[AGRIOVATHRA BAY – TWO DAYS LATER] (NIHL)

  -?-

  Two days without sleep. My eyes burned like I'd been staring into campfire smoke. The fog tasted of salt and rot and sat on Agriovathra Bay like a wet blanket over a corpse, muffling everything except the crash of waves—each one sounding like claws scraping stone.

  Lena crouched beside me, tearing into stale bread with mechanical bites. Her Promethean flames sputtered weak orange instead of their usual crimson after two days of constant burn. She was running on fumes.

  "See anything?"

  "Grey. More grey." I squinted into the fog. "Maybe some slightly darker grey."

  She didn't laugh. Bad sign.

  The fog shifted. The sea pulled back too far, too fast. The exposed sand gleamed like a wound. Then the water erupted in a geyser punching skyward.

  He stood there when it fell, knee-deep in the surf, coral armor crusted across his chest like barnacles on a shipwreck. The smell hit me—deep ocean brine mixed with tomb dust, death that had been underwater for centuries. His eyes were milk-white, no pupils, no recognition.

  My grip tightened on the spear. Oh, perfect. Another one.

  "Leave..." His voice echoed wrong, like it was coming from the bottom of a well. "This place is... protected."

  "We can't." Great life choices, Nihl.

  Confusion flickered across his face—something almost human—then hardened over like ice forming on still water.

  "I am Korydon!" The name seemed to hurt him, his mouth twisting. "And I... must... PROTECT! PERISH BY MY HAND!"

  The trident left his hand—not thrown, launched. A thunderbolt of living water shrieked across the beach, the air screaming as it was torn apart.

  "Down!" Instinct took over. My round shield slammed into sand. I yanked Lena behind me with my free hand, her body colliding with mine as we dropped.

  A mountain fell on us.

  My shield held. My arm didn't. The shock rattled from wrist to shoulder, bones grinding, tendons screaming. The beach trembled, sand jumped, my teeth clicked together hard enough to taste copper.

  A warning shot. It nearly killed us.

  "What the—! Bastard!" Lena's voice was pure venom.

  Across the shore, the water gently lifted his trident and returned it to his hand like a loyal hound.

  My mind raced, doing frantic calculations. Range: thirty meters. Power: catastrophic. Tricks: water manipulation. Our advantages: I was still working on it.

  "PROTECT!" The hollow roar echoed.

  Lena was already moving—no plan, just rage. She became a blur, Promethean Flame wreathing her fists in dying crimson. Crack to the jaw. Thud to the chest. Two perfect hits. The Warden staggered, coral armor smoking where her knuckles connected.

  Good. Get angry. Make a mistake.

  The trident slammed down. The beach recoiled as a wall of churning water—not liquid but condensed force—erupted toward us like something alive.

  "Lena, brace!" I dug my heels in, shield up.

  The impact hit like a falling oak.

  My shield was torn from my grasp, ripped away like parchment in a storm. The force lifted me airborne for a sickening moment, then tumbled me backward through sand until I slammed into our makeshift wall.

  The world swam grey. Pain throbbed. Saltwater filled my mouth.

  Disarmed. Prone. Gasping.

  The game had changed entirely.

  Lena rode the wave better—driven back but staying upright. Our formation, our careful plan, shattered in one exchange.

  I pushed up, coughing. Saltwater burned in my throat, blood on my tongue. "Cough... Cof... Rats! This stupid fish!" My left arm hung numb and useless. I couldn't stay disarmed.

  I planted my quarterstaff spear in the wet sand—a promise. My eyes locked on Lena, our anvil, our only front line now. "Lena! Be careful! Take it out of the water!"

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  My fingers found the last sprig of Althaea. The last one. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped it. I crushed the leaves, pressed them against my chest. The soothing energy mixed with my dwindling Sthénos, a river running dry.

  "Whisper, spirit of the green glade—" The words rasped out against the ocean's roar, the flower turning to ash in my palm. "—Mend the flesh, breathe life once more."

  Green-gold light pulsed across the distance and washed over Lena. Her bruises faded, she stood taller, her aura burned brighter.

  One spell left. Make it count.

  "You heard him, fish-stick!" Lena roared. "Let's dance on dry land!" She surged forward, a crimson comet against grey fog. Her fists hammered his torso in rapid succession, driving him up the beach, away from the water's edge. The Warden stumbled, his attacks growing wilder, less coordinated.

  We were winning.

  No. We were learning the wrong lesson. We thought we were winning.

  "Let's go!" Adrenaline surged—false fire over bone-deep exhaustion. I charged, yanking my spear free.

  The moment I entered melee range, the Warden's milky eyes cleared. Purpose.

  His trident slammed down—not at us. At the sand. Oh no— He tricked us!

  A Wall of Water erupted, thirty feet of churning barrier cutting me from Lena. I was on the ocean side.

  "Lena, don't let it—!"

  The current took me in a vicious magical riptide, dragging me down to the Warden's feet. My lost shield lay there, just out of reach.

  Prone. Exposed. A fox in a snare.

  The Warden looked down, his trident rising. The air grew heavy, cold. He wasn't aiming at me.

  He was calling the ocean itself.

  "Tidal Surge!"

  A colossal wave erupted, thirty feet of pure force. No dodging, only enduring.

  I braced. The force drove me back five feet, skidding, tumbling. Sand filled my mouth, my eyes, my lungs.

  Lena took it full-force, lifted off her feet like a doll. She crashed near the cliff base.

  Her Promethean Flame sputtered out.

  The Warden surged forward on water, looming over me.

  The trident descended.

  Time slowed. Crystal clarity. My mind went cold. Move now!

  I twisted—shield up at the last second, not blocking but deflecting. The trident glanced off, slammed into my shoulder, punched through leather.

  White-hot agony exploded through my body.

  I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't scream. Just pain. Pinned to the sand, a spear of fire in my flesh.

  Korydon pulled back his weapon for the final blow. His eyes flickered—not triumph. Profound sorrow.

  "I... must... protect..." A whisper to himself.

  My vision tunneled. Blood pooled beneath me, soaking into sand. Lena was down. One hit. That was all it would take.

  Through the haze, Lena scrambled up, determined to break through.

  "Don't look at me, silly! Go!" I coughed, crimson flecks staining the sand.

  My throat closed. Cold sweat ran down my spine.

  This was it. This was how it ended.

  No not like this. One last move.

  I threw my shield aside. My fingers fumbled numb and clumsy for the last burned mistletoe bundle, crushing it in my palm. One shot.

  "SIDEROS!" The word was a ragged gasp. The mistletoe ignited, primal power surging through my quarterstaff, ironwood grain glowing with inner light.

  "Here! Catch!" A final, agonizing heave. The magically-empowered spear flew—wild, stumbling, my footing giving way. It sailed high and wide, energy dissipating into fog.

  A complete failure.

  But he looked.

  A split-second flicker of distraction. For Lena, a flicker was enough.

  She saw it—me bleeding out, the opening. No words. A raw guttural scream cut through the ocean's roar. Her Promethean Flame detonated—living crimson fury.

  Not a run. A blur.

  Her first punch shattered coral armor. The second—dead center—hit his chest with a sound like breaking stone, blinding crimson light. Something vital snapped inside.

  The Forgotten Warden froze. His trident slipped and fell.

  The milky whiteness vanished. Deep blue eyes—the open ocean he'd sworn to protect—stared at his wound, at Lena's rage, at me broken on the shore.

  Understanding flickered and then he remembered he was in the water.

  Both palms opened. The tide washed over us—Lena took the worst trying to block it, I took the rest. We were pushed up the beach in a tangled, battered heap.

  The Warden stood knee-deep in surf, his trident returning to his hand, summoned by the sea. The brief clarity was gone, replaced by hollow emptiness.

  "THE COAST... IS FORBIDDEN."

  The bay churned, gathering for a final catastrophic wave. Out of tricks, out of space, out of time. I'm sorry, Lena.

  The hum from the Mouth intensified. Gloating.

  Then—a new sound. A sharp piercing cry from above.

  A gryphon circled overhead. An air-slash—pure wind projection—screamed down in a classical halberd cut. It sliced into the gathering wave, disrupting its formation.

  A figure in gleaming silver armor descended, shield polished to mirror sheen.

  Athena's mark.

  Hebe sent them. She actually sent them. My hands shook. I couldn't stop staring. Or maybe that was the blood loss.

  The Forgotten Warden looked up, confused.

  "Move already!" I tried to push Lena. No strength. Just a twitch.

  "Shut up! He'll skewer you!" She shifted her weight, becoming a living shield between me and Korydon.

  The hero landed with a heavy crunch of armored boots, directly between us and the monster.

  Korydon's confusion snapped into rage. The bay surged, the ocean becoming a single crushing fist.

  "FORGET!" A roar laced with psychic decay.

  The wall of water detached and thundered forward, a cliff-face of liquid force. The hero didn't flinch. Feet planted, absolute certainty.

  "Enkráteia." His voice cut through the roar. "Self-mastery."

  His body blazed with brilliant silver light—pure refined will made physical.

  He met the tsunami with his shield.

  The Aegis Replica flashed—didn't block, channeled. Colossal energy flowed into the shield, was absorbed, compressed, then screamed back along its own path.

  The deflected tide hit the Forgotten Warden with twice its fury, lifted him bodily. He disappeared beneath the churning surface.

  Silence.

  The sudden absence of sound was deafening. Only gentle waves, Lena's ragged breathing, the ringing in my skull.

  The hero stood unmoved, steam rising from his shield.

  A second gryphon landed—another warrior, long halberd resting on his shoulder. The great beast's wings stirred fog into spirals.

  Slowly, the hero turned. His gaze was calm and analytical, taking in our battered forms, our makeshift fortifications, the evidence.

  He looked from Lena to me. "Report." No judgment, no praise. "Who are you, and what is the status of this incursion?"

  I tried to sit up. Lena was still covering me. "Lee... you need to stop eating so much bread. You're crushing me."

  She punched my good shoulder. "Shut up, idiot!"

  The hero's face tightened under his helmet. Unamused.

  "I am Pheren, the Mirror-Bearer. Champion of Athena."

  I stared at him—at the gleaming armor, the perfect posture, the untouched shield. We held this beach for two days with stale bread and burnt herbs.

  A slow, tired smile touched my lips.

  Perfect.