As another resounding boom of thunder pealed across the sky, and lightning flashed from cloud to cloud, the Leviathan attacked the Dyscovera. The creature heaved its bulk onto the deck, crushing two of Criston’s sailors. The other crewmen scrambled away in a wash of slime and foam, screaming as they grabbed for ropes, open hatches, anything to hold on to.
The splintered deck groaned and foul-smelling water swirled over the boards. Criston lurched to his feet again, still gripping the harpoon. The Dyscovera was mortally wounded, doomed to sink. Her deck, hull, masts, and keel were shattered beyond repair. He felt a pang in his chest. Now he would never reach Terravitae, never make it home to Adrea.…
The monster’s fang-tipped tentacles thrashed in all directions, and a low, rock-grinding growl thrummed out of the Leviathan’s chest. A sickly pale glow emanated from the beast’s milky eye, as if it recognized Criston Vora as the one victim who should never have gotten away years ago.
Then suddenly the waters around them were full of ships—dark vessels with ghostly silhouettes, including the unforgettable form of the Luminara. The specter of Captain Andon Shay stood at the prow, shouting into the storm, “Leviathan, your time has come!”
The haunted vessels had escaped from the seaweed morass. Criston had no idea how they had slipped away from the titanic woman to respond to his call. Many of these crewmembers had also been killed by the Leviathan, their ships smashed and sunk by the beast’s unreasoning anger. Now they had returned from the grave. Countless angry sailors issued challenges from aboard the ghost ships, demanding revenge. And tonight they would get it.
Sensing this new threat, the monster released its tentacled grip on the Dyscovera and slid back off the deck like a beached whale retreating to sea with the outgoing tide. Opening its maw, the Leviathan let out a curious, booming growl.
Though far away now, the lighthouse beacon still shone bright enough to penetrate the black, whipping clouds. The storm came at them from all directions now, drawn to the vortex that was the Leviathan.
Criston gripped his harpoon and ascended the wet, canted deck like a man climbing a mountain slope. Below, the Leviathan loomed in the water, tentacles thrashing. With the Luminara and the host of ghost ships closing in, he felt emboldened. At the very least, if he died here, he would rejoin those ghostly sailors and spend eternity with his father and Captain Shay. But he remained alive, for now.
Standing at the wrecked bow, barely holding on as broken boards fell into the churning sea, Criston saw the Leviathan turn its staring eye back toward him. He hefted the harpoon, cocked back his arm, and hurled it, releasing two decades of rage for all that this monster had cost him.
His aim was true.
The sharp point sank into the milky eye, burying itself halfway up the shaft. Translucent ooze spurted out, and the Leviathan reeled and clawed at the harpoon with its numerous tentacles, ripping away the spear and tossing it out to sea. But the light in the mangled eye had gone out.
As the blind creature reached for the Dyscovera, the ghost ships closed in. The Luminara drove forward with such ferocity that her hull groaned as she rammed the Leviathan. The undead crew hurled their own spectral spears and harpoons, and two struck the open wet flaps of the monster’s gill slits.
Wounded now, leaking black oily blood into the water, the beast lurched and writhed away, leaving the Dyscovera. But the Luminara and the other ghost ships hounded it, propelled by ghostly force. The Leviathan swam off in blind rage, pulling clouds and thunderstorms with it.
Criston swayed, nearly losing consciousness. His legs trembled. Mingled tears and rainwater streamed down his face, and he held fast to one of the last intact ropes.
But before he could dare think they might be safe, he saw something as ominous as the Leviathan—the dark ship of Iyomelka, bearing down on them.