The storm was at its peak. 

Lightning streamed through dark clouds with rolling thunder, and sometimes struck the surface with a loud crack. Rain hammered down in sheets. Gale winds churned the open ocean, propagating waves that swelled higher than any seagoing vessel. 

Flagship Draconia was expertly steered into the bulk of each swell. Her bow split through curl after curl, fighting the wind that rippled the rigging and bundled sails. Only essential crew manned their stations, they could barely hear each other yell over the continuous avalanche of water and rain. 

Unbeknownst to the sailors, Draconis special forces skulked underneath where traveling was more smooth. They had finally located the proud metal vessel that should possess the dragon prince. From below they rose to the stern, where the royal quarters were only several levels higher. A seadragon flew up the hull with a rope ladder bundled on their back... 

Inside his quarters, Syn lay on his round bed in the corner of the room while the ship lurched back and forth. 

He curved his neck around to admire Vispis' amulet, which he devoted to wearing snugly low near his chest. It already felt like too long since he had seen her cute little snout or smelled her familiar scent. But it would be quite some time before he returned to hear her voice again. In the meantime, he only had this single pink scale of hers to remind himself. 

At the foot of his bed Camon sat at attention, ready to serve at a moment's notice. His hornless nubbed head was solely focused on the prince, his golden collar glinted from the flashes outside. His tail rolled up tightly. 

The other servants had retired after safely storing the military baubles from tumbling around the room. Their quarters were attached to the main room, with both theirs and Zeritha's doorway covered by a heavy curtain. 

Tassled fabric brushed aside and a large tiger skarsh lumbered toward the bed. Tirii got on her knees before the prince, apprehensive yet begging acknowledgement. 

Syn continued gazing at his amulet for a moment longer, before turning his head to her. "Hmm? What is it, Tirii?" 

She struggled to look at him with her yellowish eyes. "M-Master, I was wondering..." 

Syn tilted his head as she paused, slowly working her way to what she wanted to ask. 

"...Do you believe what the priest said about the skarsh?" 

Syn blinked in thought, but she continued. 

"...that we're more than ravenous predators?" 

He tried to look her in the eye, but she was too avoidant. "Well yes, I think it's reasonable that skarsh were made for more than that." 

"So... you don't hate skarsh?" Tirii fiddled with her webbed fingers. 

"No? Why would you believe that?" His tail coiled into a ring behind his head. 

"So I thought... after hearing about what you did... that you thought poorly of us." She finally looked Syn in the eye. 

"No, what I did back then was deliver my fury upon evil." He closed his eyes and rested his head on a pillow with a hiss. "And look where that got me." 

Tirii gazed at his reposed form, peaceful but morose. Yet his words had brought her a taste of glimmering hope. The prince didn't despise her, like she thought she deserved. Instead, a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. And if what the priest said was true, she was more than just a devourer. 

The ship lurched, its metal groaned. Thunder roared outside. 

The steel door from the stern balcony fumed, its edges rusted as acid ate away at it. Blasted in, it made a racket as it clattered against the floor and jolted them all from their relaxation. 

A couple of dragons and a pair of skarsh rushed into the room, armored with lightweight seashell suits and armed with polehook spears. They smelled fishy. 

Camon blew fire, ineffective against the orange dragon which charged into him. Tackled to the ground, they grappled each other. 

Syn amplified his voice to call out "Help! Intruders!" 

The second blue dragon sped towards the prince on all fours, hook gauntlet clinking with each stride. 

Tirii tried to intercept, but was speared in the belly by a skarsh and pushed back. 

Syn dodged the first lunge from the dragon, grabbed the gauntlet, and avoided a snap at the neck while he tail-whipped at the shell plating. 

The second skarsh was able to hook his wing and started to pull Syn off balance, his bed provided poor footing. 

Tirii struggled to remove the spear, but the enemy didn't let up and pinned her against the wall. There was nothing within reach other than the pole in her gut, so she was unable to do anything but flail her tail and groan in pain while he held her there.  

Syn was about to lose his footing, pulled by two opponents from his torn up bed, until a steel bolt crammed through a gap in the skarsh's faceplate and he collapsed. 

For a moment, the situation was a stalemate, each of them preoccupied with their opponent. 

"Swadia! Go for help!" Zeritha called out in her doorway. 

Swadia slipped out from her quarters and ran out the main door to get help. 

Zeritha swiftly cranked her talon-mounted crossbow for the next shot, aiming for the skarsh pinning Tirii. He tried to dodge by releasing the spear and hopping back, but her foresight helped predict this. 

He fell to the floor with a thunk. 

Now Tirii pried her new weapon from her belly, teeth clenching and blood gushing as she shambled to help the prince. She thrusted into the blue dragon, which cracked the seashell plating but failed to penetrate his layer of scales. 

Her efforts earned her a splatter of acid, which burned her face. She tripped onto the floor, dropped her weapon, and writhed in sizzling agony. 

Before Zeritha could crank her next shot, another wave of skarsh invaded the room. She sidestepped as a blowdart whizzed by, shot by a goblinshark skarsh. 

Syn used the opening Tirii had made to pull the dragon down into a necklock. He caught a glimpse of Camon, who had been hauled outside and tossed overboard. 

Neckbound blue dug in his hook gauntlet and pulled the hook still in Syn's wing. With a heave, Syn was flipped onto his back, surrounded by skarsh, and muzzle grabbed by the orange dragon. 

The blue dragon now turned to charge Zeritha. Low down and wary of her aim, he opened his wings to block her vision. 

She couldn't foresee a good shot on him, so pulled a throwing dart from her belt and went low as he pounced high. The ship swayed again. She kicked and launched him tumbling against the wall, then flung the dart at his face but it sunk into his wing as he blocked. Before he could recover she pounced on him and planted her bow at the cracked shell. With a thwick, it pierced straight to the heart and ended his struggle with one last wheeze. 

Syn was dragged out the balcony into the torrential rain, which washed away the blood from his torn wings and gauging hooks. 

One of the skarsh was jabbed from the back and pushed over the railing. 

Tirii had recovered from the acid splash and she still had one good eye left, which was plenty to fight. She swung the spearhook into a second skarsh to catch him by the maw and pull him backwards. Blowdarts stung as they delivered their payload into her. A big great white skarsh slammed her back inside to crumple to the floor and, rapidly losing her strength, she lay there as she bled from her gut. 

In the confusion, Syn had gotten loose enough to use his breath to half-freeze a couple of his captors in solidifying ice from the rain. His tail whipped wildly in desperation, but only slapped against their seashell armor. Blowdarts bounced off his scales and he returned an icicle back into that skarsh's long pointy face. 

The great white charged him, tackling him off the balcony and finally plunging him into the tumultuous water. 

Zeritha rushed out of her room, passed Tirii, and reached the balcony as the last assailant dove into the water. She surveyed intensely, hoping to catch a glimpse of gold somewhere in the depths. But she couldn't, and she was a poor swimmer. "Sir!"  She screeched, unable to help the one she'd guarded for most her life. 

Swadia returned with a squad of skarsh as reinforcements, but even as they dove into the ocean she knew that they were too late. 

Inside, Homff the centaur had finally woken up from his deep slumber. He pushed the curtain aside and after he yawned and rubbed groggy eyes he saw the carnage before him. Bodies lie on the floor along with Tirii on the far side. He galloped to her side, she was weak and barely conscious. 

He bent down and propped her up in his arms. "Tirii, what happened?" 

"I couldn't save him." She said weakly, a tear rolling down her face. 

Homff looked her over. Most of her face down to her collarbone were bloody from acid burn, and her belly torn up with blood staining her legs. One of her eyes had melted. 

"You're hurt bad." He leaned her up to one of his tattooed flanks. "Here, take a bite. Heal yourself." 

"But–" she hesitated. 

"Good Master is going to need you again." 

"Are you... sure?" 

"Yeah." He pushed her head into his horse side. 

He felt a pang as teeth bit in, and a burning ache afterward. 

Flesh of her face and collarbone reformed into a bulging scar, and her belly stitched itself back together leaving a mark where the wound once was. Finally, her burst eye squinted shut and when she opened it once again it was like new. 

"Thank you," she said with his blood on her lips. 

*** 

Upwards through the water, one could make out the surface for the waves and lightshow of a thunderstorm. Light streamed through the clouds, bright flashes and spots were distorted by turbulence. It was oddly serene, broken only by the occasional strike of lightning in the remote distance. Rolling thunder was muffled in the water, but the sound carried great distances whenever lightning created a distinct pop. 

Both Camon and Prince Syn were captured. They were carried separately in large nets, Camon's rope, Syn's metal. 

Each flash dimly lit their surroundings. 

A huge whale hauled them through the deep, staying quiet as it had been trained to do. It's body was covered in skarsh tattoos and it wore a body harness with rigging that yoked nets of equipment and supplies to it. Skarsh and seadragons also hung on to conserve their energy. The beast of burden doubled as a medical station. 

Camon was on the front side near its fins while Syn was underneath further towards the tail. He could only see the prince briefly while the whale flexed the right way. 

Their captors had taken him along with Syn, every dragon from the royal quarters, probably to ensure they had the prince. Had his golden collar confused them? Now they were making an escape back to Draconis to deliver them into the clutches of the Onyx King. 

If that happened... Camon wasn't sure what would happen to Syn or himself, but he knew it would be bad. The war might end, but he wasn't sure things would get better. He put his trust fully into Prince Syn, the one who openly fought against injustice. It had to be him who succeeded. 

They were drained of energy; their blood siphoned by lamprey that the skarsh had attached in order to subdue them. The bloodsuckers bit through the softer scales near the creases of their legs or wings, and kept them in a weakened state. 

The blood from Syn's torn wings and light wounds had been depleted, leaving no trail to be followed. He lay limply in his chain net, his eyes closed. 

Camon was little better, but he lay awake thinking of what to do. There wasn't much he could think of, and he was too weak to accomplish anything on his own. 

The life of a slave was that of property. They were to serve the greatest in society, their role in bettering the world. Being under the leash of their masters, they had no free will of their own. But Syn thought differently, he had said so earlier. 

While he observed the lightshow above, Camon suddenly knew what he had to do. His idea was crazy, suicidal even... But Syn was in a metal net and had golden scales, so he should survive. 

Camon waited, biding his time until the right moment to strike. The whale would have to surface for air eventually. 

All his life he had been a slave to masters that cared little for him beyond what he could do for them. Moreover, a dragon brought low into servitude was a rare case that invited even more scrutiny and abuse. Many masters loved to demean a member of the proud dragon race. He learned to behave appropriately, lest punishment befell him. He even took it upon himself to save his fellow slave from pain as well, to compensate for thier failures. He was a protector. 

The whale finally began to rise, as did his anticipation inside him, which gave him much needed strength. He awkwardly climbed around his net, fighting against water drag while better positioning himself. 

When he had been handpicked by the king to serve the prince, he was elated. Syn may have been uncomfortable and ignored them initially, but Camon could see by his reactions that he treated them as more than tools. Even with their short time together, he knew that Syn would not abuse them and was a good master. 

The surface was nearing. Camon winced at the lamprey which tightened its bite while he moved around. This pain was nothing, he steeled himself for the upcoming ordeal. With his tail holding himself taught in the ropes, he caressed his golden collar. 

If he had wished for anything in life, it would be to rid the world of bad masters. All the humiliation and the pain would be worth it if no other slave ever endured what he had. But he could settle with serving a good master for the rest of his time. 

The whale had reached the surface to take its last gasp, so Camon began charging his magic breath. 

Underwater, a dragon's breath could behave differently. For example, blasting lightning backfired on the user, but it would be difficult to kill oneself as the charge would slowly ramp up the prickly pain and allow the dragon to stop before it got too damaging. 

Camon wouldn't stop, he had to create a suitable amount of charge to attract a real bolt from the surging clouds above. Tingling pain graduated to stinging, stinging to burning, burning to shooting pain. As he fought through his brain's repeated urges to quit, he focused on one thing: The Master of all things would warmly embrace a faithful servant. 

The world flashed as webs of light inundated the water. 

The whale screeched with a soul piercing cry. 

Syn woke with a jolt, pain rippling through him. His lampreys twitched and stiffly floated downward. He was dazed and disoriented, his vision wild and unfocused, a horrible ringing in his head. He had to fight for every wheeze, and his mouth tasted like 'burnt'. 

The first thing he could clearly perceive was the smell of blood. He was practically breathing it! A red plume engulfed him. He was relieved realizing it wasn't his own, but then he noticed it spread from the frenzy right next to him. 

Thrashing about nearby, were countless skarsh ravaging the limp body of the whale. Many of them had charring or branching streaks across their bodies, evidence of electrocution. These injuries faded into scars while they chomped and chewed and gulped the blubber and flesh of the whale. Some of the unlucky skarsh or dragon's lifeless bodies floated down into the abyss. 

In the hysteria, his net had unlatched and began to drift away. He let it carry him downward some way before he decided to untangle from it and swim downward, away from it all. 

Unfortunately, the big great white skarsh noticed and gave pursuit into the deep dark, whale blood still seeping from his maw. 

Even down here where he could see nothing the skarsh was able to track him by electical impulses. He couldn't outswim and was caught unawares by every slog and slam the unarmed great white dished out on him. All he could see was black before he received a wallop to the head or rough kick in the side while he attempted to swim away. So he was forced to go upward, where he could at least see his opponent. 

Back up within the stormlight, he could see the shadow of the whale carcass in a red tint some distance away. But looking around... he couldn't find his pursuer. 

Before he could react, the great white torpedoed into him from depths below. Knocked the tide out of him as he was tackled towards the surface. 

Syn was exhausted, he had no fight left. So he slumped over the shoulder as strength failed him. 

Great white hauled him back towards the drifting carcass, back to captivity. Everything was tinted red here. By the time he was back in the midst of them, they had finished gorging on the rent husk. Now they were reorganizing, and recovering important equipment from the baggage they now had to carry. 

Syn was squeezed into another net, but before it was tied a trident thrust through Great white's jaws. He bit down on it and jerked away, his struggle now sounds of whipping and whirling water out of sight. 

The muffled sounds of underwater combat were suddenly everywhere. The clinking of spears, swishing, and thrashing. He heard small roaring avalanches closing in from the surface above. The battle waned and silence followed. He was too tired and tense to move. 

Webbed hands opened the net, revealing Tirii's now puffed face smiling. She gently took hold of him in her arms and uplifted him to the surface, where Draconia awaited alongside other warships. 

The storm had finally subsided.