Mantle of the Sea Drake

Streams of dawn sliced through the fog. The stench of gunpowder, salt and blood choked the air. The beach, blackened with soot and pocked with shattered planks, lay discouragingly silent.

Amidst the now-still carnage of the failed raid was a glimmer of gold and blue. The chain of gilded plates lay upon the shore, confirming what he already knew. Its previous bearer – his brother – dead. He was the Sea Drake now.

He brushed the sand off the crystals, donned his new mantle and, with it, the burden of expectation: that he, like its forebearers, would mount an attempt to slay the monster that had plagued his fellow islanders.

He cast a sheepish glance out to sea knowing that, if his brother had perished, it was almost certain that he would follow.