They see me as a protector now. Not just Aylth's mate, but a defender of their home.
The feeling should make me proud. Instead, it makes me wonder how much longer I can keep this up.
The third wave arrives that evening.
I see them coming from distance this time. Six hunters, moving in formation. They're not testing anymore. This is a real assault.
Storm-Singer leads them.
I remember him from Aylth's stories. Purple-black scales, massive even by their species' standards. One of the hunters Aylth defeated when I first ran. He looks fully healed now, tentacles moving through water in patterns that suggest power and coordination.
He's brought five others. Young hunters, but not foolish ones. They maintain formation as they approach, staying just out of the palace's defensive range.
“Human female,” Storm-Singer's voice carries through the water like distant thunder. “Impressive displays. But this ends now. Ancient One is weak. Territory will change hands.”
“Territory is defended,” I call back.
“By one small female? Exhausted from two fights already?” He moves closer, and I see scars across his torso. Aylth left those. “Female should swim away. Find another portal, another world. This one no longer belongs to the Ancient One.”
The words sting because part of me wonders if he's right. How long can I defend against waves of attackers? Days? Weeks? Eventually, exhaustion will win where strength failed.
But then I think about Aylth lying unconscious in our chamber. About the palace he spent forty years building. About the life we're starting to create together.
I'm not leaving.
“Final warning,” I say, gripping the coral spear I retrieved from yesterday's battle. “Leave now or learn why the Leviathan is dead.”
Storm-Singer's laugh rumbles through the water. “Bold words. Let us see if female can back them.”
They attack as one unit.
I've been preparing for this since the second wave left. Exploring every passage, every weakness in the damaged structure, every weapon the palace itself can provide. The coral has been showing me things, sharing knowledge it inherited from Aylth's decades of shaping.
When Storm-Singer surges toward the main entrance, I'm not there. I've wedged coral spikes into the passage, points angled inward. He hits them too fast to stop, and I hear his roar of pain as they pierce his tentacles.
The other five split up, trying to flank from different angles. But the palace is a maze now, and only I know the safe routes. I lead them through passages that collapse behind them, under overhangs that rain debris when touched, past cavities where flesh-renders nest.
One hunter gets caught by the renders. His screams echo through the structure as they tear into him. The others hesitate, suddenly less certain.
I use that hesitation. The glowing creatures respond to my urgency, flaring bright to blind and confuse. The coral itself shifts under my hands, opening passages for me and closing them for pursuers. The small fish that normally scatter now swarm, their needle-like fins finding eyes and gills.
The entire reef has become my ally.
Storm-Singer frees himself from the spike trap and comes after me. He's too large to follow into the smaller passages, so he tears through walls instead. Coral that took decades to grow splinters under his strength.
“Enough tricks!” he bellows. “Face me properly!”
“Why?” I call back from a chamber he can't reach. “So you can crush me? I'm not stupid.”
But he's learning the palace layout now. Cutting through to intercept rather than chase. I'm running out of places to hide, running out of tricks.
One of his hunters corners me in a flooded corridor. I've got no weapons, no escape route. He grins, tentacles spreading to grab.
Then Aylth's voice cuts through the water.
“Female. To me.”
Just those three words, but I feel them in my bones. He's conscious. Weak but conscious.
