By the time Ren and Penny have got everything ready, the rest of their team, including Betty, are already gathered at the pier. Vane and Clemon help to move the last of the crates and barrels of supplies onto the vessel. Gridel and Isla settle the sails and the ropes. Betty greets them with a wave, as she chews on what looks like a piece of dried orange.

“Alright. We’ll just be taking Calysso’s Soul out,” Betty says. “And as the captain of this ship, I’m coming along with you.”

Penny nods. “That’s very kind of you. Thanks, Betty.”

Betty smiles. “Well, now. Calysso’s Soul is my soul. I’m not just going to sit back while you take my baby out to uncharted waters.”

“Uncharted waters?” Ren asks.

“We’re heading out to somewhere called Triclaw Isle, right? In my years of sailing, I’ve never heard of it.”

Ren frowns. Betty’s just… what? A young girl? She appears even younger than he is. How many years could she possibly have—

Betty grins. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘She barely looks sixteen!’ How does she know anything about the ocean?”

Ren flushes. Well, there’s no point hiding it now. “Um… well, yeah. You got that right.”

“I may look sixteen, but I’m actually two hundred years old. Still pretty young for my species, but definitely older than you humans.”

Penny’s eyes widen. “Wait, what? What are you?”

“Me?” Betty is positively glowing. “I’m just a water nymph who chose to live on land, is all.”

“A water nymph. Who chose to live on land.”

“That’s right.”

Ren certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“Anyway, let’s go!” Betty cries, pumping her fist into the air. “To Triclaw Isle! Adventure awaits!”

*

Ren leans against the side of the ship and stares into the water. It’s been about a week or two since they’ve left Calysso. All he’s seen are islands and gorges, and the occasional seagull. As majestic as they are at first, the same kind of scenes grow boring after a while. Just as Ren is contemplating as to whether he should head back to the cabin and catch some forty winks, it happens.

“There it is! Triclaw Isle!”

Isla shouts from the bow of the ship. Ren glances up from where he was watching the colourful fishes. The air has gone colder, chilling him to his bones, and he can certainly see why. In the distance, just behind the three islands that make up Triclaw Isle, is a massive ice floe, and beyond that, lies a land of pure white.

“That must be Frosgott!” Betty calls, stabbing a finger at the floe. “I didn’t know it was this near.”

Frosgott. That name sounds familiar. Didn’t Gaia mention it? About how one of the Horsemen makes his residence in Frosgott?

“We’re moving in,” Clemon calls from the steering wheel. “It’s a little narrow, but I think we can make it.”

The closer they get to the Triclaw Isle, the bigger the islands seem. Those of the Encantado Archipelago are nothing compared to these. Each island houses a curved mountain, which stretches towards the skies, just like the picture their name paints.

At Isla’s direction, they manage to steer the ship such that it sails towards the centre of the islands. Ren throws furtive glances at the water. The fish seem to have vanished, leaving a sort of hollowness in the wake of their departure. Still, it sends shivers down his spine. Something tells him that—

The clop of hooves has Ren lifting his head. He knows that sound anywhere, having heard it so many times. There, galloping against the crimson sky, is none other than the Horseman of War sitting astride his white horse, leading his equine team across the ocean.

“Ah, I was hoping he wouldn’t show up,” Betty mutters. She turns towards the rest of them. “Everyone! Get ready for a fight!”

Ren swallows thickly. She’s right. The presence of the Horseman of War invites nothing but bloodshed and tragedy. It never attacks them directly, unlike the Horseman of Death, but it waits for the warring clans to do it for him. No doubt, their crew is one of said warring clans, but for a war to break out, there must be another, opposing party—

The boat begins to rock with the churning waters, almost knocking Ren off his feet. Penny stumbles into a pile of barrels, and the rest of the team gets their weapons out. The wind picks up—frosty tempests that’d be right at home in a place like Frosgott.

A glint of silver catches Ren’s eye. In a moment of instinct, he whips his head to the side, just in time to dodge a trident soaring by. The polearm reaches the peak of its flight, before plummeting to the deck. The prongs stab right into the wooden planks, splintering them.

“We’re under attack from below!” Betty shouts. “Tridents! They’re throwing tridents!”

Another trident goes flying into the air, but Vane bats it out of the way and back into the water. The waves grow more violent, the force toppling Ren, and he crashes unceremoniously to the floor. Gridel readies her crossbow and draws the string back, bolt in place.

“No, wait!” Isla cries. “Don’t shoot!”

She throws herself at Gridel the instant the bolt is released. The arrow slams into the planks, and the girls tumble in a heap of limbs. Isla scrambles to extricate herself, and she reaches for the Selkie skin concealed under her dress. As quick as a flash, she steps into it and pulls it up to her waist.

“Isla!” Clemon shouts. He sidesteps a trident, then begins sprinting.

But Isla is too fast, and Clemon, much too slow. She makes the dive, her movements as fluid as water as she takes the plunge. Soon, Isla is gone, leaving them to fend for themselves against this onslaught.

“We’re getting out of here!” Betty calls. “Come on! It’s too danger—!”

“Betty!”

Penny’s scream rings out in the din of clashes and clangs. Her arm is outstretched, hurried footsteps pounding the damp wood. Betty turns her head, just in time to be met with a trident to the face.

However, the trident simply shoots right through her, the three prongs stabbing into the hull in the opposite side. Ren can only stare, wide-eyed. Betty’s head turned into a sphere of water, and is now rebuilding itself, forming the shape of a skull, then an eyeball, and the other eyeball—

Her head is as good as new.

“What?” Penny’s jaw goes slack.

Betty rolls her neck, her joints cracking audibly. She slowly turns to gaze at the water, with an expression so scary that it sends shivers down Ren’s spine. It’s almost as if she’s turned into an entirely different person, with her knitted brow, and the downturn of her lips.

She utters one word, one that Ren hears all too clearly even in the cacophony of battle.

“Kai.”

Kai? Who is that?

More importantly, how is Betty not dead?

“Betty?” Penny calls.

Betty rushes by them, dashing towards the ship and hopping over the edge. All that remains of her is a splash of water. Penny and Gridel make to follow, but the former stops in her tracks to avoid the stab of a trident.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

By now, the whirlpool has gotten crazy strong. To the point where the ship is beginning to rotate in place and the islands are whirling around them in blurs of green and blue. Ren clings to the side, staring at the ground and gritting his teeth, hoping to chase the dizziness away.

Something slams into the ship. No, it doesn’t slam into them from the hull, nor did it crash from the right or the left. The impact came from above.

Ren glances towards the main mast, quashing the nausea bubbling up in him. Standing on two legs, without care for the ship spinning like a top, is a man. He sports white hair that trails behind him in braids, prominent against his dark skin. Robes flow around him, almost as fluid as a stream. In his hand, he holds a trident, one that, when raised, summons lightning.

A bolt strikes the ship, and the electricity is hot enough to ignite the wood. Dark clouds gather overhead, and with every raise of his trident, the man summons a new bolt. And another, and another, till the entire vessel is set alight. The mast and sails burn brilliantly against the black clouds of billowing smoke.

“As long as I live, I will not let any harm come to my tribe, ever again!” the man bellows. He holds his trident out, and twirls it in his hand. Giant waves crash into them from all angles, tossing the ship and threatening to capsize it.

“We have to jump into the water!” Gridel shouts, loosing an arrow into the water. “Or we’re going to burn!”

“Are you insane? There’re trident-throwing creatures in there!” Clemon cries.

Vane snarls, deflecting a trident with Claymore. “Either that, or we can stay here and die!”

Penny is the first to take the plunge, with Mira in her hands and her eyes squeezed shut. Ren keeps Ifrit firm in his grip, and is the second one to jump. Vane and Gridel follow closely behind. Clemon is the last one to hurl himself over the edge and into the waters.

The ship overturns, and Ren watches its massive shadow cast upon the surface of the sea as the boat goes flying from a particularly violent wave. He glances around, only then realizing that he’s utterly surrounded by seals and humans alike, people that he’s never seen before. Is this… Isla’s Selkie tribe?

But they don’t seem to be attacking, despite their initial hostility. Ren kicks the water, swimming up to the surface, and taking in a much-needed breath of fresh air. The seals and humans stay with him, watching him with keen eyes. Pieces of driftwood—from their ruined ship, perhaps—float by them with the roll of the waves.

His friends are also treading water around him, save for Vane, who’s clinging to a piece of driftwood. None of the seals are attacking, and there is no sign of the man who rained Heaven’s wrath on Calysso’s Soul.

Then, something tugs on Ren’s ankle. Ren yelps, and barely has time to take a breath before he’s dragged underwater. Panic grips him like the cold claws of the Selkie yanking him deeper and deeper into the depths of the sea. The same glow that radiated from his skin when he was swimming with Isla cloaks him again, his only light source as they descend. His brain yells at him—his oxygen is running out faster than expected—and a headache pounds at his skull.

He. Needs. Air.

Ren tries to bat at the Selkie pulling on him, grimacing at his slowed swing, the water heavily impeding on his speed. The Selkie dodges Ifrit easily, turning around to scowl at him. Ren grasps at his throat, his anxiety immediately skyrocketing.

Air. He needs. Fucking. Oxygen!

The last bubbles escape his mouth, and Ren braces for the inevitable. The burning of lungs, the utter lack of—

He breathes. Ren breathes as easily as he does on land, nostrils flared as he takes in all the air he can. How…? How is this possible?

Could it be the glowing cloak? Does this do more than chase the shadows away in the darkness of the sea? Out of the corner of Ren’s eye, he sees their destination, an enormous bubble on the bottom of the seafloor. It shimmers iridescently, the only beacon of light in what must be pitch-blackness.

The moment they enter the bubble, Ren falls, along with the Selkie. He braces himself for the impact, not quite expecting a soft landing. He winces, rubbing at his back, green leaves fluttering from his fingers. Scrunching kelp between his fingers, and pushing himself to his feet, Ren peers up at the city before him.

Its size is nothing to scoff at. He appears to be on a walkway of sorts, covered in a carpet of kelp. All around him are buildings of white, most slanted at an angle, and chipped and covered in dirt. It looks just like what Atlantis would look like if Ren were to describe it. An underwater city that used to house amazing inhabitants, its magnificence lost to the elements.

At the sound of thumps behind him, he turns to find Penny, Gridel, Vane and Clemon, the Selkies who ferried them hauling them to their feet. Ren gasps at the sudden pull of his arms behind his back, and he drops Ifrit, the staff falling to the carpet. The Selkie who manhandled him through the water—a young man with a mop of blonde hair—begins marching him towards the entrance of the city. The sheer strength with which he’s clenching Ren’s arms leaves no room for debate.

If the thought to resist ever crossed their minds, they should abandon it now. More and more Selkie soldiers appear at the entrance, clutching spears and tridents, surrounding them and pointing those razor tips at them. Oh, this is quite a deplorable state of affairs.

Where is… where is Isla? And Betty?

“What are you doing?”

Another figure rushes out from behind the guards, pushing past them and jostling her way through the crowd.

“Isla!” Clemon cries.

Indeed, it is Isla in all her glory, rushing towards them, her presence alone parting the soldiers like the Red Sea. She dashes over to Clemon and wrenches the arm of the burly Selkie who holds Clemon. The Selkie recoils, as if burned.

“Stop it! Why are you arresting them? They’re our guests!”

“They’re intruders on our land, Isla.”

That voice. Ren recognises that voice. How can he forget it when he heard it just a couple of moments ago, back when they were fighting for their lives on Calysso’s Soul? It was the man they saw a few moments prior—the man in the flowing robes with white hair and his lightning-rod trident. He looks every bit as regal as he did aboard that ship, carrying himself with the serenity of a noble, or even a king.

“They are my friends.” Isla glares at the man. “They have saved me from captivity, and returned my skin to me. If they were hostile, they would have kept me from you as well and would not have honoured my wishes to come to the Triclaw Isles.”

“Humans are not to be trusted!” the man booms, stabbing his trident into the floor. “Don’t you see? They are using you to locate our tribe!”

Isla frowns. “That’s not true. What could they want with us?”

“What they would want with us is the reason they took your skin away in the first place,” the man says. He ambles towards them, each step strong and sure. He holds his hand high; at that, the soldiers tighten their grip on their prisoners. “They want to make us their slaves. They want to lord over us like the power-hungry species they are.”

“We promise we’re not here to—” Penny starts, but she shuts up with a single, stern glare from the man.

“Humans only ever want one thing: and that is power,” the man claims. “They should not bring their wars to other, peaceful species. The consequences of their hubris is their own to bear.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Vane asks. “‘Our war’?”

The man harrumphs. “Ignorant as ever. I have no obligation to answer you. Leith, take them to the dungeons.”

Dungeons? Ren has had enough of being locked up in chains and handcuffs! The Selkies escort them down the walkway, towards the insides of the city. Struggling against them proves to be a fruitless effort, as these soldiers are way mightier than they appear.

“Father, you can’t be serious!” Isla snarls. “I promised them that I would help them if they brought me here, and—”

“I have nothing more to say to you either, Isla,” the man says. “It’s time to prepare for the feast, and the celebration of your return.”

Isla probably shouted something, or made a ruckus, because Ren still hears her voice, but not her words. However, even that soon fades as he enters the sunken city of the Selkies, all the way out here in Triclaw Isles.

*

“Ow!” Ren cries out as he hits his back against the jagged wall of the dungeon cell. The barred door is slammed in his face, and the jailor turns the key in the lock with a smug smirk. Without another word, he saunters off, probably to lock Ren’s friends up in their respective cells as well.

Ren massages his tailbone. Well, at least he’s not in cuffs this time round; he’s honestly had enough of metal cutting into skin. Shouts reverberate throughout the corridor—it sounds distinctly like Penny’s voice. And Vane’s, too.

Ren rises, walking over to the bars and grasping it. He tries peering out of the cell, but is unable to see any farther than the opposite wall, and the torches burning brightly against the white marble. He glances back at his cell. It’s empty, save for a small, barred window with slim rays of light filtering through, but it’s much too high to climb, and much too small for Ren to slip through.

Great. What are they supposed to do? Not only are they helpless in this cell, they’ve been stripped of their weapons. And just when Ren vowed never to let Ifrit out of his hands again, too. Will Isla come to save them? But that man, her father…

Seth did mention something about a princess, now that Ren thinks about it. Could it be that…?

“Hello!”

Ren jolts. Where did that come from?

It is then that he spots it. An eye peeking through a hole in the wall, and Ren screeches, scrambling to the other side of the cell. Who in the world is that? What—

“Relax, it’s just me.” Ren’s shoulders sag at the familiar tinkle of Betty’s voice. “Looks like you guys got captured too, hmm?”

Ren nods. “Yeah. Well, the ship went down, so…”

“Oh. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just get Klaus to make another one,” Betty says nonchalantly. “Well, it’s a bit of a pickle we’ve got ourselves into this time, huh. I don’t think we’re getting out of this one easy.”

“Can’t you turn into water and sneak out? You’re a nymph, right?”

Betty falls silent, though when she next speaks, Ren can hear the pout in her voice. “But they’re going to surround me and skewer me with spears before you can say ‘Me hearty!’ I can only turn into water when I will myself to, and all it takes is one careless move and I’m dead.”

They really are in a pickle, indeed. Ren doubts they’re ever going to be let out, and even if they are, it’s probably to the gallows. Probably not the gallows, but certain death, he’s sure. These Selkie don’t take too kindly to humans, apparently.

Although, something does intrigue him. What did the man say? Something about leaving humans to deal with the consequences of their hubris? It didn’t sound like he was talking about this particular instance, but of something that happened a lifetime ago.

“Say, Betty, you’ve been alive… two hundred years now, right?” Ren asks.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’d like to ask.”

“What is it?”

Ren tells her about it. About the man, about his hatred for the humans. Not once does Betty interrupt him, and when he finishes, she only says, “It’s very likely that he’s talking about the Fall of Heliola.”

Now that’s a familiar name. “Heliola? What does Heliola have to do with this?”

“Where Pandora’s Citadel is now used to be where Heliola was.” Betty sighs. “And it was there that the apocalypse started. Some two to three hundred years ago.”