Calypso holds the bracelet aloft, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. She starts chanting in a language that sounds like a cross between a lullaby and a curse, her voice rising and falling like the tides. The words hang in the air, pulsing with a strange, hypnotic energy that makes my skin crawl.
Oh, shit. What have I gotten myself into? It looks like my word alone isn't going to cut it with the sea witch.
"Uhhh—What's with the hocus pocus?" Lucian chimes in, his eyebrows raised skeptically. "Is this some kind of underwater pinky swear? Because if so, I want in on the action."
I shoot him a look that says, "Not helping." Before I can tell him to shut up, the bracelet starts glowing like a deep-sea rave. I can feel the magic building—a tingling of energy that dances along my skin like the brush of a thousand tiny electric eels.
Suddenly, the bracelet splits in two, each half shooting out to wrap around my wrist and Calypso's. The coral and shells fuse, forming a seamless band that feels cool and smooth against my skin, but I can't shake the feeling that I've just signed my soul away to the devil of the deep.
I can feel the magic of the pact settling into my bones, a tingle of power coursing through my veins like liquid nitrogen. It’s a heady feeling—a rush of adrenaline mixed with something ancient and primal—but also terrifying in its intensity.
Calypso lowers her arms, a satisfied smile on her face. "It's done," her voice ringing with finality. "You are bound to our agreement, Dani. May the tides guide you to success."
"What the hell did I just agree to, exactly?" I ask, my voice laced with equal parts sarcasm and trepidation.
"Exactly what you said you do, and I am bound to what I promised you—it's called a Coral Pact," Calypso explains as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Sure, because that clears everything up," I mutter, eyeing the bracelet like it might sprout teeth and bite me. "And what happens if one of us doesn't hold up our end of the bargain? Do we get fed to the sharks or something?"
Calypso laughs, a sound that’s as beautiful as it is bone-chilling. "I wouldn’t dream of breaking our pact, Dani. Now, shall we celebrate our agreement with a toast?"
I exchange a wary glance with Lucian, who shrugs and gives me a "Your funeral, babe" look.
I take a deep breath, trying to quell the unease churning in my gut. I’ve made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. I hope I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew with this Coral Pact business.
She snaps her fingers, and a servant appears with a tray of shimmering, iridescent drinks. I eye them warily, not trusting anything from Calypso's hands.
On the other hand, Lucian grabs a glass and downs it in one gulp. "Whoa, that’s got a kick to it! It’s like mermaid farts mixed with the essence of a sea cucumber’s ballsack."
I wrinkle my nose in disgust, pushing my own glass away. "I think I'll pass on the underwater absinthe, thanks."
Calypso shrugs, delicately sipping her drink. "Suit yourself. But remember, the clock is ticking. You have until the next full moon to bring me the Siren's Lyre. Don’t disappoint me."
"Great," I say, standing up from the table, ready to get the fuck out of here. "If that's all, I think it’s time we take our leave. There are places to go and relics to find; you know how it is."
Lucian also rises, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. "Yeah, I could use a real drink after all this excitement. Preferably something strong enough to make me forget about the whole 'almost getting my heart ripped out' thing."
Calypso waves a dismissive hand. "By all means, you may go."
And with that, I waste no time.
Rhyland
31
The room spins around me as I down another mug of ale, the bitter liquid sloshing over my lips and dribbling down my chin. I'm drunk, really fucking drunk, and the world has taken on a hazy, dreamlike quality.
Beside me, Gideon, Orion, and Erik are laughing and cutting up, their voices loud and boisterous in the crowded tavern. We've been here for hours, drinking and bullshitting and trying to forget the clusterfuck of a situation we've found ourselves in.
The tavern is alive with raucous energy, the air thick with the scent of ale and sweat. Our table is littered with cards and coins, the remnants of my pathetic attempts at poker scattered before me like a fucking testament to my piss-poor gambling skills.
In the corner, a group of musicians belts out a sea shanty, their voices rising above the crowd's din. The melody is infectious, and soon enough, the bar patrons are on their feet, stomping and clapping along with the beat.
But even through the drunken haze, I can't stop thinking about Dani. Can't stop worrying about her, wondering if she's okay. It's like a constant ache in my chest, a dull, throbbing pain that no amount of alcohol can numb.
Suddenly, I feel a flicker of something at the edge of my consciousness. A presence, warm and familiar and achingly sweet. For a moment, I think it's just the booze fucking with me, conjuring up visions of my mate that aren't really there.
But then the tavern door swings open, and my heart stops dead in my chest.
