They arrived by morning light, the sky a dull slate behind a veil of clouds. Gone was the warm sands and gentle surf of the southern coast. The new shoreline stretched before them, colder and greyer, its beauty a starker kind. Wind bit at them, carrying with it the scent of seasalt and pine.

  Here, the trees didn’t sway with breezes but stood rigid along the cliffside, towering evergreens that looked carved from the very rock they clung to. Below, the beach was not soft underfoot but scattered with weathered driftwood and pebbles. And beyond that, farther out to sea, stood the stone sentinels, slick with moss and tide.

  Huge formations of jagged rock pierced the ocean’s surface. Dark silhouettes rising out of the grey water like ancient guardians, unmoving, watching. Waves broke around their bases with dull, echoing booms as if warning those who dared to pass.

  Camdyn shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the craggy horizon. The path ahead wound between the corpses of toppled trees, grey with time, and tide-worn boulders.

  “Well,” Saelune said at last, her voice breaking the hush, “it’s certainly not the most welcoming place.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Flora rubbed her shoulders, feeling the bite of the wind. “The entrance of this temple faces the sea. We need to get down to the water.”

  “Are you cold? You can have my jacket—”

  She jerked away. “No,” she said, a little too sharply. Then, softer: “You should preserve your warmth.”

  He hesitated, “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She offered a small smile. “The cold reminds me I’m alive.”

  With that, she headed down the pathway. Camdyn watched her go, unsure whether he’d overstepped or just misunderstood.

  “I wouldn’t take it personally,” Saelune said once Flora was out of earshot. “Nymphs are weird like that. She probably just doesn’t want to smell like human.”

  Saelune started down the path as well, but Camdyn lingered behind a moment longer, watching Flora’s retreating form.

  “Kind of hard to not take that personally,” he mumbled.

  They moved carefully across the rocky expanse, sidestepping tide pools that shimmered with trapped seawater and the occasional flicker of life beneath the surface. Eventually, their feet met the coastline, where the land thinned and the sea pressed close. Jagged boulders loomed to either side, slick with algae, and narrow inlets carved deep into the shore. Somewhere ahead, hidden among the cliffs and mist, the next temple waited.

  Saelune and Camdyn met Flora by the edge of the water. She was already studying something in the distance.

  “Do you see those symbols?” she pointed at one of the rock formations.

  Camdyn followed her gesture. At first, he saw nothing but foam and stone until the sea pulled back, revealing a sliver of smooth rock etched with markings. The tide surged again, swallowing them whole.

  “There,” Flora said. “Between the waves. They only show for a moment.”

  Camdyn narrowed his eyes, watching. Sure enough, when the water receded again, more symbols gleamed faintly on the wet surface. Lines and curves, circular patterns that reminded him of the runes from the first temple she showed him.

  “Can you read it?” he asked.

  “It speaks of the Tidehollow Sanctum. And of a path not beneath, but beside.”

  Saelune scoffed and tossed a stone into the water. The splash was lost in the churn.

  “Yeah, swimming in this would be suicide. And those rocks would tear through any raft like wet paper.”

  “So there must be another way,” Camdyn added, “A narrow path like the last one… or a ledge, maybe.”

  “Perhaps the tides recede at a certain time,” Flora offered, brushing damp strands of hair behind her ear. “Some places are only reachable when the sea allows it.”

  “Or…” Saelune’s voice called from a few paces off, “we can use these.”

  They turned to find her at the base of a weathered cliff wall. She ran her fingers along a line of shallow impressions just above the tide line—worn, but intentional. “They’re too evenly spaced to be natural.”

  Camdyn stepped closer. The indents were small, just large enough for a boot or hand. A rough path. Vertical in some sections, winding laterally in others.

  “A climb,” he muttered. “Of course.”

  “Of course,” Saelune echoed dryly. “Because stairs would’ve been too kind.”

  “More so too obvious.” Flora smiled faintly. “The Sanctum was meant to stay hidden. These markers weren’t for strangers. They were for those who remembered the old paths.”

  Camdyn nodded, already testing the lowest hold with his hand. It was slick, but solid.

  “Then let’s take a trip down memory lane.”

  Saelune was the first to start, nimble as ever, her movements practiced and precise. Camdyn followed close behind, with Flora bringing up the rear. The rock was damp from sea spray, and each hold had to be tested before shifting weight.

  Below them, the ocean churned, hungry and loud. Every now and then, a wave crashed hard enough to send mist licking at their ankles, a salty warning.

  “Watch the mossy patches,” Saelune called. “They’re slick.”

  “Good to know,” Camdyn grunted, adjusting his grip. His muscles ached already, but the path ahead was too confined to stop.

  The ledge narrowed, curling around an outcrop like a serpent’s spine. For a breathless moment, Camdyn had to flatten himself to the wall, heart hammering as his boot slipped for a split second.

  “Steady.” Flora cooed from beside him.

  He exhaled shakily, before continuing.

  “Almost there,” Saelune called ahead. “I see something. A break in the stone.”

  A doorway, tucked into the cliffside like a secret. The entrance to the Sanctum.

  The final handhold brought Camdyn level with the opening. He hauled himself onto a shelf of stone, catching his breath as the wind howled behind him. Saelune crouched nearby, peering into the darkened entrance with narrowed eyes.

  Flora joined them moments later, her feet silent as she landed beside him. Together, the three stood at the mouth of the Sanctum.

  “Now this…” Saelune spoke, “This feels familiar.”

  Flora glanced around warily, reluctant to venture deeper into what felt less like a temple and more like a tomb. Her connection to the earth here felt stifled. Close, but just out of reach.

  Camdyn’s eyes flicked down to the tide creeping in at the cave’s mouth. Still shallow, for now.

  They moved forward, their footsteps swallowed by the temple’s silence as they ascended a set of crude stairs carved from the cave floor.

  The tunnel widened dramatically, revealing a ribbed ceiling overhead. The pale bones of some long-dead leviathan stretched like a cage above them. Each curved rib was etched with ancient symbols and intricate carvings, worn smooth in places by time, yet sharp and vivid in others. The glyphs told fragmented stories of ocean spirits, shifting tides, and sacred rituals. Echoes from a civilization nearly lost to the sea.

  Nestled between stalagmites and carved stone were shallow, man-made tidepools, each rimmed with smooth shells and sculpted stone. Within them bloomed vibrant bioluminescent flora. Jelly-like petals and tendrils pulsing rhythmically with light, casting flickering hues across the carvings and bones.

  Along the walls and corridors, macabre yet mesmerizing sculptures emerged from the gloom, assembled from the remains of sea life: crab claws, whale teeth, eel spines, and spiral shells reformed into haunting, symbolic shapes. A squid’s beak crowned by shell halos stood like a saintly effigy; a towering shrine of vertebrae and coral fragments curled like a serpent mid-coil; a jagged doorway framed in jawbones loomed open, as though leading into the belly of something still alive. Yet despite the eerie materials, there was undeniable beauty in the craftsmanship. An artistry that spoke of a culture that saw the sea and death not as adversaries, but as sacred, entwined forces.

  It should’ve been beautiful. It was. But the air inside was too still. Too watched.

  Camdyn’s boots stuck slightly on the algae-slick stones as they crossed into the main chamber. It was here when they began to notice subtle signs—clues that the place was not as untouched as it seemed.

  Near a cluster of glowing tide pools, a toppled crate, its wood splintered and weathered but unmistakably crafted by human hands. Inside, bits of rope and rusted metal gleamed faintly, remnants of some long-forgotten cargo. Scattered across the floor were discarded items—open cans, used rags, evidence of squatters.

  “Looks like we’re not the first to wander here,” Saelune muttered, brushing aside a handful of salt-crusted nails.

  Further along, Camdyn’s gaze caught on something half-buried between stones. A small, carved figurine, its paint chipped but unmistakably man-made. It looked like a token, a good-luck charm or a marker.

  “This place was meant to be sacred,” Flora whispered, voice tight. “And now… it’s been defiled.”

  At last, they came upon the altar. A broad stone slab rising from the center of the chamber. Above it hung a tattered flag, its fabric faded and torn but still bearing the unmistakable sigil of the raider band that had haunted these coasts for years.

  Saelune’s lips curled into a grim smile. “ Looks like we’ve got company.”

  Camdyn’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his blade.

  The silence grew oppressive.

  Flora took a slow step back from the altar, eyes scanning the walls as if listening to the stones themselves. “They’re close,” her voice barely a whisper.

  “Too close,” Saelune agreed, already turning to cover their flank.

  Then came the sound.

  A boot scraped against stone, deliberate and unhurried.

  From the shadows, figures emerged one by one from openings in the cave walls.

  An ambush.

  First one, then another—thirteen in total—stepping into the pulsing light like wraiths dredged up from the deep. Their makeshift armor clinked with charms of shell and bone, vertebrae strung like trophies. Raiders. Each carried a weapon—hooks, axes, shortblades still slick with sea spray.

  They fanned out with practiced ease. Some leaned on bone-hewn spears; others perched atop crates like coiled cats, half-shrouded in fishing net and ragged naval coats. Silent. Waiting.

  All eyes turned toward the last to arrive.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  He came without hurry, his silhouette framed by the ribbed arch of the cave. Tall, broad-shouldered and cloaked in oiled leather that billowed faintly with each step. Barnacles clung to the hem like medals. He carried no weapon in hand, but the way the others straightened at his approach said enough.

  The leader stopped before them and let the silence stretch.

  “Well,” he said, voice gravel-worn and slow, “look what the tide spit up.”

  “We come peacefully,” Camdyn said, voice level.

  This seemed to amuse the man. “Peacefully, he says.” He clicked his tongue. “Some might say you shouldn’t have come at all. Strange hour for a visit…” His gaze drifted toward the narrowing mouth of the cave. “Tide’s risin’.”

  Flora grew nervous under his gaze. She kept her eyes to the floor, hands folded, trying her best to hide her unease, but Camdyn saw the way her fingers trembled against her palms.

  He stepped out in front of her. “Then we won’t overstay our welcome,” he chose his words carefully.

  The man chuckled, low and rasping, like rock dragged across rock. “You already have.”

  “So, then what are you going to do about it, big guy?” Saelune asked.

  Camdyn winced.

  The man's head turned toward Saelune, the corners of his mouth tugging into something between a grin and a sneer. “Feisty,” he said, voice thick with amusement. “I hope you have the bite to back all that bark.”

  She shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

  He took a few slow steps back, retrieving a blade from one of his men. The metal caught the dim light as he turned it in his hand, running a calloused finger along the edge with idle care.

  “No reason we can’t keep things… civil,” he said, tone as smooth as it was threatening.

  He nodded at two of his men. “Frisk ‘em.”

  Camdyn’s eyes flicked to the blade in the raider’s hand, then to the rough faces closing in around them. He knew the numbers were against them. There was no point in a fight here. The raiders were quick to strip him of his knife and confiscated his pack for good measure.

  They also seized Saelune’s charango, much to her obvious displeasure.

  “Seriously? Do you actually think I can murder someone with that?” But her protests were only met with a round of snickers.

  When they reached Flora, Camdyn stepped in. “She doesn’t have anything on her.”

  One of the raiders grabbed Flora by the arm, yanking her aside. In a flash, cold steel was at her throat. “Not so fast,” he warned.

  Flora froze, her eyes hardened.

  Camdyn raised both hands slightly and stepped back. “She’s not armed,” he repeated, softer now.

  The raider leaned in, taking in the scent of her hair. “Smells as pretty as she looks,” he sneered, before shoving her forward to join the others.

  “Gross, dude.” Saelune muttered.

  The leader stepped forward, tone mockingly genial. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way… what brings you to my humble abode?”

  Flora gave a barely perceptible shake of her head.

  Camdyn weighed his options, though there wasn’t much to weigh. “We’re looking for an artifact,” he said, opting for honesty. He knew raiders bristled at the scent of someone after supplies or weapons, but collectors—people who cared about dusty things buried in the ground, were far less threatening… He hoped.

  The leader’s eyes didn’t blink. “The Blade.”

  Camdyn’s stomach sank. So they knew.

  “I didn’t expect that,” the man went on, tone light. “Plenty have passed through my domain, pokin’ their noses in places they shouldn’t. But not one came lookin’ for that.”

  He stepped closer, studying Camdyn as though he were some curious relic himself. “I should’ve guessed it sooner. You travel light. Just a humble huntin’ knife and a mismatched little crew. The girl with the pretty eyes. The musician with the mouth. And you.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Either you’re naive and foolish, or you’re up to something… and foolish all the same.”

  Saelune rolled her eyes. “You gonna keep monologuing, or are you going to tell us who you are?”

  The man laughed. “Rellian,” he said with a small, mocking bow. “Since we’re makin’ this all so civil.”

  “Camdyn,” he replied evenly. He kept his tone careful, almost disarming. “Honestly, we’re just here for an artifact. Not for trouble.”

  “Unfortunately for you, I don’t share artifacts with strangers stuck in my house,” Rellian said, casting a glance toward the dark tunnel behind them. “Which you are. And will be... until the tide turns.”

  “Unfortunate, indeed.” Saelune replied. “Because we’re terribly impatient guests.”

  Camdyn followed Rellian’s gaze before noticing a thin fissure across the cave ceiling. Near it, the support beams seemed to carry a little more weight than the rest. Just enough to catch his attention.

  “Saelune, they’re being friendly. Let’s return the gesture, shall we?” Camdyn said under his breath, before stepping forward slowly, hands raised in a calm, open motion.

  “I’m not asking you to give anything up,” he said to Rellian, voice steady. “Maybe we can trade. Talk. Something.”

  Rellian’s smile was cold and papery. “Maybe,” he said. “But the way I see it, we’ve already confiscated your belongings. What use do we have for you?”

  “You didn’t take everything.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Is that so? And what exactly are you offering, boy? Because words,” He stepped closer, voice low and sharp. “Don’t pay for relics.”

  Camdyn paused, his mind drawing a blank. His mouth ran faster than his thoughts, it seemed.

  “Just as I expected,” Rellian said flatly. “Take them to holding.”

  His men moved in without hesitation, grabbing them roughly. Desperation clawed at Camdyn’s chest. There had to be something. Anything.

  His eyes swept the room, frantic.

  Then he saw it.

  “Wait!” he pleaded. “I can help you.”

  Rellian raised a hand, halting his soldiers mid-step. He turned back, one brow lifted. “Help me? Help me how?”

  Camdyn swallowed, pulse quick. “I’m a medic.”

  There was a pause. “A boy with a blade and a healer’s heart,” he mused. “That’s a rare contradiction.”

  “Him.” Camdyn gestured with his head. The raider’s pant leg was rolled up just below the knee, the fabric above it darkened with blood. The bandage around the wound was hastily tied and stained through. The skin beneath was swollen, inflamed, and tinged with a sickly purplish hue.

  “His leg. It’s not healing, right? Pain, tenderness?”

  “As it is with any fresh wound.” Rellian said, unimpressed.

  Camdyn didn’t flinch. “There’s discoloration and swelling. Signs of infection. When was the last time the bandages were changed?”

  He looked to the raider. “Well, answer him, Garrick.”

  The wounded man finally spoke, voice rough. “Three days, give or take.”

  Camdyn’s brow furrowed. “That’s too long. You need to flush it, clean out the dead tissue. You don’t want the infection spreading to your blood.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned. The kid knows his stuff.” Rellian gave a crooked smile. “Take the other two into holding. He stays.”

  Camdyn’s eyes made contact with Flora’s for a fleeting moment before Rellian’s men pushed them toward a narrow alcove deeper in the cave. Saelune’s protests trailing out the room with her.

  Now left alone with the wounded raider, Camdyn crouched beside him, his fingers already working to gently unwrap the filthy bandages. The stench of infection hit him hard. Sour and sharp. A warning he took seriously.

  “I’ll need a blade, hot water to clean it with, and fresh cloth.” Camdyn said, eyes scanning the man’s leg. “And my bag. I have herbs with antibiotic properties that could help.”

  Rellian’s men exchanged uncertain glances before looking back to their leader.

  “Get him what he needs.” he ordered.

  They moved quickly, gathering the hot water, bandages, a sharp blade, and Camdyn’s bag. As one of them handed over the knife, Rellian’s gaze lingered on Camdyn.

  “You better stick to healing with that.” He said, voice low and edged with warning.

  Camdyn met Rellian’s gaze steadily but said nothing. He rose, setting his jaw as he knelt once more beside Garrick. He carefully poured the boiling water over the blade, letting the steam rise as it disinfected the edge.

  “This is going to hurt,” he warned quietly.

  The man grunted, muscles tensing, as Camdyn cut away the blackened, tainted flesh with steady hands. Once the worst was cleared, he opened his bag and sifted through his herbs. He pulled out a broad, green leaf and ground it between two smooth stones until it formed a thick paste. Gently, he coated the wound with the healing salve before wrapping it in fresh bandages.

  The raider exhaled shakily, pain still evident, but relief already beginning to take hold beneath the surface.

  “That should be good now,” Camdyn said softly. “You will need to keep it clean and change the bandages daily. If you don’t, the infection could spread.”

  The raider gave a grunt of acknowledgement, eyes narrowing with a mix of pain and reluctant gratitude. Rellian studied Camdyn for a long moment, eyes sharp and unreadable. The healer’s skill had not gone unnoticed.

  “You got potential,” Rellian finally said. “You’ll stay here… in holding, with the others.” He gave a curt nod to his men. “Keep an eye on him.”

  Camdyn’s heart thudded, relief mingling with tension. He wasn’t free, not by a long shot and Rellian still hadn’t relinquished the Blade.

  “And the artifact?” he asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

  Rellian’s grin was thin, almost cruel. “That also stays with me. For now.”

  Camdyn clenched his jaw but said nothing.

  Rellian’s men grabbed Camdyn by the arms, hauling him to his feet. The tension in his shoulders didn’t ease as they led him down the dim corridor toward the holding area.

  A heavy, metal door creaked open, revealing Flora and Saelune sitting at opposite ends of the sparse chamber. Relief washed over their faces when they saw Camdyn, silent but unmistakable.

  “Camdyn,” Flora breathed, stepping forward, her eyes shining with quiet hope. She reached for his hands.

  He took them in his, squeezing gently. “I’m okay.” He assured her.

  “So?” Saelune asked, cutting straight to it. “Did you get us out of here?”

  “I bought us some time.”

  “And the relic?” Flora said.

  “He won’t give it up.”

  Saelune let out a sigh and slumped back against the wall. “Of course he won’t.”

  “He doesn’t trust us,” Camdyn muttered, glancing out past the bars, mindful of the raiders nearby. “I don’t trust him either. Best case, he drags this out indefinitely. Worst case…”

  “Fish food.” Saelune finished grimly.

  “We just need to find a way to get to it. Gaining his trust could take years. If it ever happens.”

  “Then we outplay him,” Saelune said.

  “Easier said than done. I don’t even know where the Blade is. He might already have it.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Flora said quietly. “He can’t.”

  Camdyn turned to her. “How can you be sure?”

  “The Covenant Blade is sacred, not just any man can wield it. It’s from a forgotten time, he wouldn’t know how to get to it. Or what it is. Not truly. It’s likely still buried here.”

  “If he doesn’t know what it is then why is he so hellbent on keeping it?” Camdyn asked, his frustration rising.

  “Magical items will do that.” Saelune replied. “Especially when they’re important. People gravitate towards them—want them—even if they’ve forgotten why.”

  Flora nodded. “They remember the power, even if the history is lost.”

  Saelune pushed off the wall. “Not all bad news though,” Saelune offered, “You’re in the know, which means you can get to it. And if you can get to it, maybe you can use that to your advantage.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even if I get it, he’s not going to let me leave with it.”

  “Like I said, then we outplay him.”

  “An escape plan…” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

  She snapped her fingers. “Bingo.”

  “We’re outnumbered.”

  “But not outwitted.” she grinned.

  “They have our stuff. My knife.” he reminded her.

  Saelune shrugged. “It’s out in the open.”

  Camdyn exhaled slowly. “I think I have a plan. It’s risky. Maybe even reckless.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “I’m listening.”

  “You seem pretty quick on your feet… Ever been in a fight?”

  Saelune’s grinned sharpened. “And here I thought this trip was going to be boring. She tilted her head, expectant. “So… what’s the scheme?”