As soon as the Ember Moon passes and Grímr regains full control of his body, we continue onward.
The crippled cubes we leave behind us marks the final point of safety before we tread into truly dangerous waters. Grand Elder Śuri’s reassurances help somewhat, but even his eyes flicker along the water below, searching for any sign the Titan might remain.
We are in total agreement that should there be any sign that the Titan remains, our search for the island will end immediately. Charybdis has prevented any áed from travelling this far across the ocean for millennia, and should it return, none of us are suicidal enough to tempt its wrath.
Actually, tempting a Titan’s wrath is the least of our concerns. If it is anything like the Euroclydon from the mermineae’s plains, the being doesn’t even need to notice us to knock us out of the skies. It is terrifying to be so far from land with some natural calamity possibly hiding within the waves.
No one speaks as we cross the deep waters. Tensions are high for each of us. While the downpour continues, Yalun remains hidden away beneath my hood. She’s spent much of the time above the ocean mixing with my flames, removing her focus from the world around her. It’s hard to say whether she does so because there’s nothing better for her to do, or she’s trying to hide from such a terrifying sight.
If I didn’t have the reassurance of my friends at my side and the grand elders to watch over us, I don’t think I could have pushed through the fear of such a horrid situation. Alone, I might have fled long before reaching those ancient cube structures.
The constant thrum of water pelting against my mask, goggles and chest is incredibly nerve-wracking, but it doesn’t come close to the disgusting, slimy feeling of water rolling down the back of my snowsuit. It doesn’t matter how safe I know I am in this outfit, the wet feeling of water will never be comfortable.
Each hour we fly, the rain only gets heavier. Light of the Eternal Inferno should reach us by now, but it remains as dark as night. Nothing is visible in any direction besides the dark grey clouds and the turbulent ocean that reflects the sky.
Our consistently bleak surroundings remove any sense of progression I could hope for. Despite how long we’ve been flying, nothing differs from the start. In a way, that unchanging nature of our current journey is a blessing, what with all the things that could go wrong.
As the rain intensifies, so do the waves below. I try not to look often, but a combination of my fears and there being nothing else to hold my attention has me looking to the ocean below. Each swell is massive, rising well over a few dozen metres, carrying deadly force with a nightmarish volume of water.
If those waves were to hit me, I would be dead in an instant. Not even my snowsuit could hold back the ocean’s strength. It does nothing good for my nerves to stay above these waters, but I don’t plan to let myself fall far even should the worst happen.
I can transform in only a few moments and fly with my own wings. The rain will hurt, but I’ll bear through it. If that’s still not enough to keep me in the air, I have enough energy to hold myself aloft with physical flames alone. Of course, with no resources to consume for who knows how far, it is my least liked option, but it is an option no less.
As we edge closer to our target, the tall waves recede to a consistent level. At first, the sight relieves me; the water is obviously less intense, after all. Upon looking closer, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The water shoots along beneath us with speed. Waves cannot form because the sheer pressure pushing the water does not give them time to rise.
“We are close,” Śuri says, breaking the silence.
We have passed the Titan’s territory? I let out a breath in relief. I don’t know what this island is, but there’s no way it will come close to the danger posed by a Titan.
As if invited by his words, a shadow consumes the thick clouds ahead of us. My eyes stick to the dark area ahead, waiting to finally see this island we’ve gone through all this effort to find, but it isn’t the island that appears first.
The mist clears as we move forward, revealing a massive stream of water, fifty metres thick, blasting through the air to our left. I can’t see where it ends — the speed of the water keeping it in the air for hundreds of metres and out of sight — but I can hear the continual crash of water pushing into the ocean.
We avoid the stream, but it is not the only one. Dozens of equally large streams shoot out in all directions from the shadow. The sound is intense. More akin to an earthquake than what I would expect from water.
When we are close enough, the island finally breaches through the mist. Immediately, it is clear that it is of the same makers as the cube, though on a completely different scale. That much should have been obvious by the enlarged water streams.
The ocean below can hardly be called an ocean anymore. Beneath the island — which I suspect isn’t actually an island — a dozen more streams of water push everything down and away, leaving any remaining ocean to twist in and around itself but unable to return to normal sea-level.
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The large metal surfaces covered with those same immense inscriptions as the cube extend far to both sides, its vastness still hidden within obscuring mists and clouds. A single one of those cube structures remains attached to the side of the island.
The cube is damaged, but not in the same way as the others my people once scavenged. No, this is cleaved in half, like something large lashed at it. A Titan maybe? No… if it were the Titan, nothing would remain. But even as I think that, I spot a dozen more similar damage marks along the metallic surface of the island. Some only a dozen metres long, while other reach well into the hundreds.
“This is a dock,” Leal says absently as she, like the rest of us, inspects the island.
“A dock?” Śuri asks, and I can feel Yalun’s own confusion through the Kindling.
“You know, a place to stow or restock ships before they head out into the oceans again,” she says. “There are a dozen platforms identical to the one connecting to that… ship, I guess?” she points both to the cube I was looking at then to an array of other sections that look like they could hold more.
Each of the docks has nine bridges that would connect into the weapon or geyser holes of the cube. As we fly closer, the sole remaining cube docked proves so, each platform inserted into each hallway.
What exactly is the purpose of those holes? Are they cannon barrels as I’d thought? Are they hallways to walk set with a trap to obliterate intruders? Or are they actually intended to gush out water… for some reason?
Considering they’ve been around for over a thousand years — if those framework remains truly are the same as the cubes — I guess we can discard the idea that there was someone inside, or still operating it. Though, it is hard to believe that it could send out so much water for that long.
Grímr brings us down to land on the metallic deck. I jump off and immediately cringe at the splash from my boots. A moment later, it doesn’t matter. When Śuri lands beside me, his heat immediately spreads along the water, vaporising all beneath our feet within a dozen metres.
Despite all the missing water, the metal itself doesn’t so much as heat beneath our feet, displaying Grand Elder Śuri’s impressive control.
Rain still buckets down on our heads, but at least I don’t have to go through the discomfort of wading through an ankle deep pool.
It is insane how much metal this island is made of. If not for all the water, this dock could fuel every áed for millennia. There wouldn’t be a point for áed to hold themselves back any longer, and the taboo can be repealed. Is that why Śuri is so interested in this place?
“Come. Let’s get under some cover,” Śuri says as he leads us to a depression between unconnected docking bridges.
Unlike the design of the cube, this island angles upward above the highest connectors. The flat, angled metal is only interrupted by the occasional wide platform and massive water pillars shooting into the air.
We are out of the direct downpour now, but the heavy winds still caries a lot of water under our cover.
Yalun halts our Kindling for the first time in nearly a day and rises to her tiny little feet upon my head. I open my hood to let her out, careful of the splashes flung up by the wind. She lands in the dry spot near Śuri, before shivering.
Ahead of us is an entryway that appears far too similar to the corridor we saw in that last cube. No way am I trotting in through there. Yalun has no such reservations. The grand elder takes the lead and dashes down the hall to get away from the lingering water pelting against us, only for Śuri to wrap his hand around her small form and pull her back.
“What are you doing?” Yalun squeaks, her voice much higher pitch in this tiny form. “Let me go!”
She has the same binding as I do, so I’m not sure why she complains and doesn’t just escape.
“It’s not safe in there. Your control is not yet to the stage you could manage plasma, right?”
“Plasma?” Yalun asks in surprise as she frees herself from his hand, quickly returning to her normal form. “Here?”
Śuri nods his head toward a massive geyser blasting out of a fractured section of the island not far to our right. “Whoever made this place were as incredible with their inscriptions as they were paranoid. The island really didn’t like when I took control of the damned plasma cannon, and tried to flood me out.”
“You didn’t push through? Or melt your way around?”
“Ranked water,” Śuri says. “Flooded me out before I could do anything. I nearly died.”
“What do you mean by plasma?” I ask. Is that what I could not control back when the cube exploded on us?
“Plasma is ranked fire. It’s how we make our relics,” Śuri says. “I’ll take you down to the forge one day, if you raise your heat high enough.”
“Wait,” Grímr interrupts. “You’re telling me the inscriptions of this island can create ranked elements? That’s insane. Not even Riparia has achieved such a feat.”
“I don’t actually think it would be that hard if you had enough energy,” Leal says, having only just climbed down from the alicanto’s back. “What I’m more interested in is just how they are powering all of this. None of the numbers make sense.”
“So you said you wanted to get inside, right?” I ask. “How are we going to do that if ranked water blocks us?”
Śuri turns his eyes up to Leal. “This is where your water mage friend helps us.”
“I don’t know how good of a mage you think I am, but ranked water is still far from something I can command.” Leal looks upon the water geyser with reluctance.
“No, no, never. The stream itself is normal water; I just need you to create a path through. There’s a pathway behind a section of wall I burnt away before the water flooded down on me.”
Śuri continues to lead us to the geyser until the rapidly moving water appears almost like a wall before us.
Besides me, Leal forms a strand of water that flows into the massive gushing fountain, and if not for her fur, I could swear her face turns pale. Her eyes widen, and her head snaps to the right, following the path of the geyser. “Unreal,” she murmurs.
“So, think you can forge a way for us?”
Slowly, Leal nods. “Barely, but I think I can do it.”
“Tell me again why I came?” Yalun says, keeping her distance from the wall of water.
“Because you’re obsessed with this one.” Śuri lays a hand on my shoulder, which I quickly brush off.
Yalun groans, but doesn’t complain any longer. I don’t know which is worse: Śuri’s apparent disregard for the terrifying nature of water, or the fear portrayed by Yalun, one of our grand elders that should stand as a representative of our strength.
Well, regardless of my reservations, Leal is preparing to lead us inside. Hopefully, this will be worth the stress.