Flight Across the Sea

Flight Across the Sea
What was, in the past, a potential haven was now a haven of death, an entrapping cove. The peculiar cries of the shadow beasts echoed against the cliff walls: a sound to shred sanity. It glowed purple and set its fiery fingers in that deepening twilight, closing the ring of spectral predators around us. We were pinned between the dark woods and the cold indifference of the sea, whilst beasts that hunted the very essence of our beings converged. I was cold, though not simply fear; the sickening unpsychic pressure of the Hounds- a wave of deep despair and emptiness threatening to extinguish my will to live. Hunting was no longer the case; they were soul-devourers, attracted to the unique light of my awakened bloodline.

“To the boat!” Adrian’s very roar was a physical corporeality slashing through the nightmarish cacophony and paralyzing terror. It was an alpha command, perhaps a little attenuated by the ancient magic of the island, but still effective. It jolted us out of our terrified paralysis. “Leo, Lyra, rear guard! Sofia, get him on board!”

We scampered up the strange, ancient vessel moored at the water's edge. In contrast to the closing circle of skeletal monsters, it looked impossibly small and fragile. Morwen stood her ground bravely with that ancient guardian strength next to the tree line, holding strong the gnarled oak before her like a shield.

“Go, child of Lyanna!” she cried, her voice infused with unexpected power to push back the wall of hopelessness. “They hunt your light! Do not let them extinguish it!” She slammed the butt of her staff on the ground; then, from it pulsed a vibrant wave of green energy that erupted outward, forming a temporary shimmering wall in between us and the nearest shadow creatures. This wall wouldn't hold them back for long, but it bought us the critical seconds we desperately needed.

Sofia practically dragged me on board the little, silvery boat. The wood felt strangely smooth and cool underfoot, thrumming with a faint, internal energy, a humming discomfort in my gut. Adrian hopped on board last immediately turning to face the imminent Hounds, the defiant shield of his body against them. His eyes were becoming golden already in the twilight. The twins flanked him, their own forms already shifting, claws extended, prepared to meet the inevitable charge.

"Ethan, now!" Adrian yelled over his shoulder, shouting tight with all the urgency he could get. "Make it go!" 

But how, though? My mind was the storm of disorganized fear. The crushing weight of psychic pressure from the Hounds made thinking hard and breathless. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the railing, staring at the oncoming monsters, now so much closer they appeared to be sleek black forms gliding across the sand with an unnatural, silent speed. I could see their skeletal faces, their jaws lined with needle-sharp teeth that seemed to dribble shadows. 

It moves not with the wind, but with the will of its captain. It will answer to the blood of the Moon Dancers. Morwen's words echoed through the din. My blood. My will. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing out the terrifying sight. I ignored the frantic beating of my heart, the desperate shouts of my friends preparing to fight. I reached inward, past the crushing despair the Hounds were projecting, searching for that quiet, calm center I had found during my training. I found the steady, unbreakable thread of my bond with Adrian, and I held onto it like a lifeline in a turbulent sea. 

Then it focused all my being on the boat under my feet. I did not try to command it with force. I connected with it. I poured into its humming wood my will, my desperate need to escape. I envisioned the open sea, the feeling of freedom, the image of Adrian safe beside me, leaving this nightmare behind. "Go," I thought, pushing the feeling, the intent, into the vessel. "Take us away. Keep us safe." 

For a heartless moment, nothing happened. There was a thundering of Hounds hitting against Morwen's quickly fading barrier, which crumbled like fragile glass. They charged forward, mortally looming shrieks filling the air mere yards from the boat. 

Then, the ancient vessel responded. 

With a silent, powerful surge that felt like an exhalation, the small boat shot away from the shore. There was no sound of an engine, no ripple of oars, only smooth, impossible acceleration. It glided across the calm water of the cove with incredible speed, leaving the snarling shadow creatures pacing frantically at the water's edge. Their nature, it seemed, bound them to the land. 

We were safe. We were free. The ship sailed out of the hidden cove and into the soil of the rash waters of the North Atlantic; Isle of Skye was then rapidly shrinking behind us into a mystical, cloud-shrouded silhouette against the darkening sky. 

I collapsed to the deck, my body shaking from both aftershocks of terror and the enormous effort of will that had gone into commanding the vessel. Adrian was in a kneel beside me the instant after, wrapping an arm around me and holding me tight; his own relief was a palpable wave drowning me. "You did it," he whispered, voice thick with a relief that was mingled with awe. "You saved us." 

I leaned into his embrace, drawing strength from his familiar warmth. Sofia and the twins were watching the waves with careful eyes, grim but relieved. We had escaped the island; yet, that eerie echo of violet eyes and the touch of that unbearable soul-deep ache became a scar anew sucked too deeply to easily fade. 

As the last light of the sun dipped below the horizon, plunging the world into a vast starless darkness, Sofia spoke about this fear that now settled upon all of our hearts. His voice was low and worried, but he sighed. "They found us once. They'll find us again. Those things don't track by scent; they track by us. How do we hide from something that can smell our souls?"

Her question hung in the cold sea air, unanswered. We were adrift on a dark ocean, in a magical boat we didn't understand, heading toward a destination we knew nothing about, and we were being hunted by monsters that could follow us to the ends of the earth.

Our quest had just become a desperate, global flight for survival.