The resonating of the hearty shanties and stomping chants vibrates the hull of The Drake, the air humming with the thick mana.
"Captain! Captain! We're coming upon the void! It looks like there's something out there!"
In all my years of sailing the Triplets, I have never seen anything that can compare to the beauty of the astral sea. Even as a kid sailing along the pristine blue waters of the Southern Sea, what fascinated me the most was the contradictory shining calmness of Talos' Stars and the inky purple nothingness suffocating them.
I make my way to the stern to peer into the darkness. Just looking upon the void is said to be maddening.
As my gaze wanders towards the edge of the known stars, I can see the shaded walls of the labyrinth. It feels as if my very thought is being sucked away into it as I do; I'm only just able to look away.
"Oi, captain! You sure this was worth the price? When was the last time someone stole from The Mad god and got away in one piece?" One of the recruits, drakes as we call them, says breathily, jaunting over to me. "We've all heard the tales of what that man has done"
"But that ain't no man there, that be the fruits over there of pure divinity," I say. "Are ye scared of a little god?" I poke my gnarled finger into my subordinates chest. "Is there fear in your heart, boy?"
I grab him by the scruff and pull him close, yelling in his face. "Who in the Hells do you think we are!? To be afraid of a god?!" I push him away and address the rest of the young drakes. "For we are the Salamanders! We've spilled the golden Ichor, we trespassed on the domain of the heavens, what place does fear have in our hearts? In the hearts of the strong!"
But as I yell, even those words seem to tarnish and rot even as it leaves my mouth.
"WE ARE SALAMANDERS! WE TAKE AND KILL, SINGING THE SONGS OF DEATH AS WE GO! WHAT WE LAY OUR EYES ON IS OURS!"
Cheers erupt form the crew, calming my own nerves
But I catch it out of the corner of my eye, a quick dart that feels like the trick of the eye. But still, in an instant, were paralyzed in fear.
A crew of 12,000 young drakes, 12,000 killers in the making. Afraid of something the size of a small bird
It pierces and stabs through a few men, their writhing corpses twisting and turning in horrifying ways. I can see Maekel, gods, I can't even recognize that blob of flesh and eyes and teeth that squishes in his place.
The skittering and chittering whistles through the air as the abomination flies towards my own skin, taught with age
The creeping pain, the pulling on my mind, the chorus of guttural screams blind my vision. My skin burning and bubbling
My whole body screams at me, each tendon a symphony of anguish, but all that can escape me is the guttural and familiar hymns.
In one motion, I unsheathe the jagged edge of my blade, and tear into my own flesh—severing the ties to this horrendous infection
It plops down in an unfamiliar squish, writhing and screeching into something else.
As I look around, all I can see is the horrible and beautiful gore; the massacre of my subordinate drakes painting a bright red stain upon the black stars of nothing.
"Now this is the Beauty of the Astrea!" I yell out, a chuckle escaping my throat
I cleave what used to be my arm in two.
"Boys!" I bellow, a grin sprawling onto my face. My heavy stomps rhythmically shutter the Drake's hull once more, crackling with pure energy. "Let the fun begin!"
By the time this is over, those young drakes will be reborn as Salamanders under the beautiful song of death