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Stormcompass Daycipher True promise River window
Opening Scene – The Gathering Storm
The first time Aric heard the word Stormcompass, it was whispered to him by an old sailor whose voice cracked like dry timber. The man was hunched on the edge of the pier at Estmere, watching black clouds coil across the horizon. Fishing boats had rushed to dock, their sails flapping like torn wings, and gulls shrieked overhead as if they too feared the oncoming squall.
Aric, only twenty summers old, stood with his satchel pressed tight against his chest. He had been planning to leave Estmere that very morning, bound inland to escape the salt and storms. But the sea had its way of ensnaring him, always pulling him back with a promise or a mystery.
“You’re watching the wrong signs, boy,” the sailor rasped, pointing a crooked finger not at the horizon but at a small brass device he clutched in his hand. “The storm comes from within. You’ll never outrun it. Not without this.”
The object gleamed even in the dim light—a circular compass, but its face did not show cardinal points. Instead, dark lines like veins branched outward, shifting as if alive. A soft hum pulsed from it, as though the storm beyond the pier breathed through the instrument.
Aric frowned. “What is that?”
“The Stormcompass,” the sailor whispered. “The only true guide through what’s coming.”
Before Aric could question further, the wind howled, and rain lashed against them. In the chaos, the old man pressed the device into Aric’s hands and staggered into the storm. When the boy turned, the pier was empty. Only the waves remained.
The Weight of the Unknown
Aric carried the Stormcompass back to his rented loft above a cooper’s shop. The rain hammered the roof all night, rattling shutters and flooding streets. Sleep was impossible. He laid the brass device on the table beside a flickering lantern, watching it shift.
Instead of pointing north, the needle swung erratically, but always seemed to circle back toward the window, where rain battered against the glass.
The first time Aric heard the word Stormcompass, it was whispered to him by an old sailor whose voice cracked like dry timber. The man was hunched on the edge of the pier at Estmere, watching black clouds coil across the horizon. Fishing boats had rushed to dock, their sails flapping like torn wings, and gulls shrieked overhead as if they too feared the oncoming squall.
Aric, only twenty summers old, stood with his satchel pressed tight against his chest. He had been planning to leave Estmere that very morning, bound inland to escape the salt and storms. But the sea had its way of ensnaring him, always pulling him back with a promise or a mystery.
“You’re watching the wrong signs, boy,” the sailor rasped, pointing a crooked finger not at the horizon but at a small brass device he clutched in his hand. “The storm comes from within. You’ll never outrun it. Not without this.”
The object gleamed even in the dim light—a circular compass, but its face did not show cardinal points. Instead, dark lines like veins branched outward, shifting as if alive. A soft hum pulsed from it, as though the storm beyond the pier breathed through the instrument.
Aric frowned. “What is that?”
“The Stormcompass,” the sailor whispered. “The only true guide through what’s coming.”
Before Aric could question further, the wind howled, and rain lashed against them. In the chaos, the old man pressed the device into Aric’s hands and staggered into the storm. When the boy turned, the pier was empty. Only the waves remained.
The Weight of the Unknown
Aric carried the Stormcompass back to his rented loft above a cooper’s shop. The rain hammered the roof all night, rattling shutters and flooding streets. Sleep was impossible. He laid the brass device on the table beside a flickering lantern, watching it shift.
Instead of pointing north, the needle swung erratically, but always seemed to circle back toward the window, where rain battered against the glass.
46 pages, Kindle Edition
Published September 26, 2025
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