The sea has always whispered secrets to those who dare to listen. Some stories sink beneath the waves, lost forever. Others refuse to be forgotten. Among them is the tale of King Alden the Phantom, the ruler who vanished with his entire fleet into the heart of the storm. Some say he still sails the endless ocean, cursed for eternity. I, Merlin, have seen kingdoms rise and fall, but few stories haunt me like that of the Phantom King. And tonight, beneath the moon’s silver eye, I hear his ghostly call once more.

The Last Voyage of the Phantom King

The wind carried the salt of the sea as I stood on the cliffs of Blackstone Bay, watching the restless waves churn below. It had been many years since I last set foot upon these shores, and yet the sea remained the same—wild, untamed, whispering secrets to those who dared listen.

And tonight, it whispered a name I had not heard in centuries.

Alden.

The Phantom King.

The ruler who had sailed into the abyss and never returned.

A chill curled through the night air, though the sky remained clear. The villagers had long since locked their doors, fearing the stories that had plagued this coastline for generations. They spoke of a ship that sailed without a crew, a vessel of mist and shadow that appeared when the moon was high, carrying the souls of those lost at sea.

I knew the truth.

The ship was real.

And tonight, it had come for me.

A low hum reverberated across the waters, a deep and mournful sound that sent ripples through my bones. And then—the mist began to rise.

From beyond the horizon, through the veil of fog, the phantom fleet emerged.

Their sails were torn but still held the wind. Their hulls were dark and slick with something beyond the sea’s touch. And at the helm of the grandest ship of all, standing tall despite the centuries, was him.

King Alden.

Or what was left of him.

His form was shrouded in shadow, his once-golden crown corroded by time. His eyes, hollow yet burning with an eerie blue light, locked onto mine.

“Merlin.” His voice was the wind, the waves, the distant rumble of thunder.

I tightened my grip on my staff. “I hear your call, Alden. But I do not answer lightly.”

The mist thickened, curling around my feet. The ships drifted closer, the water beneath them unnaturally still.

“Then step aboard,” the Phantom King murmured. “And hear the truth of my fate.”

The sea waited.

And so, with a final breath, I stepped forward—onto the deck of the cursed fleet.

The moment my boots touched the deck, the air shifted.

It was not the normal, salty wind of the open sea, nor the rhythmic rocking of a ship against the tide. No—this was something else.

The Phantom Fleet existed outside of time itself.

The ship was not rotting, yet it carried the scent of ancient decay. The wood beneath my feet was solid, yet when I looked down, I could see the waves below, as though I stood on something half-real.

And then, the Phantom King turned toward me.

King Alden.

His face was gaunt, stretched beyond the years of a mortal man. His eyes—those burning, hollow things—were fixed on me, and though his lips barely moved, his words echoed through the ship like rolling thunder.

“You have come at last, Merlin.”

I tightened my grip on my staff. “You summoned me, Alden. I assume it was not just to tell ghost stories.”

A smirk flickered across his half-rotted face. “No. But I have a tale you should hear nonetheless.”

Lightning crackled across the sky, yet no thunder followed.

The Phantom Fleet sailed a sea of silence.

Alden motioned for me to follow him toward the ship’s stern. I walked carefully, my every step feeling as though I was walking across the past itself. The crew—if they could be called that—watched me with empty sockets and half-formed faces, frozen in a fate I did not yet understand.

Finally, Alden stopped, his tattered cloak whipping against an invisible wind.

“You know the legends, Merlin.” His voice was calm, but there was something beneath it, something unspoken. “But legends are not always true.”

I studied him carefully. “Then tell me the truth.”

He exhaled. And though he no longer breathed, the sound was haunted by centuries of regret.

The Fall of a King

“I was not always this,” Alden murmured, staring out over the misty horizon. “Once, I was a king. A great one, even. My fleet ruled these waters, my enemies feared my name, and my people sang of my victories.”

He turned back to me, his eyes glowing softly in the darkness.

“But power is a treacherous tide, Merlin. And the sea does not forgive arrogance.”

The mist thickened around us, and suddenly, I was no longer standing on the ship.

I was in the past.

The ship was new, its sails unstained, its decks alive with men—real men, not phantoms.

And at the helm stood King Alden, still whole, still living.

I watched, unseen, as the scene unfolded before me.

“Captain!” One of Alden’s men ran forward, pointing toward the horizon. “The storm—it’s unnatural!”

Alden turned, his face twisted in hunger—not for gold, not for land, but for something greater. “This storm is a test,” he said, gripping the hilt of his cursed blade. “The sea demands sacrifice. And I will give it what it asks for.”

His men hesitated, but they did not question him. They feared him too much.

And so, Alden sailed his fleet into the storm that would seal his fate.

The Bargain of the Abyss

The sea howled like a dying god.

The waves rose higher than mountains, swallowing ship after ship. Men screamed, voices lost in the roar of the abyss. The sky split apart, revealing something beyond the mortal world—something that should not have been seen.

And then, the storm spoke.

“You seek power, King Alden.”

The voice was not human. It was the sea itself, ancient and endless.

Alden, soaked and grinning like a madman, held his sword aloft. “I seek eternity!”

The storm laughed.

“Then eternity shall be yours.”

The ocean swallowed the fleet whole.

And Alden—cursed himself and every soul under his command to an existence outside of time.

The vision snapped away, and I was back on the Phantom Ship, standing before the ghost of a king who had damned himself.

Alden watched me carefully, waiting for my response.

I exhaled. “You sold your soul to the sea.”

His grin was humorless. “I sold all of us.”

A Curse That Cannot Be Broken

I turned to the crew.

Men who had followed their king, believing they were marching toward victory, only to find damnation.

Their spirits were bound, neither alive nor dead. Trapped on the tides of eternity.

Alden’s grin faded. “I called you here, Merlin, because I know what must be done.”

I frowned. “And what is that?”

His burning eyes met mine. “You must end it.”

The crew stiffened.

The waves stilled.

I studied him for a long moment. “You know there is only one way to free you,” I said at last.

Alden nodded.

I sighed, gripping my staff. “Then let it be done.”

The Final Storm

The sea answered my call.

The storm that had cursed the fleet returned, roaring across the blackened waves. The wind howled through the ship’s tattered sails, tearing them apart. The mist vanished, revealing an endless, furious sea.

The crew cried out—not in fear, but in relief.

And Alden…

Alden smiled.

“It is finally over.”

Lightning struck the mast, splitting it in two. The ship groaned, its ancient wood giving way at last.

The Phantom Fleet, bound for centuries, began to sink beneath the waves.

Alden turned to me one last time.

“Thank you, old friend.”

And then, he was gone.

The End of the Phantom King

I stood on the shore of Blackstone Bay, watching as the last traces of the cursed fleet vanished beneath the water.

No more whispers. No more ghostly calls.

Only the sea, eternal and indifferent.

The legend of King Alden was finally at rest.

I sighed, turning away from the ocean.

Some stories fade.

And some are never meant to be told again.