The ship creaked and groaned as it cut through the waves, the vast expanse of ocean stretching in every direction. Aric leaned against the railing, his eyes on the horizon, though his thoughts were miles away. The Forgotten Isles were his destination, a place where few dared to tread. It wasn’t just about survival—it was about what awaited him there.

His hand moved unconsciously to the short sword at his side, the one he had picked up in Cailor, before he felt the comforting weight of the chain coiled beneath his cloak. It was sturdy, just as he had requested from the blacksmith. More than that, it was ready—charged with the energy that pulsed from his Link, Khaos.

The blackish-grey energy hummed beneath his skin, barely visible to the naked eye, but always there. That energy coiled around the chain, ready to spring into action at his command. Khaos had always been a part of him, but he had kept it in check for so long. Now, though, the time had come for him to use it—discreetly, of course.

The sun had begun its descent when he sensed it—the familiar presence. She had arrived.

The Subdeacon. A shadow of the Church, sent on missions few knew about. She was just as dangerous as any blade, though her weapons were her words and her loyalty to the Church’s darker side. Her approach was silent, but Aric could feel her there, the subtle shift in the air unmistakable.

“You’ve made quite a journey for a man in your position,” she said, her voice low and measured. The subtle tones carried a warning, as if she had already decided how this encounter would end. “Acolyte candidate, heading toward the Forgotten Isles. A curious path.”

Aric didn’t turn, but his voice was steady. “Not curious. Necessary.”

The Subdeacon stepped closer, her eyes glinting beneath her hood. “The Isles are no place for a lone man, especially not one still under the Church’s watchful eye. You’re not ready for what’s out there.”

Aric turned slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. “I’m not here for your approval. I’m here for answers.”

She chuckled softly, a sound that sent a chill down Aric’s spine. “Answers? You’ve come to the wrong place for that. The Isles don’t give answers. They take them.”

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Aric’s hand twitched beneath his cloak, and the blackish-grey energy flared to life around the chain. With a subtle flick of his fingers, the chain slithered free, moving as though it had a life of its own. The energy coursed through it, wrapping around the links and making them hover slightly in the air. He didn’t need to touch it—the power of Khaos did that for him.

In a flash, the chain shot forward, wrapping tightly around the Subdeacon’s wrist. Her eyes widened as she stumbled, but Aric was already ahead of her.

With a thought, the chain coiled around her, pulling her forward and binding her arms together. The blackish-grey energy flickered along the links, keeping the hold tight. “What’s waiting for me on the Isles?” Aric demanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

The Subdeacon’s sharp features twisted in frustration, but she didn’t resist. “You’ll regret this,” she hissed. “The Church doesn’t tolerate insubordination.”

Aric pulled the chain tighter, forcing her closer. “This isn’t insubordination. It’s survival. Now, answer the question.”

She glared at him, then finally relented. “Aberrations,” she spat, her voice low and venomous. “They’re the creatures the Church hunts, but what’s on the Isles is worse. Aberrations are small-minded monsters, just a level beneath Blights. Blights… now those are what plague the world every century. But on the Isles, something else is stirring. Something we can’t control.”

Aric’s heart skipped a beat. Aberrations were dangerous enough, but Blights were legendary horrors, appearing only once every hundred years. Whatever was on the Forgotten Isles sounded worse than he expected.

“Why would the Church send me into that?” Aric asked, his grip on the chain firm, the energy around it still crackling.

“You think the Church is interested in saving you?” she sneered. “You’re a candidate for Acolyte. You’re disposable until you prove yourself.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not disposable. I have a plan. After I deal with the Isles, I want a meeting with the Patriarch.”

Her expression shifted, disbelief creeping into her gaze. “The Patriarch? You don’t just ‘meet’ the head of the Church. Even full Acolytes rarely see him.”

Aric’s voice hardened. “I will. After I’m done here.”

For a moment, the Subdeacon said nothing, studying him with renewed intensity. Then she smirked. “You’ve got guts. Foolish, but guts.”

Aric tugged the chain slightly, pulling her close enough that their eyes locked. The energy pulsed, tightening the links around her arms. “I’ve got more than that. After I deal with the Isles, I’ll get my audience with the Patriarch. And when I do, I’ll have a lot of questions.”

The Subdeacon’s smile faded as she realized he was serious. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Neither does the Church,” Aric replied coldly. “But I will.”

With a flick of his wrist, the chain released its grip, and the Subdeacon fell to the deck, her hands still bound but no longer held captive by his power. She stood slowly, glaring at him with a mixture of fury and reluctant admiration.

“You’re walking a dangerous path, Aric,” she said, her voice low. “If you fail, the Church won’t be there to save you.”

Aric glanced toward the horizon, the distant shape of the Forgotten Isles just starting to come into view. “I won’t fail. I don’t have that option.”

The wind picked up as the ship sailed toward the Isles, the sense of something terrible growing with each passing wave. The Subdeacon said nothing more, her eyes watching him carefully, but Aric knew this was only the beginning. Whatever awaited him on the Forgotten Isles was just the first step.

The real challenge would come when he stood before the Patriarch himself.