“I’m sorry,” I whispered anyways.
She chuckled, choking lightly on her own blood as Vidar and Mullins dragged her back to her prison. Once secured inside, I stood, facing Cathal as he cleaned the blood off his blade with the length of a sash that was wrapped around his waist.
“She’s going to kill me when this is all through, isn’t she?” he said.
I nodded. “If she’s anything like me, then she’s already planned a hundred creative ways to do it.”
“Is she like you?”
“Worse, I’d wager.”
“Oh! What wonderful news. I’m not regretting coming on this journey at all. Fuckin’ hell.” He started to walk backwards away from me, pointing his knife. “I wouldn’t have taunted her so much if I didn’t think we were killin’ her in the end. Christ,” he laughed.
Cathal’s tone was casual, but the words were anything but. Lyla likely was plotting a gory revenge, but no one was safe from danger either way. Perhaps Cathal had just been blessed with the possibility of a swift end. It was more than the rest of us would be afforded if things were to take a turn for the worse. Or maybe she was fonder of playing with her food, in which case, Cathal was doomed. In the end, none of it mattered.
The greatest horrors are at the middle of all things
Between order and chaos
~Creston Brown
I hung a lantern above the table as Mullins laid out the map. It covered the entire surface, weighted by bronze ingots from Addison’s supplies. We hadn’t referred to it in a while, but heading into unknown territory required planning.
Dahlia, myself, Mullins, and Nazario all stood inside my cabin on the Storm Weaver, staring over the markings on the chart, most of which were put there by my father. I pointed at a small island near the Broken Promises, a mere speck compared to the islands surrounding it.
“We’re here,” I said, stepping aside so that Dahlia could look at the map more closely. “Here is the North and our volcanic island chain. Can you tell me where Theloch is by looking at this?”
Her eyes wandered the many locations, reading each one. Placing a finger on the thick parchment, she traced a line from the Isle of the Black Water to the east, pausing momentarily at PortDevlin and then sliding her hand even further until there was no more parchment for her to refer to.
“Here,” she said, tapping her finger on the table where no map could indicate a location.
“What’s there?”
“This is the way you need to go,” she pointed at a vast area of ocean where I knew from experience the waters were beyond most sailors’ ability to navigate.
“Hunters and sailors alike avoid that place. It’s deadly, and not just because it’s filled with monsters.”
She nodded. “There is a jagged peak there. It’s small, but at low tide, more is revealed. It’s a city, made of stone and obsidian. Half always submerged, the other half surfaces when the water lowers. That part is the temple. That is Theloch.”
“I’ve heard stories,” Mullins said. “Thought they wasjuststories.”
“Pirates talk about the Teeth of God,” Nazario added. “They say that place is full of treasure, but no one returns to say whether or not it is true.”
“Aye, I’ve heard of that story,” Mullins said.
“There may very well be treasure,” Dahlia said. “It’s a sacred place. It used to be, anyways.”
“And why do we need to go there?”
“Because. Humans have libraries and churches. Kroans have Theloch. The oldest histories will be there. From our priestesses. Our philosophers. Our warriors. Our scribes”
“Philosophers?” Mullins scoffed. “Sirens have philosophers?”
“Hundreds of years ago, we had cities. Societies. And then it all stopped. We abandoned the temples. We took up blades instead. And Theloch, a place full of history and spirituality, was all but abandoned. But I think we’ll find it there.”
“Find what?” Nazario asked.
“A way to kill him.”
