The first thing I noticed was the sun-or what I thought was the sun.
A weak, grayish light filtered through the mist, casting the wreckage of the fleet in a dull, washed-out haze. I blinked, trying to orient myself.
My body ached… or maybe it didn't. The familiar sharp pain from torn muscles and shattered ribs was gone. Smooth, intact skin stretched over my torso. My chest rose and fell normally. Every wound, every cut, every burn I had suffered in the storm or in Zadrakos' heart… gone.
Except my left arm. The stump throbbed faintly. That dull, ghostly ache was all that reminded me I had survived a near-impossible ordeal. My fingers flexed, tried to grasp, but I had nothing to grab.
I tried to push myself up. Saltwater-coated wood scraped against my back, sand shifted beneath my legs.
Everything smelled of smoke and brine, the lingering taste of storm and burnt cordite in the air.
My throat tightened. My lips moved, producing nothing but a dry rasp.
I coughed.
The sound felt foreign. My voice didn't belong to me; it barely belonged to any human I knew.
I forced myself to stand, legs trembling, and scanned the wreckage. Splintered hulls. Broken masts. Bodies-or at least shapes that could have been-floating face-down or wedged in the wreckage. Most were still, but a few moved, weakly.
"Hey… hey, are you alive?"
The voice came from behind a half-collapsed mast. A man, no older than twenty, leaned over another survivor. His hair was plastered to his face, clothes torn, boots caked in wet sand. He froze when he saw me.
I froze too. Naked. Stiff. Staring at him like I had no idea what I was.
The man's eyes narrowed. Not in terror, not in awe, just… cautious. He shifted back a step. He didn't raise a weapon. Didn't scream. Didn't pray. He just measured me.
I swallowed. Tried to speak. "I… I'm-"
"Don't move too fast," he said, voice steady but low. "We don't know… what-" He trailed off, glancing at the others who had begun to stir from the wreckage.
Some were crawling toward safety. None of them approached me. A few kept glancing at me from the corners of their eyes.
I could feel their uncertainty, but it wasn't fear. Not the kind that makes you pray. Just… careful, like watching someone whose strength you can't gauge.
I nodded, mostly to myself. Tried to cover my chest, tried to look less… exposed. "I'm not-" My words broke off. I didn't know what I was.
One of the men, older, with a grizzled beard, finally spoke. "If you're alive… come help with the others." No accusation, no judgment. Just an order. Practical. Matter-of-fact.
I wanted to reply, wanted to explain, but the words felt trapped.
My lungs drew in the cold, salty air, and for a moment, I felt it- the pulse. Not mine, or at least not just mine.
It hummed under my skin, resonating with something deep and vast, something that wasn't human. My heart skipped, or maybe it accelerated in time with that unseen rhythm. Zadrakos. The voice, the presence, the weight.
We are one now.
I froze on the spot. Where? Where are you?
I am within you.
W-what? How is this possible?
We are one now. And now I can speak to you from within and helped you survive from the ocean.
I clenched my jaw, shaking my head as if it could make the voice it go away.
I am Gabriel Grayne. I survived because of me. Not… whatever is inside me.
The survivors were moving again. I followed, careful not to draw attention. My missing arm felt heavier with every step, like gravity had singled it out.
But the strength in my right hand and legs… it was different. Sharper. Controlled. Powerful. I had to restrain myself, or someone might notice.
A woman, probably in her late twenties, helped a child over the sand. She glanced at me, eyes sharp but not accusatory. Just an assessment. She didn't flinch. Didn't panic. Just a subtle tightening of the jaw, a small step back, and then she returned to the child.
No one approached. No one spoke further.
They simply acted. The storm had left them careful, alive, focused. They had priorities. I was not a priority—or maybe I was a potential threat they quietly monitored.
I stumbled over a chunk of wreckage and caught myself on a jagged plank. Painless. My body moved faster than I expected. Reflexes sharper than human. My stomach knotted. I knew what I could do. I felt what I could do. And the thought… terrified me.
You can't control it yet.
I froze mid-step. The voice inside was neither cruel nor gentle. Just there. Observation. Advice. Necessity.
The older man grunted and barked a command. "Pull him out. He's trapped under the mast."
Instinct took over. I ran. Faster than I should have been able to. Lifted the mast with one hand, careful not to hurt the man beneath it, and dragged him clear.
The others watched silently, assessing. A few whispered, but low, practical sounds about injuries and the storm. No one thanked me. No one stared in awe. No one panicked. Just… survival.
I let the man go and stumbled back, chest heaving, trying to calm my pulse. Zadrakos hummed under my skin, amused. They see your strength, but not your essence. You are human enough… for now.
The grizzled man approached cautiously. "You alright?" he asked. His voice didn't waver, but there was a flicker in his eyes- curiosity, maybe concern.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Words failed me. I nodded instead. Simple. Nonthreatening. Neutral. It seemed enough.
The group gathered on a raised section of the wreckage, using what remained of a hull as a makeshift platform. No one tried to get too close. No one tried to force interaction. They moved like a unit, assessing the storm's aftermath, checking for injuries, making plans. I moved with them. Silent. Careful. Every step measured.
I looked down at my stump again. Pain. Anchor. Reminder. Mortality. Then at the others. Alive. Fragile. Unknowing.
And they would all die if the wrong threat came. If the wrong being noticed me.
I stepped back, keeping a measured distance, and watched. The pulse in my chest hummed, louder now. Zadrakos probing, testing, waiting.
We are one now.
I clenched my teeth. I didn't have to agree. Not yet. But I couldn't ignore it.
The wind whipped through the broken sails. Mist drifted over the hulls like a veil. Around us, the wreckage settled in silence. No panic. No dramatics. Just survival. The storm had passed, and the world had moved on. And so had I.
But beneath my ribs, the heartbeat of something vast, ancient, and impatient thrummed. Constant. Unrelenting.
I am Gabriel Grayne.
But I am also… something else.
Something they could not yet see.
Something I was not yet ready to accept.