A.N: I know that the lore does not quite match Skyrim, or Ferelden but I really wanted to write this story so please do not judge it on the lore. I will keep this somewhat close to the original Dragon Age story but there will be a good amount of changes. I am open to ideas if I have messed anything up, so please let me know if there are any issues please let me know. As of right now the pairing is Cousland/Leliana and it probably will not change. Also I know there is anonther version currently out as well, it is my old account that i can no longer access so I am rewriting through this account.
P.S: I do not own Dragon Age or Skyrim
Chapter 1
Leaning against the thick, weathered oak railing of the ship, Elena exhaled softly, watching her breath dissipate into the sharp morning air. The Sea of Ghosts stretched endlessly before her, its dark, restless waters flickering beneath the weak light of a pale, cold sunrise. A brittle wind, smelling faintly of salt and brine, whipped strands of her hair across her face as it swept over the deck and was swallowed by the vast, brooding horizon.
The name Sea of Ghosts felt like an old truth spoken aloud, a name both haunting and appropriate for the unearthly fog that stalked the waters. Two or three times each week, at the earliest hours of dawn and the last moments before dusk, the fog would rise—thick and silent at first, like tendrils of smoke coiling upward from the depths. By the time it blanketed the sea, it moved with a strange, slithering intent, as if guided by unseen hands.
Elena had witnessed the fog countless times before, but it never failed to unnerve her. It wasn't just the way it consumed the horizon or made familiar waters treacherous and unfamiliar; it was the sound. That terrible, hollow moan that echoed out across the waves, like a chorus of lost souls crying out from beneath the surface. Low and drawn out, the noise seemed to vibrate in the very bones of the ship, chilling the air further and crawling under her skin.
No one, not even the strongest, battle-hardened Nords, dared cross the waters during the fog's reign. Fishermen and traders alike would wait—gripping the hilts of their swords, whispering prayers to old gods, or huddling by firelight. Even the poorest beggar, those who had nothing left to lose, wouldn't risk a passage across the Sea of Ghosts once the mist began to rise.
Elena pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter around her shoulders, the thick folds doing little to ward off the cold. She wondered, not for the first time, if the stories were true—of the spirits of drowned sailors wandering the depths, their laments carried on the wind. The thought made her shudder, but she stayed by the railing, her eyes fixed on the horizon as though waiting for something to emerge from the gloom.
"Finally, after all these years... I can go home."
The words echoed in Elena's mind, their weight heavy with both relief and a quiet sadness. For years, she had dreamed of this moment—returning to the land of her birth, where the sun was warmer, the earth softer, and the air lacked the bite of ice that never seemed to leave Skyrim. But now, standing on the deck of the ship, gazing at the jagged shoreline she had called home for so long, the feeling was almost bittersweet.
Skyrim. It was a land of stark contrasts, where beauty and brutality lived side by side. The cold wind that swept over her now had been both her enemy and her companion, biting through her furs as if reminding her that survival here was never guaranteed. Yet, it was this very harshness that had shaped her, tested her, pushed her to the limits of her strength and willpower. She had arrived as an outsider, a stranger to this unforgiving place, but through sweat and determination, she had earned her place here.
Above her, the towering mountains loomed, their snow-laden peaks vanishing into the thick cloud cover. They were the very bones of Skyrim, ancient and immovable, seeming to stretch into eternity. On clear days, the peaks stood stark and sharp against the bright blue sky, their icy crowns shimmering in the sun's fleeting warmth. There were days when she'd marveled at their beauty, their grandeur—these silent guardians of the land. Even now, their jagged ridges called to her, whispering promises of untold mysteries hidden within their icy folds. The cold, thin air of the mountains had tested her lungs, her resolve, as she traversed their winding paths, but they had also offered her sanctuary. She would miss their presence, looming over her like ancient gods.
Below the mountains, endless grasslands rolled out toward the horizon, their green and gold hues now fading as autumn prepared to give way to the long, merciless winter. In the warmer months, the fields had been alive, filled with the hum of bees and the rustle of wind in the tall grass. She had often wandered through these plains, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin, the earth soft beneath her boots. But with each passing season, the land changed. In the fall, the grasslands turned into a sea of flame, as if the very ground was set ablaze with the hues of red, orange, and gold. It was fleeting, like everything in Skyrim—brilliant, beautiful, and then gone. In winter, the once-vibrant plains became silent and desolate, covered in a blanket of snow that stretched as far as the eye could see.
She closed her eyes, picturing the dense forests that bordered those plains. Tall pines, their branches heavy with snow, gave way to the great deciduous forests, where the trees turned crimson and amber with the changing seasons. The forests had always felt alive, pulsing with an ancient magic, the wind through the leaves sounding almost like the murmurs of the gods. She had walked those paths countless times, feeling the weight of unseen eyes upon her, as though the very trees knew her secrets, her fears. The crackle of twigs beneath her boots, the smell of damp earth, the whisper of a distant stream—it was these small, fleeting moments that made her feel connected to Skyrim in a way she never had elsewhere.
But beyond the forests and fields, to the north, lay the Sea of Ghosts—a vast, cold expanse that seemed to stretch into oblivion. The dark waters were unforgiving, churning beneath an ever-gray sky. She had stood at the shore on countless occasions, watching the waves crash violently against jagged rocks, the mist rising like spectral fingers into the sky. The sea had always unnerved her, a force so ancient and implacable that even the strongest of warriors showed it deference. It was said that the spirits of the lost wandered there, their cries carried on the wind, swallowed by the mist. And though Elena had never ventured far into its depths, the sea had been a constant presence in her life, a reminder of the untamed wilds beyond the borders of Skyrim.
To the south, Cyrodiil beckoned, with its more temperate climate, its sprawling forests, and its great, walled cities, with its rolling hills, gentle rivers, and warm summers.
Her heart clenched with a quiet ache as the ship slowly moved southward, cutting through the dark waters. The wind shifted, bringing with it the biting scent of pine and frost. She breathed it in deeply, savoring the last taste of this wild land. The thought of leaving Skyrim behind, with its towering mountains, its vast, untamed wilderness, and its unrelenting winters, filled her with a deep sense of loss. It wasn't just a land she had lived in; it was a land that had shaped her, changed her, made her stronger.
And though she was finally going home, she knew that a piece of her would remain here, in the cold winds of the mountains, in the whispering trees of the forest, and in the endless waves of the Sea of Ghosts. Skyrim had left its mark on her soul.
Over six years ago, she was supposed to be sent off to Antiva to "learn the ways of being a proper noblewoman," as her mother had so eloquently put it. It was a plan her mother had crafted with all the precision of a master strategist, one that involved sending her youngest daughter across the sea to live with her sister-in-law's family—an influential household steeped in Antivan court life. She was just fourteen at the time, too young to have much say in her future, and yet old enough to feel the weight of what it would mean: to be thrust into the heart of Antivan nobility, where silk dresses and sharp tongues ruled.
Her mother had painted the whole affair as though it were some grand opportunity. "You'll learn how to move in court, how to command respect," she had said, her tone filled with ambition. "You will bring honor to our family."
But for the young girl, it was nothing short of a nightmare. The thought of spending years in a world of empty pleasantries, enduring the condescending glances of lords and ladies who thought far too highly of themselves, made her stomach twist. The rules of the court were a cage—elegant, yes, but a cage nonetheless. She was not made for ballgowns and the tiresome rituals of noble etiquette.
Her skills, her true talents, had nothing to do with grace or charm. Silk dresses and courtly banter? Useless. She was far more skilled at slipping unnoticed through the shadows, at picking locks and pockets with a deftness that no amount of courtly training could teach. In her world, the thrill of stealing away into forbidden places—particularly the larder, where she could always count on a late-night snack—was far more exciting than any court intrigue her mother could imagine.
It was all a game to her: sneaking into places where she wasn't supposed to be, swiping small valuables off unsuspecting guests, and slipping away without a trace. She had a natural gift for mischief, a sharp wit that thrived in the shadows where the eyes of the nobility never reached. What use was she in a court, where her every move would be scrutinized, her every word measured? She wasn't built for that world.
But her mother, would have none of it. Antiva was the solution, the next step in her daughter's "proper" education. The court would mold her into a refined lady, smooth away her rough edges, and teach her the art of wielding influence with elegance and charm. It was a future her mother had planned down to the smallest detail.
Except, that future never happened.
She was well into the second week of sailing when a powerful storm rolled upon them, dark clouds swirling ominously on the horizon like a pack of wolves closing in on their prey. The air was thick with tension as the wind picked up, sending shivers through the crew. They scrambled about the deck, faces taut with panic. But she, with a fierce determination in her eyes, had managed to persuade the panicking captain against 'tying her noble ass' to the railing. Instead, Elena assured him that she had some skill when it came to sailing.
With a quick, commanding "Stay!" to her loyal Mabari warhound, she shot up the mast like a bolt of lightning, joining the crew in their frantic efforts to wrestle the ship away from the storm's grasp. The vessel pitched and rolled beneath her, the tumultuous winds and ten-foot swells tossing the crew about like rag-dolls in the hands of a reckless child.
"Trim the sails!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the roar of the tempest. The crew responded, urgency driving their movements as they fought against the elements. Waves crashed over the sides, drenching everyone to the bone, but her focus was unwavering. She perched on the rigging, the salt spray glistening on her determined face, a stark contrast to the chaos around her.
"Steady, everyone! We'll ride this out!" the captain yelled, his voice strained yet resolute. She could see the doubt in his eyes, but her presence seemed to embolden him, giving him a glimpse of hope amid the storm's fury.
As the storm intensified, the sky crackled with lightning, illuminating her silhouette against the darkened clouds. With every swell, she felt the ship teetering on the edge of disaster, but together, they fought back, determined to reclaim the course and navigate through the chaos.
After what felt like hours of battling through the relentless storm, the winds finally began to relent, and the waves calmed to a gentle roll. For a fleeting moment, Elena's heart stilled in muted joy at the thought that this nightmare might be over. The crew let out collective sighs of relief, exchanging weary but hopeful glances, as they began to assess the damage.
But fate, it seemed, was not yet finished with them. Just as Elena dared to believe they had weathered the worst, a deafening crack shattered the silence—a single bolt of lightning shot down from the blackened clouds, striking the mast with a blinding flash. The air ignited with electric energy, and a sickening splintering echoed across the ship.
The mast erupted in a shower of shards, the wood cracking and splitting in two. Time slowed as Elena watched in horror, the massive structure toppling toward the deck. With a heavy thud, it plunged into the ocean, dragging with it our hopes of harnessing the winds.
Panic surged through the crew as they rushed to assess the damage, eyes wide with disbelief. "We've lost our mast!" someone shouted, the fear palpable in their voice.
Elena's heart raced as she turned to the captain, who stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the churning waters. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice strained but steady, trying to anchor the chaos around her.
He shook his head, lost in thought, but she could see the flicker of determination igniting in his eyes. "We'll have to make repairs," he finally replied, his voice hoarse yet resolute. "Get the sails down, and gather what we can salvage."
Elena nodded, her heart pounding in rhythm with the crashing waves. There was no time for despair; we had to act quickly. As the remnants of the mast bobbed in the swell, she felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. She glanced at the crew, their expressions a mix of fear and resolve, and knew that together, they would face whatever came next.
Once the storm finally dissipated, the crew sprang into action, their spirits surprisingly high despite the ordeal. They moved about the deck with renewed energy, praying to the Maker that land wouldn't be too far off. The scent of salt and wet wood hung in the air as they began cleaning up the debris scattered across the ship, each member focused on the task at hand.
Elena joined in where she could, her hands working tirelessly to pick up splintered wood and patch the gaping holes that marred the vessel. She knew the repairs would need to be thorough when we finally reached port—wherever that might be. Every knot she tied felt like a promise to the ship, a promise that she would help restore it to its former glory.
After several days of labor and uncertainty, Captain Hodan called her into his cabin. The atmosphere shifted as she stepped inside, the air thick with tension. The captain's desk was cluttered with star charts and maps, each one bearing the marks of frantic scribbles and erasures. He looked older, weariness etched across his face, his eyes shadowed and distant.
Elena's heart clenched at the sight of him. She had dreaded this moment for days, sensing that the news he bore would not be good.
"Forgive me, M'lady," he began, his voice low and heavy with regret. "I am unable to track our position anymore." His gaze fell to the charts before him, as if they might provide the answers he desperately sought. "I had hoped that we would find our way, that the current would pull us into familiar waters, but two days ago, I lost the stars. I don't know how it's possible, but I can't even see where we are."
The weight of his words settled in the pit of her stomach. "What do you mean? You can't see the stars?" She felt a chill run through her, as if the very heavens had turned their backs on them.
He nodded slowly, frustration mixing with despair. "The sky is obscured. Clouds have shrouded the stars, and the current has carried us off course. We could be sailing in circles, drifting further away from land." He leaned back in his chair, his expression one of defeat. "I fear we may be lost."
Elena took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain steady. "We won't give up. We have to trust our instincts and the skills of our crew. Perhaps we can follow the currents, or—"
"We may be adrift for days, weeks even," he interrupted, the urgency in his tone cutting through her resolve. "We have limited provisions. If we don't find land soon, we might not survive."
A heavy silence hung between them, filled with unspoken fears. Elena clenched her fists, determination surging within her. "Then we must act quickly. We can't let despair take hold. We'll gather the crew, and we'll come up with a plan."
Captain Hodan met her gaze, and for the first time in days, a flicker of hope ignited in his tired eyes. "Aye, M'lady. Let's rally them. Together, we will find a way."
Even though the captain had spoken to the crew it was not hard for either of them to see the worry start to creep in. Elena stood at the edge of the deck, staring out at the endless expanse of ocean that stretched in all directions, her fingers absently running through Shade's midnight black fur as the dog sat loyally by her side. The salty breeze tousled her hair, but even that couldn't dispel the heaviness that had settled over her heart.
It had been three long weeks. The once bustling ship, filled with laughter and camaraderie, was now a vessel of quiet resentment and despair. The crew had started to withdraw into themselves, muttering curses under their breath when they thought she couldn't hear. She knew the whispers that traveled from bunk to bunk, knew they blamed her for their predicament. It had been her mother's insistence that had set them on this course, after all. And though she hadn't chosen it, Elena carried the burden of that decision.
At fourteen, most girls might have crumbled under the weight of such cold hostility, but Elena was different. She kept her head high, even when the glares became too much, and when the men's words turned sharp and bitter. She had Shade—her faithful companion who was always at her side—and the Captain, whose stern voice often cut through the tension, reminding the crew of their duty, and shielding her from the worst of their wrath. His presence was a steady anchor in these stormless, drifting days.
Still, the isolation was difficult. She missed the way things had been before the voyage took this strange, uncertain turn. Back when the crew treated her with kindness, before the currents carried them off course into this vast, uncharted stretch of sea.
Shade whined softly, pressing his large head against her leg as if sensing her thoughts. Elena glanced down at him, grateful for his silent comfort.
"Where are we going, Shade?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. She didn't expect an answer, of course. No one knew where they were heading anymore. The ocean had taken control, leaving them to drift toward some unknown fate.
But one thing was certain—she couldn't let herself give up. Not now.
As time passed the once unbearable tension on the ship had given way to a weary silence. The crew, worn down by the passage of time and the constant uncertainty, no longer muttered curses or cast icy glares in Elena's direction. Instead, they wandered the decks like ghosts, their faces gaunt with exhaustion and despair. It seemed that even their anger had drained away, leaving only a hollow, hopelessness behind.
Elena, bundled in a lighter leather jacket that offered little warmth against the biting sea air, sat at the helm. Her silver eyes, dulled by sleepless nights, gazed out over the moonlit ocean. The gentle lull of the waves was hypnotic, almost enough to make her forget the weight that pressed on her from all sides—the burden of their lost course, the isolation, the unknown. Exhaustion etched itself into her very bones, and for a moment, her thoughts drifted as the dark sea stretched endlessly before her.
Then, suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. A chill ran through her as though someone had poured ice water down her spine. Her breath caught in her throat as her senses sharpened, jolting her out of her trance. Her father had once told her about this feeling, a "warrior's instinct" he had called it. A sense that something was amiss even when there was no clear sign of danger.
Elena's heart pounded as she tore her gaze from the horizon and glanced back toward where Shade had been lying only moments ago. Her loyal hound, always a source of quiet strength, was no longer at ease. He paced restlessly across the deck, his powerful form tense, his golden eyes locked on the ocean ahead. The fur along his spine stood straight up, a clear sign of agitation.
"Shade?" Elena called softly, her voice hoarse. The dog didn't respond, his attention unwavering, fixed on something she couldn't yet see.
She swallowed hard and followed his gaze, her pulse quickening as the unease in her chest grew. What was out there? Had they drifted into more than just unknown waters? The ocean had always been a place of mystery, and though the moonlit waves seemed calm, there was something lurking just beyond her sight.
Elena rose from her seat at the helm, every muscle in her body suddenly tense. She could feel the weight of something approaching, something unseen but undeniably there.
Elena's silver eyes scanned the horizon, searching desperately for any sign of what had triggered her instincts. The ocean stretched out in all directions, as empty and serene as ever—too serene, she realized. Just as she was about to convince herself it was nothing more than fatigue playing tricks on her, a strange mist began to creep in from the water's edge.
The fog appeared out of nowhere, thick and unnatural, moving with an eerie purpose. It slithered over the ship like a living thing, curling around the mast and wrapping itself around the rails. It seemed to cling to every surface it touched, its cold, damp fingers creeping closer with each passing second. Elena's heart raced. The crew, having sensed the sudden shift, stirred uneasily, their nervous shuffling breaking the silence that had long settled over the deck.
Elena felt her breath catch in her throat. She reached instinctively for the daggers she had kept strapped to her waist, especially in recent days when the unknown seemed closer than ever. The cold metal hilts in her hands offered little comfort, but it was better than feeling entirely defenseless. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped them tightly, her eyes darting around, looking for something—anything—that could explain this unnatural fog.
As she stepped back toward the Captain, Shade moved to stand between her and the advancing mist, his low growl barely audible over the crew's murmurs. The once-proud men now paced along the railings, casting wary glances into the growing fog, muttering prayers under their breath. Their nervous energy spread like wildfire, though no one spoke outright about the dread that was creeping into their hearts.
Elena's back bumped into the Captain, who stood tall, his broad frame unmoved by the unnatural fog that coiled around them. His calm presence gave her a momentary sense of stability, and she glanced up at him, expecting to see the same worry she felt mirrored in his eyes. But instead, he wore the same calm, determined look he always did.
"You've been strong through all this, lass," he said, his voice steady, though his gaze was fixed on the mist as it curled around his ship. He reached over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "Now show that same courage through this as well."
Elena's heart slowed a little as his words settled over her like a blanket of calm. The Captain had long since given up trying to steer the ship—the ocean had taken them where it wanted—but he had never abandoned his men, nor the sense of responsibility that came with his title. Even now, with the thick, otherworldly fog surrounding them, he remained as resolute as ever.
The crew still moved nervously, but they looked to the Captain for guidance. Elena knew that whatever came next, they would follow him, and she would have to find her courage once more. She tightened her grip on her daggers, her breath steadying.
Something was coming. She could feel it in her bones.
And when it came, she would be ready.
The sudden scream shattered the eerie silence, piercing through the thick fog like a blade. Elena's heart leaped into her throat as her head whipped around to see the source of the commotion. One of the younger crew members—a boy no older than sixteen, with wild eyes and trembling hands—had broken under the strain. His face was a mask of terror, lips parted in a silent scream as he stared into the encroaching mist.
Before anyone could react, he bolted. His legs, fueled by blind panic, carried him to the edge of the ship faster than anyone could move to stop him.
"Wait!" someone shouted, but it was too late.
With a desperate leap, he cleared the railing, his body vanishing over the side in an instant. The sickening sound of his splash echoed through the fog, and then… nothing. Silence. The black water swallowed him whole, and the rolling mist obscured the place where he had disappeared.
Elena rushed to the railing, her chest heaving as she gripped the wood tightly, her knuckles white. She peered into the endless grey, her eyes straining to see any sign of the boy, but the fog was too thick, too unnatural. His form was swallowed almost immediately, disappearing into the oppressive mist like a stone sinking into the abyss.
The others moved closer to the edge as well, murmurs of disbelief and horror passing between them. One of the older crew members made a motion as if to call out, but his voice faltered, unsure if there was any point. The boy was gone—lost to the fog, and perhaps to something far worse that waited within it.
Elena felt her stomach twist with helplessness. A lump formed in her throat as she stared into the blank void, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The crew member hadn't fallen—he had jumped, driven mad by some unseen terror. She had seen the look in his eyes, the same hollow fear that she had started to feel gnawing at the edges of her own mind.
The Captain's voice cut through the rising panic. "Back from the rail!" he barked, his tone commanding. He stepped forward, pulling a few of the men away from the edge with firm hands. "There's nothing we can do for him now." His face was grim, his earlier calm now replaced by the weight of loss and the need for control.
Elena stayed by the railing a moment longer, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The fog seemed to press in on her from all sides, tightening around the ship like a vise. It felt… hungry. As if it had claimed the boy and now waited for more.
Shade whined at her side, his golden eyes wide and alert, sensing the danger that still lingered in the air. Elena's grip on her daggers tightened, the cold steel grounding her against the growing dread.
They had lost him, but more than that, they were losing themselves—one by one.
The agonizing scream pierced through the thick fog, freezing every crew member in place for a split second. Time seemed to stand still, the air heavy with dread, before the entire crew rushed back to the railing, desperation driving their legs. Elena moved with them, her heart pounding in her chest as she clung to the faint hope that the boy's scream was a cry for help—that he had somehow clung to the ship's side, begging to be pulled back to safety.
The Captain was already there, his movements swift despite the weight of the situation. He held a lantern over the edge, stretching it out as far as his arm would allow, its soft glow cutting through the thick haze that wrapped around the ship like a suffocating shroud. Everyone leaned forward, eyes wide, praying to see the boy's hand reaching up from the water or his desperate face breaking through the surface. But what they saw instead was far worse.
The light illuminated the water beneath them, revealing a sight that sent a collective gasp through the crew. The ocean was no longer the dark, foreboding black it had been moments before. The water below the ship had turned… red.
The sickening realization hit like a tidal wave, crashing over them all at once. The color wasn't some trick of the light, nor was it the glow of the lantern reflecting off the waves. It was blood. The crimson hue spread outward from where the boy had leapt, mixing with the black waters in a slow, deliberate swirl.
Elena's breath caught in her throat, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth. Her mind reeled, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, but there was no rational explanation. The crew member had not drowned. He had not been lost to the depths. Something had gotten to him—something beneath the surface that they couldn't see, but was very much there.
Whispers of disbelief spread through the crew like wildfire, quickly replaced by sheer, mind-numbing terror. Panic took hold, gripping each man as if the red waters had reached up to claim them too. It was contagious, spreading from one person to the next, their fear feeding off each other until the deck was filled with the sounds of men shouting and stumbling over each other in blind terror.
Elena felt her legs weaken beneath her, her heart hammering in her chest as the reality of the situation crashed down on her. The mist… the scream… and now the blood in the water. Something out there—something unseen—was hunting them. And it had already taken its first victim.
The Captain's voice rose above the chaos once again, though this time it was tinged with urgency. "Get away from the railing!" he ordered, pulling a few of the crew back by their collars. His face was tight, his normally calm demeanor showing the first signs of true fear.
Elena didn't need to be told twice. She staggered back from the edge, her mind spinning as her body moved on instinct. Shade pressed against her leg, his body tense, growling low as he too sensed the danger lurking somewhere around them.
Whatever had taken the boy was still out there. And the fact they couldn't see it made whatever it was oh so much worse.
The roar that followed the dying scream shook the very air around them, a sound so deep and primal that it rattled the bones in Elena's body. It wasn't a natural sound, not like any animal she had ever heard before, and it certainly wasn't anything that belonged to the sea. It was something far more terrifying—a noise that came from the depths of the unknown, as if the ocean itself had come alive and was roaring in anger.
The sound tore through the fog and echoed across the ship, sending a wave of ice-cold terror through her veins. It felt as though the very night had turned against them, and the overwhelming sense of dread that settled over the ship was suffocating. Elena's breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing. She felt frozen to the spot, every muscle in her body locked in fear.
Around her, the crew was just as paralyzed. The men who had moments ago been scrambling in panic now stood deathly still, their eyes wide, staring out into the mist as though expecting something to emerge at any moment. The tension was unbearable, their collective fear turning the air heavy and thick. No one spoke. No one dared move. They all stood trembling at the edge of their wits, their thoughts racing with the same question: what could have made that sound?
Elena gripped her daggers so tightly her fingers ached, her mind running wild with images of of a monstrous creature lurking in the dark, waiting to strike. But it wasn't just the roar itself that terrified her—it was the feeling that accompanied it, the sense of an ancient and malevolent presence just beyond the veil of fog. It was as though the ocean had finally revealed its true face, and it was not the peaceful, indifferent force they had always believed it to be. No, this was something else—something far more dangerous.
The Captain's usual calm was gone, replaced by a grim determination. He stood at the helm, lantern still in hand, his gaze fixed on the fog with narrowed eyes. Though his face remained hard, the roar had clearly shaken him as well. Elena could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the slight tremble in his hand as he held the light.
"What in the devil's name was that?" one of the crew whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves lapping against the ship's hull.
No one had an answer. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as they all waited—helpless—unsure of what to do next.
Shade growled low beside her, the fur on his back still bristling as he stood guard. Elena knelt beside him, placing a hand on his back, hoping for comfort, but finding little. Her father's words about a warrior's instinct came back to her, but even that instinct couldn't prepare her for this. What could a dagger do against a roar like that?
The fog remained as thick as ever, and though the ocean was hidden from view, the crew could feel the presence of something out there, waiting
At first, the sound was so faint that Elena thought she might be imagining it—a soft, rhythmic disturbance in the air, so subtle it could have been mistaken for the wind. But as the seconds dragged on, the sound grew louder, more distinct. It was a low, steady thrum, like the beat of wings… but not the wings of a bird. No, this was something much larger, much more ominous.
The fog was thick and unyielding, wrapping itself around the ship like a shroud. It made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead, adding to the mounting tension that held everyone in a silent grip. The crew, already on edge, exchanged uneasy glances, their ears straining to locate the source of the sound. Elena's pulse quickened as her heart hammered in her chest, her thoughts racing. Wingbeats… large, slow, deliberate. Whatever was making that sound was enormous.
With every beat, the sound grew closer and closer, its presence looming in the oppressive mist. The air itself felt heavier, as though something was drawing near—something ancient, something that did not belong in the mortal world. Elena's skin prickled with a sense of impending doom, the hairs on her arms standing on end. The roar had shaken them, but this… this was different. It wasn't just the unknown anymore—it was the approach of something real, something tangible, and it was heading straight for them.
Suddenly, Shade froze. The loyal hound, who had been pacing anxiously, stopped in his tracks and spun toward the front of the ship, his golden eyes locked on something unseen in the fog. His lips curled back, exposing sharp teeth, and a deep, guttural growl rumbled from his throat—a sound unlike anything Elena had ever heard from him before. It was primal, instinctual, the growl of an animal ready to defend against an incomprehensible threat.
Elena's blood ran cold. Shade's reactions were always a warning, and right now, his posture screamed that whatever was approaching was close—too close. She followed his gaze toward the front of the ship, though the fog offered no clue as to what was coming. Still, she could feel it. The wingbeats were getting louder, closer, and with them came a pressure in the air, a presence that pressed down on them all, filling the space with an overwhelming sense of dread.
The Captain stepped forward, his jaw clenched tight as he raised the lantern higher, casting a wider circle of light over the deck. The men around him gripped their weapons, though Elena could see their hands shaking. They were terrified—just like she was. But there was no running from whatever was out there. It was coming for them, and they had nowhere to go.
Elena tightened her grip on her daggers, her breath shallow as she braced herself. The wingbeats were so loud now, she swore she could feel the air stir with every downstroke, though nothing appeared from the fog.
"What… is it?" one of the crewmen muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
No one answered.
And then, in the fog-choked distance, a massive shadow loomed, moving through the mist with deliberate, powerful beats. It was coming for the ship
Out of the thick fog, two glowing red eyes suddenly appeared, cutting through the mist with an intensity that froze Elena to her core. They were large, far too large to belong to any normal creature, and their gaze seemed to lock onto the ship with a terrifying focus. The eyes glowed like molten embers, radiating malice, and their unblinking stare pierced through the distance like a predator eyeing its prey.
Elena's breath hitched in her throat. The sight of those eyes pulled her into a waking nightmare, every horror story her father had ever told her about the Fade Demons—creatures of myth that roamed between worlds, devouring the souls of the lost—rushing back to the forefront of her mind. But this was no story. There was no comforting warmth of a fire, no safe house to wake up in. The chill she felt now was real, and the creature those eyes belonged to was something far worse than anything from a childhood tale.
She couldn't move. Her body, gripped by terror, refused to obey her mind's frantic pleas to run, to scream, to do something. All she could do was stand there, her fingers tightening uselessly around the hilts of her daggers, her heart hammering against her chest like it was trying to break free.
The red eyes didn't blink. They hovered in the fog, closer now, their demonic glow growing more intense with every passing second. She could feel them boring into her, like they were peeling away layers of her soul, seeing everything—the fear, the desperation, the hopelessness. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only her and those eyes, locked in a deadly gaze that promised one thing: there would be no escape.
Around her, the crew was equally stricken, their murmurs turning into sharp gasps of fear. Some whispered prayers, others backed away from the railing, shaking as they stared into the fog, trying to convince themselves it wasn't real. But it was. It was real, and it was coming for them.
"Elena…" The Captain's voice broke through the heavy silence, pulling her back to the present, but his tone was not one of comfort. It was grim, heavy with the realization of what they were up against. "Stay close."
His hand came down on her shoulder again, firm but shaking ever so slightly. Even he, in all his strength, couldn't fully mask his fear in the face of the unknown horror that was descending upon them.
Elena nodded, though the movement felt mechanical. She tried to steady her breathing, but the thrum of the wings and the heat from those glowing eyes seemed to wrap around her like a suffocating blanket of dread. Shade's growl grew deeper, more feral, as he positioned himself between Elena and the approaching creature, his golden eyes never wavering from the looming threat.
In the distance, the wingbeats grew louder still, each one sending tremors through the ship. The fog swirled, disturbed by the enormous creature's presence, but it remained stubbornly thick, concealing whatever monstrous form those eyes belonged to. All they could see were the glowing embers of its gaze—hungry, focused, and unrelenting.
Elena's mind screamed for her to wake up, to break free from this nightmare. But there was no escape. This was real. The fog, the red eyes, the looming shadow of death—all of it was real. And there was no waking up from it, no matter how much she wished otherwise
The deep, rumbling sound of something inhaling, as if drawing in a massive breath, was the only warning they had. A moment later, fire erupted from the fog, a searing blaze that shot across the deck, its flames hungrily licking at the sails and wooden beams of the tiny ship. The heat was immediate and overwhelming, the flames dancing in cruel shades of orange and red as they spread rapidly, igniting the ship like dry kindling.
Elena didn't have time to think—she only reacted. The sight of the fire snapped her out of her frozen terror, and without a second thought, she dashed toward the flames, her fear of the red eyes momentarily forgotten. The inferno was scorching, its heat blistering against her skin as she grabbed a blanket that had been left nearby. She threw herself into action, smothering the nearest flames with desperate determination, focusing her terror into something tangible.
The fire crackled and hissed, resisting her attempts to put it out, but she pushed harder, her heart racing as the flames burned hotter. Her hands moved frantically, her thoughts a blur, but her mind clung to one single purpose—she had to fight the fire, had to do something, anything, to stop the ship from being consumed.
Her frantic efforts seemed to jolt the others from their stupor. Seeing her throwing herself into the fight against the blaze, some of the crew quickly followed her lead. Men rushed to grab anything that could be used to fight the flames—buckets, blankets, even pieces of their clothing—and they joined her in a desperate bid to douse the fire. Shouts filled the air as they worked in unison, their panic now fueling their movements rather than freezing them in place.
But not all of them focused on the fire. Several of the men, their fear manifesting as anger and desperation, grabbed their bows and notched arrows. With trembling hands, they aimed into the fog, loosing a volley of arrows into the direction of the glowing red eyes, hoping to strike whatever monstrous thing lurked just out of sight. The arrows disappeared into the mist, but the wingbeats did not cease, and neither did the fire.
The ship was caught between two terrors: the growing flames threatening to engulf them and the unseen creature in the fog, its presence now punctuated by the glowing red eyes that remained fixated on them. Elena could still hear the rhythmic beating of its wings, the deep, ominous sound growing closer with each passing moment. It was as if the creature was toying with them, letting them struggle, letting them burn, all while it watched from the cover of the fog.
Shade snarled beside her, snapping at the air in the direction of the eyes, his instincts urging him to attack, though there was nothing he could see. The firelight reflected off his golden eyes, making him appear just as fierce and wild as the threat looming above.
As Elena frantically smothered another patch of flames, she caught a glimpse of the Captain. He was barking orders, his face set in a grim expression as he worked alongside the men, but his eyes betrayed him. They flickered constantly toward the fog, toward the thing that had set their ship ablaze, as if he was bracing for the next strike.
But the fire wasn't letting up. Despite their efforts, the flames continued to spread, creeping along the deck, climbing the sails, threatening to consume everything. Elena's arms ached, her skin stung from the heat, but she couldn't stop—not while there was still a chance to save the ship, and maybe their lives.
And all the while, those glowing red eyes watched, patient, waiting for their next move.
The voice that emerged from the fog was almost as startling as the fire. Elena froze mid-motion, her body stilling at the unfamiliar words that echoed through the night. It was a deep, guttural sound, distinctly male, but layered with a strange resonance—like a chorus of a thousand voices speaking in unison, each one carrying an ancient power that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Hi sahlo, sahlag, jur. Dir, vos zey wah du hin sil ko Sovenguard!"
The language was like nothing she had ever heard before. It wasn't from any land she had read about in her father's books or learned from her mother's teachings. Yet, somehow, buried deep inside her, a part of her stirred in recognition, as if the words were etched into her soul, waiting to be recalled. She couldn't understand their meaning, but their weight was undeniable, and they seemed to vibrate through the very air around them.
The crew, disoriented and terrified, could do nothing but listen as the monstrous voice rolled across the fog, bouncing back at them in chilling waves. The fog swirled in response to the voice, as if it obeyed its commands.
And then, without warning, the voice roared again—this time with a terrifying force.
"FUS ROH DAH!"
The words carried with them a power beyond anything Elena had ever imagined. It felt like the very fabric of reality trembled in the wake of that shout. The force that followed was nothing short of cataclysmic. It slammed into the ship like a tidal wave, an invisible blast of energy that tore through the wood and rigging with brutal, unrelenting power.
In an instant, the ship was obliterated.
Wood splintered and exploded outward, the sails shredded to ribbons as the deck erupted into chaos. Elena barely had time to register the shock before she was thrown into the air, the world around her a blur of fire, wood, and shrieking wind. The force of the blast sent her careening off the ship, her body weightless and spinning uncontrollably as she was flung into the dark, murky ocean.
The freezing water engulfed her as she hit its surface, the cold so intense it felt like knives stabbing into her skin. Her arms flailed, her body struggling to right itself, but the currents pulled her under, twisting her in all directions. Her vision blurred, and her lungs screamed for air as she fought against the disorientation and panic.
And yet, even in the chaos, even as the freezing ocean swallowed her whole, Elena saw them—those eyes. The glowing red eyes that had haunted her, watched her, judged her. They burned through the fog, cutting through the madness, locking onto her with an intensity that made her blood freeze. She could feel their gaze boring into her, as if they were reaching out, binding her to the creature that had destroyed everything.
Then, just as quickly as the eyes found her, a piece of shattered wood from the railing slammed into her head with brutal force. The impact sent stars dancing across her vision, her thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. She felt herself slipping, her consciousness fading, as the pain dulled and the darkness rushed in to claim her.
The last thing she saw before everything went black were those demonic red eyes, staring straight into her soul as she sank into the abyss.
A.N; Thank you for reading through it. I will eventually be writing a prequel to this and a sequel as well but for now I want to get done with this version first.