Elion had never attempted underwater infiltration before. The experience was disorienting—breathing apparatus provided by Lyssa's magic worked, but it felt wrong. Water pressed from all sides, visibility was limited, and he had to trust completely in Thalor's guidance.
The Storm Sharks moved like ghosts through the water. Even the shadow soldiers swimming alongside couldn't match their grace. They circled wide around the fighting, approaching the Imperial flagship from an unexpected angle.
The flagship was massive—a three-masted warship bristling with weaponry and magical defenses. Guards patrolled the decks. Mages maintained barrier spells. It looked impregnable.
"There," Thalor whispered, pointing to the anchor chain. "Climb that. We'll create distraction."
Before Elion could respond, the Storm Sharks split off. Moments later, chaos erupted on the flagship's port side—warriors attacking, making noise, drawing attention.
"Now," Elion commanded his shadows. They surged up the anchor chain with supernatural speed. Elion followed more slowly, his human limitations showing.
They reached the deck during the distraction. Guards rushed to the port side to repel Storm Shark attacks. That gave Elion's infiltration team precious seconds.
Shadow scouts—locate the admiral. Shadow soldiers—eliminate guards quietly. No alarms yet.
His shadows dispersed across the ship with lethal efficiency. Guards died silently, throats cut before they could cry out. The shadow serpent slithered through the rigging, taking down mages. The shadow orc cleared the aft deck with brutal precision.
Elion followed the main group belowdecks. The admiral would be in the command cabin—probably the largest quarters on the officer deck.
They found it easily. Two guards flanked an ornate door. The shadow orc killed them both in a single motion—one crushed skull, one snapped neck. Both dead before hitting the deck.
Elion kicked open the door.
Fleet Admiral Marcus Thorne looked up from battle maps, shock crossing his weathered face. He was older than expected—maybe sixty, with gray hair and scars marking a long military career. Three officers stood with him, all scrambling for weapons.
The shadow soldiers moved faster. Two officers went down immediately. The third managed to draw his sword before the shadow orc cut him in half.
Admiral Thorne didn't reach for a weapon. Instead, he raised his hands slowly.
"Baron Crestfall, I presume," he said with remarkable calm for a man facing death. "Bold strategy, infiltrating the flagship. I should have anticipated it."
"Call off the attack," Elion said, sword pointed at the admiral's throat. "Order your fleet to withdraw."
"Or what? You kill me?" Thorne actually smiled. "I'm a soldier, Baron. Death in battle is acceptable. But I won't betray my mission because you threaten me personally."
"Then I'll kill you and take command myself. The fleet will still withdraw, just without you alive to see it."
"Will they? My captains are loyal. They'll continue the assault even if I die. Probably fight harder to avenge me." Thorne studied Elion with professional interest. "You're in a difficult position. Killing me accomplishes nothing. But keeping me hostage means staying on this ship, which is surrounded by your enemies."
He was right. This plan suddenly felt much less brilliant.
Then the shadow scouts reported via mental link: Imperial reinforcements approaching the main deck. Fifty soldiers, heavy armor. Alarm has been raised.
"Your infiltration was clever," Thorne said, hearing shouts from above. "But infiltration only works if you can escape afterward. Now you're trapped on my flagship with my entire crew hunting you."
Elion's mind raced. He needed leverage—something that forced the admiral to order retreat. Killing him wasn't enough. Hostage situations required the hostage to value their life more than their mission.
Then inspiration struck.
"You're right," Elion said, lowering his sword slightly. "Killing you accomplishes nothing. But destroying this ship with everyone on it? That changes the calculation."
He reached through his mental link to the shadow soldiers still outside. Shadow shark—attack the hull below the waterline. Create breaches that will sink this vessel. Don't stop until I order otherwise.
Thorne's expression finally showed concern. "You'd kill yourself just to sink one ship?"
"Gladly. But I don't have to die. I'm a System Bearer, Admiral. I can do things you can't imagine." Elion bluffed with absolute confidence. "My shadows will sink this flagship. I'll escape via the same route I entered. But everyone else on board—your crew, your officers, you—will go down with the ship unless you order the fleet to retreat."
It was a bluff. Elion couldn't actually guarantee his escape if the ship was sinking. But Thorne didn't know that.
The admiral's jaw tightened as shuddering impacts echoed through the hull. The shadow shark was doing its work, punching holes with its massive jaws.
"You're insane," Thorne said.
"I'm desperate. There's a difference. Now order the retreat, or we all die in the next ten minutes."
For a long moment, the admiral didn't move. Heavy footsteps approached the cabin—the reinforcements were close. Water began seeping under the door—the ship was taking on water fast.
Finally, Thorne moved to the cabin's speaking tube. "All hands, this is Admiral Thorne. All ships are to withdraw immediately. Return to formation alpha at the rally point. This is not a drill. Withdraw now."
The speaking tube crackled with confused acknowledgments. Through the cabin's porthole, Elion saw signal flags rise on nearby ships. Horns blew. The fleet began pulling back from the beaches.
"There," Thorne said. "I've ordered retreat. Now call off your creature before it sinks us."
Elion hesitated. Trust the admiral to honor his word? Or keep the pressure until the entire fleet was gone?
The decision was made for him. The cabin door burst open. Twenty Imperial soldiers poured in, weapons drawn.
"Sir, we've secured the deck," the lead soldier reported. Then he saw Elion and the shadow soldiers. "Admiral, step away from—"
"Stand down," Thorne ordered. "Baron Crestfall and I have reached an understanding. The fleet is withdrawing. Let them leave."
"But sir, we have them outnumbered—"
"I said stand down!" The admiral's voice cracked like a whip. "That's a direct order."
The soldiers reluctantly lowered weapons. The standoff was tense—everyone knowing that one wrong move would trigger violence.
Elion backed toward the cabin's large window, shadow soldiers forming a protective barrier. "Shadow shark—stop the attack. Return to formation."
The shuddering stopped. The ship's sinking slowed, though it was taking on serious water.
"You'll need to beach this vessel for repairs," Elion said to Thorne. "Might take weeks to make it seaworthy again."
"And you'll have bought yourself time before we can mount another assault." Thorne nodded slowly. "Well played, Baron. Today's battle is yours."
Elion smashed the cabin window with his sword hilt. "Today's battle. But not the war."
He dove through the window into the ocean below, shadow soldiers following. The Storm Sharks were waiting, pulling him to safety before the Imperial sailors could react.
They swam back to Shadowhaven as the Imperial fleet withdrew. The beach was littered with bodies—mostly Imperial, but too many Shadowhaven defenders as well. Buildings smoldered. The settlement bore scars that would take months to heal.
But they'd held. Against overwhelming numbers, they'd forced Imperial retreat.
Elion emerged from the water to cheers. His people celebrated survival, the militia raised weapons in salute, and even the exhausted shadow soldiers seemed to stand straighter.
"Report," he gasped to Garrick.
"West settlement held with the shadow reinforcements. Outposts repelled their assaults—apparently six ships wasn't enough against prepared defenses on clifftop positions. We've won the day."
"Casualties?"
Garrick's expression sobered. "Thirty-four dead, another fifty-two wounded seriously. Building damage extensive. Food stores partially destroyed in the fires."
Thirty-four dead. Each one a person who'd trusted him, followed him, believed in Shadowhaven. The victory felt hollow.
Through the communication crystal, Kira's face appeared. "Elion—we held! New Frost repelled the assault. Heavy casualties but the city stands. How did you fare?"
"We held. Barely." Elion collapsed onto a supply crate. "What about Rashid?"
Another crystal flared. Rashid appeared, looking exhausted but alive. "The Emirates... it's complicated. We fought them to a standstill, but the political damage is severe. The Empire-aligned faction is using this to turn tribes against me. I might have won the battle but lost the political war."
"We'll deal with that later," Kira said. "For now—we survived. Four System Bearer settlements stood against Imperial assault and didn't break. That's a victory worth celebrating."
"For now," Elion said quietly. "But Thorne was right. Today's battle isn't the war. They'll be back. And next time they'll be better prepared."