The Nameless Heir

He walked to the edge of the deck, each step slow, but it carried authority. Shadows licked at the boards under his boots, drawn tight to his heels like they could sense the name in his mouth.

"Iapetus," he called, his voice cutting through the mist. "What is the meaning of this?"

No answer. Just the creak of wood and the steady pull of the whirlpool ahead.

His lip curled faintly, more habit than humor. "Coward. Hiding, like you always do." His eyes moved along the black water, searching for the smallest break in the surface. Nothing.

He leaned into the rail, palm flat on the slick wood. "I know why you built this place." His voice dropped, not soft but heavier. "You think if you keep moving fast enough, death won't catch up to you."

A beat passed. The mist swallowed it whole.

"How does someone who wants to rule Hades' realm fear death?"

He let the silence stretch until it started to bite. Fingers dug into the rail, wood groaning under them.

"Quit hiding." The words came low, almost bored. "Show yourself."

The sea stayed still, but something shifted. Not in the water—beneath it.

Something listening. Something turning toward him.

The water darkened, shapes shifting just beneath the surface. They cut through the current faster now. Something moved below them; it was quick, pale. Fins flashed, gone in the dark. The water broke in jagged lines, spines cutting past the hull.

The swells rose higher, each one hitting harder, shoving the ship sideways until the boards shuddered under his boots.

Salt stung his eyes. The spray carried a sour stink, old and heavy, like it had been trapped deep for too long.

"You're a damn coward," he said, the words flat enough to sink.

The wind dragged them off. Only the waves answered.

Another wave slammed the side, tilting the ship. The sea wasn't just angry anymore—it was trying to kill him.

The ship rattled harder, the mast groaning with every shift.

He dropped down from the rail, one hand locking around the sail line, the other catching Liz before she could lose her footing. Shadows surged out from him, curling around them both.

The smaller monsters came first. Slick bodies burst from the water, claws scraping at the deck. Their screeches tore at his ears, sharp enough to rattle his teeth. He met them halfway, steel moving in ugly, fast cuts. Wings, claws, and pieces of them hit the planks in wet thuds before the sound died.

But the real problem was below.

The water beneath them spun in a widening spiral, pulling the hull into its drag. The ship began to turn, slow at first, then faster. The deck pitched under his boots.

A whirlpool.

Large enough that the whole vessel was caught, going round and round.

Shadows poured off him, wrapping the ship in a tight sphere. The water still dragged at them, but the shield held—dark, solid, unyielding.

Like before, he rotated the shield. Slowly at first, then faster. The barrier spun in the opposite direction of the whirlpool, grinding against the pull beneath them. The sea bucked. The current faltered, losing its rhythm.

He pushed harder.

The shield burst apart, shards of black glass spinning out in all directions. He snapped his fingers, and each one hardened into a bullet, ripping through the water. They rained down, tearing through the water. The monsters nearest the ship never had a chance; it ripped into them, punching through scale and bone, shattering them in place.

By the time the shards dissolved, nothing living floated close.

The water was still.

The sea didn't rumble. It dropped.

Water peeled away from the hull like something was sucking it out from under them. The shadow came first. Huge. Wrong. Big enough to make the ship feel like a toy drifting over it.

Then Charybdis broke the surface.

Its mouth wasn't just wide. It was an open pit in the ocean. Teeth ringed the void in jagged layers, each one the size of a mast beam. Past them was nothing but a spinning throat, the kind of darkness that pulled at the eyes. Its breath hit like a wet furnace.

He stared up at it, deadpan. "Well… that's overkill."

The thing lunged. He snapped his arm up, shadows locking into a dome around the ship just as those teeth came down. The impact shook the deck, rattling the boards under his boots.

Inside the barrier, everything dimmed. His shadows shivered, thinning at the edges.

"Liz! Light—now!"

She didn't ask. Her hands just came up, fingers curling like claws. Heat bled into the air. Between them, fire took shape—small at first, then growing, gold light cutting across his face.

She tossed it past him like she'd been waiting for this moment all day.

The inside of Charybdis lit up—flesh, bone, the slick churn of water dragging everything downward. His shadows roared back to full strength, sharp as blades in the glow.

He exhaled. "If you weren't here, I'd be dead meat."

Liz's grin tilted, smug as it was bright. "Told you—you need me."

He gave her a flat look. "Don't get used to it."

"Too late," she said, tossing her hair back like she'd just saved the world.

He turned to her. "How do we get out of here?"

"We can explode this from inside," she said.

"Dangerous but effective, but Baal will be ready if needed."

In her other palm, a fireball swelled, sharp light needling at his vision. Gold bled between her fingers, hot enough to taste in the air.

His gaze sharpened. "Make it smaller," he said.

She frowned but did it, the sphere shrinking, heat condensing until the air around it warped. That gave him an idea.

"Keep feeding it," he told her.

His shadows slid from the deck, curling up her wrist, wrapping the little sun in black. Light bled through the seams, each pulse sharper, more violent. He could feel it—the thing wanted to burst.

Her brow furrowed. "What are you doing?" Her voice tilted with curiosity, but her gaze didn't waver.

Kael's fingers tightened, the shadows drawing in close. "Saw something once," he said, almost to himself. "An explosion so big it could wipe out a nation. Thought I'd try it."

Her face flickered from curiosity to unease. "Wait—"

"Watch your step," he muttered.

He dropped the sealed fireball into the sea beneath them. Shadows raced out from his feet, layering over the hull again and again until the barrier was threefold—dense, black, and humming with pressure.

The shockwave wasn't just force—it was a hand big enough to grab the world and hurl it.

The barrier groaned under the strain, shadows warping like glass about to crack. Then the ship broke free, surging upward. Faster. Higher. The ocean dropped away, leaving only wind and spray in its place.

The deck lurched under him, pulling at his spine, dragging him toward the rail. Salt stung his eyes. His cloak snapped and twisted in the gusts.

Beside him, Liz had both hands on the rail. Her hair whipped into her face, strands sticking in her mouth, eyes half-hidden. Teeth showed—somewhere between a grin and a scream.

"Kael—"

Too late.

He caught her by the waist. Muscles coiled. One step. The deck splintered under his heel.

The next heartbeat, they were in open air.

The ship was already coming apart beneath them, masts snapping, boards scattering like leaves. He used the last solid beam as a springboard, kicking off so hard it punched the wreck back toward the water.

The sky turned into a blur. The island was ahead. Everything else was below.

Shadows surged from his back, wrapping around Liz like an extra set of arms. He landed on the first monster to reach them—some eel-headed brute leaping from the water—and split it cleanly from skull to spine.

The next one lunged before its brother's corpse even touched the water. He turned his wrist—not fast—the head spun away, trailing black spray.

Another came. Then two more. Cyclopean fish with eyes too human, jaws clicking like steel traps. Slick-bodied things that darted through the gaps like thrown pikes.

He cut them apart without looking twice, the deck under his boots slick and tilting. By the time he exhaled, the sea was a graveyard, pieces drifting, black and green blood curling through the swell.

His boots hit the island's black sand.