The Chain of Silence

The Chain appeared on the horizon like a scar on the world.

It was immense. Each link was the size of a cathedral, forged from black, iridescent metal that sucked the light out of the sky. It rose from the depths of the ocean and anchored a floating island—Fortress Aethelgard, a Navy stronghold—to the seabed.

But Silas was right. As the *Rot-Wood* drew closer, Elara saw the currents. The ocean behind the Chain was vibrant, blue, and alive. The ocean beyond it, toward the Outer Rim, was gray and stagnant. The Chain was a dam, blocking the flow of magic and water.

"It's true," Elara whispered, standing on the prow. "All of it."

"The Empire hoards the flow," Silas said, his voice tight. "They starve us to keep us weak. If we break that Chain, the currents return. The rains return."

He looked at her. "I can get you to the base. But the rest is you."

Elara looked at the massive black link disappearing into the water. It terrified her. It was a monument to her family's power. To destroy it was to commit treason against her blood, her god, and her King.

"If I do this," Elara said, "there is no going back. I will be a traitor."

"You will be a savior," Silas said. "But the choice is yours. I won't force you. If you want, I can turn the ship around. We can drop you at a neutral port."

Elara looked at the crew. They were watching her with hope—not the hungry hope of the Admiral who wanted a weapon, but the desperate hope of men who wanted to go home.

"I am done being a good girl," Elara said.

"Captain!" the lookout screamed from the crow's nest. "Sails! Horizon!"

Elara turned. Behind them, emerging from the fog bank, was a wall of white sails.

The *HMS Wrath*. The Admiral’s flagship.