Corpus Christi, Texas, 8 Years Ago
“So you fellas want us to take one of our boats out past the islands, into the Gulf, so you can go… fishing? What do you think, Harlan?”
“Glad you asked, Emmett. I think this stinks to high hell, and that you fellas are probably up to something less than legal.”
“I was thinking the exact same thing, Harlan.”
The Landry brothers leaned casually on the weathered counter of their modest office hut. On the other side, three strange men in hooded black robes stood, their faces a mix of irritation and thinly veiled disdain.
Though Landry Shipping & Transport was a mostly legitimate operation, the brothers had been known to dabble in ventures that skirted the law. So, when these unsettling men came in with a laughable cover story about fishing, the brothers smelled an opportunity to shake them down for as much as they could get.
“You know, Emmett, with all the explosives and ordnance we carry, heading out into the Gulf would be downright dangerous,” Harlan said, his tone heavy with mock seriousness.
“That is a damn fine point, Harlan. Damn fine point,” Emmett replied, stroking his chin theatrically.
“We get it,” the leader of the robed men interjected, his clipped English accent cutting through their banter. Reaching into his robe, he produced a bulging sack of gold coins and dropped it onto the counter with an audible thud. “Half now, and half after we have completed our business.”
Harlan and Emmett did their best to maintain their poker faces, but the sight of so much gold made their hearts race. It was more money than they’d made in years.
“You know what? You three are creepy sons of bitches, but I like you. Or, more accurately, I like your money,” said Emmett, straightening to his full, lanky height. His wild mess of copper and grey hair nearly brushed the rafters. He extended his long arm for a handshake, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got yourselves a deal.”
The leader stared at Emmett’s hand with thinly veiled disgust before shaking it reluctantly, his grip limp and cold. “We will leave at first light tomorrow. We will be here earlier to load our… fishing equipment.”
“You know, it makes it worse when you say it like that,” Harlan stated.
The leader’s toothy grin stretched wide, exposing too much upper gum, making the smile more a sneer. Without another word, the three men turned and swept out, their robes swishing dramatically.
“Well, they’re a theatrical bunch,” Harlan said, shaking his head.
“With what they’re paying, they can be as dramatic as they damn well please. Don’t trust ’em, though. Make sure you’ve got a gun handy, just in case,” Emmett replied.
“Never leave home without it,” Harlan said, patting the six-shooter on his hip.
The next morning, well before dawn, Harlan and Emmett sat on the deck of the Espíritu del Mar, one of their smaller, faster schooners. The sleek, dark wooden hull rocked gently in the tide, and the twin masts loomed against the faint glow of the approaching sunrise. Though the schooner was already loaded with cargo for a run scheduled in a few days, the brothers had chosen it for this job because it could be operated with just two additional deckhands. When it came to shady dealings, fewer witnesses were always better.
The brothers watched from the quarterdeck as their strange passengers began loading their “fishing equipment.” Numerous canvas bags were hauled aboard by hand, but the ship’s cargo boom groaned under the weight of a massive, shrouded crate. Its size drew raised eyebrows from the brothers, though neither said a word.
“Just think of the money, brother,” Emmett said, watching the crate sway as it was lowered onto the deck.
“It’s all I ever do,” replied Harlan.
Before long, the cargo was secured, and the Espíritu del Mar slipped its moorings just as the first rays of sunlight touched the water. The sails snapped taut in the morning breeze, carrying the schooner smoothly across Corpus Christi Bay.
Emmett guided the ship through the bay toward Aransas Pass. The favorable winds allowed them to cover the distance quickly. The crew braced themselves as the schooner navigated the winding channels of the pass, its hull swaying gently as it cleared the last of the barrier islands. Beyond lay the Gulf of Mexico, its waves choppier but the winds stronger, filling the sails with renewed vigor.
“Keep her steady, southeast, and don’t open her up too much. I’d rather not jostle the other cargo,” Emmett said, handing the wheel over to Harlan.
Emmett made his way down from the quarterdeck toward the bow, where the three robed men stood huddled together. Or, at least, two stood; the third leaned over the side, feeding his breakfast to the fish.
“So, do you fellas have an approximate location for where this fishing expedition needs to take place?” Emmett asked.
The leader flinched, startled, and hastily stashed away a small glass orb he’d been focusing on. “Our current heading will suffice. Another few hours should be enough.”
“Well, you’re paying. Just know it’ll be late by the time we make it back to shore.”
“That… will not be a problem,” the leader replied, his toothy grin returning.
“Mmm, yip. You’re not getting any less creepy,” Emmett said as he turned and strode back toward the quarterdeck.
With the strong winds at their back and the sea relatively calm, the Espíritu del Mar made good progress into the Gulf. After about three hours, Emmett returned to the bow to check on his passengers.
This time, he found the robed men dumping the contents of their canvas bags over the side of the ship. Glittering flecks, shards, and dust of multicolored magical crystals spilled into the water, creating a shimmering, rainbow trail in the ship’s wake.
Emmett’s brow furrowed as he approached. “Now what are you fellas doing?”
The leader startled again, nearly dropping his bag into the water. “By the relic, man, must you always sneak up on people?”
“Can’t say I’ve ever been accused of being sneaky, seeing as how I’m built like a beanpole. Maybe you’re just a bit jumpy.”
The leader sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “What we’re doing is chumming the water, as it were.”
“With magic crystal?”
“We are after a very particular creature. This will attract it.”
“Well, alright. It’s your money, I guess,” Emmett said with a shrug as he turned to head back to the quarterdeck.
“Yer buddies up there are dumping a whole bunch of magic crystal into the water. Chum, they reckon,” Emmett said as he returned to Harlan at the helm.
Harlan clicked his tongue. “Well, if they can afford to throw that kinda money away, maybe I will be their buddy. Think they’ll give me one of them fancy robes?”
“Tell ya what, with the money we’re making off this job, I’ll buy you one myself,” Emmett replied.
“Awfully generous of you.”
“Generous Emmett, that’s what they call me.”
“No one’s ever called you that, you filthy nickel-nabber.”
“My nickel-nabbing got us these boats.”
Harlan grumbled, unwilling to admit Emmett was right, and focused on steering.
Before Emmett could needle him into admitting he was right, an ear-splitting shriek tore through the tranquil evening, shaking the men from their quiet reprieve.
“What in the hell was that?” Harlan barked, gripping the wheel tighter.
“You keep us steady; I’ll go find out,” Emmett replied, already unholstering his revolver as he slipped down to the main deck. The sun was low now, casting the world in hues of deep orange and gold. Shadows stretched long across the deck, twisting with the gentle sway of the lanterns that one of the deckhands had lit. Their shifting light created a ghostly dance of flickers and darkness.
Keeping low, Emmett crept toward the bow, his boots making no sound against the well-worn wood. As he peered around the foremast, his breath caught at the sight before him.
On the forward deck, the three robed men stood around a large cage. Lanterns placed strategically on the ground illuminated a pattern drawn around the cage. Intricate symbols that shimmered faintly in the dim light. The men, their heads tilted skyward, chanted rhythmically in the moonlight, their voices an eerie, low drone that seemed to vibrate the air around them. Their hands were raised, palms up, swaying in unison as if in some kind of trance.
Emmett’s eyes darted to the cage. Whatever was inside it had bulk. Significant bulk. It looked too large to fit in the cramped confines, and its surface was covered in something so dark it seemed to drink in the lantern light. He couldn’t make out any details of the creature, but the unnatural stillness of its form unsettled him deeply.
The leader broke from the formation, still chanting as he approached the cage. His hands remained raised, palms out, and his movements were almost serpentine. When he reached the cage, he clapped his hands together sharply, the sound reverberating across the deck. From his robes, he withdrew a small stick. Emmett squinted, certain he was mistaken. It was just a stick. Small, plain, not even sharp.
“What the hell…” Emmett whispered to himself.
The leader held the stick aloft, his chanting growing louder. Then he pointed it at the cage and intoned, “Sanguinis emissio.” As he drew the stick back, streams of blood began to flow from the creature.
Emmett’s stomach turned as the captive beast howled and thrashed within its cage. Its movements were limited by the tight confines, its cries guttural and agonized. The streams of blood coalesced into a floating, quivering sphere at the tip of the wand. Emmett’s pulse quickened. He couldn’t fathom how anything could lose that much blood and live.
The leader turned, holding the orb of blood before him like a trophy, and walked to the starboard side. His two companions fell in step behind him, their chanting continuing without pause. Once at the railing, the leader flicked his wrist, and the blood dropped into the water below.
The effect was immediate. The trail of magical crystal they had been dumping into the sea lit up, each shard glowing like a tiny star. The dark water around the ship exploded with color as streaks of light, red, blue, green, yellow, shot out in every direction, illuminating the Gulf like a celestial canvas.
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Emmett had seen enough. Stepping out from behind the foremast, he leveled his revolver at the group. “What in the heck are you spooky bastards doing? And what’s in that cage? You know what? Never mind, I don’t care. I just need you to stop, because my gut’s telling me this is all kinds of wrong.”
The three men spun to face him, the leader wearing one of his unsettling, too-wide smiles. “Oh, but Captain, it is far too late to stop what is coming now. Soon, the world shall witness our glory, and we shall ascend in the ranks of the Latores Veritatis.”
“Buddy, the only thing ascending here is my temper. Now place your hands on your heads and get on your knees. You’ll be spending the trip back locked in the hold.”
“Oh ho ho, like this?” the leader mocked, raising his hands slowly and interlocking them behind his head.
“Don’t say it like that. It makes me think you’re gonna try someth—”
“Fulmen rapidum!” the leader yelled, whipping his wand forward.
A bolt of lightning surged out, but Emmett was already diving. The crackling energy blasted into the mast, leaving a web of charred, smoking scars on the wood. Emmett hit the deck hard, his instincts taking over as he fired a reflexive shot. The bullet struck one of the robed men in the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the planks with a cry of pain.
Rolling behind the foremast for cover, Emmett pressed his back against the wood, his revolver at the ready. He peeked out, only to jerk back as a shard of ice smashed into the mast, sending splinters flying.
“What kind of tomfoolery have you gotten us into this time?” came Harlan’s voice as he slid into cover beside his brother.
“This is at most 33% my fault. At most,” Emmett replied.
“I’d question your arithmetic if we weren’t about to die. What’s the plan?”
Emmett clicked his tongue, his brow furrowed in thought. “Try to kill ’em, I reckon.”
As if to underscore the hopelessness of their situation, a fireball struck the mast, showering the brothers in a rain of embers.
“Seems they’ve got the same plan. And magic,” Harlan muttered, brushing soot off his sleeve.
Emmett let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, that’s not great for us.”
Another bolt of lightning crackled past, lighting up the deck as it struck something further aft.
“Alright, new plan,” Emmett said, his mind racing. “I’ll cover you. You go release whatever’s in that cage. Maybe it’ll cause enough of a distraction for us to take some shots.”
Harlan frowned, deeply unimpressed. “What if what’s in that cage is dangerous?”
“Oh, but what if whats in the cage is dangerous?” replied Emmett in a mocking falsetto, “Listen, we ain’t got much choice but to take the risk.”
“I don’t sound like that,” Harlan snapped.
“I don’t sound like that,” Emmett replied, continuing his poor impression.
“Is now really the time?” Harlan asked, his voice dry and exasperated.
“Always. Now go release whatever horror awaits us in that cage,” Emmett shot back, a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth.
Harlan let out a long, dejected sigh. “If I die, I want you to tell a bunch of girls I loved them, just so they cry at my funeral.”
“I expect the same,” Emmett replied before leaning out from behind the mast and taking a shot. The low light made it impossible to tell where the bullet landed, but judging by the robed men flinching, it didn’t hit anyone directly. A retaliatory bolt of ice whizzed past Emmett’s face and smashed into the mast, splintering wood and showering him with sharp fragments.
Using the distraction, Harlan slipped toward the cage, his boots light on the deck. Even standing right next to it, he couldn’t make out what was inside. The creature was crammed so tightly into the small enclosure that its features blurred together into a mass of dense black, unnatural, hair.
Shaking off his hesitation, Harlan brought the butt of his pistol down hard, smashing the lock with a resounding clang. Grabbing the door, he wrenched it open and stumbled back as the hulking mass of black hair flopped out of the cage, landing on the deck with a sickening thud.
Harlan’s breath hitched as the creature began to move. Colossal wings unfurled slowly, stretching wide, and revealed a towering humanoid figure with the head of a moth. The sight was surreal, terrifying, and strangely awe-inspiring. But despite its newfound freedom, the creature barely stirred. Whatever the robed men had done to it had drained its strength, leaving it sluggish and weak.
“Well, this plan ain’t working,” Harlan muttered under his breath.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, pompous cry from his left.
“Sssscoundrell!” declared one of the robed men, his voice dripping with exaggerated righteousness. He raised a staff, the tip flaring with fire that began to swirl and form into a ball. “Pyra Glo—”
The spell was cut short by a bullet ripping through the man’s skull, sending him crumpling to the deck.
“You owe me for that one, brother!” Emmett shouted from his cover, his revolver still smoking.
“You’re the one who put me in danger in the first place!” Harlan shot back.
“Agree to disagree. Now let’s deal with this last landlover,” Emmett replied, stepping out from behind the mast with his gun raised.
Harlan followed suit, his pistol leveled, and the two brothers closed in, effectively cornering the leader of the robed men.
“Reckon you oughtta put your hands up,” Harlan said, his tone low and commanding.
“Oh? Oh, is that what you ‘reckon’?” the robed man sneered, raising his hands ever so slightly.
“He’s just gonna pretend to raise his hands and then shoot lightning at you,” Emmett warned, his eyes narrowing. “Guy’s so predictable.”
“That is not what I was going to do,” the robed man spat indignantly.
“Yeah, it is. Get some new tricks,” Emmett shot back.
“Some new tricks? Oh ho ho, how’s this for a new trick?!” the robed man shouted, his voice rising in manic glee.
Harlan and Emmett instinctively dove to the deck, bracing themselves for an explosion or another crackling bolt of magic. But when nothing happened, they slowly lifted their heads, their guns still trained on the man.
“That was… underwhelming,” Emmett remarked.
“Yep. I’m gonna kill him now,” Harlan said, leveling his pistol.
“Wait! No! This isn’t right! Where is it? The orb says it should be here!” the robed man rambled, staring into a small glass orb he had pulled from his robes, his expression frantic and confused.
“Don’t feel bad. Everyone fails at some point. It’s just that your failure’s gonna get you killed,” Harlan said as he took aim at the man’s head.
Just as he was about to pull the trigger, the sea erupted with violence.
An enormous tentacle burst from the water, waving frantically. Another followed, then three more, then seven. The brothers could only stare in horrified disbelief as far too many tentacles writhed and lashed, creating waves and surges of sea water. Finally, a colossal, bulbous head broke the surface, its slimy mass glistening in the moonlight.
Harlan stumbled back, his instincts screaming at him to run, though his mind reminded him that he was on a boat with nowhere to go. A boat that was now, slowly, headed straight for the Kraken.
“Ha ha ha! I am the greatest wizard of all time!” the robed man bellowed, his voice filled with triumph. “And now, when I steal the Kraken’s power, I will be elevated to the top of the Latores Veritatis!”
The man turned to the Kraken, raising his wand high and shouting, “Fulminis Carcer!”
Bolts of lightning erupted from the wand, but instead of striking the Kraken, they surrounded it, forming a cage of crackling energy. The beast thrashed, its tentacles whipping violently as it roared in fury, the sound reverberating like thunder.
The strain of the spell was evident on the wizard as he panted, hands on his knees, but he straightened and raised the wand again. “Sanguinis Emissio et Absorptio!” he cried.
The brothers watched in grim fascination as tendrils of blood began to flow from the Kraken, bubbling and swirling as they crossed the distance to the ship. The blood wrapped around the wizard, twisting and pulsing as it was absorbed into his body.
“Start shooting?” Emmett asked, his voice tight.
“Start shooting,” Harlan confirmed.
Both brothers opened fire, their bullets bouncing harmlessly off the swirling wall of blood that surrounded the wizard. Emmett turned and grabbed one of the ship’s small defensive cannons. He fired, but the cannonball struck the barrier and fell to the deck with a hollow thunk.
“Well, shit,” said Emmett, his voice tight with urgency. “I think it's about time we got to the cutter, brother.”
“Seems it,” Harlan replied.
Before the brothers could start running, the mothman reappeared, its silent, terrifying bulk looming behind the robed wizard. A long, chitinous tube extended from the creature’s face, glistening in the dim light. Without hesitation, the mothman thrust its head forward, impaling the wizard's skull with the tubular appendage. A grotesque, wet slurping sound rose above the cacophony of the thrashing Kraken.
The brothers watched as the sheets and tendrils of blood that had once protected the wizard collapsed to the deck like discarded ribbons. In moments, the man himself was reduced to a grotesque husk, little more than a bag of skin and brittle bones. The mothman let out a reverberating roar that sent shudders through the air before shooting up into the night sky and disappearing into the darkness.
With the wizard gone, the crackling lightning cage holding the Kraken dissipated, freeing the furious beast. The Kraken roared, its many eyes now fixed squarely on the Espíritu del Mar.
“Prepare to come about! Let go the sheets!” Emmett screamed, sprinting back toward the helm. His commands cut through the panic like a whip, jolting the crew into motion.
Harlan didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the ropes controlling the sails, his fingers working with practiced efficiency as Emmett began the turn. “Helm’s-a-lee! Haul away on the sheets!” Emmett barked. Harlan and the deckhands scrambled to trim the sails, their movements precise despite the chaos unfolding around them.
“Brace the foremast around! Sheet in the mainsail!” Emmett yelled, his voice carrying over the crashing waves and the Kraken's guttural roars. The men worked as if their lives depended on it. Because they did. Even short-handed, the crew managed to bring the ship around, catching the wind and surging forward with impressive speed.
The swift maneuver allowed the Espíritu del Mar to gain some distance, its sleek hull cutting through the churning waters. For a moment, it seemed as though they might escape. But the Kraken was relentless. The sea surged violently as the titanic monster propelled its bulk through the water, its massive tentacles creating whirlpools that threatened to drag the ship back.
For three grueling hours, the crew sailed with the Kraken in pursuit, its massive form never far behind. When they finally spotted the entrance to Port Aransas, relief swept through them like a wave. Emmett pushed the ship harder, ignoring the risk of running aground as he navigated the treacherous pass at a breakneck pace.
The Espíritu del Mar burst into Corpus Christi Bay, the barrier islands offering a momentary sense of safety. The crew let out collective sighs of relief. Until the Kraken proved them wrong. With a horrifying display of determination, the beast dragged its massive bulk through the pass, using its countless tentacles to pull itself forward. The crew watched in horror as the creature clawed its way into the bay, its immense shadow eclipsing the moonlight.
“Harlan, get in the cutter. Get to shore and get everyone to evacuate!” Emmett shouted, his voice hoarse but resolute.
“What are you gonna do?” Harlan demanded, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief.
“I’m going to keep it distracted. Give you some time,” Emmett replied, already turning back toward the helm.
Harlan hesitated, his gaze locking with his brother’s. “Don’t you die on me, you old fool,”.
“Just go!” Emmett barked.
Harlan didn’t argue. He cut the ropes securing the smaller boat and sent it plunging into the water. With the deckhands’ help, he rowed furiously, the cutter peeling away from the Espíritu del Mar.
Left alone, Emmett worked quickly. Turning, he sailed towards the Kraken, before turning again to get the wind back in his sails but setting up a position from which he could broadside the monster. Running along the starboard side of the ship, he lit the 4 small cannons there, sending a volley. All 4 cannon balls struck true, but seemingly did no damage to the monster, who had now noticed the lights and noise of Corpus Christie as was heading directly for it.
Emmett did what he could to try and get back on a heading to launch another broadside, but the Kraken passed behind him, and without a crew he couldn’t effectively catch the wind.
The Kraken smashed its limbs into the docks and surrounding buildings, obliterating everything in its path. Emmett could only watch as the town he had grown to love was torn apart. Gritting his teeth, he made his decision.
Fixing the sails, Emmett turned the ship directly toward the Kraken. The Espíritu del Mar surged forward, the wind filling its sails for one final charge. The speed of the schooner wouldn’t be enough to kill the Kraken, but that wasn’t the plan.
The bow of the ship collided with the Kraken’s bulbous head, the impact drawing a roar of pain from the monster as it was impaled. One of its massive eyes swiveled down, locking onto the schooner in fury.
Standing above the hold, Emmett held an oil lantern in his hand. He stared down the colossal beast, a grim smile playing on his lips. With a final flick of his wrist, he hurled the lantern into the hold, where the ship’s stockpile of explosives and ordnance waited.
The explosion that followed rocked the bay, a deafening roar that echoed for miles. Fire and debris erupted into the sky as the Espíritu del Mar was obliterated. The Kraken let out a bone-rattling scream as half its head was blown away, blood and viscera raining down onto the bay and the remnants of Corpus Christi.