Chapter 3
The Storm
“You two really are made for each other!”
Krysta’s shout was almost consumed by the crashing waves. Terrill endeavored to stand, his hand slipping on the soaked wood as the storm raged around him. His first companion was on her feet, pulling herself up the stairs towards the helm, an irate expression making her scowl. When she reached Floyd, she hoisted him up, to which he backed away, seeing the fierce expression on her face.
“Whoa, calm down there, Krysta. It’s just a little off course.”
“Just a little?! Do you have any clue where we are?!” Krysta’s screech made the helmsman also back off, bumping into the wheel of the ship. He was one of the few crew members remaining, with two others down below trying to take hold of the sails as they violently whipped around. “Helmsman, where are we?”
“I…er, I couldn’t say,” the man said. He reached behind to pull himself up, only to find that the wheel to the ship was heavily damaged; a sight that managed to make Terrill and Krysta both groan. “I can say we’re at the mercy of the tides now, though.”
“Torry!” A flash of lightning accompanied Krysta’s angry words while she prepared to stomp her way over. It was the first that Terrill had seen of this side of her… Well, not first, but certainly the first time it was directed at one of their own group.
“Eep!” came the sounds from Torry. Terrill felt her grab his leg while the thunder rumbled and boomed overhead. She was attempting to hide herself, but Krysta was having none of it, and Terrill was inclined to let her have her way with the girl. He stepped aside, allowing the two to face each other. “It was just a momentary instinct. They would have sunk the ship.”
“Then you should have gone back to them, not sent us wildly off our mark. We’re meant to be heading for Valorda, not wherever the goddess wills us!” The torrential rainstorm and occasional flashes of lightning made Krysta’s remonstrations all the more frightening to her adversary, who squeaked further, clapping her hands together in apology.
“Just wanted to help. I didn’t think…”
“Think about it later!” Terrill snapped. He shivered under the cold rain, wanting so desperately to get them under the deck, but knowing there was no hope of that so long as they were lost on the sea. Leaving them behind, Terrill joined with Floyd and the helmsman, who attempted in vain to regain control of the ship. “Will the ship sail?”
“It’ll sail just fine, but with the steering busted, there’s no way we can go whatever direction we want,” the helmsman informed Terrill. He grimaced with Floyd as the two shivered together.
“This is a fine pickle. When do you think the storm will stop?”
“It’s not a natural storm, so who knows…” Terrill’s presentation of his speculation made Floyd’s eyebrows disappear into his matted hair.
“Wait, you don’t think that…?”
“Yeah. The coincidence is too high.”
Another wave rocked against the ship, threatening to send them all back down to the deck, and one of the other crew members overboard. Terrill left the top deck, to his peril, and slid across the wet surface to where one of the pair of men was dangling from the side. He joined the fellow sailor in grabbing his friend and pulling the man back up, where they each aimed to regain their breaths.
“It’s still hours until dawn, and we’ve no rudder to steer by. What’d you go and attack the army for?” the sailor asked. Terrill had no answer. There was no malice, but the current situation they were in wouldn’t lend itself to any positive answer. Instead, he bent low and helped drag the man over to the hatch below.
“Treat him down below. We’ll figure out our course and heading, unless one of you is an expert at navigation.” They both shook their head, and despite their misgivings over the events that had brought them here, the sailors obeyed, heading below deck to the warmth and relatively dry cabin. Terrill shut the hatch and sighed, parting his brown hair but failing to do much but buy a few seconds before it drooped back towards his eyes. His breath was lost to the sea and storm. “I know you’re out there…”
“Terrill, we could use your help!” Krysta called out, her voice managing to pierce the squalls around them. Having no more time to recompose himself, Terrill pushed through the rain and winds to join his companions on the upper deck. Torry looked out of it from Krysta’s chewing out, but Floyd was busy running from side to side, like it would help him to discover where they were.
“You can’t even see Kirdon now. Are we that far away from it, or is it just the storm?”
“You’ll know if we hit land soon,” the helmsman said. He was no longer relaxed as he was grunting, trying to hold on to the wheel. It looked like it was going to snap off, or snap him in two. Terrill could see this and pried him away before either of those events could happen. The second he was free, the wheel went wildly out of control and sent them into a tailspin. “Kirdon isn’t far from Valorda’s nearest port. Just a couple days at worst, but there’s no idea. We could sail for hours and-”
“Yeah, we have no way of knowing which direction we’re going. Torry, get out of your headspace and stop this damn ship from spinning,” Terrill said. The girl regained her senses at his snapping, and she looked at the wheel that was whirring about with the most horrendous creaking noises. “Krysta, while the sailors are busy down below, it’s up to us to work the sails and try to regain some control over this ship, or we’ll be lost to the waves. I’ll need a boost up.”
“I’ll make some steps.”
It wasn’t much for their makeshift crew of nonexistent sailors, but Terrill knew it was the best chance they had for their continued survival. The helmsman went back to the wheel, attempting to cease its spinning as Torry focused her hands on it. Ice formed, freezing it in place, but Terrill didn’t know for how long that would hold. Floyd was much the same as he joined the two struggling and placed his hand atop the chilled surface. It slowed under the influence of his Time Magic, but Terrill knew it wouldn’t be enough if they couldn’t get the ship to catch the right wind.
“Terrill, take this line.” Krysta’s words were followed by her tossing a rope to him that was soaked, but seemed to control the main sail. He had no clue how to work it, and could only think of one way to even guess at it. She was well ahead of him, as Terrill saw a glistening barrier in front that created a way for him to climb to the top, even with the continuous pouring rain.
He tested his foot, careful to make sure he wouldn’t slip, but it seemed that Krysta’s barriers, when horizontal, held the perfect amount of friction for him to climb. Terrill kept a tight grip on the rope and climbed until, at last, he reached something similar to a crow’s nest, though he was in no way aware of its technical naval term. With his feet planted on solid wood, he was able to take stock of where they stood, only to realize there was nothing to see.
It was just the ocean upon the ocean and more rain interceding beyond that.
No land was in sight, making them adrift with no lifeline of ever making it to Valorda. The storm was making it impossible to gain their bearings aside from that. Wind howled in Terrill’s ears and he put aside his newest trepidation to pull the rope taut. He saw how the sails began to move, and could feel the direction of the wind on his face, prompting him to try and move the sails in the right direction.
It took more than a few tries, but eventually Terrill felt as though he’d accurately captured the wind in the sails, allowing for a slightly smoother ride. It didn’t stop the rain, but Torry and Floyd had managed to put a complete halt to the crazy spinning wheel that had once been their steering guide. With a groan, Terrill threatened to collapse against the mast.
“Why is it every trip I take starts out as a disaster…?” he growled, though no one could hear his lamentations. His eyes closed, realizing he hadn’t so much as rested since that morning, which felt so long ago. Contemplating just catching a wink while he stood there, Terrill let the rain wash over him. It was when he felt something on his face that he realized the air had changed.
The rain had lightened, if not by much, but enough for something else to begin falling upon the ship. When Terrill brushed it off his face, he wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but looking up, he began to realize something familiar, shared by all the towns that had been burned around the countryside of Sayn.
The only difference was that, this time, the ash that was falling was unmistakable from that of one of the storm clouds.
“What is this…?” His mind struggled to make sense of what was before him. The sky had lightened, as though day was choosing to grace them with its presence, but it made the black cloud of ash stand out from those of the rumbling storm above them. It was a risk, but Terrill took hold of the top portion of the mast and lifted himself high to get a better view of things past the sails. The ship was no longer out of control in spite of its inability to be steered, and Terrill could steady himself by digging his nails into the wood. His eyes followed the trail of ash. There was no way to know its direction, but Terrill could tell that it was spewing from a source, and it was no simple town burning.
“Hey, Terrill, you seein’ this?” Floyd’s shout told Terrill that he wasn’t hallucinating the phenomenon. It was helpful, as the sudden increase of the downpour made anything with his sight untrustworthy. “This is ash, right? Where’s it coming from?”
“We must be near Ardoris,” the helmsman answered him. Terrill let go of the mast, his hands gripping the rope tied to the it and beginning to slide down. Krysta’s barriers had faded, and the thrill of falling to the deck amidst the harrowing winds sent a jolt through Terrill until he landed with a splash on the deck.
“The southern continent?” Torry asked. Terrill couldn’t see her, but she did seem surprised to have found them so wildly off in the opposite direction of what they’d expected. Terrill wasn’t. “So, is that ash coming from the Tarkinder Volcano?”
“If I had to guess,” the helmsman said. Terrill glanced to him, noticing that he had his hand on the frozen wheel for comfort. His face conveyed the distress of their newfound knowledge, though Terrill took that as a boon. They may not have been anywhere near Valorda anymore, but now they had a general idea. “What direction is the ash coming from?”
“From the prow,” Terrill shouted through the waves. A splash of them from over the side, along with another flash of lightning, illuminated that Krysta was no longer in the center of the deck, but instead near the prow, herself, staring in the direction of the ash’s trail.
“That’ll be the west, then. If we can turn the ship southward, we can make berth at Turtle Stone and send a message back to Kirdon from there,” was the follow-up suggestion. Terrill nodded, the message received, and he held tight to the rope, ready to change the sails to help them turn the ship to port.
He paused with another flash of lightning, the rope dropping from his hands as he saw Krysta turning back. There was something wrong with her, the most obvious sign appearing on her face. Though the rain covered it up, there were tears there. Without hesitation, Terrill ran to her, just as her knees buckled.
“Krysta! Hey, what’s wrong?” He caught her just in time, holding her close to him. For a brief second, his hands screamed, a burning sensation spreading from Krysta’s body to his fingertips. He took one of his hands and touched to her forehead, realizing that she was burning up in a way even a fever would not present itself. “What’s going on with you?”
“Terrill…” she groaned out, slipping away until her hand shot up and sunk into his shoulder. It gripped so tightly, Terrill was sure she’d burn it right off. “Don’t you hear it? It’s calling…”
“Calling…?” The sea crashed in tandem with the thunder, causing Terrill to look away. Floyd had taken his previous job in manning the sails, while Torry had her eyes closed in concentration. They were getting somewhere, but Krysta’s insistent grip put all attention on her.
“It’s hurt. Wounded. Like the other one.”
“The other…one?” Krysta’s slurred, delusional speech was making no sense to him. Not at first. His eyes trailed upwards, following the sickening ash trail while he ignored the decreasing heat from Krysta’s body to the coolness he often felt with her. It became clear.
“The Lifeblood? Do you mean another Lifeblood? Krysta!”
Her answer never left her lips, though Terrill didn’t need her confirmation for it. Her next words brought the confirmation from somewhere else.
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“The darkness. It’s here.”
Terrill had to act without warning. He dropped Krysta to the deck floor, his hand flying to his blade and ripping it out to meet another with a resounding clash.
“So, you’ve joined up with someone sensitive to the light of the Lifebloods. I’d have expected no less of you, Terrill. You have the uncanny knack to join the strangest of parties, myself included.”
If the rain hadn’t already chilled his core, the voice he was hearing and the face he was staring at would have done the job for him. It was just a moment, but his hand shook on his blade, allowing it to be knocked aside, and the tip of another to be placed right at his chest. This action was met with a scoff, and then the rapier retreated. Terrill stepped back, covering Krysta as she attempted to stand.
He had no words; nothing that could make sense of what had appeared before him.
Yet there he stood, in a billowing cloak that looked unfettered by the rain. His rapier had withdrawn while his ashen blond hair whipped wildly with the wind, bound only by the tie that kept it as a ponytail. There was a new wardrobe aside from the cloak, too, one more fitting of whatever aesthetic he was going for. Had his blade not been held in his left hand, Terrill could have imagined that he would have them in his pockets.
None of that was what unsettled Terrill, in any case.
It was the smirk that did, stretching his face like an all-knowing smile which twisted itself onto his features.
It was unlike him, and Terrill barely found the breath to speak his name.
“Atrum.” His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to break out while his mind wanted, but failed to, make sense of how his best friend was here. He looked older, with more experience behind those eyes, and a wickedness he’d not held before they were separated at Golbrucht’s castle. “It can’t be… You’re not here… I’m imagining things.”
“But I am here. It’s been a long time, Terrill.” The voice was the same, and it made Terrill sicken. Atrum looked around, his rapier twisting itself back into his scabbard as he surveyed Floyd and Torry’s attempts to turn the ship, an attempt which was interrupted by Floyd dropping the rope when he saw Atrum. Terrill had really hoped that wasn’t the case. “You’re working quite hard, though I’d expect no less of you. It’s something you’d very much do, trying to stop a war and all. You’ve always loved protecting others.”
Terrill couldn’t find words. He wasn’t even sure of what his feelings were, but the longer he stared, the more Winifred’s words about him came to roost in his head. His breath shortened, and his fist tightened on his hilt. Shadow King.
It was shaky at first, but steadied itself by the time Terrill held his sword up at his best friend. “Atrum…how are you… No. Why are you here?”
“This is Atrum?” Floyd yelled. He skidded to Terrill’s side, his daggers out and held to bear. Atrum didn’t even bother to spare him a glance, keeping his eyes for Terrill, and Terrill alone. “He’s the one Winifred mentioned? The one as the Shadow King?”
“Answer me, Atrum!” Terrill roared. His other hand was now on his sword, pushing forward until it was at Atrum’s chest. The boy made no move to defend himself.
“I’m here to guide you, Terrill.” Terrill refused to accept that for an answer, but his sword refused to go any further. Atrum knew it, too, his smirk becoming a knowing smile. “I wanted to see you, and Winifred spoke so highly of you. The bruise she got from your battle with her spoke to how hard you were working.”
“And what is it you’re working towards? Are you really the Shadow King? Were you the one manipulating LeBrandon?”
“Come on, Terrill, I can’t answer questions if you keep asking so many.” It hurt inside, hearing that familiar voice, talking as if they were friends atop the roof of his home. For a moment, Terrill wanted to believe that this was the same Atrum he always knew. That lasted until he opened his mouth again and spoke with a voice so unlike the one he remembered. “I’m working to break the cycle and return you and the others home. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Not if you’re working with those Fiends!” Terrill drew his sword back, knowing he couldn’t just run the boy through. He wasn’t some monster to be slain, and even Floyd showed hesitation at the thought of doing so. Behind them, Krysta was on her feet again. “Tell me, Atrum, were you behind the pirates? Are you behind this war?”
He didn’t tell him anything, the boy’s eyes looking up at the ashen sky as his face took on a different expression. It wasn’t this all-knowing, all-seeing malicious grin, but a more somber, accepting one. To Terrill, it was as if the side that was his best friend and the side that was this purported Shadow King had been joined. “The ash is so lonely. Like a shadow of regret that throttles the land. I wonder what it would look like if things went different…”
“Oh, great. Your friend speaks in riddles,” Floyd said. He looked more tense than ever, a coiled spring ready to snap, and Terrill wasn’t sure that he wanted to hold him back. Atrum heard it, evidenced by the tilt of his head, but he never gave Floyd the time of day. He only looked to Terrill, and what Terrill saw there frightened him.
He wasn’t someone who wanted to burn the world down just to do it. No, there was intent, and what was worse, a want. Atrum wanted Terrill to understand him.
That frightened him the most when he finally explained things.
“Am I behind the war? I don’t think so. I’m just letting the prophecy play out.”
“The prophecy?” The chorus of all three voices, Terrill, Krysta and Floyd’s, joined together, overcame the storm. He had forgotten about it in the days since he left Serotin, but now Atrum was bringing up the possibility once again, of that prophecy that no one knew of. Whether it existed or not, and what it said, it was a complete mystery. Atrum, however, was speaking as though he knew it. “I thought no one knew what the prophecy was about. That’s why Winifred was going around and doing all that.”
“Details make their way through. Scant details over Sayn’s long history,” Atrum explained. He was looking down on Terrill; it dripped through his voice. “A war. A Shadow King. And a Chosen One with a destiny set ahead of him that he knows full well of.”
Have you ever wanted to defy what destiny has in store for you?
Terrill stomped forward, tired of Atrum’s riddles and half-truths. “Lumen. You’re going after Lumen. What happened in that darkness, Atrum? Why this?”
“I was elucidated to the truth, Terrill. Don’t you want the truth? Don’t you want to know why your parents had to die?” Terrill knew he should have frozen up, or should have demanded Atrum to explain what he meant. Any other time before, he might have.
Now that he had seen their graves, and all of those other empty ones, it just enraged him.
He charged with no more thought for the wellbeing of his friend. Former friend, Terrill believed, if Atrum truly believed an iota of “truth” was justification for a war. His sword flashed out, and Atrum hadn’t seen it coming. He had no time to go for his blade, and instead lifted his arm to take the blow. The boy must have expected Terrill to stop, but he didn’t, his sword cutting into the flesh of Atrum’s arm.
That attack lasted all of a moment, and then Terrill could see what was leaking from Atrum’s body: the same corroding darkness that had consumed LeBrandon during their battle. Terrill withdrew and jumped back.
“So…it is true. You are the Shadow King!”
“Not yet.” It was the single most sinister thing he had ever uttered. Krysta came to Terrill’s other side, and he could see Floyd checking on Torry, hoping that Atrum wouldn’t go for her. He seemed to have little care for anyone that wasn’t Terrill, though. “I’ll be king when the world is enveloped by war and becomes a place full of naught but shadows. Then I can take that moniker.
“Then I can be more than a shadow. I can be free. Don’t you want to be free?”
Terrill switched the hold on his blade, ignoring the rain that was crashing all about them, refusing to let up. Then he raced forward, Floyd and Krysta alongside him before they split off to attack at his sides, their weapons drawn. Terrill stabbed forward first, and this time, the rapier arrived to meet his blow. The blades deflected one another, but Terrill refused to relent, spinning with another strike and slashing upwards. A block of earth emerged from the wood, tearing at the ship’s deck. Atrum avoided it, and Floyd and Krysta came for his sides. With a snap, they were cut off, a wall of darkness emerging between them and buffering the two to the sides of the ship, where they threatened to spill overboard.
“Terrill, let’s walk the path together.”
“Like hell!” Terrill jumped off of his stone plinth, bringing his parents’ sword screaming down to meet Atrum’s. Their snarls were matched, their eyes sharing a dissimilar fury towards the one in front of them. Terrill refused to relent, pushing down with all the strength gravity could muster as his arms groaned with the effort. “Is this what you meant about defying destiny, Atrum? Causing a war that will kill countless people just so you can be free? Free of what? Not being a Chosen One? Being stuck in Sayn? There’s no way in hell I’d let you do any of that, friend or not, for such petty reasons. And dragging others into it is something I refuse to allow!”
“I’m not petty.” The coldness surprised Terrill, making him blink. Atrum’s face had turned grave, and Terrill was caught off-guard when his blade suddenly changed hands, brimming with shadows.
Knowing in his gut that the attack would end horribly for him, Terrill broke his assault, hitting the deck and sliding back towards the prow. He was afraid he would go over, but a sudden lock of ice emerged around his feet, and Terrill could see Torry leaping from the stern to join them, her bow aimed at Atrum’s head. The ice broke, freeing Terrill.
“I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here, but this is the moment where you get off our ship.” Her threat wasn’t taken as one.
“This needs to be done.”
“Not your way!” Free of the ice, Terrill broke into another run, sliding along the deck until his sword came flying up. Atrum’s eyes widened, having not expected the attack. He barely blocked, and as soon as the blade hit, Terrill was on the offensive again, twisting this way and that to strike at Atrum. Each blow was blocked, but Terrill could tell each strike was getting weaker from Atrum’s end, until he knocked the blade aside, and held his own at the boy’s throat. “You keep talking big, Atrum, but you’re still just a whiny child. You used to complain how little attention you were given until we became friends, and even now, you’re acting just the same. Powers, truth or whatever the hell you saw, you’re still the same. Atrum the baby.”
The sneer Atrum gave Terrill would have withered any other man, but Terrill held firm. Torry, too, continued to train her sights on him.
“You know, it’s funny to hear that from you, Mr. Hero. You’re the one with the black and white view of saving people, after all.” Terrill knew that voice, grimaced at that voice, and for all of a second, he allowed his eyes to fly up to the mast where Winifred could be seen sitting comfortably. She looked no different than when he’d last seen her, minus the cloak she had once worn. “Isn’t that the definition of a child?”
“I knew it…” Terrill breathed. Torry whipped around, and fired her arrow directly at Winifred, crackling with lightning through the storm. It was immediately rebuffed by a wall of wind.
“Winifred, I didn’t order you here.” That same cold voice, so unlike Atrum’s usual speech, resurfaced and Terrill went back to searching his eyes. He looked the same, but appeared to have switched modes in the presence of the Fiend.
“You can’t expect we Fiends to miss out on the fun. And you’re not doing a very good job of convincing him, Your Majesty.” Winifred kicked off the mast, floating down to the deck. Terrill turned his blade on her, but was too late when she flicked her fingers in his and Torry’s directions. The gusts lifted them off their feet and over to the edge of the ship. Terrill maintained hold of his blade, forcing him to use just one hand to grab the railing as he nearly went overboard. “You said you were going to guide him until the right time for the clash between the Hero and the Shadow King.”
“That’s a part of the prophecy I’d rather see ignored.”
“If it’s true at all.” Winifred’s analysis was shrugged off by Atrum, who batted her away from his shoulder and took long strides to look over Terrill as he clung desperately to the edge of the ship. He glared up at his former friend while the boy kneeled down.
“Are we at an impasse, Terrill?” Atrum said. Terrill’s glare was his only response. “So it would seem. Then I guess we’ll see which is the child that breaks first, huh? After all, if you’re the adult hero here, then stopping a war should be child’s play for you. I’ve already pointed you in the right direction.”
“Atrum!” Terrill tried to pull himself up with his one hand, his lips trembling and his body shaking as he managed to get up enough to find footing. He saw Winifred in the center of the boat, watching him with curiosity to see if he’d do it. Terrill barely managed, swinging his blade down before a snap echoed in the air, and the rain ceased. He hesitated.
Then the ship rocked with a mighty force.
Wood splintered, the ship beginning to tear in two. The helmsman was clear to see now that the storm had ended, and for the first time, he abandoned his post, diving off the stern and into the water. Then the ship was split apart, a great geyser ripping at it and sending the two halves drifting away. On the opposite side, Floyd and Torry hit the water together before bouncing up to a small platform of ice that she’d made, washing about without direction. Terrill almost fell with the capsizing ship, as well, until Atrum reached forward and grabbed his arm. His lips came close to Terrill’s ear.
“Find Lumen. Find the chosen hero.”
The cryptic words were all he’d left him with, sounding so different from his callous machinations. It sent confusion into Terrill, enough to make him slip off the ship and crash into the waters below. Before he hit the surface, he could see Atrum stare at him, and in a flash of darkness, the boy disappeared alongside Winifred.
Then Terrill hit the water, vanishing underneath it. He feared he’d drown, the water assailing his lungs before he had the chance to hold his breath. Coughs and splutters sent bubbles racing upwards while the water made his vision blur, the salt causing his eyes to sting. There was something in the depths below that he tried to reach for with his free hand, but hesitated at doing so. To his fading eyes, it was like a giant snake that slithered around the abyss.
Terrill didn’t observe it long, as a hand grabbed at his arm and pulled him up, swimming until they both broke the surface for air. It was Krysta, and a few feet away and paddling towards them, were Floyd and Torry. The two reached for the pair and hoisted them up on their icy raft. Terrill stood to look out over the ocean, but found no sight of the sailors.
Another wave crested, sending their raft high into the air and back down out of the waves, with no way to control themselves.
“Turn us south! Perpendicular to the ash!” Floyd shouted. He was heard as clear as a bell, the storm now over, but the sea remained as choppy as ever. Torry attempted to change their direction, but the ice proved as slippery as its nature to control. After a few attempts, she did manage to get it going south. “If that’s your friend, he’s crazy.”
“He’s something all right,” Terrill muttered, trying to think ahead to the next step. With the cleared sky, Terrill was sure he could see land on the misty horizon, and planned to point it out when another wave hit.
They were sent sky high, each flailing to try and hold on to each other. The only one outside of their chain was Krysta, whose hand reached for the ocean, her eyes closed. She was deep in thought, but Terrill knew if it continued, it would be the death of her. He strained his body to reach her as a light began to glow from within the ocean.
“Krysta!” he shouted, and she stopped whatever she was ruminating on. Her eyes looked to Terrill, her mouth a thin frown until she noticed his hand. “Come on!”
“Terrill…” She sounded far off, like she had when standing at the prow. Her outstretched hand retracted, towards her chest, and Terrill saw her body slow. Floyd’s lips were puckered, trying to slow her in place so they could grab her, but it took her a moment longer. “I see… Not yet. This is where we need to be.”
Terrill tilted his head. He had no idea what she was talking about, and with the waves below, didn’t ask. She slapped her hand into his, the light fading, and moments later, the quartet hit the water, its currents carrying them forward with no guide, constantly threatening to take them under.
They tried to hold on, with Torry attempting to use her magic to help, but her body was too exhausted from the constant battering of the waves. Terrill made sure to hold to all of them tight until, when the sun was high in the sky, a final great wave crashed upon them, scattering them, ripping them away from one another.
Right after, Terrill felt his body land on solid sand, and a second later, he was out cold.