The Spine Islands rose like the ribcage of a forgotten god—jagged stone spires tearing through the waves, black cliffs wet with spray, and sharp wind howling through crevices like whispered curses.
No map captured them. No sailor charted them.
This place didn't belong to men. It belonged to memory. To ruin. To the Queen's Cradle.
And Mara Graveblood was coming home.
Haunted Arrival
The Duskwind ghosted into a narrow inlet between two spires at dusk, the light fading behind rolling gray clouds. The water here was oddly still, reflecting the craggy peaks like a looking glass. Even the wind was quiet, as though the sea itself held its breath.
Darion guided the tiller with one hand, pistol strapped at his waist, eyes sharp.
"This place gives me a bad feeling," he muttered.
Abyr scanned the cliffs with his spyglass. "Worse than Deepmoor. Worse than Velmare. I've been here before."
Mara's voice broke the silence. "So have I."
Both men turned.
She stood barefoot on the deck, her coat unbuttoned, hair loose in the sea breeze. She wasn't trembling, but she wasn't calm either. Her eyes were fixed on a stone archway at the base of the nearest cliff.
"I was here once," she said. "Before I was Mara."
The Forgotten Path
They docked the ship in a natural stone basin. No sign of Kael's boat remained, but Abyr found recent tracks—bare footprints in wet sand, leading toward a tunnel cut into the stone.
Darion unslung his rifle.
"You think he beat us here?"
Abyr nodded. "And he wasn't alone."
Mara stepped into the tunnel without waiting.
The walls were carved—not with tools, but by hands. Ancient, ceremonial symbols—whorls of waves, tear-drop eyes, sea serpents coiled around thrones. The deeper they walked, the colder it grew.
Eventually, they emerged into a vast underground cathedral. Coral-colored columns held up a domed ceiling encrusted with shells and bones. A sunken dais sat in the center, water bubbling up from its heart like a spring.
And on the dais stood Kael.
With a pistol pointed at Mara.
Confrontation at the Cradle
He was no longer the quiet deckhand.
He wore a black vest trimmed with Iron Tide silver. His eyes glowed faintly with crown-light. His voice, when he spoke, was not his own.
"The Sea Queen's will endures," he said.
Darion stepped forward. "Kael, you stole from us. Lied. You're a spy?"
Kael smiled. "Not a spy. A vessel."
Abyr drew his sword.
Mara did not move.
"You don't know what you've done," she said softly.
"I know enough. The Admiral wants the crown. He knows you've broken the fragments. He's coming to finish it. And when he does—"
"You'll die," Mara interrupted.
Kael flinched.
She stepped forward, voice rising. "You think this place will make you a god? I was born in this water. I heard the sea before I heard a mother's voice. And even I fear what lies beneath it."
"Fear is for the weak," he snapped.
Then he fired.
Chaos and Revelation
The shot went wide as Darion tackled Mara to the side. Abyr launched forward, blade clashing with Kael's.
The water surged.
The dais trembled.
And from the pool at the center, something rose.
A woman, made of water and bone. Her eyes burned with blue flame, her hair a writhing mass of kelp and light. The Sea Queen.
But it wasn't her.
It was a recording, a residual memory embedded in the Cradle's heart. A guardian. A warning.
"You come seeking the crown," she said, voice like thunder beneath the waves. "But it is not yours. Not yet."
Kael staggered back, terrified. "She… she promised…"
The Queen turned to Mara.
"You are her blood. Her breath. Her blade."
"I don't want it," Mara whispered.
"But it wants you."
Breaking the Past
Kael screamed and ran toward the fragment hovering above the pool.
"No!" Darion shouted.
Too late.
Kael's fingers touched the final piece—
And his body convulsed.
Blood spilled from his eyes. The water boiled. He screamed once, violently—
And then he exploded in a geyser of salt.
The fragment floated, untouched, humming.
Mara stepped to the edge of the pool.
"Last one," she murmured.
Darion moved beside her. "If you take it, what happens?"
"I don't know."
Abyr was silent.
Mara reached for it.
The moment her skin brushed the surface, the Cradle responded.
Flood of Memory
Her mind shattered into a thousand waves.
She saw herself—an infant wrapped in kelp silk, placed on a coral altar. She saw Maria Graveblood's hand lowering the first piece of the crown onto her brow. She heard the words:
"When she grows, the tide will rise."
She saw the Iron Admiral find her. Train her. Hide the crown pieces across the world. Raise her as his instrument and shield her from what she truly was.
And then—
The future.
A storm covering the world.
Cities drowned.
The Queen returned.
Her voice, calm:
"The crown does not make a queen. The choice does."
The Choice
Mara pulled her hand back.
The fragment hovered. Waiting.
Darion asked, quietly, "What do you see?"
"A future I don't want. A crown I never asked for."
Abyr spoke for the first time in minutes. "But it's yours. You can take it. Rule with it. Or destroy it."
"And if I destroy it?"
"The sea may calm," he said. "Or swallow us all."
Mara looked at the fragment.
And broke it.
With both hands.
The Cradle screamed.
The water turned black.
The Queen's image shattered into a million droplets.
And the compass—
Fell silent.
The Storm Breaks
Above ground, the sky wept thunder.
The Iron Admiral's flagship—the Obsidian Wrath—appeared on the horizon, cutting through waves with fury.
Dozens of ships followed.
Darion grabbed Mara's arm. "He's here."
Abyr growled. "We don't have time."
They ran back through the tunnels as rain began to fall.
But this wasn't normal rain.
It stung like regret.
It smelled like endings.
To War, or to Freedom
On deck, the Duskwind groaned under their feet. The crew scrambled. Abyr manned the sails. Darion locked down the gun deck.
Mara stared at the Iron fleet in the distance.
"I destroyed the crown," she said. "But they don't know that. They'll still come."
"They want you," Darion said. "You're the Queen in their minds."
She turned to him.
"Then let's show them what kind of Queen I'd be."