It was an utterly miserable, but typical day aboard the I.P.S Wandering Star. The old girl was crashing through the waves of the Alteian ocean without a care in the world, sea spray kicking up onto the promenade deck. On there were the finely dressed first-class passengers, who were out despite the horrible weather, rambling around and socialising as the wind buffeted them.

While Captain Kenneth knew very well how it felt to be cooped up inside of a ship for days on end, being out here in the cold wind looking out at the grey sea wasn’t that much better. At least in his opinion. The Alteian ocean was just an endless moving wasteland that brought wind and rain.

God, he couldn’t wait till they finally made it to the tropics and the grey sea would turn blue and clear.

But for now, he had to simply deal with the weather with the rest of the bridge crew. With the canopy down. The Wandering Star was not a modern ocean liner with an enclosed bridge; instead, the bridge was an open platform at the top of the fore superstructure. A sold wrought iron fence wrapped around it with posts to allow a canvas tarp to be put over the thing. However, it was too late to put it up now as the winds would make it a complete and utter pain.

So that left him, the helmsman, Mr Falmath the 2IC along with two lookouts out on the cold bridge, though they had bugger all to look out for.

All they had to do was keep the ship on course and look out for any idiots who might go overboard. Simple. And at least the thick navy blue jackets of the Rising Star Liner Company were warm.

“You think they’ll get bored of this weather captain? It’s only been about a day since they’ve last seen it, and you’d think they’d have something other than their petticoats for this weather.”

Kenneth sighed, “Mr Falmath you know as well as anyone how important appearances and exercise are to our first-class passengers. It's good not to disparage them for it.”

He sniffed, looking up from the people milling about on the decks and back to the sea, “I’d bet their children are going to be getting colds soon. Though maybe the second-class ones thought to put on a thick jacket…”

“Perhaps…” Kenneth mumbled, “Perhaps… I never really looked at them, it’s a bit hard to see behind with the funnels and all without going to the sides…”

A few more moments of silence between them passed with only the quiet chatter, wind and crashing waves filling the air.

That was until the sky started to change.

The grey clouds started to shift, morphing and churning in the air into an array of multi-coloured lights that filled the sky with a rainbow of bright colours.

But no light was cast down onto them as the sea and ship stayed grey with all the same shadows. Only, the wind had stopped as well as everything and everyone fell into an eerie silence.

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“C-Captain! Y-You’ve been to the poles, is this the Aurora they speak about from there!? Captain?”

Falmath stared at his silent captain whose mind was slowly comprehending the nightmare he was seeing in front of him. As while he was not an especially devout man, he had read the Book of the Defender, the Jælbath from front to back on one long voyage and it’s passages had stuck in his mind. With one in particular sticking at the front of his mind.

That passage recounted a story from ancient times before the saviour god had purged unnatural evil, of a few men sailing on a reed fishing boat out far at sea. That on their third day of their voyage, stranded in a sea of grey, lights had filled the sky and only one had survived.

“Captain?”

“Helm, flank speed, now!”

“Wha-“

“NOW!”

The captain surged forth, slamming the ship’s telegraph all the way before flicking the coms system on.

“Sir!” Barked the chief engineer, “I have no clue why you have given the order for flank speed in the middle of-“

“This is an emergency, shut it! Push the engines and the boiler as hard as you can, I don’t care about the lifespan of it!”

“Alright aye sir, but why-“

He flicked the line off before whipping his head around to the foremast.

And then he saw it.

The men up there were staring at tendrils of the not light starting to descend from the skies, as the babble of the passengers rose in volume.

“You lot! DOWN! NOW!”

An inaudible yell followed, the lookout on top leaning over the railings, just before being pushed back by the burst of acceleration which jostled everyone onboard.

Falmath was almost about to lose it at this point, his face scrunching up into a snarl, his eyes fierce, “Captain, what in bloody twelve hells has gotten into you!?”

“Midnight, five-seventy, line six!”

“What!?”

“Pick out your god-dammed pocket Jælbath and read that line!”

Mr Falmath’s hand darted to his inner coat pocket, picking out the thick volume and quickly flipping through it to the correct passage, reading it for a moment before in turn his eyes widened with wild fear.

He dashed to the front of the bridge and yanked the slightly rusted megaphone from its hook and held it up, seeing a pastor aboard already starting to break down.

“EVERYONE! Return to your quarters now! GET OFF THE DECK! This is an order!”

They all looked between each other, the babbling pastor, the Falmath in dumb silence.

“NOW! RUN FOR YOUR LIV-“

A scream echoed across the ocean as a tendril touched the lookout on the tower, just before he exploded. His body instantly frying in the moment, and then blowing up, throwing cooked flesh across the ocean and ship.

And that got them moving.

Screams followed across the ship as people started to run manically, some dashing to the doors, some wrenching open a store hatch and throwing themselves in. Some decided going overboard as the tendrils sped up seemingly in response, taking their children with them into the icy cold depths…

“Captain-“

“Go. All of you go! I’ll take the helm.”

Mr Falmath shook his head, “All of you upper-class folks…”

“Stop muttering and just move.”

The two exchanged a quick nod before Falmath turned, the other members of the bridge crew all too happy to get moving as they dashed towards the stairs.

Kenneth took the wheel, keeping the ship going steady as kept the ship moving, trying to ignore the sounds of searing metal and wood as the tendrils got down to the promenade deck. The screams of people being slaughtered and the smell of cooked human flesh overpowering everything. The not light cutting through them and the deck all the same, leaving no one safe in the ship.

The pains of hopelessness started to come over him as he continued to steer the ship, all too aware of the tendrils surrounding him and closing in on all sides.

All finally ended when an icy cold touch made contact with his back before it superheated, and pain engulfed his body in the split second.