The sea stretched endless before them, a certain expanse of grey and silver mirroring the uncertain Ammon's heart. A warship, a vessel of Elarion make cut through the waves with disciplined grace, it's back swells under the sail of morning wind. Above deck, the crew moves with quiet precision, while the heirs remained below, gathering the warmth of lower chamber. Only one stood apart- Ammon- at the ships edge, gaze fixed at the vast sky.
The wind brushed his hair against his face, cool yet heavy, as though the air carried a weight he could not name.
The ocean's voice usually rhythmic and steady, seemed to waver between whisper and growl, murmuring sound that failed to form into words. For a moment, Ammon simply watched the waves rise and fall, trying to steady his thoughts. But something within him stirred- a quiet unease that has followed him since he departed from Dravencia.
He could not shake the feeling that the sea was watching him.
He tried to laugh it off, but even his voice came hollow. "Just nerves," he muttered, his voice lost to the wind. Yet, the longer he looked into the horizon, the darker it seemed to grow. What had been a bright open began to twist and bruise into a colour that defied description- not black, not grey, but like a shadow trying to remember light.
The thunder rumbled across a distance, a low mummur across the ships hull.As though warning him against his path.Ammon's finger tightened around the railing. It was not storm yet- not truly- but the air has changed. Those below the deck must have felt it too, but no one seemed to came up. Perhaps, they thought it was another wind shift. Ammon wish he could think the same.
He turned his eyes upward and for a moment, he thought he saw clouds forming shapes of eyes watching him. The illusion lasted only a heartbeat but he felt his heart cold. He blinked hard wishing the image away.
The first drop of rain struck his cheek like a shard of glass. Then another, within few seconds, the heavens opened up in full. Sheets of rain lashed the deck and the wind howled as though something ancient has been waked from slumber. The sails drained, the wood groaned, the once steady warship began to shudder against the waves. Ammon stumbled back shielding his face as the wind attacked everything around him. Lightning flashed across the cloud, white veins ripping through the darkness. The light was so fierce,it carved the ship with white and gold. Then the thunder came, splitting the sky open.
The lightning struck.
It came without a warning, a blinding streak that struck mast exploding to fire. The force threw Ammon backwards against the wet deck. Splinters and smoke filled the air. The sound was not like anything he had ever heard, not just destruction but something deeper, almost like a cry.
He pushed himself upward, coughing, ear ringing. The mast was gone- split in half, flame eating through the ropes and wood as rain try to smother them. The warship shuddered, tilting violently to one side. Ammon grabbed the railing- his mind in disbelief, a single hit could not have done this.
Below deck, he could hear the muffled chaos of movement, fall of metals, frantic rush of other heirs, but no one came up. None of them did. It was as though the storm sealed him to the deck claiming him to be its witness.
The ship lurched violently. The railing snapped under pressure and part of the upper deck caved inward with a thunderous crack. Ammon stumbled to his knees again, he looked up- the sky above was no longer just dark, it pulsed with white and gold, a sky with an heartbeat.
And then, the thunder ceased. The rain softened to a whisper. The flame still burned but no longer roared. The ship was dying silently, woods splitting under the weight of fire and water. The air smell of ash and salt.
He turned once more to the horizon, expecting rescue but the sea had grown eerie calm, reflecting only darkness. There was no sign of lightning, no sign of storm wrath. Only the faint hiss of embers dying in the rain. The storm has not come to war but to persuade.