“Is a Domain the end? Is there nothing above an Absolute Limit? The pinnacle of the Lightsea? Is there no step beyond?

Most Praetors ponder this, having reached such an impossibility. But there is yet one more stage. If a Domain Collapse brings the Lightsea into reality, the only way to show a higher mastery is to bring reality into the Lightsea.

A Tide Reversal. By bearing the weight of the Lightsea and countering its collapse, one can physically enter its depths. It is not traditionally useful in combat, but it is critical for survival. Unless one who possesses a Reversal is forfeiting or gambling their life, they can escape practically any danger into its waves.

A Domain is the ultimate attack, while a Reversal is the ultimate defense. Yet what lies beyond that? Beyond the Shattered Peak and into the heavens above? Where shall I place my feet? I do not know.

If I discovered it in the morning, I could die by the evening.”

* The Evening Seraphim, Legate Vicar’s single recorded lecture.

As he shivered amid the frost in his body, Dante heard yet another echoing roar from a starship’s engines fill the emptiness above. A groan originated from beside him, with his favorite Dirge’s annoyance bursting into the humid air.

“Fuck.”

It was a simple, blunt complaint, but it felt personal to Dante. He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Astraeus as their blood-red boat cut through the waves, gliding toward their destination. Dante spoke quietly, careful not to disturb the Leviathans lurking in the depths below, “Didn’t you grow up here?”

Astraeus shifted slightly, his body revolving glacially enough to not invoke any noise. Then, his eyes breathed in the seas behind Dante’s back, not even looking at the human while he murmured, “Yes. We grow in the Depths before being ripped into your realm. If we don’t, typically, a Leviathan devours us. Like algae for a whale.”

Dante nodded, the brutal reality of the Dirge’s upbringing sinking in. It was pure survival. Nothing else mattered, even for those with an awareness of the larger world.

He pointed discreetly toward their leader. Thanaris sat motionless in the center of the boat, utterly entranced by her Tides and the projection of the ship. As he caught her in that state, Dante took the opportunity to ask, “What about her? Did she come that way, too?”

Astraeus’s eyes hardened as if Dante had unknowingly insulted the Caesar. His voice fell to a sharper tone.

“Careful. That could be an insult, to be a Wave-Follower instead of a Caller…” Astraeus paused. “Sometimes, we aren’t pulled through dimensions. Only the strongest, luckiest, and most terrifying escape to the surface. One day… I wish to be a Caller.”

The knowledge weighed on Dante as the sound of splashing mint-colored waves beyond the crimson boat filled his ears. He glanced over the edge for a split second, noticing the shimmering waters and shadowy silhouettes moving beneath the surface.

Immediately, he wrenched his neck back, his heart stammering in his chest from a primal fear that dug more profoundly than Dante thought possible. Again, a chill ran through his spine, though it wasn’t from Surewinter this time.

With leaning his back against the boat, Dante closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe in and out, repeatedly, until he could calm his racing mind. The rhythmic motion steadied him, his thoughts narrowing to the rise and fall of his breath. Bit by bit, the energy within him synced with the icy waters surrounding him, bringing a chill to his core as he became more attuned to Surewinter.

At first, the technique had been challenging to grasp, even requiring Astraeus’s guidance. Now, Dante could channel it reliably on his own—though only when stationary. Progress was progress, however, and Surewinter granted immense benefits.

The difficulty of the technique made sense, for it was not meant for the sentients of his plane and only built for the Dirge, but the benefits it granted were inadmissible.

The frost flowed through Dante’s veins, forming icy crystals in his blood. It was a dangerous power, one that could be unleashed with a sudden, devastating force. That was what the active use of Surewinter gave at such a low level.

It was a surge of strength, primarily physical, but Astraeus had mentioned to Dante that it could be leveraged for one’s Tide as well if used appropriately. That was all on top of the passive boons the human felt day to day from practicing the Sea Art.

As he departed the tense focus, Dante clenched his fist, consuming all the crystallization within his body. Those fingers he held slammed shut with a clamp, bruising his own flesh and hinting that he was not yet ready to move onward.

One had to bear one’s own strength to progress with any Sea Art. Otherwise, they would just kill themselves in the utilization of their powers. Dante knew his situation wasn’t that extreme, but it could be if he simply surged ahead without caution.

He had a way to go before truly mastering the technique and using it in a fight.

His mind wandered back to their earlier battle against Astraeus. The Anathema had held every advantage, with Surewinter possibly being the greatest. Dante’s strongest allies, Claudius and Eight, had their own Sea Arts, but Surewinter… was something else of its own.

It was nearly impossible to beat with their strengths. The few sudden, changing, and rapid bursts of power Astraeus had shown now made so much sense to Dante. Furthermore, his resistance to Eight’s blades was uncanny.

Blood was drawn, yes, but the ice didn’t bite as it regularly did.

Dante wished for that power. If he could dance around a group of deadly Seafarers in such a way... The limits of his horizons would broaden beyond his imagination.

As such, he delved back into his mind. He had many things left to do before advancing to the second tier of Surewinter. Dante had to make the frost form faster and with more significant effect, and finally, he had to ensure a way to hold the frost within him, even if only for a few motions.

Astraeus had mastered the first two, formation and quality. Dante, however, cared more about timing. And it was that very time he so desperately wished to master that passed by unabated, with the five approaching their destination at a rapid pace.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

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The alarms within the Skull of the Marooner blared, casting crimson and yellow light across the metallic walls of the ship’s interior. Only Archimedes truly understood the meaning of every sound, though Lucius moved efficiently around the vessel, lending a hand here and there. Rejo stared blankly at the screen that displayed the ship’s inactive guns.

Sonna and Joan, however, peered down at the device in their hands, utterly stunned by the sight left behind. The doctor’s brows furrowed in disbelief while Sonna blurted out the question within both minds, “How did his vitals vanish? They were fine, a little elevated, sure, but then, they cut off!? What!? We’re so close!”

Outside the ship’s window, Crislend loomed lifelessly, a dark and empty planet without power to its megacity. While other ships debated whether it was okay to return, Archimedes zoomed in with the ship’s camera, revealing the truth on the elevated screen.

Creatures. Thousands of them. Twisted, grotesque figures, each one a nightmare of limbs, blades, and bone, swarming the planet’s surface. Most were lowly Anaphages, with some Anarchies scattered among them, but every few hundred figures, an Anachronism stood among the horde.

Suspiciously, however, there were no Anathemas—nothing higher than an Anachronism.

Sonna approached the specialized glass, leaving Joan to investigate the tracker left in Dante while the Weren pressed a hand against the frigid surface. Then, her eyes flickered to the camera before she spoke to the crew, “The scary ones might just be hiding in buildings, but we don’t see any fishy activity. No raised towers. No constructs at all. Not one sign of ships coming up, either. It’s like... they left. Into thin air. Without building any infrastructure like Claudius warned about.”

Lucius, finishing up a job for Isaac, stood beside her, nodding along with her thoughts, “We know so little about these Dirge. Maybe... the powerful like that female can just do that.” Then, after a moment, he added his own. “Either way, we need fuel. And repairs. Arch can’t work on this thing without resources.”

Sonna sighed, her breath fogging the glass. She turned to Lucius, meeting his gaze, “We have two options. We land, or we attack one of these ships. I’d rather risk the evil we know. Drop us at the Starport.”

Somehow, in Dante’s absence, Sonna had become the de facto leader. She didn’t envy the responsibility, but someone had to make decisions.

She considered Lucius the next candidate, but he was too preoccupied with Archimedes’ many needs to worry about everything else. With the rest of the crew how they were, it fell to her.

That meant she had to be the one to decide for now while others merely followed.

Lucius relayed the command to Archimedes, and the ship began its descent toward the planet. Most of the surface was water, with scattered cities, but their target was the largest: Eratan.

Sonna observed the controlled fall, or a ‘descent’ to Archimedes, with frenzied eyes. The rumbling and shaking of the ship’s innards did nothing to soothe her nerves. The edges of the glass glowed red as the ship heated, though the cooling systems spun up in response.

Amidst the Weren’s panic, a doctor arrived by her flank, but not for comfort. She had a hypothesis on Dante’s condition, and she shared it without a morsel of concern, “I don’t think he’s dead. It makes little sense. We need to head to where he disappeared. That’ll tell us more. The Baron’s office, specifically on the rooftop, was the last geotag.”

Sonna could only agree. They possessed no other course of action. They’d have to work on repair and then fly to Baron’s office. If there was a figure capable of lowering the Lightsea upon them, they would just have to kill the Dirge to escape freely.

And if that Anacrux was lying in wait for their fragile hearts to touch the ground on the planet, then...

Sonna could only give her life in exchange, for it was already owed.

With bated breath, the woman gazed without a wink through the glass while the chaos behind her kept the starship in action. At the surprise of the others, Rejo and Joan joined in the hurry to put out fires while the Marooner practically imploded. Even so, no one asked Sonna to help, and that was not for her inability.

Seconds passed as the starship grew nearer and nearer in the Weren’s bulging pupils. The sight reflected in her lenses, and she saw, upon the surface of the docks, opened pods of blooming flesh. Sonna flinched with a bone-deep tremor as she recalled the Anachronism that Dante had seen the last time they were here.

Still, she didn’t say a word until the vessel of wobbling steel had landed. During the process, her mind scurried, imagining a thousand things.

What would he do here? He’d use all of us to our best abilities. And how would that be done? He’d ignore feelings and only use our skills. That means... despite what I want, I won’t be going anywhere.

The moment it did, however, she turned to face the four behind her and put on her best impression of Dante, “We need repairs. We also need to verify Dante’s situation. Rejo. You and Joan will go. Use your Stigma to mark an item here to transport her back in an emergency. Then, you can use it yourself with a gun or knife to escape.”

Joan nodded, following the idea the plan proposed. Rejo could effectively transport one person back safely, meaning he could turn a duo’s risk into only the risk of a solo. Furthermore, by marking himself and a bullet, the Araki could displace himself hundreds of feet away in a second.

It was likely exhausting, but it was better he passed out from fatigue when safe than being devoured by Dirge.

Rejo didn’t argue as he was excited to leave the ship after being cooped up for days within its bleak walls. That meant Sonna was free to continue her plan with the rest of them, whom she pointed to, “That leaves us three. Arch. You’ll do what you can to get us good for a jump. Maybe two. Lucius. You’ll protect him here. I’ll... I’ll find that Anachronism. And I’ll kill it myself or lead it to you for help.” Her voice stuttered mid-way through, but she found her groove, nonetheless.

More agreements came as Lucius triple-checked his firearms and knives. Then, he strode to the hangar of the ship, where Rejo and Joan were already on the move. Sonna brought Archimedes a reassuring smile with a hovering pat, not quite touching his shoulder, before she strode toward them as well, leaving the boy to toil earnestly.

She knew that the creature here was likely controlling all the Dirge around somehow. Dante mentioned that it was some kind of mother or host to the rest. She would have to kill it to prevent an endless wave from coming at them.

From what Sonna knew, Anachronisms weren’t that strong or intelligent. Well, they were, but only to a certain extent. If it could birth so many ‘children’ and possessed formidable power itself, then it would have to be an Anathema instead.

But it wasn’t. Why did Sonna believe so?

Because it would’ve challenged Astraeus, or done something. It just made little sense for this one to rest while the space-slashing, no-faced creature bore all the weight for the Dirge on this planet.

As the woman inhaled deeply, her stomach lurched in her chest as the hangar doors rose. There were no Dirge on the other side, thankfully, as the cameras had told them such beforehand, but seeing the ‘eggs’ up close was ten times worse than she expected.

Ahead of her, Rejo and Joan had already dashed out of the ship, disappearing into the maze of corridors leading toward the open street on the other side. Rejo moved with his usual speed and ruthlessness while Joan, in her more diminutive, rodent-like form, perched easily on his shoulder. They were safe, for now.

In less than five seconds, the Araki was out of sight from her. The Weren held little worry for the two psychos who feared Dante’s disappointment more than death.

Instead, she felt her hands shake even further.

Lucius gave her a last nod of encouragement from his position near the hangar’s edge, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. His presence was comforting, even if he couldn’t follow her into the heart of the danger she was about to face.

“You’re the best shot we have,” Lucius called over, his voice calm and steady. “Just trust your instincts. I’ll be here if you need backup. You’re a Psion’s daughter, remember?”

The words, especially the finale, did little to raise the woman’s confidence, but they managed to dig that ever-growing well in the pit of Sonna’s stomach lower and lower. She knew she wasn’t special, not in the slightest bit.

Even so…

Her teeth bit into her lips, drawing the slightest tinge of iron onto her frenzied tongue. The shock of the taste forced her legs to move, for Sonna had no other option but to do this.

If she didn’t, she’d get them all killed. Not just herself.

Sonna couldn’t let that happen. The others had placed their trust in her, and sure, they agreed to their positions easily, but that didn’t matter to her.

Someone. Several. Trusted. Her.

With her chest puffed out, she hurried outside, shedding Arido from her skin with each pounding step of her legs. While she did so, her senses expanded beyond normality.

Sonna hadn’t run using her Tide before, but she was forced into managing the sensations as she leaped off the side of the stairs, right toward Rejo’s departure. She froze when she reached the broken doorway, inundated with information.

Rejo was out of harm’s way, already through the entire hallway and out into the street at large, but her mists saw much more than that. There were hundreds of snarling, disjointed creatures in the darkness of the Starport. They tended to stay away from the light of the midday sun, and as such, she felt them all bunched and close together within the innards of the building, not the open-air hangar in the center.

Heads turned in her direction, giving up on chasing the Araki after a scarce few seconds. Sonna’s heart stopped, and then the growls came, directed at her instead of the escaping man.

The pounding footsteps grew nearer in a matter of seconds. Then closer. Before she moved an inch, Sonna’s eyes could see a dozen figures crash around the corner, uncaring for their own safety as they desired her flesh.

Then, and only then, did her mind awaken for survival. The haze dug into their skin, extracting life and vibrance from all of Sonna’s pursuers as she turned and ran down another hallway. The Weren continued, rounding the next corner with her right hand.

More and more spawned Dirge bark, growl, and snarl with fevering hunger for her soul and spine. Sonna’s heart ramped up higher and higher with agony as the mists refilled her with energy only slightly slower than she lost it.

Panic and self-preservation ate into the woman’s mind, but through the dark corridors, her only way forward using the Tide as a navigator, she willed the haze further. Sonna refused to leave the Anachronism untouched or unfound.

Under the threat of death, she leaped through a closed door that splintered with her speed and then dove through another into a hallway with Dirge on both. Then her veil progressed far enough. She sensed it.

The Anachronism. It was some kind of many-legged wolf hanging on a ceiling. Unfortunately, it was behind the sea of monsters to her right. It would be impossible for anyone but her to even notice, considering it wasn’t all that large, hardly the size of a boar, hidden by the sheer number of spawn.

Like many times before, the Weren froze at the sight of so much danger. Behind. Left. Right. It was all screaming death into her ears and eyes.

In defiance, Sonna closed those eyes and shut off the ears. She sank into the haze, the nooks and crannies that only Arido could provide. And with that, she faced down the right side, her focus so intense that the veins upon her skull bulged dangerously.

Roars resounded every which way, and a claw came swooping for her head from behind. Yet, Sonna was already gone, scrambling forward where life was least likely to be found by prying eyes.