger, frailer. Her hands fidgeted, twisting a loose thread, missing the plants she used to heal them all. The Hollow's death still weighed on her, a grief she carried quietly, her lips pressed tight to keep from crying.
Rhydian Thalor leaned against the mast, one boot propped on a crate, his weathered coat flapping in the breeze. His blue eyes glinted, sharp and restless, scanning the sea like he could spot trouble before it spotted them. His dagger spun in his hand, a nervous tic, catching the faint light. The Weaver tablet was stuffed inside his shirt, its edges digging into his ribs, a constant reminder of his Riftborn blood and the secrets he hadn't shared. His face was leaner now, cheekbones sharp under stubble, and his smirk didn't reach his eyes anymore, replaced by a tension that kept his shoulders tight.
They'd fought their way here through blood and loss. Kaelith's exile from the Crystal Veil, chasing the Codex's heart to save the Tapestry, had pulled her through ruins and rifts. Torren's desertion from the Emberfall Dominion, running from the lives he'd burned, had landed him in the Waste, then the Isles, now this haunted sea. Sylvara's mission from the Verdant Hollow, meant to save her dying forest, had turned her into a warrior, her hands stained with more than dirt. Rhydian, dodging his cursed blood in the Sunken Isles, had tied his fate to theirs, his tablet a mirror to Kaelith's shard. The Weaver's Voice hunted them still, its promises of freedom through ruin louder now, its shadow stretching from the Frostspire's vault to these whispering waves.
"Anyone else hear that?" Sylvara asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned over the edge, peering into the water, her scarf slipping. "It's like… voices. Not loud, but they're there."
Torren stopped rowing, the oars dripping. He tilted his head, frowning. "Yeah. Like someone's muttering under the boat. Gives me the creeps."
Kaelith unfolded the scroll, her fingers clumsy, smudging blood on the parchment. "It's the sea," she said, her voice rough, like she'd swallowed gravel. "The map says the anchor's near a reef—something called the Drowned Spire. These whispers… they're part of it."
Rhydian's dagger paused mid-spin, his eyes narrowing. "Great. A haunted reef. Just what we needed. You sure that scroll's not sending us to our graves, Varn?"
Kaelith shot him a look, her lips thin. "If I wasn't sure, I'd be back in Vaeloria drinking myself stupid. It's all we've got, Thalor. Unless you've got a better idea."
He shrugged, resuming his spin. "Nope. Just saying, every time we follow that thing, we end up bleeding. I'm running out of places to bleed from."
Torren snorted, a weak laugh. "Speak for yourself. I'm half-dead already. Riftweaving's gonna finish me before we find this anchor."
Sylvara reached over, squeezing his arm, her voice soft. "Don't say that, Torren. You're tougher than all of us. We need you."
He looked at her, his eyes softening, but he shook his head. "Need someone who can stand, Ren. I'm not sure that's me much longer."
"Enough," Kaelith snapped, folding the scroll. "We're not giving up. The anchor's close—I can feel it. Keep rowing."
Torren grumbled but pulled the oars, the skiff gliding forward. The whispers grew louder, a chorus of murmurs weaving together—names, pleas, curses—none clear enough to understand, all heavy enough to make their skin crawl.
Sylvara shivered, pulling her jacket tighter. "I don't like this. It's like the Hollow, before it died. Like the forest was trying to warn me."
Rhydian glanced at her, his smirk gone. "You're not wrong. This sea's alive, and it's not happy we're here. Keep that dagger ready."
She nodded, her hand brushing the blade, her fingers cold. "I'm not helpless, you know. I've killed spawn before."
"Never said you were," Rhydian replied, his voice quieter. "Just don't want you getting hurt. We've lost enough."
The skiff jolted, wood screeching as something scraped the hull. Kaelith stood, the shard flaring, casting shadows on the water. "What was that?"
Torren froze, oars up. "Something big. Under us."
Before anyone could move, the sea exploded. A rift tore open, its violet light blinding, its hum a scream that shook their bones. Spawn surged from the water—creatures of coral and shadow, their bodies spiked with bone, eyes glowing like oil slicks. One slammed the skiff, cracking the hull, water pouring in.
"Hold on!" Kaelith yelled, weaving a barrier, the shard's light flickering. A spawn's claw smashed it, and she staggered, blood dripping from her nose.
Torren swung his sword, riftweaving blazing crimson. He cleaved a spawn's head, its body dissolving, but another grabbed his leg, yanking him toward the water. "Get off!" he roared, flames bursting, searing it. He fell back, gasping, blood soaking his bandages.
Sylvara slashed with her dagger, aiming for a spawn's eyes. It screeched, lunging, but she ducked, scrambling to Torren. "Stay down!" she shouted, stabbing another that got too close. Her arm bled, her jacket torn, but she kept swinging.
Rhydian leaped to the mast, warping the air to crush a spawn, its bones snapping. Blood streamed from his ears, his face pale. "Varn, close it!" he barked, dodging a claw that splintered the crate.
Kaelith's barrier collapsed, her knees buckling. "It's fighting me!" she gasped, the shard burning her hand. The Tapestry's threads were a storm, twisting away, and her vision blurred, gold ichor staining her lips.
The Weaver's Voice rose from the rift, its shadow spreading like ink. "You seek the anchor," it hissed, a chorus of despair, "but you are the flaw. Break, and be free."
"Shut your mouth!" Torren bellowed, staggering up. He swung at the Voice, flames roaring, but it flickered, untouched, and slammed him down, blood spraying.
Sylvara screamed, diving for him, her dagger slashing a spawn to keep it off. "Torren, don't you dare die!" she sobbed, dragging him back, her hands slick with his blood.
Rhydian grabbed Kaelith, steadying her. "You've got this!" he yelled, his powers flaring, a weak shield holding the spawn back. "Do it!"
Kaelith gritted her teeth, the shard blinding. She wove, threads snapping into place, the rift shrinking. Sylvara stabbed another spawn, giving her space, her breath ragged.
The rift closed with a crack, the Voice's laughter fading: "You only tighten the noose."
The spawn dissolved, the skiff half-sunk, water sloshing at their knees. Kaelith slumped, the shard dark, her body trembling. Sylvara checked Torren's pulse, tears falling as he groaned, alive. "You're okay," she whispered, bandaging him with her scarf.
Rhydian kicked a broken plank, his voice raw. "That was too damn close. We're drowning out here."
Kaelith pointed to a reef ahead, its coral glowing gold. "There," she rasped. "The Drowned Spire."
They rowed, the skiff leaking, until they reached the reef. It was a maze of coral and stone, jagged spires rising from the water, runes carved into their surfaces, pulsing like the shard. At its heart was a platform, a crystal pillar glowing with the anchor's light—golden, threaded with Tapestry strands.
"It's like the Frostspire," Sylvara said, her voice awed, helping Torren sit. "But… alive."
Torren coughed, blood on his lips. "Alive or not, it's trouble. Feel that hum?"
Rhydian climbed the platform, his dagger ready. "Another anchor. Another fight. My tablet's buzzing—says this one's tied to the sea's roots."
Kaelith touched the pillar, visions flooding her—Weavers sinking anchors into the deep, their blood mixing with the waves, binding the Tapestry. "It's holding the weave," she said, her voice shaking. "But it's fraying. We can strengthen it—or cut it."
Sylvara's eyes widened. "Cut it? And then what? The sea swallows us?"
Torren grunted, leaning on her. "Might be better than this. I'm tired, Ren. Tired of bleeding."
Rhydian's voice was grim. "Cut or mend, we're running out of time. That Voice—it's not done."
A rumble shook the reef, water surging. The Voice returned, its shadow rising from the waves. "You cannot hold the weave," it crooned. "The anchors break, and so do you."
Kaelith faced it, her shard flaring. "We're not breaking yet!" She wove, the pillar's light merging with hers, threads surging.
Torren stood, swaying, flames sparking. "Back her up!" he shouted, slashing a spawn that leaped from the water.
Sylvara stabbed another, her arm shaking. "Kaelith, faster!" she yelled, dodging claws.
Rhydian crushed a spawn, blood pouring from his nose. "Finish it!"
Kaelith channeled the pillar, the heart's fire roaring. The threads aligned, the anchor stabilizing, but the Voice struck, its shadow shattering her weave. She fell, screaming, gold ichor pooling.
Sylvara tackled a spawn, saving Torren. "Get up!" she cried, her voice raw.
Rhydian grabbed Kaelith, his eyes fierce. "One more!"
Kaelith wove, the pillar blinding, the anchor's light flooding the reef. The rift closed, the Voice gone, its whisper fading: "You are the end."
They collapsed, the skiff sinking, the reef their only ground. Kaelith clutched the scroll, its map shifting—to the Ashen Veil, a desert beyond the sea. "Another anchor," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Sylvara bandaged Torren, her hands steady despite tears. "We're still fighting," she said, fierce.
Rhydian wiped his dagger, his voice low. "Barely. But yeah, we're not dead yet."
Kaelith stood, swaying, her eyes hard. "The Veil's next. We keep going."
They clung to the reef, the sea whispering, the anchor's light fading. The Tapestry held, but their strength was a fraying thread, and the Voice waited.