A strange sensation beat in my heart along with the constant assault on my senses. Zora was here. I didn‘t know how or why, but there she was, maybe just a shadow of her former self, tearing the enemies of Ravenport apart as she had done living and breathing at my side when it had counted the most.

It was a strange marriage of fear and hope, rising among the bile and the pain in my stomach. Hope, because what if she was back for good? What if not even death could have stopped her from protecting her people, the one she loved? What if death could be overcome? She would not be the first, with me the prime example. Fear, because she had changed. She was not here, not really. Fear, because she was rage incarnate. Because she was a ghost...undead. Because Simue must be hurting again and again.

It had to have something to do with the small, mute woman. One of her Skills, maybe? Or was she being haunted by her former lover in earnest? My fear grew stronger, my heart aching for the pain Simue must feel being tethered to her dead love, unable to let go or move on.

With a hammering headache, the sounds of the cave returned to me as the screams died down one after the other. As I whirled around, I saw the knights and the raiders from the longboats clash with the deformed sailors of the stranded ship, both forces recovering from the mind-fogging screams, stumbling around and hacking at each other without finesse or plan.

My feet slid away as I tried to get them to sprint, my body still was too sluggish to move properly, but still, I scrambled onwards. Trying to get my bearing cost me all of my concentration, even finding the fight was a challenge in the chaotic half-light.

In the end, I followed the small cloud of big ravens, the familiars and companions of the handful of knights fighting there, darting in and out of the fight with triumphant croaks. I found the Crows - the [Knights of the Wyld] - holding back the tide, albeit on wobbly feet, while the raiders, the lightly armored fighters and rowers from the longboats, hid behind them, jumping forward to deliver a blow or two before retreating behind the heavier armor again. Some of them already had gained a class like [Sea Raider] or [Dragonboat Shieldbearer] in the weeks they had spent being a part of the crew and through the fighting, they had done in the Fallen Empire.

With them stood captain Higgins, shouting orders and threading the needle with a quick bolt from his one-handed crossbow whenever a gap opened up in the fight.

“Throw these twisted bastards back, lads!“ He roared. “You will not die today, that is an order!“

I reached him, steadying myself on his shoulder. “The back is clear!“ I screamed in his ear, assuming his ears were as ringing and deaf as mine were. “What is happening here?“

“The knights have them covered.“ he yelled, turning awkwardly to me, as he needed to shout directly into my ear as well. “Let them fight. Watch out for other surprises. Where is Simue?“

I shrugged and he shoved me away immediately. “Look for her! Go!“

He seemed to be less hindered by the repeating screams, maybe because I had freed myself time and time again, always taking the full brunt of the next hit or maybe because I had been so close to the source, whatever it was, it took precious time for my brain to translate the orders for the rest of the body.

As I rounded the cluster of fighters, the muted noise, the flashing steel, and the shadow-weaving ravens, I climbed atop a chest and jumped onto a larger crate from there, driving out the dancing shadows while I activated [Eyes to Pierce the Darkness]. The chaos died down immediately as it got replaced by a calming and clear black and white. Crouching above the fight, I concentrated and searched for a sign of Simue.

At first, I could see nothing but a seemingly endless stream of warped seamen coming out of the ship. It made sense. Ships of that size could have hundreds of people in their crew. And while I reckoned that some sort of catastrophe must have met these folk, for them to end up here, they still would outnumber us many times. But even without being twisted and mutated, not to speak of insane, unarmored sailors would only be a match for proper knights when they could surround them and overwhelm them with sheer mass.

Instead, the mountain of dead flesh in front of the knights grew and grew, so much that they got pushed back just to be able to fight the abominations eye to eye and not have them jump on top of them.

As my mind calmed, a new sensation grew in me, something I had never experienced. A Skill activated, [Lament of the Shackled]. A brief moment of blindness washed over me as I saw lights, chained and bound, hundreds of them. Reality returned and I felt, immediately, that the source was close. Every one of these sailors was enslaved to some sort of service. I just felt that. My mind swam under the assault of the sensation, so I missed something for a while, but then I noticed. One light, one more than any other, was shining bright.

It was hidden somewhere in the cave behind the fighting. Someone, and not a soulless husk like the twisted sailors which had no humanity or will left to speak of, was being...held. Simue? How did my Skill work?

I wrapped myself in the shadows of [Walk the Night Unseen] and slipped off the crate, evading the fight and the sailors streaming in the direction, ultimately rounding the ship. There was a hole in the wall, big enough to drive a wagon through, a pitch-black space not even my Skill-enhanced eyes could pierce. Carefully, I pressed myself against the wall to the side of the opening.

Before I could turn the corner, a slim hand slapped on my shoulder, holding me back with surprising force. I stared into the stern face of Simue in the hard shadows of my black and white sight, who shook her head energetically.

“I was worried for you.“ I whispered, receiving a slap and an annoyed hissing for my apparent stupidity. She grabbed my head, turning it around and showing me hidden bodies of sailors she had disposed of, all around the back of the cave and this specific entrance. Then she turned back to the hole, pointing, then pressed her hands on her ears, looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to get the message.

“I have nothing.“ I murmured, I had followed the thought before. Then, my gaze fell upon one of the pale lights on the walls. A candle, flickering, despite the absence of wind. “Shit!“ I said, looking at Simue who shared my pain for a second. We had to do it the hard way.

I hissed in pain as the hot wax dropped right onto my ear. We took great care to not let the liquid get into the ear canal too much, so we had stuffed a little piece of cloth in there first before we covered the rest in wax. But it was hot and took all of our mental fortitudes to not yell out or make too much noise.

It worked. All sound drowned out so completely that the only thing remaining was my breath and the fast pace of my beating heart reverberating in my Skull. I winced as Simue swept back the unshaven side of her hair and lowered her head for me. It was not fun hurting a friend, but she took it better than I had. Our ears shut with a veritable mount of wax, she counted to three with her fingers, took a deep breath, and slipped around the corner.

There was no light here, but neither Simue nor I needed it to see, so we jogged through the tunnel, only slowing down once it opened up to another cave, smaller this time, with only a couple of feet above my head.

A creature lounged atop a mount of crates and chests, fairly large and hefty, with a bloated belly of massive proportions, with a male face resembling the sirens I had seen earlier, in that his head was split in half in what seemed to be a froglike and wide mouth, albeit very, very toothy. dark puddles of black grew in its head where its eyes should have been, as the creature lazily scanned the room, resting upon me as I walked into it.

Although I saw Simue slipping in before me, the creature did not react in a way that would indicate that he had spotted the assassin. Simue's Skills must have been way more potent than my own when it came to staying undetected. But even in the direct field of vision of another being? That was frightening. I was glad she was on my side.

At the other corner of the room, a man had been...woven onto the wall in a prison of a silky material I could not quite place, but resembled something a spider would weave. He was twisted, yes, the scales of fish covered his neck and face, but his eyes were clear, opened wide in endless pain and suffering. And as he noticed something -me entering, I reckoned - he looked up. Tears welled in his eyes as he yelled and spoke, but none of the words reached me through my shield of wax.

I came closer, one eye pinned onto the creature which seemed amused, and not concerned one bit about me. I quickly gave the bound man a once-over. He wore a uniform, but not of a navy or trade organization I could recognize. But my Skill, [Lament of the Shackled], screamed in my ear to free this man.

Then, the mountain of fat, scales, and flesh on top of the crates shifted its bulk, turning towards me. Even this slight movement caused the crates and chests under him to break under his weight and tumble to the ground.

Its mouth opened wide, ever wider until the whole top half of his head was opened up, showing rows and rows of teeth. His belly pumped up, doubling its girth, drawing breath, always more, expanding, growing the belly until the creature seemed ready to pop.

It screamed.

Air whipped through the cavern like a stormy gale, a slimy, fishy smell was battered into my nose. I even scraped across the rough floor as the force of the breath pushed me backwards, slime and scraps of past meals slapping in my face and across my body, which was trembling as the sheer loudness of the scream and the vibrations of the noise rattled my bones and teeth.

I felt the hammering in my head.

Even the sound somehow reached my ear, wax or not.

But it was muted, far away, just a whisper, a memory of the terrible force the scream had shown all around me. The wax had worked, even if I had to grind my teeth and yell out in pain to stem myself against it.

Was there shock in the eyes of the male siren as Simue cut his throat? Was there remorse or regret as I plunged the summoned Kingsbane into his breast, twisting the blade in the wound? Not even a sliver of recognition or pain was to be found in his face as I pulled the blade and took its head.