LOGINElise didn’t sleep.She lay awake on the stone platform long after the sanctuary quieted, staring at the faint glow tracing the ceiling above her. The light pulsed slowly, like something breathing. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her mother’s face reflected in the pool—sad, resolute, already halfway gone.Theresa Thorne.Moonbreather.The words felt unreal in her chest, like they belonged to someone else’s life.Footsteps approached, soft but deliberate. Elise sat up before the figure reached her.Elder Sera stopped a few steps away. She didn’t pretend surprise.“You should rest,” Sera said.“I can’t,” Elise replied. Her voice sounded too sharp in the quiet. “Not after that.”Sera studied her for a moment, then nodded once. “Come.”They walked together through the sanctuary’s deeper passages, past chambers Elise hadn’t seen before—rooms filled with carved relics, broken weapons, fragments of crystal sealed behind translucent stone. Every wall told a story of something that had
Elise woke to quiet.Not the hollow quiet of death or the tense quiet of waiting for something to break, but a living stillness—like the pause between tides. Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to soft silver light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.She was no longer on the beach.The ceiling above her arched high, carved from pale stone that shimmered faintly like glass caught beneath moonlight. Veins of crystal ran through it, thin and branching, glowing gently as if light flowed through the rock itself. The air was cool, clean, and smelled faintly of salt and rain.Elise pushed herself upright.She lay on a low stone platform layered with woven fabric the color of pearl. Her body felt… right. Not weak. Not broken. The ache in her chest was gone, her lungs no longer burned, and when she flexed her fingers, there was no tremor.That unsettled her more than pain would have.She swung her legs over the edge and stood.The room opened outward into a vast sanctuary. P
Elise woke coughing.Salt burned her throat, sharp and raw, forcing air back into lungs that felt scraped clean from the inside. She rolled onto her side instinctively, fingers digging into wet sand as her body convulsed, heaving up seawater until her chest finally expanded on its own. Each breath hurt. Not the dull ache of exhaustion, but the sting of someone who had drowned and somehow been dragged back.She lay there for a long moment afterward, face pressed into the ground, listening to her own breathing like she didn’t trust it to keep going.The sand beneath her palms was cold.That was the first thing that felt wrong.Sand should have been warm after the sun. Or at least neutral. This felt cool, almost chilled, as if it had never known daylight. Elise slowly pushed herself upright, her arms trembling with the effort.She was on a beach.That much was clear.What wasn’t clear was where.The shoreline stretched too far in both directions, empty and untouched. No debris. No broken
The port of Eastridge had always been loud.Even before dawn, it buzzed with activity—ropes creaking, crates dragged across wood, sailors shouting insults and jokes across the docks. It was one of Archview’s most important supply ports, feeding grain, weapons, and salt inland. Guards patrolled it lazily, confident that no rebellion would dare touch something so heavily watched.That confidence lasted until the water changed.It began subtly. The tide didn’t retreat the way it usually did. Instead, it lingered, higher than it should have been, pressing against the pylons as if testing them. A dockworker noticed first.“Is it just me,” he muttered to the man beside him, “or is the sea… closer?”The other man squinted. “Storm residue, maybe.”But there was no wind. No storm clouds. The sky was clear, pale with early morning light.Then the water started moving sideways.Not waves. Not current.Movement.A sailor dropped the crate he was carrying. “What in the hells is that?”The sea pull
No one announced the executions.That was the first sign something had gone wrong.Normally, even the harshest punishments in Archview followed ritual—formal charges read aloud, the Council seated, witnesses present so the kingdom could be reminded that justice, however cruel, was still order. This time, there was no summons, no assembly bell, no record entered into the Hall’s ledgers.Three advisors simply failed to return home.By midday, their absence could no longer be ignored.Kai was returning from the training grounds when he heard the whispers. They followed him through the stone corridors, clinging to the walls like damp.“They’re dead.”“No trial.”“She ordered it herself.”Kai stopped one of the younger guards by the shoulder. “Who?”The guard swallowed hard. “Councilor Harven. Lady Isolde. And Master Renn.”Kai’s hand dropped slowly. “On what charge?”The guard hesitated, eyes flicking down the hall. “Treason, sir.”“Treason how?”“They… asked questions.”Kai released him
Dawn broke wrong along the coast.The sun rose, but it did not bring warmth. It brought tension, the kind that settled into the chest and refused to loosen. Fishermen who woke early sensed it before they saw anything—an unease in the air, a pressure rolling in with the tide. The sea was too calm, unnaturally still, as though holding its breath.Then the screaming started.It came from the old detention outpost near the cliffs, a place most people avoided even in daylight. Built decades ago to hold dissenters, smugglers, and “undesirable elements,” it had become something darker in recent years. Anyone accused of moon-touched sympathies, feral contamination, or rebellion disappeared behind its iron gates.At first, the guards thought the noise was another riot inside.They were wrong.The sea rose without warning.Not in a violent crash, not as a storm—but as a deliberate movement, water climbing stone steps that had never once been touched by the tide. Boots splashed. Men shouted orde







