----Chapter 34----
The forest outside the cave was suffocating. The air hung damp and heavy with the scent of moss and wet stone, every breath thick in Brooke's chest.
Moonlight struggled through the canopy, breaking into fractured beams that painted the cave mouth in pale silver.
The shadows between the trees seemed to twitch and breathe, alive with quiet menace.
Brooke stood frozen at the threshold, her back to the cavern pulsing with dark energy. Her heart pounded as her eyes darted toward the treeline, as though the forest itself might close in on her.
Then her gaze snapped forward and she flinched, eyes widening with a mixture of fear and defiance.
"You!" she managed, her voice barely a whisper. Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of pain and despair.
Gorak's single eye gleamed with triumph. "Finally… Brooke. Nowhere to run. No more hiding. After all this time, you are mine."
Anon stepped forward, his face still hidden in shadow. "Patience, Gorak. The altar awaits. Do not squander this chance." His gaze flickered toward the depths of the cave. He needed something to emerge, and this chaos was the spark he needed.
The key… the key to the Altar of Daath. Anon's thoughts raced. It lies not in the runes or the rituals, but in the one who emerges from that cave.
The trial's success… it means the power to open the door is within our grasp. But will they cooperate? Unlikely.
That is where Brooke comes in. Her… distress… it is a clear sign of a strong bond.
A bond we can exploit. She is the perfect leverage. Keep her alive. She is the key to unlocking everything.
Gorak bristled, but he did not argue. He knew better than to cross Anon, especially when the promise of power was so close. Gorak craved power above all else.
"Fine," he spat. "But I get the first taste of revenge. She will suffer as I have suffered!" He lunged toward Brooke, his hand outstretched.
In a flash, Bob and Bruce moved to intercept. Bob swung his dagger, aiming for Gorak's outstretched arm. Bruce stepped in front of Brooke, raising his shield.
Gorak sneered, sidestepping Bob's clumsy swing. "You think you can shield her? Pathetic gnats, easy to crush."
With a flick of his wrist, his sleeve writhed, and a torrent of insects burst forth. A seething black cloud of beetles, hornets, and centipedes surged into the air, the cavern alive with their droning hiss.
The swarm descended on Bob and Bruce. Mandibles clamped onto skin, stingers pierced through cloth and armor gaps.
The men cried out in agony as the venom spread like fire under their skin. Bob staggered back, clawing at his face where beetles chewed into his flesh.
Bruce slammed his shield against the ground, trying to swat them, but the insects crawled into his armor, biting, burrowing.
Their screams echoed through the cave before their strength gave out and they collapsed, twitching, covered in a writhing carpet of chitin.
Brooke watched in horror. "Stop it! Leave them alone!" she pleaded, her voice breaking.
Gorak ignored her, his eye wild with hate. "This is only the beginning, pirate. You will feel what I felt, the hollow agony of loss. And when I rise with her again, you will beg for death."
Tharen stood frozen beside Anon. His hands trembled as he watched Bob and Bruce fall. His heart twisted painfully as his gaze shifted to Brooke. She was on her knees, eyes brimming with terror, her entire body shaking.
Memories surged unbidden: Brooke's laughter over shared drinks after a long voyage, the sparkle in her eyes when she teased him for spilling ale down his front, the warmth in her smile when she called him brother-in-arms.
Seeing her now, broken and desperate, tore him apart. "Brooke…" he whispered, his voice breaking, though no one heard it over the buzz of the swarm.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across the cave entrance. A gust of wind swept through the cavern, scattering dust and leaves. A figure stood silhouetted against the moonlight, her wings spread wide, casting an imposing shadow that dwarfed the figures below.
The air crackled with energy as she landed, the impact sending tremors through the ground.
But even in this serious moment, there was something undeniably childlike in her posture, a mix of fierce determination and innocent indignation.
"That is enough! Touch them again, and you answer to me," a voice boomed, echoing through the cave. It was a voice trying to sound older, more commanding than it actually was, with a hint of childish bravado.
Gorak whirled around, his eye narrowing. "And what little wretch are you supposed to be?" he demanded.
Astares stepped into the cave. With a flick of her wrist, she drew her sword, a magnificent shamshir with a blade of swirling blue and gold. Serpent-like carvings snaked from the hilt to the tip, pulsing with an inner light.
As she raised the blade, a swirling vortex of water materialized around her, showcasing her power as a Sea Lord. The water shimmered and danced, reflecting the moonlight and casting an ethereal glow on her face.
Her expression shifted. The childishness drained away, replaced by a look of fierce, commanding power. Her golden eyes blazed with an otherworldly fire. "You will not lay another finger on them. Leave now… or I will carve the price into your flesh."
With a sweep of her blade, she conjured a storm of ice shards, each one glowing with cold fury. They shot forward, hissing through the air toward Anon and Gorak.
Anon's eyes widened. He yanked Tharen by the arm and stepped back into the forest, the barrage exploding against the cavern wall in a spray of frost and stone.
Gorak cursed, stumbling after them. He knew Anon had a plan, he always did. Forcing his own path now, driven by vengeance, would be foolish.
Besides, Astares' attack had clipped him, his shoulder burned, blood soaking into his sleeve. He needed to hide. Revenge could wait.
Astares flared her wings. She could have finished Gorak then and there, but Anon's shadow stretched long and dangerous into the forest. She clenched her jaw. "Later," she muttered, before launching into the night sky in pursuit, leaving the cave behind.
Inside, Bob writhed on the ground, the venom spreading fast. His vision swam. He coughed, crimson flecks staining his lips. Through the haze, he saw Brooke's devastated face. Brooke… his mind whispered, and his trembling hand reached for hers.
A cascade of memories struck him: Brooke laughing on the deck under the bright sun, her hair wild in the sea wind.
Brooke tending his wounds after a drunken bar fight, scolding him softly. Brooke raising her cup with Tharen and Bruce, smiling so wide he thought nothing in the world could dim it.
Bruce, twitching beside him, fought to focus. Through the haze of pain, he too saw Brooke, and his heart echoed the same thought.
He crawled toward her, armor scraping against stone, blood trailing behind him. His gaze locked onto her face, miserable, broken.
"Captain…" he rasped. "Would you… smile for us… like before?"
Brooke's breath caught. Her lips quivered, but no smile came. Only tears.
Bruce's gaze softened, and his mind drifted. He saw her again, standing tall on the deck, wind whipping through her hair, grinning wide as she shouted orders with playful bravado. Her laughter echoing across the waves. That smile had been their anchor. Their light.
Brooke fell to her knees. Because of her, they were dying. She clutched their hands desperately, her grip shaking. Bob coughed again, blood speckling her skin.
"Do not worry about us, Captain," Bruce rasped, his voice faint.
"Save yourself…" Bob choked, his eyes pleading.
A sob tore from Brooke's throat. It swelled into a wail, raw and ragged. She bent over them, tears pouring down her face, her cries reverberating through the cavern like a hymn of grief.
Then, rustling. From the shadows of the forest, two small figures emerged.
Mera and Dolan.
They rushed forward, faces pale with urgency. Mera dropped to Bruce's side, hands already glowing faintly with an ethereal light as she placed them on his wounds.
Dolan pressed to Bob's chest, assessing his pulse, chanting in a low, melodic voice, his hands hovering over Bob's chest. "The poison is spreading quickly.
We need to hurry!" Mera said, voice soft but sharp with command. "Come, Miss Brooke," Dolan urged. "We can still save them."
Brooke's mind reeled, but through the fog of despair, their words pierced like light. These were the children Rubal had spoken of, the ones who knew the tongue of Etherissia. And now, impossibly, they were here.
Her body trembled, but she forced herself up. She was their Captain. She could not break. She hooked her arms under Bruce and Bob, her grip fierce. With Mera and Dolan's aid, she staggered toward the forest, away from the cavern's darkness.
The forest swallowed them in silence. Moonlight barely pierced the canopy, broken into silver shards across the mossy ground.
The air was damp and heavy with the scent of pine and earth, every breath thick with the whisper of unseen life.
Branches groaned softly above, stirred by a restless wind, and shadows stretched long between the trees, shifting as though alive.
Brooke's boots sank into the loam with each step, her ears straining against the quiet. Every rustle felt too sharp, every whisper of leaves too close.
The cave's darkness was behind them, yet the forest carried its own kind of dread, as though the night itself was watching.
But just as the trees closed in around them, a voice slithered through the shadows. Cold. Malevolent.
"Running so soon, little pirates?"