The longboat scraped across some loose stone as we, as silent as possible, glided up to the small incline that divided the water from the rough stone of the cave floor. Not only were there those pale lights in the lanterns strewn across the wall and the ship, but there were also wooden boxes and chests lining the walls. Someone had emptied out the cargo hold of the ship.

“Those lights ain‘t right.“ Higgins whispered at my side. “They are all wrong.“

I felt that too. They should be warmer and brighter by all rights if they were but normal flames fueled by oil, instead, they flickered in a breeze no one could feel and almost got overwhelmed by the darkness with their fickle, pale flame. From behind me, a large raven flapped its wings, taking off from the shoulder of Ser Fisher and flying towards the ceiling of the cave.

Fisher turned to me. „There is something he says. Twisted forms.“

I nodded, pulling the Ravenbeak from my belt. The space was too cramped to swing Kingsbane around. I was the first on the ground, jumping over next to the bow with the carved dragon of our longboat, landing with bent knees, holding my breath. I heard the others follow behind me, even if only splashing water and soft steps announced our presence. It was just too damn silent in the cave to sneak around with a group of armored men.

Somewhere to my side, Simue melted into the shadows, disappearing completely from my view. A second later, I too heard the reason for her caution. A slapping sound, like a wet rag hitting the floor, followed by a scraping sound, repeating over and over.

Around a set of boxes came what once had been a man. There still were traces of the clothes the man had worn, like a shirt hanging in ribbons from the putrid and swollen flesh, a shoe that got dragged behind, and pants bursting at the seams. The slapping sound was made by a...thick, veiny tentacle snaking out of his mouth, slapping onto the ground and dragging the rest of the body forward.

His left hand had been warped into the imitation of pincers of a crab, his right was a mangled mess of scar tissue, knotted bones, and inflamed flesh. He had no more legs, but one fused mass like a cruel caricature of a merman, with the one shoe dangling from a misplaced foot.

“Damned gods!“ Higgins hissed as he drew his cutlass. “Why did they come here?“

“Desperation? Ignorance of the Wyld?“ I answered, watching the...abomination slap and drag its way towards us.

“Killing them will be an act of mercy.“ He said, spitting to the side. He turned, gesturing towards his men and the knights, which nodded in response, surrounding the creature with drawn weapons.

Suddenly, all our eyes drawn towards the situation in front of us, an ear-piercing scream erupted from somewhere behind us. It vibrated across the mirror-smooth surface of the water, reverberating from the sides of the cave, hitting us with full force from all sides at once. My head swam, pressure rising, thoughts blown away by the forceful pitch. Around me, men sank to the ground, pressing their hands on their ears, screaming in pain. [Breaker of Chains] activated for me, and my mind began to float inside my sluggish, weakening body, clearing my thoughts.

I turned, gasping as I could not believe my very eyes. Women were rising out of the lightly disturbed water, ivory skin scantily clad by a wet, white cloth. They rounded our boat, slowly walking into the pale light. They had fair faces, young and beautiful, but a small red line continued from the edge of their red lips to their ears, as if they had been cut by a fine blade, blood flowing in saltwater-diluted drops, drawing lines of red across their pale skin.

One of the women stopped and her head tilted backwards, the mouth opened, not stopping where it would have been proper, the whole stretch of the cut face folded back, showing a giant, sharply toothed maw stretching wide open from ear to ear. She let out another of the disturbing screams, washing over me with muted power as my Skill protected me still, but fading quickly.

“Sirens.“ Fisher suddenly said, appearing beside me. “Hate them.“ Below his tattooed skin, veins were visibly pumping, as his face turned into a grimace of exertion, stemming his mind against the scream of the sirens. He made a step and there was a sudden silence as his harpoon catapulted the Siren which had been screaming back across the waves. “Make noise. Be louder than them.“ Then he jumped forward, pulling on the rope in his hand at the same time. The Siren got dragged out of the water, hitting the stone. Fisher was on her in seconds, a wickedly curved knife in his hands, somehow immune from the influence of the sirens.

Damn! Once more I regretted not to have learned [Thunder of War] when I have had the chance. It would have been the perfect answer to the screams assaulting my men. I took a look around, seeing Higgins on his knees, blood seeping out of his ears as the deformed creature of a man dragged itself closer and closer towards him. I grabbed his shoulders and invoked [Breaker of Chains] once more, this time for him.

“The thing!“ I yelled as loud as I could, gesturing towards the danger. “Defend the others!“ I then mimed putting something over his ears as I turned, already sprinting towards the water. Higgins laboriously struggled to a kneeling position, his wooden peg leg sticking out at an awkward angle. I saw out of the corner of my eyes that he fumbled for his hand crossbow.

Then I had to concentrate on the fight before me. Higgins would have a shot or two before the next scream would overwhelm the influence of my Skill. The same was true for me. [Breaker of Chains] was no protection. It was the act of freeing someone from impairing forces. That meant that it would activate and activate again after each scream, draining my Mana while giving me only small windows of opportunity.

I went through my options even as I assaulted one of the women walking onto the firm land. [Murder of Crows] was loud, but not louder than the screams. [Cutting Winds] would blow the noise back at them, maybe protecting my men and women from the sound for a breath or two.

[Tornado Catapult] was...incredibly loud and the worst idea I ever had. It would kill me, used in confined spaces, splattering me across the ceiling.

First things first, I whipped Zero around, slashing the breast of one of the monsters with a forceful snap, the chain splitting flesh and bone with ease. As the creature stumbled back, I followed, smashing the flat part of the Ravenbeak against the temple of their skull. It cracked with a sickening squishing sound, but before I could swing again, another scream from the side threw me back to my knees, my hands pressed on my bleeding ears again.

The bleeding, disfigured Siren straightened, even as [Breaker of Chains] battled the stun in me, opening her maw, and suddenly jerked forward to end me.

Then, there was Zero, snapping and whipping from my hand, chafing off my skin as he freed himself from my spasming grip, he whirled and cut, driving the creature back into the waves, painting flying streaks of red into the darkness as arcs of blood followed his lightning-fast whips.

A final gurgle escaped the throat of the falling siren, cut short by Zero sinking his head in the form of a heavy steel ball inches deep into the skull of his opponent. I had not ever seen him this fast.

He slithered away towards his next victim as I struggled to my feet. I turned around to see Higgins falling back, having cut the assaulting thing in two with a [Water Dragon Shot], but being overwhelmed by the scream again. They were safe for the moment, I assumed, but I still could not see Simue. She could be hurt somewhere, for all I knew.

Pressing my hands on my ears did nothing against the scream. I would have to wax them shut or something, but I stayed my hands. There were five sirens total, two already dead. And besides their scream, they seemed to rely on their bites to get to their prey. Neither Fisher, as heavily armored as the knight was, nor Zero was in danger. If Fisher could stay unhindered by the scream and if they did not throw Zero into the deeper water somehow we would win, sooner or later.

If we had enough time that is. I looked around to see dozens of misshapen shadows throw themselves over the railing of the stranded ship, slamming onto the rough ground of the cave without ever slowing down. Mutated, disfigured, barely recognizable humans were coming out of their hiding spots, swarming over the crates and chests, running on all fours, stumbling around on twisted legs, slithering across the floor, dragging themselves with a tentacle, claw, or bloated hands.

Not a sliver of humanity was to be found in their grimaces of insanity and hunger, as they threw themselves onto the expedition I had brought into these caves. My men and women still were struggling with the impact of the frequent screams. In a panic I threw my [Murder of Crows] across the cave, the crows dive-bombing the twisted sailors, stripping flesh and their living force out of them, throwing them back for a step or two.

The next siren’s scream echoed through the caves with unbridled force and every one of my crows exploded into a puff of shadowy smoke, leaving a slight mist behind, obfuscating the fight.

I tried to fight the impact, struggled to my feet to defend my people, but I would be too slow, too sluggish to reach them in time.

Then, a scream rose up, twisting higher and higher, cutting through the siren‘s song, cutting through the noise, overpowering every sound until our world was nothing else but this banshee's wail. Higher and higher it rose, until the steel in my hand vibrated and my teeth rang under the force of the impossibly high note. Cold followed in a wave, bone-chilling, even the pale lights of the lanterns flickered and bowed before the noise, the all-consuming scream of rage.

Then, fast as a thunderclap, in a ghostly, cold explosion, the silhouette of a woman descended onto the sirens. Her body was incorporeal, her hair flowing wild and free behind her, one hand extended in a claw, the other holding the memory of steel. But her face...her face was frozen in uncontrollable rage and anger, eyes blazing with hatred and the tangible cold radiating out of her gaze. It took a second, but behind the anger, behind the rage...was a woman I had once known.

Zora, the knight...no, she had been a squire... who had fought against Barak Bloodbraid with me and had died fighting the Twins of the Snake Clan. One of the original Wounded Pride. She...had been the lover of Simue, her death bringing so much pain to the small woman, she had known no remorse but to venture onto a path of vengeance against the forces of the Fallen Empire.

She was here. Her ghost was. Something of her was. I froze on the spot as she rushed past me without a hint of recognition, making me shudder in the wake of the immense cold trailing behind her. So cold, in fact, ice began to bloom on my bare skin.

She came upon the sirens like a force of nature, entering their bodies with her incorporeal one, exploding their freezing flesh with ghostly fury into flying, frozen pieces of iced blood.

Never once did she stop the high-pitched scream, her blade was but a blur, while her claw ripped through soul and skin alike.

It felt wrong to be relieved...because I remembered the warm, crooked smile of the woman who never had shied away to speak her mind. And I could not find a trace of her in the massacre happening in front of my very eyes.