The royal galley, Spear of Aziza, carved a clean line across the sapphire spread of the Western Ocean, its golden ram gleaming like a blade held to the horizon. The crew moved with disciplined precision, each man steady with the fragile hope that King Oba might yet live.
But deep within the ocean's ancient belly, something shifted.
The Western Ocean did not simply flow today—
it watched.
Every wave pressed against the hull with a slow, intentional resistance, as if the sea itself wished to delay the Spear's journey.
The Healers and the Horizon
Princess Adanna, healer of Elara ,arranged her herbs with sharp movements meant to hide her trembling. Soft emerald ripples slipped from her fingertips no matter how tightly she folded them.
Prince Nnamdi, poet and voice of reason, leaned beside her, offering quiet humor.
"You've brought enough herbs to cure all seven seas," he teased.
Adanna snorted. "The sea doesn't fall ill."
But the ocean beneath them lurched, heaving in an uneven, unnatural rhythm.
As if offended.
As if alive.
At the stern, Prince Odion stood with his braids tugged by wind that was already beginning to die. His eyes stayed locked on the shifting horizon.
"The old king of Oloran is dead," the Captain murmured. "Prince Oran ascended within the hour."
"Too clean," Odion muttered. "Too fast. And a queen dying the same day? That's no coincidence—it reeks of witchcraft."
The ocean slapped the hull sharply.
A warning.
A reaction.
He looked toward Adanna and Nnamdi—but his gaze drifted back to the horizon, heavy with premonition.
An Arrival the Ocean Fears
The sails snapped twice—then the wind vanished.
Not slowed.
Not faltered.
Gone.
The crew member Odion trusted most for sensing danger whispered, "My prince… the sea doesn't want us moving forward."
Adanna stormed onto the deck, hair glowing uncontrollably. "Odion! Nnamdi! Stop the ship! Something is coming—ancient, enormous."
Her breath curled like smoke in the freezing air.
"A death-spell," she whispered. "Old magic. Hungry magic. And beneath it… I smell Isalena's bloodline."
Nnamdi stiffened. "Isalena? Then—someone from her lineage is running."
Adanna swallowed. "Yes. A small light fleeing an ocean of darkness."
At those words, the waves heaved, almost as if they wanted to push the Spear back, away from what approached.
Odion drew his ancestral blade.
"Prepare for battle."
The Fleeing Vessel
A small fishing boat burst into view. The grizzled captain aboard screamed:
"The world behind us is collapsing!"
And then—
A figure sprang onto the railing.
Clothes torn.
Skin etched with faint silver lines—Isalena's mark.
Eyes burning with desperate determination.
Beside her stood Chief Priest Mazi, the old man barely upright, clutching a charm glowing weakly against the death-chill.
Nkemesit cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed:
"PrinceOdion! Save the heir!"
Odion froze.
He had never seen her before, yet something inside him lurched—recognition without memory.
A pull.
The ocean beneath Nkemesit's boat twisted violently, almost as if trying to take her first.
Nkema Descends
The horizon tore open.
Light bent.
The air groaned.
Reality shook.
Nkema appeared.
Not as flesh—
but as a towering pillar of heatless white fire standing atop the ocean.
Her shadow stretched grotesquely across the water, swallowing the colors of the world.
Chief Priest Mazi gasped. "Ancestors preserve ust"
Nkema raised a hand.
Obsidian shards of frozen darkness spiraled into being.
"You cannot save what is already mine," her voice boomed—an impossible, multi-layered echo.
She hurled the shards.
Odion moved—
but the ocean jerked the Spear sideways, slowing their reaction.
The sea itself was sabotaging them.
What is that..? The captain asked
No one answered
Because no one knew
The Light Counter
Adanna shot forward, emerald radiance erupting from her palms. Her healing magic met Nkema's death-fire in a violent clash that shook the sky.
Nkema shrieked.
"A healer? You dare challenge eternity?"
The ocean roared in panic, waves battering the Spear as if trying to stop the fight.
A young deckhand cried, "The sea doesn't want this magic here!"
Odion shouted, "Hooks—secure their vessel!"
Lines flew.
One missed.
The sea swallowed it.
Another slipped.
A third caught.
Odion charged forward.
Nkemesit stumbled across the splintering deck of her fishing boat, clutching Chief Priest Mazi as they were reeled in. Her eyes met Odion's—
Silver meeting storm-grey.
Time broke.
He lifted her aboard with one powerful movement. Her cold fingers brushed his wrist. Something warm—dangerously warm—flashed between them.
"Thank you," she breathed.
Odion's chest tightened.
The Price of Salvation
Nkema's fury ignited.
She condensed her power into a single spear of blackened death-flame—and launched it.
Adanna threw her full shield forward.
The impact cracked the dome.
She collapsed into Nnamdi's arms.
Mazi staggered, clutching Nkemesit. "Her power… she drains life itself."
Nkemesit whispered, trembling, "She will not stop. She wants the heir."
Odion made the call instantly.
"Full sail! Southeast! We run!"
Nkemesit grabbed his arm. "She will follow."
"Then we outrun an immortal," he said—stepping closer than he should, voice low, fierce. "Together."
The air between them charged with forbidden heat.
Nkema's roar chased them across the sea:
"You have stolen the King's death! Aziza will burn for sheltering the true heir!"
The Turning of the Spear
Two days later, the ocean finally calmed. But its surface still rippled with strange awareness whenever Nkemesit approached the rails, reacting to the life she carried.
Chief Priest Mazi muttered prayers. "The sea knows the heir. And it fears him."
Nkemesit nodded. "It knows Nkema too."
Odion stepped beside her—closer than duty allowed. "Then let it know we stand with you."
Their hands brushed.
This time, neither pulled away.
Nkemesit straightened, addressing the gathered leaders. "If you return home, she will destroy everything. You must divert. Hide the heir. Find allies."
Odion held her gaze, a softness in his eyes that was meant for no one else.
"We sail to Makeni," he vowed. "You will not face this alone."
The compass swung east.
The Spear of Aziza turned.
And the first spark of war lit the sea.