Deltarune Vessel Novels & Stories

“Then we begin at first light.” That night, Aria slept in a chamber carved into the mountain wall, empty save for a sleeping mat and a single rune carved into the ceiling: DELORA — the Old Tongue for unbroken. But her dreams were not kind. She saw Kaelen, lying beside Serenya, eyes closed, breathing in sync. She saw the pack feasting without her. Laughing without her. She saw her crest, her Luna mark, burned in a pyre while her voice screamed from the shadows.

Selene said, her sharp eyes widening beneath her visor. I looked down. Through the thick gaps in my bronze armor, the dark runes along my collarbone were glowing with a pale, reddish light. "Is that the mark from the prophecy?" Selene asked, her voice dropping lower so the deck hands could not hear. "The Vessel is breathing," I told her. I pressed my palm harder against the metal, feeling that strange, fragile flutter push back against my thick skin. "Her blood is answering my approach." "She is in Ashvale?"

"Can your light reach the lead warship's primary core from here?" Lyra stepped up to the edge of the parapet, her boots planting firmly on the snow-slick stone. She looked up at the lead dreadnought—the Dominion, a giant three-tiered warship bristling with heavy anti-mana turrets. Through the thick steel hull, her divine solar sight could perceive the dark-silver mana core humming at the center of the ship, driving its gravity-defying engines.