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Salt and Blood - Chapter 81
🕑 Added 2024-11-22 10:00:06 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 80 | Table of Contents | Chapter 82 >>
1.81 - A Father’s Fury
Nothing can stand in the way of a father when his child has been hurt. No weapon, no arcane force. There is a special kind of power that love holds, one that can bend even fate to its whims.
-Excerpt from ‘Studies of the Enigmatic’ by Professor Paralon, the Mad Scholar
Simon Everblue had been a fisherman for as long as he could remember. His father taught him how to care for a rod, weave a net, and ensure his boat was always in fighting condition.
Fit to fight, for that was the essence of fishing. It was a battle against the ocean and your prey. Whenever a fisherman set sail in the early morning, often before the sunrise, he didn’t know what fate awaited him.
A sudden storm or an empty ocean might be what the day held. If your boat wasn’t up to par, your senses far from keen, that storm might claim your life. Without patience, a day of empty nets might send you into madness.
His father had taught him how to fish, but it had been his grandfather who schooled him in that last lesson. The man was perhaps the greatest fisherman to ever grace the shores of Fairwater Bay.
Simon had always thought his grandfather odd. The man never seemed at peace on land. Only when they set sail did his shaking hand still and his eternally furrowed brow relax.
Even then, the man’s gaze tended to be further flung than home. Always watching the horizon and never the shores of home.
He’d not questioned the man about his peculiar habits. He feared the sting of his hand too much for that, but it had always made him curious about the wider world. It made his father the opposite—a man who called travellers madmen.
Perhaps if he’d been more gifted, Simon would’ve set sail himself. Left home to see the wonders out there. However, before the current could take him, he found himself in love.
The daughter of a wealthy herder, Alyssa Pel was the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on. But the reason he fell in love with her was the kindness of her soul, the way she greeted everyone with a smile and gentle warmth, no matter their own attitude.
Time passed and they married, a wonderful celebration that had the entire village bedridden for days after—a combination of excessive drinking and furious dancing.
The years passed and they were happy. He spent his days fishing, bringing home a healthy catch to keep their bellies full. Even when her father passed, the sparkle in her eyes only dimmed for a short while.
She took up the responsibility of caring for his herd, but there was one thing missing from their lives. They both wanted a child, to pass on their legacy and their love.
However, no matter how hard they tried, the world seemed determined not to grant their wish. Simon grew furious. Not with his gentle wife, but with the world itself. Each day when he set sail, he cursed the oceans he’d once loved.
Eventually, his anger grew so great he even turned it on the one who’d never turned his back on Simon—the patron deity of his father and his father’s father, Sylack. In his fury, he stood on the bow of his little fishing boat and roared his anguish at the ocean.
“Sylack, you bastard! I’ve toiled my whole life in your domain, ever faithful to you. Not once have I been a cruel or vindictive man. My wife is as gentle as they come, yet still the world would see us cursed. I’ve never asked anything of you, even when weeks went by with sparse nets. But now, I would demand your help!”
That evening as he sailed into the bay, he reprimanded himself. What could a god of fish and fishermen do when it came to childbirth? That was the domain of Ferala, the Goddess of Life, and her lesser cousins.
When Simon awoke the next morning, he was claimed with a manic purpose. Alyssa complained when he dragged her out of bed, pulling her by the hand to the sandy beaches of Fairwater Bay.
He didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to bring her there; to bring her to the ocean’s edge. “Follow me,” he demanded, wading into the still morning sea.
Alyssa was hesitant, but she trusted Simon with all her soul. So, she walked out into the shallows. Even when the water reached her waist, she didn’t question her husband.
In that moment, a colossal wave appeared as if from nowhere, ripping her from his grasp. Yet Simon stood still, not making a move to save her from the churning waters.
A few minutes later, Alyssa washed back to him, drenched. She had a cold fury in her eyes, a burning resentment that he’d never witnessed. By the time they reached home, it had already passed, but the damage was done.
She gave birth the next spring, to a baby girl. They named her Rose, after Alyssa’s favourite flower. She wanted her daughter to have ties to the land, perhaps out of spite at Simon’s actions.
They never spoke of that morning again, content to let the truth of their daughter’s birth stay hidden. However, the claws of fate can never be denied. Life is never freely given, demands of a deity always have a hefty cost.
A debt of salt and blood must always be paid in full.
***
Silence hung over the ocean. Rose could hear the roaring sounds of battle, but they were muted, unimportant in that moment.
Her blessing had said she could call upon the ocean, but she wasn’t sure to what extent. Was her demand too much?
Sylack had no obligation to help a little girl with her revenge, but she hoped that a life lived in his honour might sway the unassuming god. Or perhaps she was overestimating herself.
Just then, the ocean rumbled. Rose heard a wail, like the horns they used to call out to ships in a storm. The one back home paled in comparison to this.
The rumbling grew louder, a raging force from the depths that raced towards the surface. Then, she felt a well of divine power burst forth, filling her near empty core with the weight of the sea.
Unlike the raging power that had filled her when Nasar died, this energy was comforting. Almost like her father’s embrace. It made little sense, considering that divine energy was far more potent than the mere tide.
However, Rose didn’t question it. She’d called and the ocean answered. The time for grief had passed and would come once more when the battle was won. Now was the time for vengeance.
Skill up!
Divine Attunement 1 > 2
The golden whorl splashed in front of her eyes and she smiled, letting it pass on its own. If anything, it was proof that her prayers had been answered.
As she’d been preparing to before the arrival of that hateful woman, Rose reached for the fishing rod slung across her back. The divine power contained within her flowed through the varnished wood, coating the simple rod in a heavenly hue.
There was one more task to complete before she could deliver justice. Rose pulled on the loose line, untying the hook from her rod. It had delivered death and filled her belly in equal measure, but it was no longer enough for her purposes.
She tossed the curved spike into the ocean, returning it to the world. With a thought, her most potent treasure appeared in her hands.
Serpent’s Kiss ★3 was cool to the touch. She still wondered how she’d managed to harvest such a magnificent treasure without damaging it, but the way the energy within her danced at its appearance, she knew the answer.
The world had intended it to be a dagger, carved from the fang of that fearsome foe. Rose had another purpose in mind.
Divine energy flowed to her fingers and forced past the treasure’s resistance. It bent and groaned under her power, curving on itself until the venomous fang resembled the plain fishing hook she’d thrown into the sea.
The shape was perfect, but Rose couldn’t help but frown. Something was still missing. Running a finger along the treasure’s edge, she pulled it away and her eyes widened at the thin film of green that coated it.
Venom was a potent weapon when coating a dagger—a way to weaken foes you might not have a hope of defeating otherwise. But for a fishing rod, it was a curse. Why would you want to spoil your bounty?
She blasted the blade with divine power, the purifying force burning away all traces of foul venom until all that was left was a curved fang with faint golden cracks running through it.
Even when she pulled her finger away, the traces of divine touch lingered. That wasn’t a fault—the power of her blessing would flow through the rod with casual ease.
Taking the loose end of the line, she threaded it through the fang, her energy burning a hair’s width hole as it went. She sealed the end with a touch and let it hang from the rod.
All of a sudden, divine energy exploded from the tool and she nearly stumbled in surprise.
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