The Heart of Fire

It was on a dark starless night far off the coast of Jhanal that a lone fishing vessel was slowly drifting along the black waters of the Krynian Sea at night. Its deck manned by a small team of determined anglers in heavy black woolen cloaks hoping to catch dinner for their families. Long past curfew, only beggars and thieves walked the streets of the grand city at this time. Out at sea, the fishers cast their lines and dropped their nets for hours with nothing to show for their efforts except a few choice pieces of driftwood and bales of thick kelp. Spirits falling, the crew began to see that their nighttime adventure was failing and had prepared to turn their small ship around and sail back to port empty handed. The thick black waves of salt water licked at the hull of the ship as it cut through the open sea, heading for shore. Its crew stood ever watchful as it moved sluggishly through the water raising and lowering as the waves became more intense. Far ahead on the horizon, the coastline slowly came into view. Its normally welcoming watchtowers and light house seemed rather bleak with all the signal flames extinguished and their guard posts cold with dissolute emptiness. As the crew looked on to the shoreline, the surface of the water blurred as if the focus of reality bent in upon itself. Wisps of thick gray mist slowly raised up to caress the outer hull of the ship. The long fingers of fog spread into a cloud as it ascended engulfing the boat and blinding its passengers. "By all under the God's watchful eyes, what devilry is this?!" called out the ships captain. All were taken by surprise by the fog seemingly coming from nowhere, and the higher it's misty talons climbed, the thicker the choking fog became. First it merely distorted the view of the distance, but after several minutes, one could hardly see well beyond the bough of the ship, then not before long, their own hands. They were sailing blind! A dangerous venture in any waters, but in the Krynian Sea, a sea littered with reefs and jagged rock beds, not being able to see meant certain death. As if to answer their fears, there came a loud grinding noise echoing out like a moaning spirit from under the sizable fishing vessel. The sound was, oddly enough, not the sound of wood on a rock bed. Such an impact would have shattered the hull and sunk the ship then and there. This noise was different. It sounded as though the bottom of the boat was being squeezed or pressed against something. The inner-structure whined and bent under the immense pressure as this mysterious force focused more strength on crushing its prey. The effectively blind crew stood for a moment staring idly at the opaque cloud of vapor that had beset their ship. Not long after that, the shipmate nearest the captain threw back her hood and firmly shut her eyes chanting syllables in some ancient tongue. The men below began screaming as huge tentacles burst up from the water raining down buckets of seawater as they prepared to sweep the deck, attempting to knock the crew into the dark sea. Each massive arm was smooth and sleek with no markings all the way up its flawless visage and ending in a spade shaped pad covered on the underside with a cluster of large suction cups lined with small razor sharp hooks. Just then, Tala threw off her robe while she continued chanting, and around her grew a sphere of pale yellow light that gave off an electrical humming as she spoke the incantation. Her slender arms rose high above her head, she opened her fine, almond eyes and focused on the huge black tentacle that was currently cutting swathes through the crewmen below.