Chapter Text
It’s the fourth time this week that Kayn has woken up to thunder. Of course, the Ionian sea should never be described as kind to its travellers, but one would expect the weather would have tired itself out before ruining yet another of the pirate’s mornings. Alas, the world is not so considerate.
Charcoal coloured clouds move fast across the horizon, swirling in shapes that spell another terrible storm for any and all ships that have the misfortune of trying to travel by sea. And Kayn is on lookout duty. Again.
So here he is, nearly drenched aboard The Shadow Order and overlooking a whole lot of nothing. All the while enjoying the tired sensation of the howling wind whipping stinging droplets onto his skin. Thanks a lot, Zed.
Although it’s rare the crew ever has an entirely smooth journey, the last two weeks have been especially tiring for all of them, unnaturally troublesome downpour having followed them since they departed from land—as though having taken personal offence to them travelling through its waters.
And though Kayn and the rest of the crew are not afraid of getting a little wet, the water itself is not the issue. Rather, it’s the winds. The crashes of thunder and lightning. The strength of the waves that beat at their wooden hull, threatening to drag anyone stupid enough to challenge it down to their watery tombs.
Even Captain Zed has been surprisingly on edge these last few days as the ship ventures deeper into the storm. Of course, their run in with the Golden Demon a few weeks back is partially responsible for that, especially now when they are acutely feeling the absences of the men whose lives were stolen during the encounter.
As far as technicalities go, the ship is intended to port in Noxus in the next week, threats to Ionia’s safety having driven the crew there to determine the reality of several rumours themselves. At this point, however, Kayn is unsure that they’re even on route to Noxus at all. It’s a challenge to see anything beyond the horizon, after all, and most of the last forty eight hours has seen the whole crew working overtime just to keep the ship afloat—never mind double checking their navigation. And that’s when they aren’t being ordered below deck during especially aggressive weather.
And yet, someone needs to keep an eye out for other dangers, and Kayn will be damned if they go down for something as stupid as a Noxian ship shooting them first. Even if he still plans on complaining about it the entire time.
Your stupidity never ceases to amaze me.
The familiar voice resonates inside his skull, and Kayn greets it with a scoff as he continues to stare into the distance, watching indigo waves shift beneath his one eyed gaze with a calmness unsuitable for the dangers of the storm.
“I’m stronger than a few petty waves.”
He can feel his left eye roll beneath his eyepatch, Rhaast ensuring his disapproval is known. Not that Kayn is planning on doing anything about it, of course.
Then again, it’s not as though Kayn hasn’t noticed the winds getting stronger instead of weaker, hasn’t felt the cold wet splats against his shoulder change to a steady sting beneath the cascade of darkening clouds, hasn’t noticed his black and blue braid whipping harshly against damp bare skin…
It’s not lost on Kayn that perhaps just this once, Rhaast may have a point. The storm hasn’t shown any sign of letting up since the last time his feet kissed land, and while that may not be exactly new for sea travel, he’s been part of Zed’s crew long enough to recognize that this is a far cry from any ordinary hurricane or superstorm they’ve had to pass through before.
And if Rhaast doesn’t think so either…
Still, Kayn will not allow Captain Zed to be the sole person above deck. Not because he’s stupid, as Rhaast seems to insist, but because he’s loyal, especially to the man who’d saved his life now over a decade ago, who gave him purpose and raised him like his own son when no one else was willing to give him a chance. Wherever Zed goes, he goes too. Even if that means getting drenched in cold water trying to hold out in a storm.
Despite all their training and despite the fact that he is one of the youngest on Zed’s crew, Kayn is well aware that in comparison to him, the other crew members are weak. It makes sense for them to hide, but he is different. He is better. And Zed needs him to do what they can’t, even if the old man is too proud to admit it.
It’s your funeral.
“Our funeral, Rhaast. Besides, you and I both know you wouldn’t let me die on you so easily.”
Maybe not, but there are some forces even I cannot control.
An eyebrow raises in intrigue, but as usual the Darkin’s ancient knowledge is kept just out of his reach—in a way which Kayn is near certain is purposeful.
“Forces, you say?”
Like any good Ionian, Kayn is well aware of the mystical forces which are alleged to bring balance to the world. The gods and spirits still roaming Runeterra even now, though their names have long since faded into myth and legend, as is natural for creatures whose deaths are long overdue. He knows of the Kindred of his birth land of course, the fox spirits of Ionia, the protector of sailors who Zed often gave thanks to, and the harrowings rumoured to steal the souls of more men lost to the sea each year. But despite the superstition of his fellow men, Kayn himself has never thought them to be more than that, a comfort in the face of death, a beacon of hope for mortals that have nothing else to reach for.
As per usual, the voice in his head is no further help, and it doesn’t take long for a sudden lurch of the boat to distract him from it entirely as the young man stumbles and grabs at the railing instead.
Soon after, he spots a lone figure approaching through the mist, white hair blown up by the wind enough that Kayn actually needs to hold back a snicker when his face comes fully into view.
“Captain Zed,”
He greets, smirk pulling at his cheeks.
“Trying something new?”
“I see the rain has not yet washed away your sense of humour, my sharp tongued disciple.”
Zed responds dryly with a roll of his eyes. Perhaps the rest of the crew would think he was annoyed by Kayn’s constant prodding, but after so long travelling with him, Kayn knows to recognize it as something almost akin to amusement. As close to it as the old man could get, anyways.
“Well, Captain, you’ve always taught me that even the sharpest blade will dull without use.”
Many of the other disciples would dive overboard before they risked speaking to Zed as Kayn did, but that was yet another thing the young pirate relished in. Much as he got along with them most of the time, even saw them as close to a fucked up family as he could see anyone as, he never tried to hide the fact that he still believed himself to be on an entirely different level. He’d proved it back when Zed first found him, and he’s proven it time and time again since.
As such, the bond he and Zed shared was different, and Kayn could speak to him playfully without worry of punishment. And as much as it may come off in the form of arrogance and brashness a lot of the time, he did hold such a privilege with a pride he would not relinquish for anything.
Your loyalty will one day be your undoing.
Says the one who hopes to take my body.
Precisely.
Kayn doesn’t argue with the voice in his head further, knowing by now that most of Rhaast’s talk is just that, talk. Instead he turns his attention back to Zed and tries not to think about how soaked his pants are.
“Well, Captain? Anything new to report?”
“Heart of the storm’s moving closer. At this point it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to safely pass through it. I’ve asked the rest of the crew to prepare to batten down the hatches and drop the anchor. We’ll be better off waiting out the worst of it.”
The older man sighs, glancing out at the waves while Kayn takes in the exhaustion in his features. Not that it ever really meant much with Zed. From what Kayn knew about the man, he’d seen enough in his life to know that a bit of fatigue never stopped him. He’d been through enough to be left on edge pretty much all the time.
And Kayn knew he certainly did not help with that.
“Sounds reasonable enough to me.”
“Anyone without a task is already below deck for the night. I suggest you join them.”
Suggest of course, is not really a suggestion. Kayn knows this by now.
“Alright. You sure you don’t need any more help?”
“We have it covered. Just get some rest. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”
While it’s somewhat unlike Zed to be so lenient with him, especially when Kayn is volunteering to do more work than he has to, Kayn is aware that Zed worries about him too. And admittedly, he knows as well as Zed does that he could use the rest.
“You worry too much, old man. But fine, if you insist, I’ll see you at sunrise.”
Kayn carefully readjusts the scythe slung over his shoulder, making sure the fishing net wrapped around its handle is still snuggly in place and that Rhaast’s eye is just uncovered enough to scare away anyone who might try and get their grubby hands on him.
Not because Kayn worries anyone besides himself could successfully steal or wield Rhaast, but because he knows anyone that might so much as attempt to would very quickly wind up dead. And lord knows they do not need a repetition of what happened to Nakuri, especially now.
When the pirate is satisfied with his weapon’s state, he leaves Zed to move below deck, careful not to slip on the slickened wood on the way to the trap door that leads below.
He’s still drenched from head to toe, and by the time he finally reaches the room that serves as his own, he’s more than a little eager to wring out his hair and strip from the dripping baggy pants he’s had to stand in all afternoon.
Resting Rhaast against the wall beside his cot, he does just that, letting the soaked garments fall to the ground and drying some of the droplets from his skin with the spare cloth he keeps in the basket by his bed. He’ll hang them up later, he can’t be bothered right now.
Beginning to undo his braid to try and dry at least some of his long hair, his eye moves back to Rhaast.
“What are you looking at?”
The darkin does not answer as Kayn threads calloused hands through raven coloured locks, gently squeezing out the worst of the water with the towel he used to dry himself off.
“No comment?”
At first, it had been strange getting used to the Darkin’s constant gaze, either through the eye of his scythe or directly through the eye Kayn kept covered with his patch. But Kayn has never been the modest type, and by now he’d grown more than used to the thing leering at him while he changed. He’d never been one for undergarments, after all, and usually slept naked unless it was especially cold. So sitting on his bed and rebraiding his now at least marginally drier hair with his dick out was a relatively normal routine by now, minus the lack of smartass lewd comments by Rhaast.
“I’m almost insulted. Here I am giving you a whole show, and you can’t even spare me a simple compliment.”
I hadn’t realized you’d become so needy.
Kayn scoffs, eyeing the scythe and finally slipping off his eyepatch now that they’re alone, revealing the discoloured eye Rhaast had taken over when he’d first claimed him.
“Needy? Please. Just trying to offer up some of the attention you always seem so desperate for.”
Much like he’d come to know Zed beyond the obvious meanings behind his words, overtime Kayn had grown more familiar with Rhaast’s mind as well. Not simply because it was, to an extent, a shared space between the two of them, but because as much as he might try to hide his true thoughts, Kayn has become better at reading the Darkin’s patterns, and understanding through that, when he’s hiding something.
Like say, now.
Admittedly, it does bother Kayn slightly, how secretive he’d been earlier, how obviously he was hiding something from Kayn about the origins of the storm, but Kayn knows better than anyone that Rhaast is not one to reveal anything for free. Especially not when he hopes Kayn won’t notice.
By now, his hair has been rebraided in full, and Kayn has begun to feel the weariness soaked into his bones. With wind this strong, even just standing in place had taken enough effort that sleep would be very welcome whenever it came.
Not bothering to redress himself, Kayn clumsily throws a cover over the lighted lilie serving as the main light source to his room, and hastily pulls himself into bed.
“Well then, goodnight Rhaast.”
Night, mutt.
As it turns out, ‘sunrise’ is not nearly as far off as Kayn had hoped.
Less than four hours since he found sleep have passed when he’s awoken by a loud thump and the crash of Rhaast falling atop his sheets.
At first, groggy and still half asleep, he assumes it to have been the scythe’s own doing—obnoxious as he could sometimes be.
Then as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he notices more of his possessions that have fallen from their places, feels the ship lurch to the side and nearly falls out of bed himself—and realizes that something must be wrong.
This feeling is only heightened when the pirate realizes, faint as it may be, that he’s pretty sure he can hear screaming coming from upstairs.
Shit.
Quickly throwing on a new pair of pants and retying his eyepatch, Kayn wastes no time grabbing Rhaast and rushing up the stairs to the ship’s main deck to see what the hell’s going on.
He’s momentarily stunned into silence by the sight that greets him.
For one, the rain is still coming down hard and heavy against them, fog so thick in the dark that it’s hard to make out two steps in front of him. Hell, he can barely hear anything over the god awful thunder and buckets of water the sky continues the hammer down on them.
Luckily, the pirate is well accustomed to navigating through shadow by now.
The more concerning sight of course, is that looking out past the thick veils of water, Kayn can see something pressing up beneath the ship. No, not beneath. Around it. Like it’s consuming it.
Dozens of thickly suckered appendages glowing a sickly green of the ocean creep up the ship’s hull. Squeezing. Crushing. Threatening to capsize them with each lurch of the ship every time a tendril moves.
What the hell is that thing? And where the fuck is everyone else?
Kayn has to catch himself against the ship’s rigging as another too-large wave crashes against the boat’s stern.
He can see the outline of someone struggling to stay standing, desperately pulling at the sails while the wind threatens to topple him with every thrust.
Clinging hard to the rope, Kayn pulls himself closer step by step until he can make the figure out to be Royce.
“Where’s Zed?”
He shouts over the wind, as the ship’s sails seem to spin every direction but the one the crewman is trying to direct them to.
“Don’t know.”
The man grunts back, nearly falling over as another gust of wind surges against them both. It’s obvious his efforts to steer the ship are doing nothing.
“Get below deck. You’ll get yourself killed for nothing.”
“But—”
“I am the second in command of this ship. When Zed’s gone, you listen to me. Get to the hold, now.”
Reluctantly, Kayn watches Royce comply, stumbling back the way Kayn came and leaving him alone to find Zed and figure out what the fuck to do before this thing drowns them all.
His hands shift to grab onto the ship’s closest mast, clenching splintering wood and steadying himself against the howling wind. The sky only seems to darken more as he lies in wait, watching waves eagerly licking up the sides of the ship and listening as deafening thunder bellows in the distance. A white streak of lightning crashes violet and amber against the waves, sending droplets into the air and momentarily illuminating the darkness.
“Captain Zed?”
Kayn calls out, as loudly as he can manage, fighting wind and water to find his commander.
This isn’t working. Fuck it.
Harnessing the power of the tattoos etched across his right chest and arm, Kayn lets himself merge with the night’s shadows to keep out of the worst of the storm and cover more ground.
Drifting through the ship, Kayn tries to ignore the worst of the visible that’s already been done. He can’t do anything about that now, it’s better to stay focussed on the task at hand and try to prevent any more of it.
“Kayn?”
He nearly misses it, spinning around to find himself face to face with another shadow. Still wary of the strength of the storm, Kayn allows his top half to return to flesh as he meets the gaze of his mentor who does the same.
“Captain Zed, what is that?”
Even with the ability to read his lips, Kayn still only manages to hear half his words over the pounding storm.
“Ancient wrath—the ocean. Doesn’t matter—get back—deck and take—with you.”
He can’t help but scoff, making out just enough to roll his eyes at the implication he would ever willingly abandon ship just like that.
“And what, leave you out here to die?”
“Kayn—need to—cover. I know—aren’t stupid, don’t—to pretend—my sake.”
He turns to stare back at the ocean, spectral tentacles clenching the ship harder and Kayn doesn’t know how much longer the vessel will be able to hold before it collapses entirely.
Zed has never looked this uneasy before. Not even confronting the Golden Demon.
You should listen to him. I warned you, there are things out there beyond your control.
Shut up, Rhaast. Let me think.
The body of the thing is only getting closer, and from where they’re standing Kayn can finally see the rest of it better. His eye locks onto what must be its maw, a terrible, monstrous thing etched with an unnatural fury and lined with far too many teeth. Somehow, just looking at the creature Kayn can recognize a bloodlust that’s already massacred more than one other ship, already taken countless lives for its own.
And we’re next if we don’t stop it.
In a moment almost like clarity, three truths fill Kayn’s mind.
First, if this thing is left to its own devices it will kill every last one of them.
Second, if it is to be stopped, it cannot be from inside the ship.
And finally, there’s a real chance that whoever tries to stop it won’t return.
He turns back to Zed whose gaze is also directed at the centre of the beast, and Kayn knows he has realised the same.
They’d always been like that. Coming to the same conclusions, operating on the same level of intellect the others couldn’t even begin to grasp. It’s what made Kayn such a prodigal pupil back when Zed had first taken him in. It was what allowed them to work together well enough to run an entire crew.
So Kayn already knows what Zed intends to do. Why he’s sent everyone weaker below deck, just as Kayn had done to those he’d found on the way to him.
Over a decade ago, Zed had rescued him from the Noxian traders who'd sooner see him become canon fodder than allow him to live a life of his own. On that day, child of eleven summers that he was, Kayn had pledged his loyalty: eternal and unquestioning to him and the rest of the crew he owed his life to,
Staring into the indigo darkness, that monster with too many teeth staring back at them, it’s not even a question.
Tentacles are already wrapped around the ship and still more stretch and ooze across the deck. There’s no telling how large this beast really is, but none of that matters. What matters is dealing with it. They will capsize if they wait much longer.
And if Kayn doesn’t do it first, without a doubt, Zed will.
“Alright.”
Against the onslaught of rain, Kayn uses his grip on the ship as support, each step an effort just to stay upright as he begins to walk away from the other man. When he believes Zed’s attention has shifted back to the creature, he slips back into the shadows, using the darkness to glide past Zed and towards the ship’s bow where the creature’s closest.
As he finally reaches the edge, he takes a moment to stand and steady himself. This was it. This is what he has to do.
Closing his eyes, he takes a step forward, lets his senses guide him, and leaps.
It’s only then that Zed realizes what he’s done, but they both know it’s too late to stop him.
“Kayn! Stop!”
His captain’s voice is muffled against the wind, and Kayn is too focussed to pay it much mind. Instead, he braces himself, spreads his arms and legs as he falls, and prepares for a fight.
The impact is sudden and slippery, but Kayn’s technique is sharp and fast and far too precise to be slowed down by a simple collision, body deforming into wisps of shadow as he enters the thing through each and every gap between molecules, every stray opening it has until he’s snuggly nestled in its core. He can see The Shadow Order through its singular dome shaped eye, see Zed standing, staring, too close to the edge for Kayn’s comfort. He can feel how angry it is, how badly it wants to destroy.
He can feel a coldness too, a sense of irritation aimed at him that scarcely comes from those he moves through—trying to push him out even as he forces his way deeper. There’s a pressure building in Kayn’s mind, aching to split his head in two—but whether it exudes from Rhaast or the creature itself, it doesn’t matter right now.
Just as Zed taught him, Kayn focuses on the hold he has over the creature’s body, on his own place in the umbral unseen. Concentrates on its centre, and begins to tell it to burst. And just as he took from Rhaast, he lets himself feel himself within the creature’s flesh and blood, feeling its discomfort and latching onto it, slowly building a pressure of his own until it’s enough to rupture. To shred.
A breaking point is reached somewhere in the depth of the body Kayn has taken control of, and he can feel the first piercing wave of pain convulsing through it, taking it as a sign to slash. And so he does, breaching muscle and skin, turning back to flesh in the depths of the belly of the beast as Rhaast manifests in his hand and together they shred smoldering flesh from the inside out until Kayn is covered in guts and gore and the thing is dead for good.
But something is wrong.
Even as the tendrils unfurl limply from the ship’s masts, signaling victory and safety for the rest of the crew, Kayn knows that something is wrong.
Ice cold water pools around his legs as the beast begins to sink and he realizes that he’s sinking too.
Zed’s look of relief on land fades to one of fear, face paled as he calls out his name which already sounds so distant, too far to shadowstep, too high to reach. It would be suicide for the man to jump in after him. And without them both, the rest of the crew would die too.
“Sorry.”
Kayn tries to say, even as the cold embrace of the ocean urges him below the waves, tentacle choked around his leg in a final attempt by his victim to drag him down with him.
But he knows neither of them can hear the other over the still raging storm.
By now he’s soaked to his waist, and no matter how hard he kicks, he knows he’s not getting free. The price of the sea for saving the others.
He’s sinking faster now, his pants weighing him down as the water creeps up to his neck and continues to climb.
His heart is beating too fast, his head swimming from the cold and even Rhaast’s voice feels out of reach as a growl amidst his thoughts calls out to him:
You really messed up this time, mutt.
Yeah thanks, Rhaast, he knows.
Tilting his head back to see the sky at least one more time, Kayn’s fading vision locks onto a blue speck in the distance, gliding through dark clouds and striking colour into an otherwise leaden sky.
Strange.
He thinks to himself, gentle darkness swathing his vision, hands still mindlessly clenched around Rhaast as they always are.
I suppose there are worse ways to die.
Kayn is faintly aware he is being pulled along in the water.
He can’t say he’s sure when he became aware of this or how long he’s been in the water for, but he can tell he’s in the water and that he is being moved through it.
This fact doesn’t initially concern him, his thoughts too sluggish to dwell on why he might be here or what was pulling him.
His hand feels slightly numb, but he can still feel it clenched in place, unyielding around his scythe, the Darkin strangely silent for once in his life.
Ha. Maybe that was it. Maybe Kayn is dying.
I mean his head already kind of hurts, and even though the details are all still fuzzy, he’s pretty damn sure he has to have been underwater long enough that he should have at least started to drown.
And there was the matter of what got him into the water in the first place…
Did I kill it?
Is Zed okay?
Ignoring the faint sting of salt water, Kayn does his best to force his eyes to open just a crack, just enough to try and make out where he is. If he’s really moving, somehow. If there’s any sign The Shadow Order had survived the storm.
Did he come to get me?
There are no bodies in sight, no splinters of water soaked wood or broken scraps of rope. Hell, there don’t even seem to be any real waves, the water placid and warm and an overwhelming contrast to the storm he was just in. He can see sunlight streaming through from the sky, turning the water turquoise and giving the impression that Kayn is much closer to the surface than he actually seems to be.
…
Well that might be a problem…
Even in his half conscious haze, Kayn is well aware that there’s no way he’s managed to swim himself down a hundred yards beneath the ocean.
Which means that yes, something else must indeed be pulling him.
As cautiously as he can while being dragged through the water, and apparently not dying for it (really, is he even breathing? It doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, but maybe he’s just too far drowned to register what does or doesn’t feel like drowning anymore)—Kayn manages to swivel his head just enough to catch a glimpse of a blurry beige hand that doesn’t belong to him a few inches above his own.
A hand that, if he didn’t know any better, Kayn would assume was clutching Rhaast.
What the fuck?
His vision has already started to blur again, inky smudges taking over and easing his eyes shut just in time for Kayn to catch a final sight of a flickering cyan tail before his world goes dark again.
By now, Kayn can only conclude that this must just be some very strange dream. A way for him to cope with dying, perhaps. Because even in this state, dazed and barely conscious, Kayn knows that anyone besides him laying a hand on Rhaast should have ended up dead.
So the only logical conclusion is that I’m dead, and this is all a stupid dream.
(Perhaps that would have been easier than the truth.)