-The Heightened-

The cresting waves surged with his heartbeats, pushing him ever closer to the island. Months just to find the nestled, secluded spit of land, a casual thought standing proud amid the Glacian Sea. The Answerer had been a last-ditch effort—he knew the creature would find her, it was only a matter of time, patience. She would be here, doing everything in her power to cast off the Forlorn and the invisible crown that weighed heavily on his mind.

If Callan stopped to consider, the events of the past few months crashed against him like ocean spittle. But he had little time to stop and even less time to question his actions. Jordan was the chosen lineal, and as much as he enjoyed finally being in charge of the warriors who had ground him to powder, she was needed in Deporta.

And Reign was a powerful force, as constant and unpredictable as the waves The Heightened faced on her journey to land.

Callan couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he willed the wind to blow harder, filling The Heightened’s sails to bursting as the great ship bucked forward like a wild rowder. The waves joined the violent symphony, throwing up massive sprays of salt water on either side of the pearly white craft as she pierced through the Glacian Sea.

He’d been practicing his persona, down to the cocked, black-brimmed hat and the flyaway blond curls that licked at his ears. Unlike the ship, his clothing was as black as his hat and tailored to fit his figure perfectly, emphasizing broad shoulders and a narrow waist. As a redundancy he had two slim daggers on either side of his torso, hidden by the dark fabric of his clothes.

Callan Shadows rarely felt he had lived up to his name so accurately.

The sun was a swinging orb above him, but it was quickly engulfed in massive rolling clouds that only urged the wind to greater speeds. Rain began to fall like knives, pelting the water ferociously and obscuring Callan’s view of the island, which was becoming less and less of a speck with every passing moment.

He remained bone-dry, as though he stood in the eye of the hungry storm savagely embracing the sea. The wind didn’t so much as tousle his curls.

That same smile remained, growing slightly wider as the storm increased and the ship flew forward as though possessed.

She was close enough that patience fell away to unbridled eagerness—Jordan Guildedsun. The girl who’d taken the academy and rattled its ancient stones and customs, bringing it to its knees almost unintentionally.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Her self-imposed isolation was coming to an abrupt, torrential end.

***

The obscure, tattered map he had purchased from Trucesa didn’t do the island justice. The map simply labeled it “Glacian Island,” an insignificant speck in a vast expanse of blue.

But even as the storm raged and the sky and sea threatened to become one, Callan could appreciate the beauty, the untamed potential of a place like this. A massive tree spiraled into the sky, towering from the highest point of the island like nature’s own lighthouse.

The island was mere minutes away now, and The Heightened was approaching wickedly fast like a sword being thrust at an opponent. He would hit land soon… closing his eyes, he willed the waves to grow even taller. They reached out with wet fingers, taking a bite out of the beach. And as the ship reached land he saw the Answerer facing off against none other but Jordan, her blonde hair flying behind her like a burnished shield.

Her sword was brilliant even in the dark, stormy landscape, shining brighter than her hair as she used perfected defensive techniques to keep the Answerer at bay. But surely even she knew her actions were meaningless. An Answerer would either return its victim to its master, or die in the attempt.

Callan would know.

Reacting quickly, he left his post by the helm and retrieved a large coil of rope, which he threw over his shoulder as he ran to the side of The Heightened and called out, “Grab hold when I give the signal!”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and for a moment he forgot where he was. Those eyes, such an uncanny mixture of brown and gray, sharp and bright as steel. She nodded her head almost imperceptibly and gracefully leapt to the side as the Answerer rushed forward like a living shadow, its teeth visible even from Callan’s perch aboard The Heightened.

The waves continued to lap onto the beach in huge swaths, allowing the ship to continue traveling, unhindered, toward the beast and the warrior. Callan waited until he was almost on top of the Answerer before he cocked his arm back and flung the rope down to Jordan, shouting, “Now!”

In a fluid motion, she sheathed her sword and seized the rope. Once she had purchase she began sprinting, sending plumes of sand flying and disorienting the creature, which soundlessly hissed its displeasure at the grit and fierce rain obscuring its prey. Answerers had pitiful eyesight, but their sense of smell and hearing were unparalleled. At least, in normal circumstances.

Callan wasted no time turning the ship back toward the open sea, his mighty waves cutting a path through the beach. As he turned The Heightened about, he glanced back at Jordan. Without breaking stride, she pulled the rope as taut as possible, wrapping the extra length around her shoulder before she tensed her legs and leapt, swinging toward the ship, waves soaking through her ragged clothing. He heard a thump as her feet hit the side of the The Heightened and she began climbing up the ship.

The black, lithe body of the Answerer had vanished under the waves, its purpose fulfilled. Callan would never see the elusive creature again.

Moments later, Jordan pulled herself onto the deck, her hand immediately going to the scabbard at her waist, her body as tightly coiled as the Answerer.

“Why are you here?”