COMPASS OF TRUE LOVE - INTERLUDE

Interlude

Waves teared at the lonely ship sailing through the unrelenting storm. Most green horned captains would have turned tail the second they saw the mass of roiling clouds in the distance, though any experienced captain who knew these waters was intimately familiar with the Storm of Claws. It was unmoving, vicious and violent, tearing through cloth, wood and metal with neither thought nor care. A constant of nature, lying in wait just south of the Isles of the Immortal.

Many believed that it was caused by the Maw, the giant maelstrom just off the Illyrian coast, nearby. But this captain knew that to be false. She had sailed into this storm many more times than she could keep count of and as the ship fought against the clawing force, she remained focussed on her destination.

She knew she’d made it once again, when the waters turned from her abyssal dark blue to a crimson, blood red sea. The heavy smell of iron was in the air, overtaking the salty smell of the sea in an instant, just as the ship passed into the eye of the storm.

And in that eye? An island. A sharp obsidian tooth jutting out of the deep, covered in smaller spikes and shards. A truly vicious sight, but one all to familiar to the captain. She gracefully turned the ship to line up with the invisible crack in the glassy rock that she knew to be there, adjusting her glasses. They had a limited range, sadly, otherwise the illusion would have already been dispelled to her eyes, but for this specific journey, they proved to be essential.

It was only the second time she had the shade on board. The last time she’d taken it from here and brought it to the coast of Argonne, but this time, she was doing the reverse. ‘An important audience,’ she was told and seemingly one that could not be done via magical means.

The illusion of the false wall dispelled, just as the ship began to enter the rock. Echoes started to dance around the cavern, mimicking the splashing of the waves against the ship’s hull and the tense chatter of her crew. In the far distance of the tunnel, a dock started to appear, built out of a smooth dark grey stone that felt almost light compared to the obsidian that made up the rest of this mountain.

The captains crew didn’t take long to tow the ship and soon their guest strode onto and off the deck. It was always an unnerving experience, to watch the shade walk. It had only begun doing so when the captain was firmly sworn into loyalty.

The shade was statuesque. Not in the sense that it was particularly chiselled, but in the sense that it usually didn’t move unless no one was looking. Not even the tiniest bit. It had long, pure black robes that flowed down its nondescript bodice. A low hood that hid away its eyes, safe for the steady stream of sweet water tears than ran down its face. Behind its back flowed two black wings. No, black wasn’t the right word. Lightless wings. They sucked in all colour, all light, they chilled the air and made skins crawl.

Around the Shade was always a perpetual sphere of utter darkness. One that the captain could only see through to navigate the ship thanks to the glasses that disrupted the illusory magic, for her eyes only. Luckily, the rest of her crew knew the ship well enough to do their jobs without the gift of sight, otherwise this journey would most likely have ended badly.

The captain gave some last standing orders, before following her dark ‘friend.’

The rock-hewn pier led into another opening – a tunnel – that led even deeper into the mountain only to then lead deeper still, further down, for that matter. A seemingly endless staircase that descended into the dark.

Then, it finally opened up to the familiar hall. Grand in design, as if made for a king. It wasn’t, of course. The man they were about to see was no king, nor did he ever intend to become one. His motives were far above the base desires of power-hungry mortals.

Behind the four pillars that held aloft the ceiling, atop a wide pedestal on an obsidian throne he sat. Behind him, there was no wall. Only an invisible force that separated the vast oceanscape to fill in this underground palace. Through the force, one could see without limit, as if the entire ocean was without darkness. Schools of large fish swam along, a group of sharks hunting after them. A squid was planted up right against the magical wall, inquisitively probing and testing the material and investigating the people inside. In the far, far distance, a large whale dove to depths unimaginable to the captain.

The man on the throne stood.

“Shadow. I am glad you have returned to me. We have much to discuss.” His voice was cold, devoid of emotion or care, though his eyes looked ever furious. One was green, one was blue and both glowed brightly like stars, the pupils a vicious slit like a viper’s. He was pale, almost white, yet his long, curly, braided hair was black as the night, with that same blueish shimmer. His armour was even blacker, safe for the trims of green and blue that he liked oh so much. On top of his head, resting in between his long elven ears, sat a crown of cold ice and gold.

“It has been some time, Fate,” the Shadow whispered despite having no mouth to speak from, its voice echoing through the hall, its voice just as nondescript as its body.

“I have brought grave news for us,” the elven man began. “The Aspect of Death was slain, the Skull of Unlife returned to its goddess.”

The captain had to hold in the gasp that threatened to escape her lips. The Aspect of Death, slain. How could he have been? She and her crew had tried, time and time again, yet with no result. Making an ally out of him and the other aspects had been the greatest relief they could find in those days. But now he was slain.

“Disturbing news. Does that mean the champion has escaped our grasp?” the Shadow asked.

Fate shook his head. “She can’t.” He began casting the spell – the captain had seen him do it over and over again ever since she’d brought him back home from that tournament in Segronne – and the image of the champion appeared in the hall. She was sleeping in what looked to be the cabin of a ship, a gentle smile on her face. Peaceful, deservedly so, the captain believed. Defeating the Aspect of Death was no easy feat. Truthfully, the captain believed it impossible until today.

The shadow whispered again, he had not moved one bit since entering the hall. “We can watch her, true, but can we reach her?”

Fate smacked his lips. “You can’t, Shadow, you have an important task to complete still. Rage will take care of her. But that reminds me, how does your task go?”

The Aspect of Shadow remained silent for a moment. “The city of Omar proves well protected. We have taken control of the north side of the river and taken much of the south, yet Lord Imperael remains steadfast. He is using the Cloak of Justice well, as expected of a formidable champion such as he. I do not believe he will keep his strength forever, though. And we have time.”

“Acceptable,” Fate replied, sinking back into his throne as the image of the champion girl disappeared. “Captain Agla, bring the Aspect of Rage to Xien. Tell him there are two divine artefacts to take. I’m sure he will enjoy the challenge of the champion of Visay…” he chuckled.

The captain bowed her head. “It will be done.”