The sea was endless.
They had been sailing for days aboard the Stormsworn, a black-hulled vessel with sails stitched from silkweed and enchanted to resist magical storms. It was a relic of the Old Empire, once used to carry nobles across shattered archipelagos. Now, it was their vessel to the deep.
Ael stood at the bow, eyes locked on the horizon. The wind tangled his hair. Salt bit at his lips. Beneath the surface, he could feel it—a faint pulse. A heartbeat.
The next shard was here.
Somewhere beneath the Abyssal Gash, a sea trench deeper than any mountain was tall, where light had never touched and ships disappeared without leaving wreckage behind.
Elric leaned over the railing. "You sure this is a good idea?"
"No," Ael said.
"Good. That means it probably is."
Lyra approached, holding a water-soaked map scrawled with shifting ink. "There's a ruin at the bottom of the trench. Orn said it was once the Temple of Lyserra, Goddess of Desires. Now, it's a graveyard."
"And the shard is inside?" Elric asked.
Lyra nodded slowly. "Guarded by something old. Something that sings."
Ael closed his eyes. The sea spoke to him in whispers. Emotions stirred. Familiar ones. Ones he hadn't yet named.
When he opened his eyes, he said, "She remembers me."
—
That night, the sea changed.
The winds died.
The stars vanished behind clouds that hadn't been there before.
A song began.
Faint. Haunting. Beautiful.
It came from below.
It echoed through the hull. Through the minds of the crew. Through the bones of the ship.
Ael felt his heart seize. He recognized the melody.
He had heard it once… centuries ago… in the final days of his rule.
A voice that had promised him rest.
—
They dove the next morning.
Wrapped in enchanted diving runes, the trio plunged into the dark sea, descending past schools of silverfish and coral towers that swayed like drowned trees.
Then came the trench.
And the singing grew louder.
They reached the ruins just above the trench's mouth: marble columns cracked by pressure, mosaics long faded, and carvings of winged women with fish-like tails—sirens.
In the center of the ruins was a pool of still water, a mirror within the sea.
Ael approached it slowly.
The surface shimmered.
And from it emerged her.
She rose like mist solidifying, her body shimmering with blue-green light. Her eyes were deep and ancient. Her hair flowed like ink in water. She wore no crown, but something about her was regal.
She smiled at Ael.
"You have returned."
Ael's hand went to his blade.
But he didn't draw.
"I don't know your name," he said quietly.
"You never asked," she replied. "You only listened to my song."
Elric and Lyra stepped forward, weapons drawn. The siren didn't flinch.
"I am Iselya, first voice of Lyserra," she said. "You came here once to bury a shard of yourself. Now you come to take it back."
Ael nodded. "It belongs to me."
Iselya tilted her head. "It did. But in giving it away, you created something precious. A longing deeper than time. A wish for something real. I have kept it safe."
She stepped closer, reaching out. "But you must prove you are still the one who deserves it."
Ael met her gaze. "How?"
Iselya smiled softly.
"Let me feel your heart."
—
Suddenly, they were not underwater.
They were in a memory.
A hall of mirrors, all showing Ael—but not as he was. As he could have been. As he wanted to be. One showed him as a peaceful king, surrounded by family. Another showed him as a wanderer, free and forgotten. A third showed him with her—Iselya—smiling beside him, not as a siren, but as a woman.
"What do you long for, Ael?" her voice asked.
He turned from the mirrors. "I don't know anymore."
"Then look."
One final mirror remained. Cracked. Fogged.
Inside it, Ael saw himself as he truly was now.
Worn. Scarred. But walking forward.
Step by step.
Even when he didn't know where the path would lead.
"I long… to find meaning," he said at last. "Not glory. Not fear. Just… meaning."
The mirrors shattered.
The sea rushed back.
Iselya stood before him once more, eyes shining with sadness.
"You have changed."
She placed her hand on his chest.
The shard flowed into him like a warm tide.
The shard of longing.
And then she faded.
A whisper on the waves.
"Remember me… if your heart allows it."
—
They surfaced at sunset.
The sea was calm again.
Ael didn't speak for a long time.
Lyra placed a hand on his arm. "What did she show you?"
"Not what I want to be," Ael said quietly. "But what I could become."
Four shards down.
Three remained.
And the next one… drifted in the sky realms above the world, in a kingdom ruled by storm and isolation.