Wind screamed across the deck. Rain hammered sideways. The sail, what was left of it, flapped uselessly above them. They were no longer moving forward—just twisting, tossed from one wave to the next like driftwood waiting to sink.
Kaelen was still clutching the rail, soaked to the bone. Rauel had braced himself against the mast, one hand bleeding where he'd scraped it during the last hit. His expression was fixed—not panicked, not angry, just locked in grim understanding.
This was it.
Elias looked to the mainland—so close he could see the line where rough sea turned smooth again, where the storm hadn't yet reached. A narrow gap. A place they'd never reach like this.
He looked at Kaelen.
Her knuckles were white on the wood. Her face was pale, lips pressed tight, jaw set. Not giving up. Not asking for help. Just holding on.
And something inside him—raw and burning and not yet named—refused to let her die here.
He stood.
The boat pitched. Kaelen shouted his name, but he stayed up, feet wide, hand on the side rail.
He didn't speak.
He didn't think.
He just reached—outward, downward, like his own weight extended into the water. Like the sea was part of him. Or maybe he was part of it.
The water answered.
It rose beneath the hull—not a wave, not a surge, but a force. A push. Like something below them had taken hold and shoved.
The boat shot forward.
Rauel hit the deck hard, cursing as the mast whipped overhead. Kaelen held on with both arms. Elias didn't move.
They burst from the wall of rain like something thrown through glass. The storm didn't end—they left it behind.
The sky brightened. The wind died in seconds. Water smoothed into rolling hills instead of jagged cliffs.
The boat slammed into the shore with a grinding thud, skidding through wet sand before tipping hard to one side. Wood groaned. Something cracked deep inside the hull.
Then everything stopped.
Elias hit the deck on the second bounce.
His shoulder slammed into the railing, and for a few seconds, all he could hear was the blood in his ears and the wet, creaking groan of the hull settling unevenly in the sand.
Kaelen coughed hard behind him.
Rauel swore under his breath and pushed himself up with a wince. "Everyone in one piece?"
Elias nodded, still catching his breath. "Think so."
Kaelen sat upright against the inner wall of the boat, pulling her braid over her shoulder to squeeze out the seawater. She looked dazed, but alert.
They were tilted—hard. One side of the boat had half-buried itself in the sand, the other lifted slightly in the air. The rudder was gone. The sail was shredded. One of the crates had split open, and salted fish spilled across the deck, slick and glinting in the post-storm light.
No one moved for a while.
The silence hit harder than the wind had. No crashing waves. No screaming air. Just the distant cry of gulls and the slow lap of calmer water behind them.
Rauel stood with a groan and checked the edge of the hull. "We're not sailing this anywhere again."
Kaelen pulled herself to her feet and stepped over a tangle of rope. "But we made it."
"Barely." Rauel gave Elias a look. "Not gonna ask what that was. Not yet, anyway."
Elias didn't answer. He didn't know how to explain it even if he wanted to.
He stepped off the boat and dropped into the wet sand with a heavy thud. His legs shook a little, but they held. Kaelen followed.
They looked around. The shoreline stretched wide in both directions, but maybe a mile off, built into the sloping hills, stood the outer edge of the coastal city—low walls, scattered watchtowers, and buildings layered in rough stone and sun-washed timber.
"Is that it?" Elias asked.
Kaelen nodded. "We were supposed to dock a little further east. But that's it."
Rauel hopped down last, rubbing his shoulder. "Don't think we'll be hauling the rest of the cargo with us."
Elias turned back toward the boat. Most of the crates were intact, but the deck had cracked diagonally beneath them.
"We leave it?" he asked.
"Not much choice." Rauel exhaled through his nose. "Might come back for it—if someone brings me another boat."
They were still standing there when a shout carried down from the hills.
A figure approached from the city—dark tunic, short spear at their back, hand resting on a side blade. A guard, by the look of it.
Rauel spotted them and lifted one arm lazily. "That'll be for us."
The guard broke into a jog once they saw the wreck.
"Good," Rauel muttered. "Haven't had to explain almost dying in at least a month."
The guard reached them, slowing to a walk as he took in the scene—shattered rudder, tilted hull, soaked passengers.
"Well damn," he said, pulling off his helmet and letting out a breath. "Didn't expect to see you in pieces, Rauel."
Rauel grinned. "Takes more than a storm to finish me off. Just had to test whether this tub could fly."
The guard snorted. "Guess that's a no."
Kaelen glanced between them, then at Elias, who was still brushing sand off his sleeves.
The guard nodded toward her and Elias. "Passengers?"
"Stowaways," Rauel deadpanned. "Snuck aboard with good intentions and bad timing."
Elias didn't react. Kaelen smirked faintly.
"They came through hell to get here," Rauel added, more seriously. "I'll vouch for them."
"You don't need to," the guard said. "Anyone still breathing after a wreck like that's already paid half the entry fee."
He looked over the damaged boat, then back at Rauel. "Want me to send a few boys down from the yard to help haul the cargo?"
Rauel raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you volunteer?"
Harlan shrugged. "Since I figured you'd owe me a drink."
"Make it two," Rauel said. "Some of that stuff's heavier than it looks."
"Done," Harlan grinned. "I'll send 'em down before noon."
He gave Kaelen and Elias a polite nod. "Welcome to Tiria. Try not to die in the streets."
Then he turned and started back up the slope.
Rauel watched Harlan go, then let out a tired breath and turned toward Elias.
"You holding together?"
Elias rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling the weight of the ocean behind his eyes. "I'm standing."
"That'll do for now."
Rauel tipped his head toward the inland road. "Come on. City's not far, and I've got a strong need for something hot, stale, and overpriced."
The walk from the shore to the city rose steadily uphill, the road packed with old stone and wet sand still clinging to their boots. It wasn't a long walk, but for Kaelen, it was a journey.
She walked a few steps ahead of Elias, talking almost constantly—questions firing off whenever something new caught her eye. "Why are the watchtowers spaced like that? Do all cities smell like iron and fish? Are those storage buildings or homes? How many people live here?"
Rauel answered most of them with the patience of someone who had no problem making things up when he didn't know. "The towers are like that because the city planner liked symmetry," he said. "And yes, all cities smell awful. That's how you know you're somewhere important."
She rolled her eyes but kept going, pointing out distant rooftops and trying to guess what every building was for.
Elias followed a few steps behind, quieter than usual.
He wasn't overwhelmed—just thinking.
Everything that had happened since he saw those moths... it hadn't stopped. One thing after another. The crash, the creature, the village, the sea. And now this—walls, gates, guards. A world that didn't know what to do with him, and had no reason to try.
Still, he wasn't anxious.
He didn't rush to understand it all. He never had. Even back home, he'd been the quiet one. The one who listened more than he spoke. The one who watched from the edge of the breakroom or parked on the hill after his shift, letting the night do the talking.
Now, the world around him was louder, but his thoughts hadn't changed.
He analyzed. He observed. He tucked things away for later, not because he was unsure—but because he liked to be sure when it mattered.
He hadn't meant to move the sea. But he had.
And even now, with the city getting closer and Kaelen firing off her sixth question in five minutes, he wasn't spiraling. Just thinking.
What else might answer him, if he reached?
He wasn't going to say that aloud. He wasn't even sure it mattered yet.
Kaelen glanced back at him, smiling as if she was trying to drag him back into the noise.
"You alright back there?"
"Yeah," he said, steady and certain.
"Still brooding?"
"Thinking."
She grinned and turned forward again.
He kept walking, the road sloping gently upward as the city grew closer with each step.
The gate came into view—nothing towering or ornate, but solid. Practical. Weathered stone framed thick wooden doors, both propped open, and two guards leaned casually at either side. They looked more bored than alert, like they'd been hoping for something—anything—to break up the routine.
One of them recognized Rauel immediately.
"Still alive?" she called as they approached. "Disappointed."
Rauel raised a hand in greeting. "Storm tried. Boat didn't cooperate."
She laughed and stepped aside. "Harlan said to let you through. Said you'd be the wet one with a limp and a bad attitude."
"Tell him I'm dryer than I look and more charming than he deserves."
She looked past him to Kaelen and Elias. "These yours?"
"They're with me," Rauel said.
"Then they're probably trouble." But her voice stayed easy. She waved them forward. "Just names. And if you're carrying anything sharp, don't swing it around."
Elias gave his name without comment. Kaelen did the same.
The guard gave a nod, scribbled something onto a page inside a small slate-covered ledger, then waved them through with a crooked smile.
"Welcome to Tiria," she said. "Try not to die in the streets."
They passed under the archway, boots thudding against worn stone as the city opened up before them.
The first thing Elias noticed was the noise.
Not overwhelming, but constant—vendors calling out prices, carts rattling over cobbles, children laughing somewhere deeper in the maze of buildings. It wasn't chaos, but it wasn't quiet either. Not like the village. Not like the ocean. The air here moved faster. Everything did.
The second thing he noticed was the space.
People were everywhere. Sitting on stoops, unloading crates, haggling near the market stalls. Some wore uniforms, others rough cloth or stitched leather. No one stood still for long.
Kaelen slowed beside him, eyes wide. "There's so many," she said quietly.
"City life," Rauel muttered, adjusting the strap on one shoulder. "Everyone's busy, and half of them are lying about what they're busy with."
They turned a corner into a wider lane. Stone buildings pressed close, two stories high, some with shutters open and lines of damp clothes hanging from windows. The street ahead forked, one path leading toward what looked like a small square.
Then something slammed out of an alley.
A man sprinted into the open, panic on his face—and right behind him came two others. One raised a hand and sent a burst of flame arcing across the street, scattering embers that hissed as they hit the cobblestones. The other lifted his arm, and a jagged ridge of stone burst from the ground, nearly catching the fleeing man's leg.
It all happened in seconds. Loud. Violent. Public.
No one screamed. No one intervened. The vendors kept stacking crates. A group of children turned to look, then went back to chasing each other.
Elias stopped walking.
He stared, every muscle tense.
Kaelen moved to his side, eyes following the figures until they vanished behind a shopfront. Her expression was tight but not shocked.
Rauel kept walking, shaking his head. "Idiots. One of them's going to set a roof on fire again."
Elias stared after the fleeing men, heart still pounding from the flash of flame and stone.
"They controlled that—like it was nothing."
Rauel had kept walking at first, but when he realized neither Elias nor Kaelen were following, he turned back. His expression sobered as he stepped closer, resting his hands on his hips.
"Manipulators," he said. "Or manifests, depending who you ask. Either way, yeah. Welcome to the city."
Elias didn't respond right away. His eyes were still locked on the alley.
"So that's... normal?"
Kaelen shook her head, voice quieter now. "Rauel told me stories, but... it's different seeing it. Out in the open. No one even flinched."
Her knuckles were white around the strap of her bag.
Elias looked between them. "Is that what people do here?"
Rauel sighed, glancing back toward the fading scene. "Depends who you are. Some use it to survive. Some use it because no one tells them not to. And some," he nodded toward the alley, "just like to chase people through crowded streets because they can."
They continued down the main road, the crowd thinning slightly as they passed into a quieter district near the edge of the market. Stalls gave way to small shops, a few tucked behind cracked stone arches and wooden awnings that hadn't seen fresh paint in years.
Rauel was pointing out a bakery he claimed had the worst bread but the best rumors when Kaelen slowed.
"Do you hear that?" she asked.
Elias turned his head slightly. A few paces off, beneath the overhang of a narrow alley-side tavern, two men sat hunched over a chipped table, voices low and tense.
One of them leaned in, clearly drunk but trying to sound serious. "I'm telling you—it wasn't wind. Storm like that don't shift like that. Something pushed it."
His companion shook his head. "You drink too fast."
"No, listen," the man snapped. "My cousin was out past the breakwall. Said the sea rose like it wanted to move. Like it chose to."
Elias froze.
The man went on, voice hushed now. "She said it was like a wall of water just peeled the storm open. Like it had a path. That's not natural."
Kaelen looked back at Elias, her eyes narrowing slightly. He wasn't moving, just staring at the table like the words were still echoing in his ears.
Rauel clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Ignore that. Dockhands and sailors love to talk like they saw the gods blink."
But Elias wasn't so sure.
He didn't say anything, just turned and started walking again.