Selene's heart pounded as she crouched in the darkness of Ezra's back room, the
relic's pulse against her palm like a war drum. Through a crack in the door, she could
see the historian standing rigid, dagger in hand, his face grim and pale.
The knock came again.
Then the door splintered inward.
A figure stepped inside — if it could still be called a man. Its skin was slick and pale,
stretched tight like wet parchment, its eyes two black voids leaking saltwater. Its
clothes hung in shreds, barnacles clinging to its flesh.
Ezra didn't hesitate.
He hurled the dagger.
The blade buried itself in the thing's throat — and the creature barely flinched. It
turned its gaze toward the old man, and in a voice like water through a grave, it
spoke.
"The tide rises, Ezra Corin. The debt will be paid."
A second figure slithered through the door behind it. Then a third.Ezra grabbed a rusted oil lamp and smashed it to the floor. Flames erupted, licking
hungrily at the walls.
"Run!" he roared.
Selene didn't need to be told twice. She bolted through the back exit, rain slicing
down in sheets, the night thick with salt and smoke. Behind her, the shack burned,
silhouetting figures that moved through the fire without fear.
A scream cut through the storm — Ezra's.
Selene spun. For a heartbeat, she saw him dragged through the flames, the creatures
upon him like wolves. His last look wasn't of fear, but warning.
Go.
Selene ran.
The wind howled like a wounded animal. The relic's pulse grew faster, heavier. Faces
seemed to swirl in the storm, twisted and ancient. From the shore, the ocean rose,
higher than any tide she'd ever seen. A wall of water, dark and gleaming.
Luka was waiting at the old dock, eyes wide with horror.
"Where's Ezra?" he shouted over the storm.
Selene's breath caught. "Gone."
And then — the figures appeared from the mist behind her. Dozens of them. Dead
things that moved like men, water pouring from their bodies, faces pale and eyeless.
Luka's hand went to the flare gun at his belt. "What the hell—"
A dart of bone and coral shot through the air, striking Luka's shoulder. He staggered,
blood blooming in the rain.
"No!" Selene screamed.
She caught him before he fell, but the things were closing in.
"Return the Heart," they hissed in unison.
The storm reached a fever pitch. The wave behind them roared like a living thing.
Selene clutched Luka with one hand, the relic with the other.
"I'll give you nothing," she snarled.And in that moment — something answered.
The relic flared in her grip, a blinding blue light tearing through the night. The dead
shrieked, staggering back. The wave shuddered as though held by unseen hands.
Selene didn't wait. She dragged Luka into the boat, firing the outboard. The sea
fought them, but she forced the craft into the storm, away from the burning shore
and the cursed dead.
Behind them, Nyumbara's ancient children howled.
The sea had tasted blood.
And it would not forget