The sound they heard coming from the new islands was not an ordinary chant. It carried within it a tone Louai could not fully interpret—a tone closer to questioning than welcoming, as if the singer was asking them: "Who are you? And why have you come?"
The ship had just crossed the zone of moving currents, that treacherous patch of ocean where the water breathed like a living creature, where they had nearly lost everything. But they had survived, and now they were approaching new islands that appeared on no map, islands that seemed to be waiting for them..
The "Gray Seagull" approached the largest of the islands in the group, the one roughly in the center, surrounded by more small boats than any other island. The island itself was rocky, almost barren, except for one area in its center where there were low buildings, built of dark stone, seeming to have grown from the earth itself rather than being built upon it.
"These are not ordinary islands," Dorik said, his single eye examining the terrain with clear anxiety. "These islands were not on any map I've ever seen. They are new, or they appear and disappear like the currents we just crossed."
"Or they were deliberately hidden," Louai said, his eyes narrowing in focus. "Perhaps there are things in this Archipelago that do not want to be seen, unless those who see them are worthy of the sight."
As they approached closer to the shore, they noticed a small dock—not large enough to accommodate a ship the size of the "Gray Seagull," but sufficient for smaller boats. Dorik signaled to the sailors to stop the ship at a distance from the shore and ordered the small reconnaissance boat to be lowered.
"I will go alone," Louai said, stepping toward the boat.
"Impossible," Dorik objected sharply. "You cannot go alone to this place. You need someone who knows its laws, or you will lose everything in the first few minutes."
"Then come with me," Louai said, looking at the old captain. "You know this place better than anyone in my crew. And I will need an expert eye beside me."
Dorik hesitated for a moment, then nodded silently and climbed into the small boat with Louai, leaving Gilbertt and the three sailors on board the ship with strict instructions not to approach the shore under any circumstances until they returned.
The small boat approached the stone dock slowly, and Louai noticed that eyes were watching them from everywhere. From behind the rocks, from among the cracks in the stone building, and even from beneath the water, where flashes of faint blue light appeared from time to time, as if Sirens were watching their arrival from the depths.
When the boat docked at the pier, a strange creature approached them. It was unlike any being Louai had seen before. It was short, no more than a meter and a half tall, with rough gray skin like old tree bark, and large yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness like two burning coals. It wore torn clothes of coarse fabric, and in its hand was a long, intricately carved staff.
"Halt!" the creature said in a hoarse voice, as if its throat was made of gravel. "What do you want in the Islands of the Sirens?"
Louai stepped forward, fixing his eyes on the creature with steadiness. "I am Louai of Oswald, son of Emperor Moran II. I have come to meet those who rule these waters, to offer a deal that may interest them."
The creature looked at Louai with its long yellow eyes, then looked at Dorik, as if recognizing him. "You... you are the old captain, aren't you? The one who lost his leg here twenty years ago?"
"The same," Dorik said in a low voice, trying not to sound afraid.
"You survived the moving currents," the creature said, a note of unexpected respect in its voice. "Few do that and return. Perhaps you deserve to be heard." Then it turned to Louai. "But you, Prince, have not proven anything yet. What do you carry with you?"
"White Depths Salt," Louai said, his voice calm but clear. "Three chests, extracted from the Dwarven mine that has been closed for fifty years. I know the royal Siren lineage suffers from the threat of decay due to magical water pollution, and I know this salt is the only substance capable of saving their eggs."
The creature fell silent for a moment, its yellow eyes gleaming with intense interest. Then it said in a sharper voice: "The Dwarves swore to bury the mine and forget its location before selling a single grain to us. How did you obtain it?"
"The Dwarves swore to do that," Louai repeated carefully, choosing his words as one walking on a floor of thin glass, "but Dwarves live long, and their ambitions change. And some prefer gold over ancient oaths, especially when that gold is enough to rebuild what war destroyed."
Louai did not tell the full truth, of course. He did not mention that the deal with the Dwarves had been made through a complex network of middlemen and dark traders, and that a large portion of the gold he used for purchase had actually been confiscated from the smuggling ships of his own family. But small details, in such moments, mattered less than the overall impression he wanted to plant in this creature's mind: that this pale prince was not merely an arrogant accountant, but a man with a web of relationships and resources that went far beyond what appeared on the surface.
The creature stood silent for a full minute, its yellow eyes never leaving Louai, as if trying to read every layer of deception and truth in his soul. Then it said in a more formal voice: "Wait here. I will inform those who need to be informed."
And the creature turned quickly and disappeared behind the rocks, leaving Louai and Dorik standing on the stone dock in heavy silence.
Long minutes passed, turning into a full hour, with Louai standing on the stone dock, his eyes fixed on the entrance where the creature had disappeared. The silence surrounding them was heavy, laden with anticipation, as if the islands themselves were waiting for something. Neither Louai nor Dorik exchanged a single word during that hour; both knew that this moment was crucial, and that any wrong word could cost them everything.
Louai stood contemplating the calm waters before him, trying to read what they concealed. He knew the Sirens were not the only beings in these waters, that there were deeper and more ancient powers ruling this Archipelago. But he did not expect what would happen next.
Suddenly, the water in the small cove began to move unnaturally. It was not passing ripples, but concentric circles expanding rapidly, as if something massive was rising from the depths. Dorik stepped back, placing his hand on the hilt of his short sword, but Louai held his ground, his eyes fixed on the shimmering water.
And from the midst of the water, a shape began to form. It was not human, nor was it similar to the silver beings they had seen before. This was something entirely different: a translucent body, almost invisible, shimmering with a cold blue light, and wide eyes without pupils, staring at Louai with a look closer to examination than welcome. The being was tall, over two meters in height, and its translucent body moved with a smooth sway like water itself. In its hands, it carried nothing, but a halo of blue light surrounded it like an invisible crown.
"I am Lithan," the being said, and its voice did not come from its mouth alone, but seemed to resonate through the air around all of them simultaneously. The voice was deep, cold, but not hostile. It was the voice of a being accustomed to authority, who had no need to prove it through threats. "I speak on behalf of the Council of Seven Mists in the Archipelago. The guardian has told me you carry White Depths Salt."
Louai translated these words in his mind rapidly. "Council of Seven Mists." This name had not appeared in any document he had read about the Archipelago. This meant that what he thought he knew about these waters—what he had assumed he knew—was merely a thin crust above an ocean of ignorance. All the sources he had relied upon, all the maps and secret documents he had gathered, concealed more than they revealed.
"I am Louai of Oswald," he repeated his name and title, maintaining his artificial composure. "I carry three chests of White Depths Salt, and I offer to trade it for a time-limited naval service."
Lithan did not move, but its white eyes glowed faintly for a moment, as if weighing Louai's words on an internal scale invisible to the naked eye. "Time-limited service? No human before you has ever offered us time-limited service. All who preceded you sought permanent alliances, naval fortresses, or open passage forever. You ask for something different."
"Because I am not like those who preceded me," Louai said, standing more erect, placing his hands behind his back in the posture of an accountant presenting a report before a board of directors. "I need no permanent alliance, because I know alliances in this world do not endure. I need no fortresses, because fortresses become targets. And what I ask for is not an open passage, but merely a temporary closure of an already existing passage."
Lithan paused for a moment, its white eyes studying Louai as if reading his thoughts before he spoke them. "Four days only," Lithan said, repeating Louai's words as if testing them. "You want us to close the Artery of Fog to the ships of the Liridan Republic. In return, you offer us the salt our royal lineage needs for its survival. This is a deal that appears simple on the surface, but it carries within it countless complications."
Louai felt a coldness run down his spine. Lithan knew more than he had expected. He was not merely a simple intermediary; he read between the lines, seeing what lay beyond the words.
"What are these complications?" Louai asked, trying not to show his growing anxiety.
"First," Lithan said, raising one translucent finger, "closing the Artery of Fog means declaring implicit hostility toward the Liridan Republic. They may respond by attacking our islands, and we will be the ones paying the price, not you. Second, the salt you carry, despite its value, is not enough to ensure our lineage's survival forever. It is a temporary solution, not a permanent one. Third, and most complex, you ask us to trust you, and we do not know you. You bear the name of an Emperor, but the Empire you represent suffers from internal crises that make it unstable. How can we guarantee that you will fulfill your promise?"
Lithan's questions were logical, and frightening in their precision. Louai knew this deal was not simple, but he had not expected to face such deep analysis from a being he had met only minutes ago.
"I am not asking you to trust me," Louai said after a short pause, "I am asking you to trust your own self-interest. The salt I bring is the only salt existing outside the closed Dwarven mine. If you refuse my deal, your lineage will remain threatened, and Liridan will continue to control the trade routes that threaten your existence. But if you accept it, you will receive what you need, and you will have the upper hand in future negotiations with the Empire."
Lithan looked at Louai for a long moment, then said: "The Council of Seven Mists has its golden rule. Every deal passing through the Archipelago must begin with a sample of the goods as proof of seriousness. Not as a down payment, but as evidence that what you say is true and that you have the ability to fulfill your promise. Give me one chest of Depths Salt now, and I will give you in return a primary key: a map of the fog currents for the next two days. If your sample proves its quality, we continue negotiations. If it is substandard, then your journey here will be the last thing your eyes ever see."
This was a real test. Three chests were all he had, and each chest represented an incalculable fortune in this world. Giving up a third of his stock without any guarantee beyond a vague promise and a temporary map was a calculated but substantial risk. Yet Louai knew this was the nature of deals in this kind of world; you had to show you were serious, willing to take risks, or no one would take you seriously.
But before he could agree, Lithan paused for a moment and raised his translucent hand in a gesture of pause.
"There is another condition," Lithan said, his voice growing more serious. "The Council wants to know: how did you obtain this salt? The Dwarves swore to bury the mine and forget its location. Who helped you? And who are your intermediaries?"
Louai felt the pressure mounting. This question was more dangerous than it seemed. Any wrong answer might reveal his network of secret relationships and put his allies at risk. But any indirect answer might lose his credibility before the Council.
"I have intermediaries," Louai said slowly, choosing his words with extreme care, "some working within the Empire's shadow, some outside it. But the precise details of the deal are my own, and I will not reveal them except to one who proves himself a true partner, not merely a passing intermediary."
Lithan looked at him for a long moment, then said: "A clever answer, Prince. You protect your allies, and that is something the Council respects. But remember: in this Archipelago, secrets have a higher price than gold. If we discover that you are hiding something that might threaten our interests, the consequences will be severe."
"I am hiding nothing that threatens your interests," Louai said steadily, "on the contrary, what I carry is what guarantees your interests."
A short silence followed, then Lithan nodded in agreement. "I accept the preliminary terms. Give me the first chest."
Louai signaled to Dorik, who climbed to the ship and brought the heavy wooden chest, placing it on the stone dock. Lithan approached and extended his translucent hand toward the wood. As soon as he touched the chest, it began to sink slowly into the water—not as an object sinking, but as something being gently received from below, entering a world they could not see. Within moments, the chest vanished entirely beneath the shimmering surface.
Lithan closed its white eyes for a long moment, as if sensing something invisible to others. Its translucent body vibrated with faint tremors, as if communicating with something beneath the water. Then it opened them again and nodded with evident satisfaction.
"Excellent quality. The samples are pure, as described. This grants you the right to proceed."
It raised its translucent hand, which began to glow with a faint blue light, then drew a complex shape in the air, resembling a three-dimensional map appearing suddenly before their eyes. The drawing contained wavy current lines, glowing points representing island locations, and small arrows indicating expected wind directions. The map moved and shifted, as if alive, responding to the movement of air and water around it.
"This is the current map for the next two days," Lithan said, gesturing toward the floating drawing in the air. "It will help you navigate between the islands without losing your way in the fog. But remember: the currents here are not fixed like those of your world. They change with the phases of the moon beneath the water, and the phases of the moon here bear no resemblance to those in your world. The map is valid for only 48 hours; after that, you will need a new map."
Gilbertt produced paper and pen from the ship and began copying the map with meticulous precision, while Louai watched Lithan with eyes attempting to penetrate its translucence to see what lay behind those white eyes.
"When can I expect the next meeting with the Council?" Louai asked.
"Tomorrow, at sunset, in this same place," Lithan replied, and its translucent body began to gradually turn to water, as if returning to the element from which it came. "Bring the second chest with you, and be prepared to present your detailed offer. The Council loves details, Prince. No vague proposals or loose promises. Be as precise as your numbers, or your entire journey will be meaningless."
And without any further farewell, Lithan began to dissolve into the water, as if it had been nothing more than a temporary wave that had taken human form for moments before returning to its liquid origin. Within minutes, nothing remained in the cove but Louai and Dorik on the stone dock, and the map whose edges were slowly fading on the paper Gilbertt had copied it onto.
Louai stood silent for a full minute, gazing at the empty space where Lithan had stood moments before, then turned to Dorik. "Did you hear everything it said?"
"Every word, My Lord," Dorik replied, his voice carrying a new note of respect that had not been present before this meeting. "And I admired that you did not hesitate to pay the sample. Most new negotiators fear the first step and waste the opportunity before it starts. You did not do that."
"Because I know that great deals begin with small sacrifices," Louai said, looking at the map Gilbertt had just finished copying. "The question now is: can we use this map to reach what we need before it expires, or will we spend the next two days trying to understand what we just drew?"
Dorik looked at the map, then at the gray sky that showed no sign of changing time, and spoke in a voice mixing confidence and concern: "We will learn, Prince. In these waters, learning is the only difference between survival and disappearance."
Louai looked at the horizon where the fog was beginning to thicken once more, and felt that the coming hours would be more complex than he had anticipated. He had only two days to use this map, and two more days to complete the deal and return to Oswald before his deadline expired forever.
And he did not know, standing there on the stone dock in the Islands of the Sirens, that this map was merely the beginning of a series of tests prepared for him by the Council of Seven Mists, and that the coming day would bring him a confrontation he had not anticipated—a confrontation with the currents of death that would test everything he had learned about this mysterious Archipelago.