The Stone That Moves

POVs: Thorne Shellbay & Rina

Location: Driftspire, outer harbor works & Driftspire Tower

Year: Early–Mid 285 AC

⚓ I. Thorne Shellbay

The scent of charred pitch clung to Thorne's nostrils as he trudged through the half ruined drydock at dawn. Smoke still curled lazily from blackened beams. A gull landed nearby to pick at something pale and blistered maybe a fish, maybe not.

He wiped sweat from his brow with a rag darkened by soot. Another wasted night. Another prayerless morning.

"Flood the basin again," he ordered. Apprentices scrambled to lift buckets and unlatch sluice gates. Saltwater gushed in, dousing hidden embers and swirling ash into the sea.

He turned to his foreman, a bald man named Oren. "How many saw the fire start?"

"None, master. Shift change had just begun. First we knew was the crack of burning timber."

Thorne grunted. He ran calloused fingers along the warped iron mold that once shaped the prow of their swiftest design a two mast corsair hunter. Now twisted and useless, like a giant's bent spoon.

"How did it burn?" he asked softly, almost to himself. "This iron weighs near a thousand stone."

Oren shifted uncomfortably. "Heat from the wood scaffolds, master. Or sabotage."

That word fell heavy between them. Thorne looked out across the harbor. Two of the new jetties bustled with laborers laying cement under the watchful eyes of armored guards. Driftspire never slept anymore. Not since Lord Alester came with his drawings, his plans, his vision.

He knelt and picked up something from the ashes a scrap of parchment, half charred. The edges curled and blackened, but faint lines remained visible: hexagonal patterns, flow gradients, numeric notations. He recognized them instantly.

Sewer plans.

Not just any sewer. The main outflow beneath the Steel District where Driftspire's smelters and forges now roared day and night.

Thorne closed his eyes. Whoever set this fire had deeper purpose than mere sabotage.

🕯️ II. Rina

Rina moved swiftly through the upper galleries of Driftspire Tower, her bare feet silent on the smooth grey cement floors. The household was awake early today. Servants whispered of fire in the shipyards. Guards hurried up and down the stairs, breastplates clinking softly in the dawn light.

She entered Lady Elyra's solar without knocking. Elyra sat by the window, half braided hair spilling over her linen shift, staring out at the black columns of smoke rising from the port.

"My lady," Rina whispered, bowing her head.

"Report."

Rina spoke quickly. "Two apprentices missing, last seen near the drydock before first bell. Thorne Shellbay found a burned scrap sewer plans. Saboteurs likely among the new Sistermen crews. Rumors spread already in the kitchens that Lord Renn or Lady Vyana may be behind it."

Elyra's eyes narrowed. "How did they breach our guards?"

"Rot from within, my lady. Always easier to pay a desperate man than to smuggle in an outsider."

She watched as Elyra closed her eyes for a long moment. When they opened again, they gleamed cold as winter frost.

"Tell Thorne to preserve that scrap. Have him keep silent about its meaning for now. The fewer who know, the safer we remain."

"Yes, my lady."

Elyra reached out suddenly and took Rina's wrist. Her grip was delicate but unyielding.

"Find out who took those apprentices," she murmured. "And if they still live… bring them back."

⚓ III. Thorne Shellbay

By dusk, the blackened drydock lay cordoned off by a half-dozen armed guards. Thorne walked the perimeter with Oren at his side, speaking low.

"Two boys missing. One saw the fire, I'd wager. They took him to keep him silent. The other… wrong place, wrong time."

"And if it's Renn or Vyana?" Oren asked.

Thorne glanced over his shoulder at the unfinished prow molds stacked nearby. "Then Driftspire's growing faster enemies than ships."

He looked at the harbor beyond, where laborers laid cement under torchlight, shaping the last hexagonal pavers of the central jetty. The harbor lights flickered like a net of stars fallen to earth.

"This place was mud and seaweed two years ago," he said quietly. "And now it glows like King's Landing on festival night."

Oren spat into the dark water. "Glow like that draws sharks."

Thorne said nothing. He only stared at the rising tower of Driftspire, stone-grey and

iron bound, crowned with banners bearing a rising sun over breaking waves the mark of House Longlight.

He prayed to whatever gods watched shipwrights that they would hold.

Because gods knew Driftspire's walls were made of cement and will.

And will can burn, if you strike it in the right place.

🕯️ IV. Rina

That night, in her corner pallet by Elyra's chamber door, Rina whispered her evening prayer.

"Salt for truth. Stone for strength. Shadow for silence."

She dreamt of two boys tied in a dark room. Of whale oil lanterns flickering.

Of Sistermen voices laughing over their muffled cries.

She woke before dawn, heart racing, and knew what she must do.

Because Driftspire was her home now.

And the stone that moves… must be protected.