The Lord of the Seas - An Isekai Progression Fantasy [ Currently on Volume 2 ]

Vol 3. Chapter 25: Daughter of Earth and Sea



A crowd had gathered at the edge of the Ancestral Lands, a vast expanse where earth met sea beneath the silver glow of the moon.

Tonight was not a night of celebration or conquest. Tonight was a night of mourning.

They had come for the funeral of Lady Kaitlyn Drakos, Royal Consort of the Seas and granddaughter of Erandyl Telaryon. From the young dragonborn who had traveled here to the Ancestral Lands to the reclusive Elders who rarely stepped beyond their halls, all of them had come to bid her farewell. The weight of her loss pressed heavily upon them; her name carried not just lineage but reverence.

Yet among the gathering, one absence was keenly felt.

The Dragon Lord of the Flames had not come for the Lady Kaitlyn's funeral and neither did his men.

To some, this was insult. To others, it was expected. For Lukas, it was no surprise at all.

The Dragon Lord of the Flames had refused every word and every single attempt at dialogue. Even Erandyl, whose authority few dared ignore, had been met with silence. Her words, her counsel, had simply been cast aside. But Rysenth did speak—and the words he spoke carried the weight of iron law.

Rysenth Ishtar had invoked the Rite of Talons. And that was a declaration could not be undone.

Lukas stood amidst the mourners, the knowledge of what awaited him settling like a stone in his chest. When the sun rose, he would face the Dragon Lord of the Flames in mortal combat. One would walk away; the other would not.

Beside him, Erandyl gazed outward across the endless waters, her vast presence like the earth itself given form.

The waves shifted and rolled, calm yet unyielding beneath the pull of the full moon.

Silence held the procession in its grip, as though even the sea dared not break it.

It was then that Lukas reached for the Crown, connecting his mind to Erandyl's. The connection sparked alive, and Lukas felt her awareness, immense and steady, settle upon him. The Dragon Lord of the Earth inclined her massive head ever so slightly, granting him leave to speak.

"Is there truly no other way?" Lukas asked, his thoughts carried like whispers against stone.

Erandyl's reply was gentle, yet resolute, her voice resonating in the deep places of his mind. "I'm afraid not, young Drakos. Traditions must be honored. The Rite of Talons is older than this Kingdom, older even than the stories we recall. It is the measure of strength, the proof of power for all who have come before us. To deny it would be to deny what we are."

But the words sat bitter in Lukas's heart. He could not find comfort in them. "It feels…wrong," he confessed.

Her gaze turned, vast and ancient, upon him. There was no anger, only confusion. "I would have thought you eager at the chance to fight against him. From the moment you and Rysenth met, you were both at each other's throats. Why hesitate now?"

Lukas had no answer.

Her reasoning was true—this was his moment, the chance to fulfill the promise he had made to Valkari, to bring her brother to justice for all the pain he had caused. Lukas should have been more than ready for this fight. Perhaps even excited for it to happen. Yet as the moonlight gleamed upon the restless sea, Lukas could not quiet the unease stirring within him.

Tomorrow, one life would end. And here, beneath the silence of grief, Lukas questioned if fate had already chosen which one.

But something was wrong.

Lukas could feel it twisting in his gut, a gnawing unease that refused to be silenced. He had learned long ago to trust in his instincts, for they had rarely led him astray. Yet behind that instinct was always some kind of logic, some thread of reason to justify what he felt.

This time, there was nothing. There was no explanation he could rely on, left only with a vague dread that would not let his mind rest.

All the evidence pointed toward the Dragon Lord of the Flames.

It was his trusted advisor, Malrik, who had led the attack along with two other Flameborn.

It was Rysenth's blade had been the weapon that pierced Lady Kaitlyn's chest. Lukas had seen the moment when he had shown it to the crowd, had watched Rysenth reached instinctively to his belt, only to find the knife missing.

The pieces fit together so well.

In fact, they fit together too neatly, too easily.

Lukas could still see the look on Rysenth's face when the Dragon Lord of the Flames had realized that it was Malrik's lifeless body laying on the floor. He remembered Rysenth's grief, raw and unguarded, surging through the air when he had opened his mind through the Crown. Everyone had felt it, the anguish of betrayal and loss. That was not something one like Rysenth could fake. Not that kind of pain.

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So if Rysenth had not orchestrated this, then who had?

The question churned in Lukas's mind, and in his silence, Erandyl's gaze lingered upon him.

The Dragon Lord of the Earth tilted her massive head, her presence pressing firmly into his thoughts. When her voice came, it carried no softness. "You cannot afford to allow your mind to wander, Lukas. Not now." Her words reverberated through him, sharp and immovable.

Lukas heard the urgency in them, the warning borne of centuries of wisdom.

Tomorrow, when the Rite of Talons was enacted, there could be no hesitation.

Rysenth Ishtar had not earned his title of the strongest in all of Linemall through mercy.

The only reason why Rysenth was now one of the three Dragon Lords of Linemall because he had been ruthless in battle, his victories stacked upon the broken bodies of those who had challenged him. Through duel after duel, Rysenth had risen to power, and every death had been a stepping stone toward the supremacy of the Flames. It was because of him that House Isthar was now one of the Great Houses of Linemall. It was because of him the Skies had fallen for good and the Sterlings with it.

If Lukas faltered, even for a heartbeat, he would be struck down like so many that had come before him.

Erandyl's voice pressed harder, the weight of truth impossible to ignore. "He will kill you. My granddaughter would have wanted you to fight with everything you had in you. This is your life, Lukas. It is your life on the line. And your life is no longer simply yours. You are a Lord of Linemall. Your life belongs to your people. And the Seas are waiting for their Lord to return."

Erandyl was right. Lukas knew it in deepest crevices of his bones. But the unease remained, an itch beneath his skin that would not go away. Something about all of this was wrong, twisted in ways he could not yet see.

The pieces were there, but the picture refused to come together.

Before Lukas could voice this to Erandyl, a stir rippled through the gathered crowd.

Slowly, the sea of mourners parted.

The Lady Kaitlyn's body was being carried forward, held tenderly by Rosalia, Katrina, and Lukas's mother.

As they passed, the dragons lowered their heads, vast shadows bending beneath the moonlight. The hush that followed was heavier than any words could be. The reality of her death settled over them all. A truth as undeniable as the waves that crashed upon the shore.

When Lady Kaitlyn's body was brought to the shore where Lukas and Erandyl stood upon the sand, the sight stole the breath from their lungs. The Royal Consort of the Seas did not lie bare to the air, nor was her form left vulnerable to the night.

Instead, her body had been encased in stone—an unbroken, smooth shell that clung to her figure like a second skin. The stone shimmered faintly in the moonlight, lending an otherworldly reverence to her still form. It was not grotesque, nor unkind, but protective, as though the Earth itself sought to cradle her in her final rest. Her beauty was preserved, untouched even after death. Her hands rested delicately, one crossed over the other, her features calm and serene.

It did not even seem like she was truly gone, but simply waiting, as though any moment she might stir and rise again.

Erandyl lowered herself, the great weight of her body sinking into the sand until her massive snout hovered close above the encased Lady. The Dragon Lord of the Earth pressed her forehead gently against Kaitlyn's, drawing in a slow, trembling breath that shook the air. For one long moment, Erandyl did not move, as if to anchor herself against the sorrow threatening to break her.

Then, with deliberate care, Erandyl lifted herself once more to her full, towering height. The Crown flared to life upon her brow, its power echoing through the minds of all present.

"Who did this?" her voice rang, resonant and commanding, though softened by grief.

From the gathered, it was Rosalia who stepped forward. The young woman's expression was solemn, her eyes unwavering as she lifted them to meet Erandyl's. "I did," Rosalia answered, her voice carrying through the still night. "It was I who bound her in stone. Before she was of the Seas, the Lady Kaitlyn was once of the Earth. It was only right that both would claim her in the end."

Silence fell upon them all.

Erandyl studied Rosalia for what felt like an eternity.

Then the hardness in her ancient eyes melted, and her voice came as tender as earth cradling a seed: "Thank you, child. I am forever indebted to you for the kindness you have shown my kin."

Rosalia bowed low, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles before she stepped back to Katrina's side.

Together, Lukas and Erandyl carried Kaitlyn's body to the edge of the tide, the waves lapping gently as though awaiting her return. Carefully, they pushed her into the sea, the stone-bound figure gliding over the surface for a moment before the waters claimed her.

Slowly, the currents drew her further from the shore.

The moon's reflection gleamed across her form until, little by little, she sank beneath the waves, drifting into the deep where light could no longer reach. A silence heavier than any lament fell upon the gathering. Dragons bowed their heads low. Mourners whispered prayers to the Seas. And with each passing heartbeat, the absence of Lady Kaitlyn Drakos settled more fully upon them all.

One by one, the crowd dispersed, shadows dissolving into the night until only Lukas, Rosalia, Katrina, Selene and Erandyl remained.

The Dragon Lord of the Earth turned her gaze to him, her voice final, edged with steel. "Know this, Lukas. There is no need to fear if you lose tomorrow's fight. You may rest easy knowing this: If you do not kill Rysenth, then I will."

With that, Erandyl left them, her vast form vanishing into the darkness, leaving Lukas alone with the weight of tomorrow.

The funeral of Lady Kaitlyn Drakos had come to an end, but her death had set into motion what could not be undone.

Tomorrow, Lukas would face the Rite of Talons.

Tomorrow, Lukas would stand against Rysenth Ishtar, Dragon Lord of the Flames.

And by the end of it, only one of them would remain standing.


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