The Misadventures of Darius and Elara

Enter the Puppet Master

The flare never ignited.

Elara’s dagger flashed in the moonlight and knocked it clean from Justina’s hand before she could strike it. It skittered across the deck, bouncing once before rolling to a stop near Rockford’s paws. The dog growled low and placed one heavy paw on it.

Justina froze, breathing hard, wide eyed but defiant. Darius stepped forward, eyes still faintly glowing, hands lowered but ready.

“You don’t want to do this,” Elara warned, circling to block her escape. “Not again.”

“I had no choice,” Justina spat. “They said they’d find me anyway. If I helped, they’d let me go.”

“Who?” Darius asked, voice low. “Who is they?”

Justina shook her head, trembling now. “You don’t understand what’s out there. What’s coming.”

“Try us,” Elara said coldly.

Before she could answer, a sound echoed across the water a dull, rhythmic chime, like metal striking stone.

Kale, standing near the railing, stiffened. “Look.”

Off the starboard side, a structure rose from the fog dark, jagged stone partially swallowed by vines, lit faintly by flickering blue lanterns. It loomed from the cliffs at the edge of the bay, ancient and watchful.

“A keep?” Elara murmured, squinting at its spires.

“No charts mark it,” Kale said, his voice hushed.

Darius narrowed his eyes. The air shifted, colder somehow, the sea itself quieter.

“Who lives here?” he asked aloud.

Justina flinched as if struck. “Not who,” she whispered. “What.”

No one spoke after that. The wind whistled through the rigging, and the strange blue lights in the distant structure pulsed in answer.

Whatever had pulled Justina into betrayal...it had brought them all to its doorstep.