The Nameless Heir

While they sailed through Poseidon's domain, the sea turned against them. The clouds thickened, rolling over the sky until it went black.

Kael stood at the rail, feeling the wind push against his cloak. Salt stung his eyes. The air pressed in heavy, like the deep was holding its breath.

Lightning split the clouds—white and gold, sharp enough to burn the eye. Thunder came on its heels, slamming into his chest so hard it almost stole his breath. Almost. He tightened his grip on the hilt.

He tilted his head back, watching the sky twist itself into knots.

"Come at me," he said, quiet enough the wind nearly swallowed it.

The water darkened the farther they sailed. Something slid beneath the surface—scaled, slick. Gone before he could track it. Another followed. Then another.

"Looks like we've got dinner," he said, though his eyes stayed on the water.

But the sea didn't settle. It shifted under them, the swells changing their rhythm. The air thickened, every gust carrying that pressure he knew too well—like the ocean itself was leaning in.

Poseidon was watching. And he was angry.

The sails cracked like whips overhead. Wood groaned somewhere deep below, a low sound swallowed by the storm. The next wave slammed harder, spray bursting across the deck in a cold slap.

He pulled Liz closer, bracing her against the roll. The hilt sat easy in his other hand, fingers loose. His breathing stayed steady. No point wasting air.

Just then, the sea swelled.

Tentacles surged from the deep, spreading wide enough to crush the ship in one motion.

The first tentacle broke the surface, followed by another, then more—spreading wide, coming down all at once like they meant to crush the ship flat.

He raised his hand. Shadows burst from the deck, curving into a dome that locked tight over them. The weight hit hard, the hull groaning as the Kraken pressed against it.

He lowered his hand slowly, the barrier sinking with it—drawing the tentacles inward, their suction cups dragging wet grooves across the dome.

Then he snapped his hand back up.

The barrier detonated outward in a violent shockwave, hurling the limbs away in wild arcs. They slammed into the water, flailing out of control, sending sprays high enough to wash over the deck.

The severed end of one tentacle slapped into the sea hard enough to throw water over their heads. Another came in from the side, and he met it halfway, steel ripping through flesh in a single clean strike.

But it was not gone.

It was circling around his ship.

Now he could see it. The massive beast moved below, coiling, every line of its body framed in the faint glow of the deep. The Kraken.

The water swelled again. Dozens of tentacles erupted around the ship, higher and thicker than before. This time, it was all at once.

They fell together, a wall of muscle and weight meant to crush them straight into the black.

His hand came up again. Shadows burst from the deck, snapping into a dome over the ship. The impacts struck all at once, making the ship tremble. Then the tentacles coiled around the barrier, dragging them into the depths. Wood shuddered beneath his boots. Cold, black silence closed in like a fist.

Then the tentacles came tight around the dome—layer over layer, suction cups locking in. It was like the thing meant to crush the air out of them. The pressure pressed in, the wood beneath his feet trembling.

His arms spread.

The shadow dome surged outward, forcing the tentacles to strain against it. Then he twisted his wrists.

The barrier began to spin—slow at first, then faster, the shadows turning like a sphere caught in its own orbit. The water followed the motion, dragged into a violent spiral that churned hard enough to tear the sea around them apart. The suction broke. One by one, the tentacles were peeled off, ripped free from the dome's surface.

With a final sharp pull of his arms, the spinning barrier flung them away in all directions. The limbs whipped through the water, smashing back into the surface in chaotic arcs.

The Krakens came up slow, its bulk pushing water aside like a moving island. Tentacles writhed, each one glistening, curling, ready to crush them.

Liz's voice was quiet. "Kael…"

He smiled. "That's all you've got?"

His eyes shifted. "Gluttony."

The Sin turned, saw the monster, and grinned like he'd just been handed his favorite meal. He didn't wait for an order. One jump took him from the deck to the nearest tentacle. Then the next.

Gluttony's teeth sank in, tearing away a mass of flesh that steamed in the cold air. He chewed once and swallowed. Then bit again. The deep's muffled roar followed each tear.

The Kraken screamed, thrashing. Tentacles whipped, cracking the air, smashing the sea into towers. Gluttony kept moving, his movements quick and precise, ripping apart joints before they could heal.

The others were busy, each Sin locked in their own kill, tearing through the ocean's beasts without pause.

The ship rocked hard. Rails splintered. Water flooded the deck. Liz stumbled, but he caught her, steadying her without looking away from the fight.

Above, Gluttony's frame swelled with every mouthful, muscles bloating under his skin. New jaws split open across his arms and shoulders, each one clamping down on a different limb. The Kraken strained, but it was too slow.

Then he saw its flesh knitting back together. Regeneration.

A guttural screech tore from him, loud enough to cut through the storm. In the same breath, his swollen bulk vanished, burned away in a violent rush of steam. What remained was lean, coiled muscle, every line of his body wired for speed.

He moved. One heartbeat he was there, the next the Kraken's head was tumbling into the sea, its body collapsing into drifting limbs.

Gluttony didn't slow down. He dove, vanishing beneath the waves, then erupted upward in a spray of whitewater, jaws locking around the second Kraken's head. The bite was instant. The monster went limp before it hit the water.

Steam hissed from his skin again as he burned through the excess mass, all that heavy bulk stripped away in seconds until he was lean again—sharper, hungrier, more dangerous than before.

The last one loomed ahead, rising from the deep with a shadow big enough to blot the sky. Kael's blade came up.

"Wait," Liz said.

He glanced at her. Her hand was already raised, a small flame spinning in her palm. No bigger than a pebble.

"I want to try something."

Kael's smile was faint, certain. "As you wish, my queen."

She pressed the fire smaller, hotter, until it burned white. The heat bent the air around her hand. Then she flicked it.

The ember arced through the spray and struck the Kraken between its eyes.

Light bloomed—not fire, but a sun breaking free. The explosion ripped the sea open, vapor turning the world white, the shockwave smashing the water flat before it came crashing back. The Kraken's scream cut off halfway, its body torn apart, dissolved in the boiling surge.

Silence fell over the deck.

Kael looked at her, a brow lifting. "Remind me never to make you angry." He smirked. "Please don't kill me."