The worm's long, sinuous body twitched beneath the faint glow of the Spirit Tower's cursed light. Its slick, blue-green scales were torn and burned in several places — parts of its flesh still smoked from the impact. One of its fins had been scorched clean off, and the side of its jaw hung loose, revealing pulsing, bloodied tissue beneath. Now, it lay half-curled on the cracked stones near the Crypt, its coils spasming weakly as ghouls circled it, their claws twitching in anticipation.
It hadn't spoken since being captured.
Vanthelis stood silently, his eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the creature squirm. Beside him stood Ishlar, his arms relaxed but his expression hard and unreadable. Dorothy sat a few steps behind, her pale hands folded neatly on her lap, while Jayson and Kristine leaned forward, eyes wide with a mix of awe and disgust.
The silence stretched long. Only the faint clatter of bones from nearby ghouls and the steady, ragged breathing of the worm filled the air.
"You will speak," Vanthelis said flatly.
The worm let out a wet rasp. It turned one eye toward him, the iris milky from pain. Its tongue lolled, then snapped back into its mouth. It hissed low, then shut its maw tight.
Vanthelis nodded once toward a ghoul. The creature understood. It moved forward, silent as death, and began to claw into the worm's side with steady, methodical patience. There was no rush, no rage, just the scrape of rotting fingers through wet scale and flesh.
The worm shuddered violently.
"Speak," Vanthelis said again, his voice calm, like a teacher waiting for a student to answer.
"I… will not…" the worm croaked, then grit what passed for its teeth.
Another slice. More spasms. The worm's tail thrashed, but weakly.
"You came here not to scout," Vanthelis muttered. "You came with purpose."
The worm hissed again, but this time the defiance had weakened. Its voice trembled. "You… don't understand… what you've ruined…"
Vanthelis stepped forward slowly, squatting beside the dying beast. His shadow fell over it, and his voice dropped low. "Then explain. Make me understand."
The worm remained quiet. But when the ghoul began to chew into the base of its fin, it finally broke.
"There was a plan," it said, voice strained. "The murlocs… the chaos… they were to cause distractions on the pirate isles. Smoke, death, screams… to mask the real purpose."
Vanthelis tilted his head slightly. "And that purpose?"
The worm bared its teeth again, but its eyes wavered.
"There is… an orb," it rasped.
Ishlar's expression hardened.
"What orb?" Vanthelis asked sharply.
"I… don't know," the worm spat with what strength remained. "The queen said that it is in the Pirate Isles… It was taken by the traitor, The Queen wants it back. That's all I know."
Dorothy's eyes narrowed. "Why use the murlocs?"
"They were expendable," the worm hissed. "Dumb… obedient… and no one suspects them."
"Yet here you are," Vanthelis said, standing again. "And now your queen's plan is exposed."
"You've doomed yourselves," the worm snarled, trembling. "Now she'll come herself. Or worse—"
Its words stopped as a ghoul clamped down on its face, silencing it in wet, crunching bites. Flesh was ripped, bones were broken, and soon there was nothing but a twitching mess of meat and scale. The ghoul slurped up the last of it, then turned to Vanthelis, waiting silently for more orders.
But Vanthelis didn't speak.
He stood there, thinking.
An orb. Chaos on the Pirate Isles. A distraction for something more complex more desolate. And now, because of them, that distraction was gone — and the Queen would know.
"Did we do the right thing?" Kristine asked quietly behind him.
"No," Ishlar said, his voice low. "We did what we had to."
That was when the alarm in Vanthelis's system pulsed red.
He didn't move, but his eyes snapped toward the coastline.
"Everyone," he said sharply, "stay close."
Acolytes froze, ghouls bristled, and the children instinctively drew nearer to the Spirit Towers.
From the shadowed coastline, waves began to crash unnaturally — not in rhythm with the wind, but as if something massive was rising from beneath.
And then they saw them.
Ten towering figures emerged from the sea — hulking, armor-plated monsters with fins like serrated blades and wide, menacing jaws. Their skin was a mix of green and black, their eyes glowing blue. Each one walked upright, shoulders hunched, arms dragging massive coral-forged weapons.
They didn't roar.
They didn't speak.
They just stood — glaring at the undead structures like an army awaiting command.
Behind them slithered a wall of movement — hundreds of worms, smaller than the one from earlier, but faster and more aggressive-looking. Their eyes were locked forward.
And then came five creatures unlike the rest — leaner, sleeker, with tridents in hand. Their gait was elegant, but deadly. Scales shimmered like obsidian, and their helmets were adorned with shells shaped like twisted crowns. They walked slowly, without fear, their eyes watching the Spirit Towers.
Ishlar's blade was already drawn. "This is more than a scouting party."
"They're here to send a message," Vanthelis said softly.
Kristine swallowed. "What do we do?"
Vanthelis didn't answer immediately. He stared out at the coast, then turned to Ishlar. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them disappeared — as if only the two of them existed.
No words were needed.
They both knew what will need to be done.