Davon listened to the sound of groaning wood and waves lapping over each other as he carried the final crate of goods off of his ship. With a grunt, he set the crate onto the dock and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Compared to the rest of the crew, Davon was physically unimpressive, built more for endurance than strength. But the first mate had taken one look at Davon when he joined the crew and decided that this was the person to trust in carrying the last crates from the ship to the dock, and vice versa.

“Ever the hard worker! You ought to take a break.”

Before Davon could let the sea breeze wick away his sweat, he suddenly got pulled behind the stack of crates he had just finished. Whirling around, he found himself face to face with Rand, his best friend.

“And what, get reprimanded by the first mate?” Davon retorted as he pressed his back against the crate-stack and slid down. “It’s not exactly the best way to advance in the crew.”

“Oh please, everything’s unloaded already. Let’s catch some shade before the captain decides we need to go back home,” Rand countered, leaning against the tallest section of cargo. “Besides, it was a smooth trip, didn’t even see the fins of the fish-men.”

“Yeah, at this point, the Revenants are basically on vacation,” Davon agreed, peeking behind the crates to look out over the crowd. Among the busy crew, he couldn’t spot the two imposing Revenant soldiers.

“Heh. Wish we could take a vacation.” Rand shrugged in feigned exasperation. “I guess we’ll have to settle for the tavern again.”

“As long as you don’t get thrown out for flirting with the barmaid,” Davon teased, nudging Rand with his elbow.

“Wh- how dare you, that only happened once!” Rand shot back, doing his best to sound insulted.

Davon pressed his verbal offense, grinning smugly at his friend. “Right, of course. I’m sure Old Brun would have nothing to say about that,”

“Well… fine,” Rand conceded. “But Brun never liked me in the first place.” He crossed his arms and turned towards the sea.

Davon turned his gaze towards the sea as well, enjoying the sight of waves lazily dancing on its surface. In a more serious tone, he asked, “You think the captain will order an early shove off?”

“It’s likely. Wind’s blowing westward. If it continues, it could cut days off the journey back.”

Rand subconsciously started bouncing his leg. Davon glanced at his friend, noting his nervousness.

“And I take it, as per your superstitious tendencies, you don’t like it?” Davon poked, returning his gaze to the sea.

“It’s bad luck. I mean, think about what happened last time, that storm came out of nowhere.”

Rand stepped away from the crates, motioning dramatically with his arms. Davon opened his mouth to respond, but something caught his attention in the water.

Just barely in his periphery, Davon saw a dark shape moving through the water towards them. He pushed himself onto his feet to get a better look when the sound of bubbling water back near their boat interrupted him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Davon saw a nightmarish creature breach the water and fly through the air, landing with a wet thud on the dock, causing the old planks to buckle under its weight. The creature was humanoid in shape, its limbs covered in scales, and it held a wicked looking javelin in its webbed hands. After a quick scan of the docks, it tilted its monstrous head towards the sea and let out a series of gurgling sounds, only rhythmically resembling language.

Not even a second later, more bubbling disturbed the water around the ship.

Rand reacted first.

“Ambush! AMBUSH!” he yelled, pulling Davon with him away from the crates. His shouts grabbed the attention of the crew, most of whom had already left the dock.

Unfortunately, he also got the attention of the fish-man. The creature stopped its call and turned its terrifying gaze towards Rand, its beady eyes narrowing dangerously.

Time seemed to slow as Davon watched the monster pull its arm back, readying its javelin. At nearly the same time, Davon reached for the short sword dangling from his hip. The usually light and agile weapon seemed to weigh as much as the ship’s mast as it slowly slid from the scabbard.

In a motion that made its disproportionately long arm almost look like a whip, the fish-man threw its javelin forward. With a terrifying whistle, the weapon streaked through the air and found purchase in its target without difficulty.

Time sped back up as Rand’s body hit the dock, the javelin sticking out of his throat.

Davon barely registered the shouts of the gathering crew. His world shrank rapidly. All he could see was the still body of his dead friend, a stream of blood gushing from his mouth.

At that moment, something shattered within Davon. Like a ship split in half, his heart sank into the depths, swept into the cold current of vengeance.

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Davon blinked the shock away. His grip on his sword’s hilt tightened with maddened desperation as he lifted his gaze to the monster, thoughts racing. Adrenaline flooded his system, and time slowed once again. He knew damn well that strength alone wouldn’t be enough to survive this fight, so his mind turned to the environment.

Eyes locked with the beast, Davon stumbled a few uneasy steps backwards, hoping to lure the fish-man closer. The monster roared at him. Then it leapt through the air directly onto Rand’s body, wrapping its twisted fingers around the javelin.

Now within arm’s reach of his friend’s murderer, Davon struggled to keep his rising fear in check. The fish-man was stronger than him, or any mortal for that matter. Only the Revenants could fight one of these monsters on equal footing. And Davon was no Revenant.

To win, he’d have to cheat.

Time seemed to slow further as Davon aimed his sword away from the fish-man at a gap between the stacked crates. Every millisecond of steel grinding against wood felt like an agonizing eternity in Davon’s mind. Thankfully, the monster’s full attention was focused on prying its weapon from Rand’s body. When the blade slid halfway between the crates, Davon placed the full weight of his desperation on its hilt, using it as a lever to tip over a stack of crates onto the fish-man.

Just as the crates began to tip over, a crack formed on Davon’s blade. Not enough to break it, but a warning of the mounting pressure. The sound, almost imperceptible, rang in his ears. The fish-man abandoned its javelin and turned around just in time to see Davon’s gambit. Its first instinct wasn’t one of preservation, but instead of trying to attack the human stupid enough to try such a stunt.

Luck was on Davon’s side. Right as the fish-man reached for him, the crates finally fell, crashing down with all the force of an angry god’s punch. The sound of wood and pottery shattering rang out like divine thunder.

Davon knew that the crates, heavy as they were, wouldn’t be enough to kill a monster. But he hoped they would be enough to tip the odds of battle. His silent prayers were answered when the debris settled and he saw the monster struggling against the combined weight of the crates pinning one of its legs down.

Without hesitation, Davon leapt forward and slashed at the monster. His first strike bounced off the monster’s scaly forearms. His second was likewise ineffective as the monster dodged sideways. His third slash, accelerated by a flick of his wrists, got past the monster’s guard and opened a gash on the monster’s abdomen.

And then it was a slaughter. Davon struck at the monster again, and again, and again, until he could see only gore beneath the debris. When the fish-man’s arms dropped lifeless to the ground, Davon made one final stab down through the monster’s heart and leaned on the hilt of his sword, gasping for breath.

His triumph, however, rang hollow. As Davon stared down at the dead fish-man, he felt empty. The death of this creature wouldn’t bring back Rand with all of his jokes or fill the hole in Davon’s heart.

Then, more bubbling in the water. Davon turned just in time to see another two fish-men land on the dock behind him. Frantically, he began tugging on the sword stuck in his fallen foe. He pulled with a strength born of fury, but the weapon refused to budge. Instead, the blade shattered.

In his desperate state of mind, Davon paid it no mind. He simply raised the broken sword towards his enemy.

The fish-men almost seemed to relax at the sight, letting out a series of noises which could only be described as gurgling laughs. Then one of them raised its javelin in a strikingly familiar manner. Davon readied himself, adrenaline mixing with rage and sheer will to survive.

The monster let its weapon fly, and Davon reacted with two maneuvers at the same time. First, he pulled his weight to the side in an attempt to dodge, then he raised what remained of his sword to block. Neither attempt was fully successful.

Pain overtook Davon’s senses as the javelin pierced his left bicep. He fell to his knees, his broken blade clattering pathetically onto the dock beside him. More gurgling laughter filled the air, and Davon looked up just in time to see the second javelin pull back for a throw.

Then, with a movement so fast that Davon couldn’t track it in his dazed state, a fanged blade almost the size of a man ripped through the monster holding the javelin. Viscera erupted from the fish-man as its top half flew back into the sea it had come from.

Wielding the blade with only one hand, a veritable giant of a man loomed over the carcass. Davon recognized him as Grant, one of the ship’s Revenant guardians. Ignoring the half-corpse at his feet, Grant turned to the one remaining fish-man on the dock.

With a terrified gurgle, the monster scrambled to run away, but Grant palmed the top of its head. Davon watched with satisfaction as the fish-man clawed helplessly at the Revenant’s armored forearm. In an indignant motion, Grant stabbed his weapon into the ground and placed his other hand on the monster’s shoulder. The sickening sound of tearing flesh filled the air as the Revenant pulled the monster’s head off of its body.

“On your feet, boy.” Grant’s hoarse voiced echoed in Davon’s ears as the giant man lifted his great sword back up. With a grunt, Davon pushed himself up to his feet. “Good. Stay close, there are more to mop up.”

When they cleared the stacked crates, Davon bore witness to a slaughter which was still in progress. Bodies littered the ground, both human and fish-man, and blood covered every inch of ground not taken up by flesh.

Amid the horror, a group of three fish-men were gathered around a tall, cloaked fighter in a wide-brimmed hat, holding a spear seemingly made from some monster’s stinger. Davon recognized the figure as the other Revenant from the ship, Mia.

Grant lifted his great sword, leaning the flat end of the blade on his shoulder, and strode lazily towards the monsters. He knew the fight was already over, but it would be a bad look not to help his companion. If he got there in time, anyway.

The fish-men lifted their weapons in unison and tightened the encirclement around Mia. She stood perfectly still, taking note of each of them. Then, with a swift motion, she ran her hand over a rune carved into her spear. The rune flashed, and shadows enveloped Mia. Davon watched as the Revenant disappeared in broad daylight before reappearing behind one of the confused fish-men.

Mia deftly plunged her spear into the back of the closest fish-man’s skull and pulled it out in almost the same second. Carrying on her momentum, she spun on her heel and thrust her spear into the neck of the next monster. By that point, the final fish-man managed to recover its wits and threw its javelin at the Revenant. Mia countered by spinning her spear around, knocking the javelin away milliseconds before it struck her.

Grant strolled up to the final fish-man and locked eyes with Mia. Grabbing his weapon with both hands, he brought it up off his shoulder and down onto the monster in one smooth movement, more crushing the fish-man than slicing through it.

At last, silence settled over the docks. Davon could hear his heart beating between each labored breath. All other sounds faded as each beat became slower and slower. His vision, too, was getting dimmer. He could barely make out the features of the victorious Revenants, standing just a few feet away.

Grant seemed to be saying something, but Davon couldn’t understand the words. With one final effort, he tried to step closer to the Revenant.

He felt himself falling as the world turned black.