Chapter 18
Memory
"There we go again…" Eilor sighed, letting himself drop onto the nearest chair.
The table before him, carved wood with a dark varnish, must have been expensive once. Now it was scarred with scratches and dents, as if someone had thrown it down more than once and then forced it back into place.
Eilor rested his elbows and brought his hands to his head, massaging his scalp as if trying to squeeze out an answer.
"They'll think about fighting…" he muttered. "If it's fighting, I couldn't help."
He exhaled in frustration, slowly lowering his hands, leaving one on his chin, pensive.
"Or maybe I could…" His voice dropped, hesitant. "After all… they're fish. And in a setting like this, I'd be the one most favored."
He fell silent, sunk in the contradiction of his own thoughts, until the girl's voice snapped him out of it.
"Kaep… aren't you one of the marked from Takran Academy?"
The question disarmed him. He opened his mouth to deny it, but the words didn't come right away.
"No… I don't remember." His brow furrowed. Something didn't fit.
He remembered thousands of things with ease, always had a privileged memory. The strange thing wasn't her question—it was the emptiness inside him. And that emptiness weighed too much.
The silence stretched until dragging footsteps broke the charged air. The alchemist approached, with that weary gait that seemed to measure every movement as if it were an experiment.
"I've been thinking about what you said," he began, settling beside the table. "Maybe… what you're feeling is a side effect of the potion."
The words hit Eilor like a bucket of cold water. He shot upright in his chair.
"What?"
The alchemist tilted his head, as if it were obvious.
"When you fainted… well, actually you didn't faint before drinking it." He cut himself off, corrected, toying with a vial in his hand. "You drank it while asleep. I gave it to you."
Eilor felt a knot tighten in his stomach. A strong pulse hammered in his temples.
"What do you mean you gave it to me while I was unconscious?"
"Part of it was to help you. It was clear you were in bad shape… very bad." The alchemist lowered his gaze, as if seeking justification in the wood grain. "And part… out of curiosity. I wanted to see what happened if the potion was given to someone asleep."
Eilor's face tensed. What until then had seemed like an eccentric but useful man now revealed itself as something far more unsettling. He stared at him, a mix of disbelief and contained anger.
He took a deep breath, trying not to explode.
"Fine," he said at last, pressing the words as if they were stones between his teeth. "Then explain to me what that potion does. What I was supposed to feel. And what the side effects are… the known ones."
The alchemist blinked, as if he had been waiting for that question from the start.
He crossed his arms and cleared his throat before answering.
"It's a storm potion." He said it like it was obvious, as if anyone should recognize the name. "It's meant exactly for situations like this."
Eilor arched an eyebrow, impatient.
"And what does that mean?"
"It means it reduces almost completely the effects of being caught in a storm, especially on a ship like this." The alchemist rapped his knuckles on the table, marking the rhythm of his words. "Nausea, cold, humidity, disorientation… even vomiting. All of that gets canceled, or at worst, greatly reduced."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.
"On a vessel this size, with a gyroscope as poorly designed as the one we've got, it's practically indispensable. Otherwise, you'd already be curled up on the floor."
Eilor listened with a furrowed brow, but his breathing gradually steadied. The explanation had nothing to do with his memory. The potion wasn't the culprit.
A warm relief settled in his chest, though it didn't last long.
"And the opposite effects?" he asked, eyes still fixed on him.
The alchemist sighed and raised a finger, listing them.
"It depends on the person. Some feel fatigue, others balance issues. But among the worst recorded effects is loss of stability on land." He said it without dramatics, as if commenting on the weather.
Eilor froze, processing the idea. His initial calm cracked.
Alright, his memory wasn't affected by the potion. But that only left a bigger, more unsettling mystery: why had he forgotten about Takran Academy?
And on top of that, another worry began gnawing inside him.
"When we get to land…" he murmured, barely audible. "What if that side effect happens to me?"
The alchemist didn't answer right away. He just looked at him, with that neutral expression that never revealed whether he was calculating or simply didn't care.
Eilor was still mulling over the alchemist's response, doubts hooked into his mind like barbed lures, when the girl's voice pulled him out of the whirlpool.
"If it troubles you that much… why not talk to me?" she said softly, leaning toward him. "Maybe, if we talk, you can start to sort out those blanks."
He looked up, surprised. For a moment he didn't know what to say. The idea seemed simple, almost naive, but also carried a strange logic: who better than someone external to help him fit together the pieces that slipped away?
"Thank you…" he muttered, letting out a sigh he'd been holding for a while. "I'll take it."
She smiled faintly, and the tension that had hovered over the table seemed to ease a little. Both settled in, ready to begin.
But just before the first word could pass between them, a metallic crash thundered on the other side of the door. A sharp, heavy blow, as if something had fallen hard or smashed against the frame.
The table vibrated under Eilor's arms. The girl's smile froze. The alchemist turned his head slowly toward the entrance, face blank.
The air tightened again, as if the conversation just begun had been completely stolen away.
---
[Laios's Perspective]
Laios tensed the instant he heard the first crash. The officer was already stepping forward, and the burly man cracked his knuckles, as if the sound alone had ordered him to stand guard. The three formed an improvised line before the door.
The noise didn't stop. Dull thuds, faster and faster, shook the walls. The flickering light of the lamps barely held on, as if the whole corridor were being shaken from the inside.
And then, the security lock failed with a spark. Half the hall was swallowed in gloom just as the creature emerged.
The fish cryptid.
Laios recognized it immediately, but something was different. It was the same six-limbed being, yes, but now it looked more twisted, as if wrenched from the inside, every bone forced in an impossible direction. The creature moved forward slowly, without its previous frenzy. Patient. Almost calculating.
When it stepped beneath the one surviving lamp, the light revealed its form in disturbing detail: its head, stretched like a torn tongue, extended forward, and the hanging jaw opened like a hood that partially covered the skull.
It watched them in silence. Three prey aligned. Three firm figures waiting for it.
Then it raised one of its six arms. There was no roar, no immediate attack. Just that gesture. The extended finger, moving side to side, pointing at each of them.
One. Two. Three.
Laios felt the weight of the creature's gaze, as if that simple counting was more threatening than any charge.
The three didn't move, rooted in place, but not a muscle slackened. On the contrary, each second of silence pulled them tighter, like strings about to snap.
Before, the two of us couldn't handle one… but now we're three, Laios thought, trying to steady himself, though he knew the creature before them wasn't the same as before. Something in its twisted shape, in that almost mocking calm, told him the challenge was greater.
Laios gripped the sword he had scavenged from a nearby room. It wasn't the best blade, its edge chipped, but it was better than nothing. At his side, the officer held a single-edged sword, more balanced, medium length: light enough to move fast, but with enough weight to cut deep.
The burly man, on the other hand, looked like a beast ready to be unleashed. In each hand he carried an arde: reinforced gloves from which metal wires extended, ending in steel spikes, like claws tied to a cable. Each extension stretched nearly five feet, and when they moved they let out a tense sound, like chains straining to break free.
Before them, the cryptid remained still, arm half-raised. Beneath that strange mandibular shell no eyes could be seen; yet they all felt it watching them. It was impossible to deny it knew their exact position, perceiving them with an unsettling clarity.
The creature slowly lowered its arm. The gesture, far from relieving, sent a shiver down Laios's spine. It was as if it had finished counting… and the real game was about to begin.
The silence broke only by the sparks of broken lamps in the hallway. Each flash revealed a fragment of the monster's twisted silhouette, approaching with unbearable calm.
And then, without warning, the calm exploded.
A devastating crash shook the corridor as the cryptid leapt at them. The air tore apart with the impact of its body hurled like a projectile. The three reacted instinctively: a backward jump, almost in sync, dodging the direct hit.
The monster held itself on the ground with its two extra limbs, balancing impossibly, and from that position launched another attack, a brutal sweep.
The burly man crossed his ardes, trying to block. The strained wires interlocked violently, slamming into the walls, anchoring into both floor and ceiling. The impact shattered the gloves that held them and the metal embedded like an improvised trap.
The weapon's tension took the cryptid's charge head-on. A metallic roar accompanied the moment when the wires tore apart savagely, ripping wood and stone in their path. The collision's force was such that part of the cabling tangled around the creature's arms.
There was an instant of resistance, a struggle, and then the cuts. The metal spikes managed to tear its grayish skin, but no deeper than superficial wounds. Barely scratches for a body that seemed built to withstand far more.
The officer, Laios, and the burly man hit the ground almost at the same time. Not a glance passed between them: they turned immediately and bolted down the corridor.
The monster didn't hesitate to follow. The sounds that erupted from its body were grotesque, a mix of bone-cracking and animal roar that made the walls vibrate. Each stride thundered on the floor, closing the distance.
They ran full speed, dodging toppled furniture and corpses that blocked their path. Sometimes they had to leap over mutilated bodies still obstructing parts of the corridor. And behind them, closer each time, the cryptid advanced with a ferocity that threatened to swallow them in one strike.
Laios could feel it at the nape of his neck: the monster was catching up.