Henry stared at the monstrous feline creature, a chill running down his spine. There was something eerily familiar about the beast. Then he realized where he had seen it before.
This was the same monster that had ambushed them in the ravaged village, killing Aron right before their eyes. Henry remembered the absolute horror he had felt at the sight of the massive creature back then.
Now here it was again, standing between them and the vampire. But its demeanor seemed changed - it was poised and watchful, making no move to attack. Its glowing red eyes scanned the cavern, taking in the scene.
The feline beast lunged at the vampire with blinding speed, a dark blur of muscle and fur. In the blink of an eye, it had the woman pinned to the cavern floor, its powerful claws digging into her pale flesh. She shrieked in rage and pain, thrashing wildly beneath the creature's bulk, but to no avail. The monster's jaws closed around her throat, silencing her screams with a sickening crunch.
Bob wasted no time. While the beast was occupied tearing the vampire to shreds, the captain pulled a hidden knife from his boot and sawed through the ropes binding his wrists. Beside him, Henry watched in stunned disbelief as the feline creature made short, brutal work of their former captor.
"On your feet, lad!" Bob hissed, slicing through Henry's bonds. He hauled the young sailor up and together they rushed to where Jacob lay slumped against the stone altar.
All around them, the white-robed cultists screamed in horror and confusion at the sudden turning of tables. Some fled for the exits, while others fell to their knees in supplication before the snarling beast that had been their vampire mistress's undoing.
Bob heaved Jacob's limp form over his broad shoulders. "Let's go!" he barked at Henry.
They ran, fleeing headlong through the twisting passages of the caverns. The agonized wails of the cultists echoed in their wake, a hellish chorus that spurred them on faster. Henry's heart pounded in his ears as he sprinted after Bob, leaping over jutting rocks and ducking under low-hanging stalactites.
Bob and Henry carried Jacob's limp body as they scrambled down the rocky slope away from the cultists' lair. Though exhausted from their ordeal, adrenaline kept them moving swiftly over the uneven terrain. They had to get back to the ship and sail away from this cursed place.
As the mouth of the cavern receded into the distance, Bob risked a glance over his shoulder. To his immense relief, there was no sign of pursuit. It seemed the cultists had fled or been slaughtered by the monstrous feline creature that had burst in to attack the vampire.
"Thank the saints that beast showed up when it did," Bob panted to Henry. "I thought we were done for back there."
Henry just nodded, too winded to respond. His mind was still reeling, trying to make sense of the night's events. One minute they had been prisoners about to be slaughtered, the next they were fleeing for their lives as their captor was ripped apart before their eyes. It was almost too much to comprehend.
At last the familiar shape of the Lovehart came into view, bobbing gently in the inlet where they had anchored her. Never before had Henry been so glad to see the old ship. She represented safety and escape from this nightmare shore.
The rest of the crew let out cries of dismay when they saw Jacob's condition, but Bob quickly silenced them. "To stations, lads! We need to be away from here five minutes ago. Lars, take the tiller. Raise anchor and set a course north by northwest. Move lively now!"
The sailors jumped to obey their captain's orders without question. They could see the urgency and feel the tension rolling off Bob in waves.
As the crew of the Saint Lovehart scrambled to their stations, desperate to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the accursed shore, a blood-curdling roar split the night air. Every man froze, their blood turning to ice in their veins. They knew that sound, had heard it before in the ravaged village.
The feline beast landed on the deck with a heavy thud, its crimson-stained fur glistening in the moonlight. It was a nightmarish sight, like something out of the deepest pits of hell. The creature's eyes blazed with an otherworldly hunger as it surveyed the terrified sailors.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Bob stepped forward, his cutlass drawn. "Stand fast, lads," he growled. "We'll not let this devil take us without a fight."
His words seemed to break the spell of fear that had fallen over the crew. With shaking hands, they drew their own weapons - swords, knives, belaying pins, anything that could be used to defend against the monster.
Henry found himself at the front of the group, his heart hammering against his ribs. He gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. Beside him, Bob set his jaw and raised his blade, ready to meet the beast's charge.
The creature let out another bone-chilling roar and lunged forward, its powerful muscles rippling beneath its blood-matted fur. The crew scattered, some diving out of the way while others slashed at the beast with their weapons.
Steel clashed against fang and claw as the monster tore into the sailors. Men screamed in agony as razor-sharp talons ripped through flesh and bone. Blood sprayed across the deck, turning the weathered planks slick and treacherous underfoot.
Henry found himself face-to-face with the nightmarish feline, its fetid breath hot on his skin. He thrust his sword at the creature's chest, but it twisted away with blinding speed. Pain exploded in Henry's shoulder as the beast's claws found their mark, shredding through his shirt and into the meat of his arm.
He staggered back, nearly losing his footing on the blood-slicked deck. The monster pressed its advantage, driving him further back with a flurry of slashes and bites. Henry parried desperately, his wounded arm screaming in protest with every movement.
All around him, the crew fought for their lives against the unholy creature. Bob danced and wove, his cutlass flashing as he struck at the beast from every angle. But for every blow they landed, the monster seemed to shrug it off and come back even stronger.
Henry knew they were doomed if they kept fighting the beast head-on. In a split-second decision, he hurled his cutlass at the creature and bolted for the ship's interior. The blade spun through the air and glanced off the monster's thick hide, barely drawing blood.
Bob saw Henry's retreat and realized the futility of their stand. Slowly, he began backing away towards the hatch leading below decks, his sword still raised in a defensive posture. The beast's glowing eyes tracked his movement but it made no move to pursue, instead turning its attention back to the remaining crew members.
Screams of terror and agony filled the night air as the creature tore into the sailors with renewed savagery. Men fell like wheat before a scythe, their blood painting the deck in glistening crimson. The monster moved among them with blinding speed, its claws and fangs rending flesh and bone with sickening ease.
Below decks, Henry ran through the narrow passageways, his heart pounding in his ears. He could hear the sounds of slaughter above, the shrieks of his crewmates mingling with the beast's roars in a hellish symphony. Guilt and shame washed over him at abandoning them to their fate, but the primal instinct for survival drove him onward.
Bob burst into the dimly lit corridor a few moments later, his face ashen. "We have to find a place to hide," he panted, casting a fearful glance back the way he had come. "That thing won't be satisfied until it's killed every last one of us."
"Hiding will do us no good." added Henry "We need to kill it!"
…
Bob stood motionless in the darkened storage hold, every muscle tensed as he strained his ears for any sound of the beast stalking them. The screams and cries from above had faded to an awful silence some time ago. The monster had finished its slaughter. Now it hunted them below decks.
Bob gripped his cutlass tightly, the worn leather handle damp with sweat. He wanted to believe Henry's bold words - that they could stand and fight and kill this devil. But having witnessed the creature's savagery firsthand, he harbored no such hopes. When it found them, their deaths would be swift and brutal.
Yet he would not die cowering like a dog. If these were to be his final moments in this world, he would meet them with courage. So he stood alone in the dark hold, a pillar of quiet defiance awaiting the inevitable.
Henry was nowhere to be seen. After insisting they fight the beast, the young man had slipped off further into the ship's interior. Bob suspected he was looking for something to turn against the creature, some means to even the odds, but he doubted such a thing existed aboard the old merchant vessel. Their primitive swords and knives were like toys against the demon's thick hide and razor claws.
Bob's thoughts drifted back over the horrors of the past few days - the ravaged village, the cultists' lair, the vampire's fangs at his throat. It seemed a lifetime ago that he and his crew had set out so full of hope to rekindle the Northern Torch. Now those dreams lay in ruins, his men slaughtered by the very evil they had sought to dispel. The bitter irony was not lost on Bob.
A soft scrape sounded in the corridor outside. Bob's pulse quickened. The beast was near. He shifted into a balanced ready stance, muscles coiled to strike. Now there was only the wait, these last heartbeats of stillness before violence erupted. Bob sent a silent prayer for courage to Saint Lovehart, the patron he had named his doomed ship for. He hoped she would guide his sword arm when the end came.
From the shadows, two eyes glowed red with predatory hunger. A guttural snarl rumbled up from deep within the creature's chest. Bob steadied his breathing and stared back unflinching. He was ready.
The feline beast exploded through a wodden pillar in a shower of splintered wood, catching Bob completely off guard. He barely had time to raise his cutlass before the creature was upon him, a whirlwind of claws and fangs.
Bob fought back with all the strength and skill he possessed, his blade flashing in the dim light as he slashed at the monster's hide. But for all his efforts, he could not seem to land a telling blow. The beast's fur was like armor, deflecting his strikes with ease.
In contrast, the creature's attacks were devastatingly effective. Its razor-sharp claws raked across Bob's chest and arms, shredding his shirt and drawing blood with every swipe. Its powerful jaws snapped mere inches from his face, the stench of its breath nearly overwhelming.
Bob staggered back, his cutlass suddenly feeling like a flimsy toy in his hands. He parried desperately as the beast pressed its advantage, driving him further into the cramped confines of the hold. Crates and barrels shattered as they crashed into them, their contents spilling across the floor.
The sailor's blood ran freely from a dozen wounds, staining his clothes crimson. His breath came in ragged gasps and his vision began to blur at the edges. He knew he could not keep this up much longer.
Still the monster came on, relentless and implacable. Bob's strength was fading fast, his movements growing sluggish. The beast seemed to sense his weakness, its attacks becoming even more furious.
With a final, desperate effort, Bob lunged forward and buried his cutlass to the hilt in the creature's shoulder. The beast roared in pain and rage, but the blow was far from fatal. It lashed out with one massive paw, catching Bob across the face and sending him flying.
He crashed against the far wall and slumped to the floor, his head swimming. Through the haze of pain, he saw the monster advancing on him, its eyes blazing with feral hunger. Bob's hand groped weakly for his fallen sword, but it lay out of reach.
As the creature loomed over him, Bob looked up at it with defiance in his eyes. "Come on then, you bastard," he spat through bloodied lips. "Finish it."
The beast snarled in response, its fangs bared. Bob braced himself for the killing blow, determined to meet his end like a man. He would not give this devil the satisfaction of seeing him cower.
The beast stalked towards Bob, savoring the moment of its impending kill. The captain lay broken and bloodied against the wall, his cutlass lost, his strength spent. There would be no more fight from this one. Soon it would feast on his flesh and crack his bones for marrow.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Suddenly, a shout rang out from behind the creature. It whirled to see Henry standing in the shattered doorway, a lit torch in one hand and a glass bottle in the other. The young sailor's face was set with grim determination as he hurled the bottle at the monster with all his might.
The bottle shattered against the beast's back, dousing its thick black fur in pungent lamp oil. The creature howled in surprise and anger, twisting around to face this new threat.
Henry wasted no time. With a final, desperate prayer, he launched the torch at the oil-soaked monster. The flame seemed to hang suspended in the air for a moment, trailing a bright arc through the dimness. Then it struck home, igniting the beast's fur in a whoosh of searing heat.
The creature's howls turned to shrieks of agony as hungry flames raced across its body, consuming fur and flesh with equal voracity. It thrashed and spun, trying in vain to extinguish the blaze. But the oil fueled an inferno that would not be quenched.
Driven mad with pain, the beast crashed through the walls of the hold, splintering wood and tearing through the ship's interior in its blind frenzy. Henry dove aside as the flaming creature barreled past him, leaving a trail of smoke and destruction in its wake.
In moments, the beast had smashed its way through the hull and plunged into the dark waters below. A great hissing cloud of steam erupted as the flames were doused, and then the monster vanished beneath the waves.
Henry helped Bob to his feet, the captain's blood slicking his hands as he hauled the wounded man upright. Bob swayed unsteadily, his face ashen from pain and blood loss. He leaned heavily on Henry, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.
"Come on, this way," Henry urged, half-dragging Bob towards the aft section of the ship. The captain stumbled along beside him, barely able to keep his footing on the tilting deck. Around them, the Saint Lovehart groaned and creaked ominously, the beast's rampage having weakened her structure.
Bob's vision swam in and out of focus as Henry guided him through the smoke-filled passageways. He caught glimpses of shattered timbers and smoldering debris, evidence of the creature's destructive path. The acrid stench of burnt fur and flesh hung heavy in the air.
At last they reached a nondescript door near the stern. Henry shouldered it open, revealing a small, cluttered storeroom. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with boxes of supplies and spare parts. A few flickering lanterns cast wavering shadows across the space. A large tarpe covered something in the middle of the room.
Bob frowned in confusion as Henry helped him inside and eased him down to sit on a crate. Why had the young sailor brought him here of all places? This room held nothing of value, just mundane provisions for maintaining the ship. Surely they should be seeking out the remaining crew, assessing the damage, plotting their next move.
But Bob was too weak and dizzy to voice his doubts. His head lolled back against the wall as he fought to remain conscious. Dark spots danced at the edges of his vision and a cold sweat beaded his brow. He knew he had lost a lot of blood.
Henry knelt beside him and began rummaging through a nearby trunk. "Just hold on, captain," he said over his shoulder. "I'll have you patched up in no time."
Bob watched through half-lidded eyes as Henry produced a roll of clean linen bandages and a small clay jar. The young man unstopped the jar, releasing a sharp, astringent scent. He scooped out a dollop of thick salve and began applying it to the worst of Bob's wounds.
The captain hissed in pain as the medicine stung his raw flesh, but he gritted his teeth and endured it. Henry worked quickly and efficiently, his hands steady despite the urgency of the situation. Within minutes, he had the deepest gashes cleaned and bound with neat strips of linen.
Some of the fog began to clear from Bob's mind as the bleeding slowed. He looked around the storeroom again, trying to discern Henry's purpose in bringing him here. But exhaustion and pain still muddled his thoughts. For now, he could only trust in the young sailor's judgment and hope that some plan was unfolding.
A distant howl brought Bob back to his senses. He sprang up, ready to fight to the death. Pain lanced through his battered body at the sudden movement, nearly driving him back to his knees. But he pushed through it, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to remain upright. There would be time for weakness later, if they survived.
Outside, the beast, now scorched and with obvious wounds on its body, was drawing closer. Its fur was charred and blackened, the flesh beneath raw and weeping. One eye had been seared shut by the flames, leaving a gruesome, empty socket. But the other glowed with undiminished malice, fixed unerringly on the tiny storeroom where its prey had fled.
Henry hurried with horror on his face and closed the wooden door, trying to keep the beast out. His hands shook as he slid the bolt home, the metal scraping harshly in the silence. It was a flimsy barrier against the creature's strength and fury, but it was all they had.
The beast's claws raked against the stout wooden door, shredding through the thin barrier with terrifying ease. Splinters flew in all directions as it tore away at the planks, its single remaining eye burning with mindless hunger.
Inside the storeroom, Henry scrambled backwards, his face drained of color. The creature would be through that door in a matter of moments. He glanced wildly around the cramped space, his gaze finally falling on the large tarp in the center.
With a grunt of effort, Henry ripped the covering away to reveal the squat, black shape of a cannon nestled beneath. The ancient weapon was firmly lashed to a swiveling mount, its muzzle aimed squarely at the door.
Bob followed Henry's frantic movements, realization dawning. "Clever lad," he murmured, a ghost of a grin touching his bloodied lips.
With a final heave, Henry swung the cannon's muzzle to bear directly on the failing door. He snatched up a smoldering lantern and touched the glowing wick to the fuse. It sputtered for a heartbeat, then flared to life with an angry hiss.
The door exploded inward a split second later, the beast's massive bulk slamming through in a shower of shattered timber. Its jaws gaped wide, fangs glistening as it prepared to pounce on its cowering prey.
But Henry was ready. Even as the creature bounded through the ruined doorway, he ducked clear of the cannon's line of fire. "Fire in the hole!" he shouted, turning his face away.
The cannon roared like an angry god, its muzzle belching fire and smoke. The heavy iron ball shot from the barrel in a blurring streak, the air shrieking in its wake.
It struck the beast squarely in the center of its chest with a sickening crunch of shattered bone.
The cannon's thunderous report echoed across the ship, momentarily drowning out all other sound. Acrid smoke billowed from the storeroom, stinging Bob and Henry's eyes.
The beast crashed backwards from the devastating impact, its bulk smashing through crates and railings with bone-shattering force. It slammed into the far bulkhead at the stern with a meaty thud, finally skidding to a halt in a twisted heap.
For a long moment, the only sounds were the ringing in their ears and the ragged draw of their own labored breathing. Henry and Bob stared at the crumpled form of the monster, daring to hope against hope that the battle was finally over.
A low, gurgling growl shattered the silence.
The beast stirred, its mangled body twitching with renewed life. A pool of thick, black ichor seeped from the gaping wound in its chest where the cannon ball had struck. But the creature was far from dead.
With agonizing slowness, it began dragging itself back upright, claws scrabbling for purchase on the slick deck. One of its hind legs was bent at an unnatural angle, the bone protruding in a jagged white spike. Still it fought to rise, sheer animal tenacity overcoming the damage inflicted upon its broken form.
Henry felt a chill run down his spine as the beast finally regained its feet, swaying drunkenly but held aloft by sheer force of will. Its remaining eye fixed on him with cold, pitiless hatred. This thing would not stop until they were all dead.
"Cap'n," Henry called out urgently. He snatched up a discarded cutlass from the debris-strewn floor and tossed it to Bob. "Now or never, aye?"
Bob caught the sword deftly despite his wounds, a grim smile playing across his bloodied features. "That it is, lad."
Side by side, the two sailors advanced on the crippled monster. The beast issued another bone-chilling growl of challenge, its fangs bared in a crimson leer. Black ichor dripped steadily from its ghastly chest wound, leaving a grisly trail across the deck.
Bob struck first, launching himself at the creature with a hoarse battle cry. His cutlass flashed in a deadly arc, seeking any gap in the beast's defenses. But the monster was ready, swatting his blade aside with one massive paw.
It countered with blinding speed, raking its claws across Bob's unguarded torso. The captain grunted in pain as fresh crimson blossomed across his shirt. He staggered backwards, clutching at the new wounds.
Henry rushed in to cover his injured captain, raining a flurry of slashes and thrusts at the beast. His sword was little more than a gnat's sting against its thick hide, but he refused to relent. He ducked and weaved through the monster's clumsy swipes, always seeking an opening to exploit.
The beast suddenly feinted, letting one of Henry's blows slip past its guard. The young sailor's cutlass bit deep into its shoulder, scoring a glancing blow that sprayed more black ichor across the deck.
Enraged, the creature unleashed a deafening roar that shook the ship's timbers. It lashed out with both front claws in a whirlwind of tearing fury. One set of razor talons raked across Henry's chest, slicing through his shirt and drawing bright lines of blood. The other caught him square in the face, opening a deep gash along his cheekbone.
Henry cried out and reeled backwards, hands clutched to his ruined face. Hot blood seeped through his fingers, the wound stinging fiercely. His vision swam, the deck pitching and heaving beneath his feet.
Through the haze of pain, he saw the beast turn its attention back to Bob. The captain stood his ground as the monster bore down on him, cutlass at the ready. His face was a mask of grim determination despite the fresh wounds he had sustained.
Bob saw his opening as the beast turned its full attention on him. He sidestepped its clumsy lunge, letting the creature's momentum carry it past him. As it twisted to face him once more, Bob struck.
His cutlass lanced out in a blur of shining steel, the keen edge finding its mark in the monster's already ravaged flank. Bob grunted with the effort, putting every ounce of his waning strength into the thrust. The blade punched through layers of tough hide and muscle, burying itself to the hilt in the beast's body.
A high-pitched screech of rage and agony tore from the creature's gaping maw. It convulsed violently, rearing back on its hindquarters as Bob's blade sawed through its vitals. For an endless moment, man and monster were locked together, Bob clinging grimly to his embedded sword as the beast thrashed and writhed.
Then, from behind, Henry struck.
Moving with the last dregs of his energy, the young sailor charged in low. His own cutlass was gone, lost somewhere amidst the frantic struggle. But he grasped the first weapon that came to hand – a rusted iron belaying pin nearly as long as his arm.
Henry drove the heavy metal rod into the beast's remaining eye with every ounce of strength he could muster. It punched through the soft, vulnerable flesh in a gout of viscous fluid, burying itself to the hilt.
The creature's screams took on a new, soul-rending pitch of anguish as its last remaining eye was obliterated. It convulsed wildly, throwing its head from side to side in a frenzy of unseeing torment. One of its flailing paws caught Henry a glancing blow, sending him tumbling across the deck in a boneless heap.
Bob was flung away as well, wrenched free from his sword as the beast contorted in its final throes. He slammed into the base of the mainmast, the wind driven from his lungs in an explosive grunt. Dazed, he could only watch as the monster raged blindly, both eyes now ruined sockets of mangled flesh weeping black ichor.
Its piercing shrieks filled the air, echoing across the forsaken river in a haunting wail of suffering. The beast twisted this way and that, smashing into the ship's railings and superstructure as it sought an escape from the unendurable torment.
Slowly, its movements became more sluggish, the once-powerful muscles betrayed by shock and blood loss. Its cries took on a wet, gurgling quality, bubbling up from the ragged hole in its chest where Bob's sword still protruded.
At last, with one final, piteous moan, the creature toppled. It crashed onto the blood-slicked deck in a boneless heap, its mangled bulk twitching feebly for a few endless heartbeats.
Henry groaned, his battered body screaming in protest as he tried to push himself upright. Every inch of him throbbed with fiery agony, his face a ruined mask of drying blood from the beast's vicious swipe. But he gritted his teeth and forced himself to move, driven by a singular purpose – to end this nightmare once and for all.
Clutching a jagged shard of timber as a makeshift weapon, Henry dragged himself across the ravaged deck towards the beast's prone form. The creature lay unmoving, a shuddering mass of torn flesh and shattered bone. But Henry took no chances, his eyes narrowed in grim determination to deliver the killing blow.
He raised the splintered stake high, muscles tensed to drive it home into the monster's skull.
At that moment, a brilliant flare of white light erupted around the fallen beast, so intense that Henry had to squeeze his eyes shut against the searing glare.
The light pulsed and swelled, bathing the entire ship in its blinding radiance. Henry felt an invisible force seize him, flinging him backwards like a rag doll until he slammed against the base of the mainmast. He slumped there, dazed and blinking spots from his vision, unable to comprehend what was unfolding.
From above, there came a deafening crack of splintering timber as the circle of light engulfed the beast. The Saint Lovehart's decks, already weakened by the ferocious battle, began to shred apart under the strain. Massive planks and beams tore free in explosions of wooden shrapnel, raining down all around Henry in a deadly hail.
He threw his arms up to shield his face, flinching against the impacts that pounded his body. Beside him, Bob cried out as a heavy timber struck his leg with a sickening crunch. The captain collapsed in a crumpled heap, his anguished howls swallowed by the cacophony.
The maelstrom of destruction intensified with each passing second. The very air seemed to shudder and groan under the force of whatever power was at work. Henry caught glimpses of the beast through the blinding flashes – its broken body rising inexorably into the heart of the light, shredded pieces of the ship swirling around it like leaves caught in a tornado.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the fury ceased. The light contracted inwards, becoming a brilliant point no larger than a pinprick. With a final, earth-shattering boom that rattled Henry's teeth, the point winked out of existence. Utter silence crashed down in its wake, shattered only by the groans of the ravaged Saint Lovehart settling onto her shredded bones.
Henry blinked dazedly, his ears still ringing from the deafening onslaught. He cast his gaze about the demolished deck in a stupor of disbelief. The beast was gone without a trace, spirited away by whatever cataclysmic force had just been unleashed. Only the widespread ruin remained, along with the faint, bitter tang of ozone burning his nostrils.
A low moan drew his attention to Bob, still crumpled in an unmoving heap. Henry forced his abused body to move, half-crawling, half-dragging himself across the shattered deck to his captain's side. Bob's face was pale and drawn, his eyes slightly unfocused, but he was blessedly still alive.
"Cap'n," Henry rasped through a throat made raw by the acrid smoke. He grasped Bob's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake to rouse him from his stupor. "You still with me?"
Bob's eyes flicked towards him, gradually regaining some of their former alertness. "Aye, lad," he managed in a strained whisper. "Though I can't rightly say where 'with me' might be anymore."
The two battered sailors exchanged a weary look, a thousand unvoiced questions and doubts passing between them. Neither could make sense of the cataclysmic power they had just witnessed, nor why the beast had been taken rather than destroyed. Confusion and uncertainty hung thick in the air.
But for now, they were alive. Whatever storm was brewing on the horizon, whatever fresh madness awaited them at journey's end, they would face it together. United in their shared resolve to see this quest through to its conclusion, no matter how incomprehensible the path ahead might be.
With that sole truth as their anchor, the two friends settled in to take stock of their wounds and what remained of their vessel. The mystery of the vanished beast could wait. For the moment, they had survived against all odds – and that was enough.