Corvus thrashed in the suffocating confines of his hammock, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. He was drowning in a dream.
He stood on a vast, silent lake, its surface obscured by thick, clinging mist that choked visibility beyond a few feet. His boots didn't sink; each step sent ripples skittering across the unnaturally still water. Above, an absolute void – no moon, no stars, just oppressive, starless black. He walked, directionless, through the endless grey fog, the silence broken only by the soft lap-lap of his footsteps on the water. Panic began as a cold seed in his gut, blossoming with every identical, featureless step.
"Where the hell am I?" His voice sounded muffled, swallowed by the mist. He clenched his fists, fingernails biting deep into his palms. The pain was sharp, real.
"Last I remember..." The thought fragmented. Where was he before? What happened? The questions hammered against his skull, each one a spike of pain driving into his glabella. He clutched his temples, stumbling, his vision blurring. His knees buckled, hands slapping down onto the lake's surface for support.
Beneath the glassy plane, it wasn't water. It writhed. A seething mass of slick, pulsating tendrils, like the coiled innards of some colossal leviathan. Corvus recoiled, scrambling back, but his limbs felt like lead. He fell again. This time, a cold, slick tendril snapped around his ankle like a whip.
The lake surface erupted. Dozens, hundreds of tendrils surged upwards, lashing around his legs, his torso, his arms. He tried to scream, but his mouth was gone, sealed shut. His senses dulled – sight fading to grey, sound muffled, touch numbing. He was dragged down, pulled relentlessly into the lightless, crushing depths of the abyss.
"Oi! Wake up!"
Kiera's voice shattered the nightmare like glass. Corvus jolted upright, gasping, eyes wild and searching the pitch-black cabin. Sweat stung his eyes. He saw Kiera's silhouette beside him, a solid shape in the darkness. Disoriented, terrified, he reached out instinctively, hands clamping onto her face.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Kiera yelped, stumbling back a step. Even in the gloom, Corvus could see a faint blush rising on her cheeks.
He sucked in ragged breaths, the phantom sensation of cold tendrils still clinging. His heart battered against his ribs. He looked down at his palms – the deep, crescent-shaped marks from his nails were stark and angry in the dim light filtering under the door. A visceral reminder.
"Where... where is everyone?" he managed, voice hoarse, trying to ground himself.
The room was empty, dark, and silent. The other hammocks swung vacant. No lanterns glowed.
"Everyone's topside," Kiera said, rubbing her cheek where he'd grabbed her. "We're approaching the Wall. The captain wanted everyone awake. Figured you wouldn't wanna miss the view." She peered at him, her usual bravado tinged with genuine confusion. "You alright? A bit old to be scared stiff by nightmares, ain't ya?"
Corvus swung his legs out of the hammock, his feet hitting the cold deck planks. His legs trembled. "Thought so too," he muttered, pushing himself up. "Guess fear finds its way back, no matter how many holes you crawl out of." He took a shaky step. "Lead the way."
Kiera nodded, concern flickering briefly before her usual energy resurfaced. They navigated the narrow corridors, the air growing colder and filled with the muffled roar of the ocean and distant shouts. Emerging onto the deck was like stepping into another world.
The entire crew and expedition members lined the railings, a tense, silent audience. Captain Cesara stood rigid at the helm, hands clasped behind her back like a statue of command.
Before them, dominating the horizon, was the Wall. It wasn't a construct; it was a presence. An impossible, continuous mountain range ripped from the planet's bones and thrust eight hundred meters into the sky. Jagged spires of blood-red rock clawed at the clouds, dwarfing the Leviathan into insignificance. It stretched endlessly to the left and right, a titanic barrier sealing off the world. Craning his neck felt futile; its sheer scale defied comprehension.
"Hey! Over here!" Mikel's frantic wave caught Corvus's eye near the port railing. Corvus and Kiera pushed through the throng to join him and their other roommates.
Mikel started babbling about the Wall's impossible size, the chains they could see descending from its heights, the sheer madness of it all. But Corvus heard none of it. The closer the ship surged towards the colossal red rock face, the more the disquieting thrum in his chest intensified. It vibrated in his bones, a counterpoint to his still-racing heart. It became a physical pressure, making it hard to breathe, hard to stand steady on the deck.
The Leviathan slowed, groaning as it came to a near-stop at the very foot of the titanic barrier. The shadow of the Wall engulfed them, plunging the deck into premature twilight. Captain Cesara turned to face the assembled crowd, her voice cutting through the awed silence amplified by the looming rock.
"All personnel, secure yourselves below decks! Brace for turbulence! The next few minutes will be... uneven!"
She turned back to the Wall. The air around her crackled. Visible currents of frigid air began swirling, coalescing into a vortex of icy wind that whipped her cloak around her. From dizzying heights above, massive chains, links as large as a man, snaked down with rattling thunder. Magnetic clamps or colossal hooks on the Leviathan's hull engaged with a series of deafening CLANG-SHUNK sounds, locking the ship to the chains.
The spell broke. People scrambled for the hatches, a sudden wave of urgent movement. Corvus remained frozen near the railing, transfixed by the sheer face of red rock and the thrumming pressure building inside him. It resonated with the nightmare's pull.
"Dude! Corvus!" Mikel grabbed his arm, shaking him hard. "Snap out of it! You wanna get launched into the sea? Move!"
The jolt broke the trance. Corvus blinked, the world snapping back into focus – the panicked retreat, the groaning chains, the impossible scale of the Wall. He nodded mutely, letting Mikel pull him towards the nearest hatch.
Inside the relative gloom of the companionway, the noise was different – the deep groan of straining metal, the thunderous rattle of the chains taking up slack. The deck tilted violently beneath their feet. The Leviathan was being hauled upwards, Cesara's power creating an icy ramp against the rock face while the chains did the brutal work of lifting the colossal weight. They were ascending the Wall.
****
High above the world, piercing the realm of clouds, stood a solitary spire of obsidian. Within its pinnacle lay a chamber untouched by time. Opulent fabrics, once vibrant, were faded by centuries. A large window framed a shifting sea of clouds.
The chamber's silence, held for ages, was shattered. The heavy door burst inwards. A woman strode in, her long hair black as spun void, flowing like silk threads. Her piercing grey eyes scanned the room with desperate urgency.
The ornate bed lay empty. But near a massive wardrobe carved from ancient wood, bathed in the cold light filtering through the clouds, sat a figure.
She was ethereal. Long, rich brown hair, intricately braided, cascaded down her back and pooled on the floor like liquid amber, reaching her ankles. She stretched with the languid grace of someone awakening from a deep, deep sleep.
The black-haired woman froze, then swiftly dropped to one knee, her head bowed low. "My Lady!" Her voice trembled with awe and disbelief. "You... you are awake?"
The girl on the floor smiled, a radiant expression that seemed to brighten the ancient room. She flexed her fingers, gazing towards the window, towards the distant, unseen Wall and the sea beyond. "The Light stirs," she murmured, her voice like chimes on a forgotten breeze. "And the Shadow stirs. Their dance begins anew. I wouldn't miss it for the world." Her eyes, ancient and knowing, held a spark of anticipation. "Not this time."