Rowan had a problem.
A very serious problem.
He was trying to be sneaky.
And Bjorn was eating.
CRUNCH!
Rowan froze.
He slowly turned.
Bjorn stood behind him, chewing a large piece of bread.
Rowan stared.
“Seriously?”
Bjorn blinked.
“What?”
“We’re supposed to be quiet!”
Bjorn swallowed.
“I am quiet.”
CRUNCH!
Rowan closed his eyes.
Lyra crouched beside a moss-covered boulder, studying the rocky coastline ahead.
“By the tides, ye two couldn’t sneak past a sleepin’ turtle.”
Bjorn frowned.
“I could sneak past a turtle.”
Rowan glanced at him.
“Not if you were eating.”
Bjorn considered that.
“…Depends on the turtle.”
Harvey chirped softly from Bjorn’s shoulder.
Lyra raised one finger.
“Shhh!”
Everyone fell silent.
Beyond the rocks, waves crashed against the cliffs of the Never Ending Lark.
The morning sun shimmered across the endless water, painting the rolling waves in shades of blue and silver. Seabirds circled overhead, their cries echoing between the towering stone walls.
Ahead, the coastline curved into a narrow inlet.
Jagged rocks rose from the water like enormous teeth, while thick patches of bright coral clung to the cliffs.
And hidden between two towering boulders—
A cave.
Rowan leaned forward.
“Whoa…”
The entrance was enormous.
Dark water flowed beneath a natural stone arch, disappearing into the shadows beyond. Strange coral formations covered the walls, glowing faintly in shades of pink, purple, and blue.
A narrow wooden walkway stretched from the rocky shore into the darkness.
Lyra unfolded the parchment they’d discovered at the Rusted Anchor Tavern.
She studied the drawing.
Then the cave.
Then the drawing again.
“Aye,” she murmured. “This be the place.”
Rowan grinned.
“We found it!”
Bjorn stepped forward.
“Great! Let’s go.”
Lyra grabbed the back of his tunic.
“Hold yer horses, warrior.”
Bjorn stopped.
“What?”
She pointed toward the cave entrance.
Two figures stood beside the wooden walkway.
Both wore dark coats and carried curved swords.
One leaned against a barrel.
The other paced slowly beside a stack of crates.
Rowan’s smile faded.
“Guards?”
Lyra nodded.
“Aye.”
Bjorn grinned.
“Good. We can ask them what’s inside.”
Lyra stared at him.
“Ask them?”
“Yeah.”
“Ye think two armed guards standin’ outside a hidden cave are gonna tell ye all their secrets?”
Bjorn shrugged.
“Worth a try.”
Rowan looked toward the entrance.
The guards were talking.
One laughed loudly.
The other kicked a pebble into the water.
Rowan frowned.
“Maybe they’re just protecting something.”
Lyra nodded.
“Exactly.”
Bjorn grinned.
“So we go see what.”
Lyra sighed.
“Quietly.”
She looked directly at Bjorn.
“Without eatin’.”
Bjorn slowly lowered his bread.
“…Fine.”
They waited until the guards wandered toward the far side of the walkway.
Then Lyra led them down a narrow path between the rocks.
The ground was slippery with seaweed, and tiny crabs scuttled between shallow pools.
Rowan stepped carefully.
For once, he was determined not to fall.
He placed one foot on a flat stone.
Then another.
Then—
SQUISH!
His boot sank into a patch of slimy green algae.
Rowan froze.
Lyra glanced back.
“Careful.”
Rowan nodded.
“I’m good.”
He lifted his foot.
The algae stretched.
Then snapped.
FWIP!
Rowan stumbled backward.
Bjorn caught him.
Again.
Rowan sighed.
“Why does everything want me to fall?”
Bjorn grinned.
“Maybe the ground doesn’t like you.”
Lyra shook her head.
“Come on.”
They slipped beneath the wooden walkway and followed a narrow ledge along the cliff.
Above them, the guards continued talking.
“…told you the shipment was coming today.”
“Then where is it?”
“How should I know?”
“Captain’s gonna be furious.”
Rowan glanced up.
Captain?
He looked toward Lyra.
She had heard it too.
Her expression sharpened.
They continued along the ledge until they reached a small opening beneath the main cave entrance.
Water trickled through it.
The passage was narrow.
Very narrow.
Bjorn stared.
“You’ve gotta be kidding.”
Lyra smiled.
“What’s wrong?”
Bjorn pointed.
“I’m not fitting through there.”
Rowan grinned.
“Sure you will.”
Bjorn looked at him.
“Have you seen me?”
Rowan nodded.
“Unfortunately.”
Bjorn frowned.
Lyra crouched beside the opening.
“It’s our best way in.”
She slipped through first.
Rowan followed.
Then Bjorn.
For several seconds, everything went smoothly.
Until—
“Uh…”
Rowan stopped crawling.
Behind him, Bjorn had stopped moving.
“Bjorn?”
“…Yeah?”
“You okay?”
A pause.
“…I’m stuck.”
Rowan closed his eyes.
Lyra’s laughter echoed from the darkness ahead.
“By the tides!”
Bjorn grunted.
“It’s not funny!”
Rowan tried pulling his arm.
Bjorn tried pushing.
Nothing happened.
Harvey fluttered above them, his icy feathers illuminating the narrow passage.
Rowan looked back.
“Okay. On three.”
Bjorn nodded.
“One…”
“Two…”
“Three!”
Rowan pulled.
Bjorn pushed.
Harvey chirped.
And suddenly—
POP!
Bjorn shot forward like a cork from a bottle.
“WHOA!”
He crashed into Rowan.
Rowan crashed into Lyra.
All three tumbled into the cave.
THUD!
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Bjorn groaned.
“…Made it.”
Lyra slowly lifted her head.
“Next time, we’re takin’ the front door.”
The cave opened into a vast underground chamber.
Rowan stared in amazement.
“Whoa…”
The walls shimmered with enormous coral formations, their glowing branches stretching toward the ceiling like frozen trees.
Pools of clear blue water dotted the rocky floor.
Stalactites hung overhead, dripping steadily into the darkness below.
And scattered throughout the cavern—
Crates.
Barrels.
Weapons.
Treasure chests.
Dozens of them.
Bjorn’s eyes widened.
“Okay…”
Rowan looked around.
“This is definitely a hideout.”
Lyra nodded.
“Aye. And not a small one.”
Wooden platforms had been built along the cavern walls, connected by rope bridges and narrow staircases.
Lanterns flickered beside stacked supplies.
Farther ahead, voices echoed through the chamber.
Rowan crouched behind a barrel.
Bjorn knelt beside him.
Lyra slipped into the shadows.
Harvey landed silently on a nearby rock.
Rowan peeked over the barrel.
Several rough-looking sailors gathered around a wooden table.
One wore a black bandana.
Another had a thick red beard.
A third polished a curved sword while listening to the others argue.
“I’m tellin’ ye, the captain wants the old charts!”
The red-bearded sailor slammed his fist onto the table.
“We’ve already got charts!”
“Not the right ones!”
The man with the bandana pointed toward a stack of parchment.
“The ones from the western wreck. The ones with the strange symbols!”
Rowan’s ears perked up.
Strange symbols?
Lyra glanced toward him.
She had heard it too.
The sailor continued.
“Someone’s payin’ good coin for anything connected to the Depthcallers.”
Lyra froze.
Rowan noticed.
He leaned toward her.
“Depthcallers?”
Lyra slowly nodded.
“Old stories,” she whispered.
“What kind of stories?”
She hesitated.
“Not the kind ye tell children before bed.”
Bjorn grinned.
“Sounds fun.”
Lyra gave him a look.
Bjorn shrugged.
“What?”
Before Rowan could ask another question, a loud voice echoed from the opposite side of the cavern.
“ATTENTION, FOOLISH SEA DOGS!”
Rowan froze.
His eyes widened.
“…No.”
Bjorn slowly turned.
Lyra closed her eyes.
“Please tell me that ain’t who I think it is.”
A figure stepped onto a wooden platform above the chamber.
He wore an enormous black pirate hat decorated with three feathers, a red coat far too large for his body, and a wooden sword tucked into his belt.
He threw his arms wide.
“BEHOLD!”
Rowan stared.
Snatch.
Of course.
Behind him stood Thorncoat, wearing a crooked eye patch and a necklace made from seashells.
Crumble leaned against a barrel, chewing something.
Snatch lifted his chin proudly.
“We are the fearsome, the unstoppable, the legendary—”
He paused dramatically.
“CORALLEAF CREW!”
Silence.
Then one of the sailors coughed.
Another scratched his head.
The red-bearded sailor frowned.
“Who?”
Snatch’s smile twitched.
“The Coralleaf Crew!”
The sailor stared.
“…Never heard of ye.”
Snatch gasped.
“IMPOSSIBLE!”
Thorncoat leaned toward him.
“Maybe we should’ve printed posters.”
Snatch hissed.
“Not now!”
Crumble raised one hand.
“I still like Seaweed Syndicate better.”
Snatch whirled.
“WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING THE NAME AGAIN!”
Rowan buried his face in his hands.
Bjorn’s shoulders shook with laughter.
Lyra stared at the ceiling.
“By the tides…”
Snatch pointed dramatically toward the gathered sailors.
“We have come to offer our extraordinary talents to your magnificent criminal enterprise!”
The red-bearded sailor crossed his arms.
“What talents?”
Snatch grinned.
“Stealth!”
Thorncoat nodded nervously.
“Disguises!”
Crumble swallowed.
“Snacks.”
Snatch slowly turned.
“…Crumble.”
“What?”
The sailor with the bandana looked unimpressed.
“Can ye fight?”
Snatch drew his wooden sword.
“HA!”
He swung it dramatically.
WHOOSH!
The sword slipped from his hand.
It flew across the chamber.
CLONK!
And struck a hanging lantern.
The lantern swung wildly.
Snatch froze.
The sailors stared.
Crumble took another bite.
“…Nice.”
Rowan covered his mouth.
He couldn’t help it.
A tiny laugh escaped.
“Pfft!”
Lyra’s eyes widened.
“Rowan!”
Too late.
Snatch turned.
His eyes narrowed.
He scanned the cavern.
Then spotted Rowan peeking over the barrel.
For one glorious moment, nobody moved.
Then—
“YOU!”
Rowan winced.
“…Hi.”
Snatch’s face turned bright red.
“THE WINDNARU!”
Every sailor in the chamber turned.
Bjorn sighed.
“Well, there goes sneaky.”
Lyra drew a small vial from her satchel.
“Run?”
Rowan grinned nervously.
“Run.”
The red-bearded sailor stood.
“GET THEM!”
The cavern erupted into chaos.
Sailors charged across the wooden platforms.
Rowan leapt from behind the barrel.
“Wind!”
FWOOOSH!
A powerful gust swept across the chamber, sending loose parchment flying through the air.
Several sailors stumbled backward.
One crashed into a stack of crates.
CRASH!
Bjorn drew his axe.
“Finally!”
He charged toward the nearest attacker.
CLANG!
Steel struck steel.
The sailor staggered backward.
Bjorn grinned.
“Now that’s more like it!”
Lyra ducked beneath a swinging sword and hurled a small glass vial.
PFFFT!
A cloud of purple smoke exploded across the platform.
The sailor coughed.
“What in the—”
He sneezed.
Then sneezed again.
Then sneezed so hard he fell backward into a barrel.
SPLASH!
Rowan laughed.
“Nice!”
Lyra winked.
“Pepperroot’s good for more than swamp monsters.”
Above them, Snatch pointed dramatically.
“CORALLEAF CREW! ATTACK!”
Thorncoat drew a tiny dagger.
His hand trembled.
“Are we sure about this?”
Crumble looked down at the chaos.
“…I think I’ll stay here.”
Snatch grabbed him.
“NO!”
He shoved Crumble forward.
Crumble stumbled.
Tripped.
And rolled down the wooden staircase.
THUD!
THUD!
THUD!
He landed in a pile of fishing nets.
“…Ow.”
Bjorn burst out laughing.
Rowan dodged another sailor.
“Bjorn! Little help?”
Bjorn turned.
“Coming!”
He swung his axe.
CLANG!
The sailor’s weapon flew from his hands.
Rowan thrust out his palm.
FWIP!
A small gust sent the sailor tumbling into a stack of empty barrels.
CRASH!
Rowan grinned.
“Thanks!”
Bjorn nodded.
“Anytime!”
But Lyra wasn’t watching the fight anymore.
Her eyes had settled on a wooden chest near the far wall.
It sat beneath a hanging lantern, surrounded by rolled maps and several strange objects wrapped in cloth.
A symbol had been carved into its lid.
Three curling waves surrounding a hollow circle.
Lyra’s expression sharpened.
“Rowan!”
He turned.
“What?”
“Keep ’em busy!”
Rowan blinked.
“Wait, what?”
But Lyra was already moving.
She darted between two crates, slipped beneath a swinging rope, and climbed onto the nearest platform.
Rowan stared.
“…Okay!”
He turned toward the approaching sailors.
Then grinned.
“Alright, who’s next?”
Three men charged.
Rowan raised both hands.
A powerful gust erupted around him.
FWOOOOOSH!
The sailors flew backward.
One landed in a pile of nets.
Another crashed into a barrel.
The third stumbled straight into Snatch.
THUD!
Both collapsed.
Snatch groaned.
“WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?!”
Harvey swooped overhead.
His wings flashed blue.
FROOOOSH!
A sheet of frost spread across the wooden walkway.
Two sailors stepped onto it.
Their boots slipped.
“WHOA!”
They slid helplessly across the platform.
Then crashed into a stack of crates.
CRASH!
Bjorn laughed.
“Good one, Harvey!”
The Frost Phoenix chirped proudly.
Meanwhile, Lyra reached the chest.
She crouched beside it.
A small iron lock secured the lid.
She examined it.
Then smiled.
“Easy.”
She removed a thin metal tool from her satchel.
A moment later—
CLICK!
The lock opened.
Lyra lifted the lid.
Inside lay several rolled parchments, a handful of strange coins, and a small wooden box decorated with the same curling-wave symbol.
She opened the box.
Her eyes widened.
A narrow piece of dark stone rested inside.
Its surface was covered in tiny carved markings.
Lyra carefully lifted it.
“Depthcaller…”
She turned the stone over.
On the back was a faded drawing.
A whistle.
Long and narrow, with curling patterns along its sides.
Beneath the drawing, several symbols had been scratched into the stone.
Lyra frowned.
She couldn’t read them.
But she recognized the shape.
Her mother had once told her stories about whistles that could call across the deepest waters.
Whistles that no ordinary sailor dared blow.
Lyra swallowed.
“So the stories be true…”
A voice sounded behind her.
“HEY!”
Lyra turned.
A sailor stood at the top of the stairs.
His sword gleamed in the lantern light.
“What’re ye doin’ with that?!”
Lyra smiled sweetly.
“Borrowin’.”
The sailor charged.
Lyra ducked.
His sword struck the chest.
CLANG!
She slipped beneath his arm.
Then kicked the back of his knee.
THUD!
He stumbled forward.
Lyra snatched the stone and several parchments.
“Thanks, mate!”
She leapt from the platform.
“ROWAN!”
Rowan turned.
Lyra landed beside him.
“Time to go!”
Bjorn glanced toward the entrance.
“Already?”
Lyra nodded.
“Aye!”
Bjorn sighed.
“Just when it was getting fun.”
Rowan laughed.
“Come on!”
He raised both hands.
The wind gathered around him.
Leaves, dust, and loose parchment swirled across the cavern.
The sailors shielded their faces.
Rowan grinned.
“Everybody hold on!”
Lyra grabbed Bjorn’s arm.
Bjorn grabbed Harvey.
Harvey squawked.
Rowan thrust his palms forward.
“WIND—GO!”
BOOOOOM!
A tremendous gust tore through the cavern.
Barrels rolled.
Crates toppled.
Lanterns swung wildly.
And the three travelers were propelled toward the narrow passage.
“WHOOOOOA!”
They shot across the rocky floor.
Rowan stumbled.
Bjorn grabbed him.
Lyra leapt over a fallen crate.
Together, they disappeared into the tunnel.
Behind them, Snatch struggled to his feet.
His pirate hat hung crookedly over one eye.
His coat was torn.
His wooden sword lay broken at his feet.
He raised one trembling fist.
“THIS IS NOT OVER, WINDNARU!”
Thorncoat crawled from beneath a barrel.
“Captain?”
Snatch turned.
“WHAT?!”
Thorncoat pointed toward the ceiling.
“…The lantern.”
Snatch looked up.
The lantern above him was swinging wildly.
Back.
Forth.
Back.
Forth.
Then—
CRACK!
The rope snapped.
Snatch’s eyes widened.
“…Oh.”
CLONK!
The lantern landed squarely on his hat.
A cloud of dust rose.
Crumble slowly climbed out of the fishing nets.
He looked at Snatch.
Then Thorncoat.
Then the broken stall of crates and barrels.
“…So.”
He scratched his head.
“Seaweed Syndicate?”
Snatch screamed.
By the time Rowan, Bjorn, and Lyra emerged from the cave, the sun had begun to dip toward the horizon.
The Never Ending Lark shimmered beneath the golden light.
Waves crashed against the rocks.
Seabirds cried overhead.
And for the first time in what felt like hours, nobody was trying to attack them.
Rowan collapsed onto a flat stone.
“Whew!”
Bjorn dropped beside him.
“That was fun.”
Rowan stared.
“Fun?!”
Bjorn grinned.
“Yeah!”
Lyra leaned against a boulder, catching her breath.
“Ye two have a strange idea o’ entertainment.”
Harvey landed on Bjorn’s shoulder.
His feathers glowed softly.
Rowan looked toward Lyra.
“So…”
She glanced at him.
“Aye?”
“Did you find anything?”
A grin slowly spread across her face.
“Oh, I found somethin’.”
She reached into her satchel and removed the dark stone.
Rowan leaned forward.
Bjorn crouched beside him.
Lyra held the stone toward the fading sunlight.
The carved whistle shimmered faintly.
Rowan’s eyes widened.
“Whoa…”
Bjorn scratched his head.
“What is it?”
Lyra studied the markings.
“An old Depthcaller relic.”
Rowan blinked.
“Depthcaller?”
Lyra nodded.
“Aye. Ancient folk, if the stories be true. They lived beneath the waves long before most sailors ever crossed the Lark.”
Bjorn frowned.
“People lived underwater?”
“That’s what the legends say.”
Rowan leaned closer.
“And the whistle?”
Lyra traced the carving with one finger.
“Me ma used to tell stories about ’em. Whistles that could call things from the deep.”
Rowan swallowed.
“What kind of things?”
Lyra hesitated.
Then smiled faintly.
“Depends on which story ye believe.”
Bjorn grinned.
“Sounds useful.”
Lyra shook her head.
“Or dangerous.”
Rowan looked toward the endless water.
The sun was nearly touching the horizon.
Far beyond the cliffs, the waves rolled peacefully beneath the golden sky.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out Sorin’s compass.
The needle spun once.
Then settled west.
Rowan smiled.
“Guess we’re getting closer.”
Lyra nodded.
“Aye.”
Bjorn stretched his arms.
“So what’s next?”
Lyra unfolded one of the parchments she’d taken from the chest.
It was old and faded, covered in strange markings and curling lines.
Near the bottom, a small symbol had been drawn.
Three waves surrounding a hollow circle.
Beside it was a name.
MIRELLA.
Lyra’s expression changed.
Rowan noticed.
“What?”
She stared at the parchment.
Then slowly smiled.
“Well, well…”
Bjorn leaned closer.
“Who’s Mirella?”
Lyra tucked the parchment into her satchel.
“Someone who might know how to read these markings.”
Rowan grinned.
“Great! Where do we find her?”
Lyra looked toward Larkshore.
Her smile widened.
“At a gamblin’ table.”
Bjorn blinked.
“A gambling table?”
“Aye.”
Rowan frowned.
“Is that good?”
Lyra laughed.
“Depends on how lucky ye’re feelin’, wind-boy.”
She started walking.
Bjorn followed.
Rowan hurried after them.
Harvey spread his wings and soared overhead.
Together, the four travelers made their way back toward Larkshore.
Behind them, the coral caves faded into the gathering shadows.
And far beneath the Never Ending Lark, a strange sound echoed through the darkness.
A low, distant hum.
Like a song carried through the water.
Deep within a forgotten ruin, ancient symbols began to glow.
One by one.
Until the darkness shimmered with pale blue light.
And somewhere beyond the reach of the sun, something stirred.
Waiting for the sound of a whistle.