Vinicola shudders. “Good that it’s over, then.”
I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t be so sure…” I say, shifting my gaze to Ridley. “How much time until… well, the first moment the sun touches the horizon from now?”
“An hour,” Ridley replies.
“Right. We’d better be ready, then.”
And with that, we get to work. The First Trial won’t pass itself alone.
An hour later, we’re packed tight in one skiff, drifting between the two hellish islands. The sun is just about to break the horizon, and the sky’s turning fierce, bleeding into a harsher shade of blue with the first hint of light. The water around us looks still, but it doesn’t feel right. There’s something lurking beneath the surface—waiting, holding its breath. Even the air feels wrong: thick, sharp, like a blade held to your throat.
Unforgiving. That’s what it feels like out here. Whatever’s brewing beneath the surface, it will be merciless.
“Here we go again,” Zayan mutters, his voice barely cutting through the stillness. The light catches on the edge of Solis to my right, while on the left, the moon hangs, stubborn and unnaturally bright.
“Keep your hands inside,” I warn, glancing around. I don’t know what’s out there, but I’m not about to tempt it. The quiet feels like an invitation to some hell we haven’t seen yet. And we’ve seen our own share by now.
Vinicola huddles beside me, his eyes darting from the horizon to the water. “Shouldn’t we… I don’t know, do something?”
Fabien snorts, his tone dripping with bitterness. “We do whatshewants us to do.”
The goddess.
I nod, my voice flat. “We wait.”
Then it hits—a tremor, low and deep, rattling the skiff under us. My fingers tighten around my pistol’s grip, even though I know damn well it won’t do a thing against what’s coming. To the right, sunlight catches on Solis’ rocks; to the left, the moon glares down over the other isle. The beams clash in a flash of blinding light, piercing the water just a cannon shot away.
The sea starts churning, twisting on itself. The hum that follows is so deep it feels like it’s coming from my bones. It feels like something’s clawing its way up from the deep, scraping its way up to the surface.
I grit my teeth, fingers clamped around the pistol, knowing damn well it’s useless.
And then, ahead of us, the water shudders, and a pillar—dark and gleaming—begins to rise.
Ahead of us, the surface shudders, and a pillar—dark, slick—begins to emerge. But then something strange happens. I blink, half-expecting the pillar to keep climbing, but instead, the water around us starts pulling back. Not fast, but enough to notice. The swirling water peels away, leaving behind jagged rocks, coral skeletons, dark patches of sand—things that should be buried far below.
“What in the bloody depths…” I murmur, watching the sea itself drain away, revealing more of the seabed with every second.
Fabien leans forward, frowning. “It’s not rising, is it?”
“No… it’s the sea. It’s dropping,” Zayan says.
Realization hits like a punch to the gut.
“Shit,” I snap. “Take the oars, head for that pillar! Look—there’s a gouge in the stone! We need to reach it before the water’s gone, or we’re stranded.”
A gouge that we have to manage to reach before the sea level drops low enough we won’t be able to.
Fabien and Zayan dive into action, seizing the oars and driving them into the lowering sea, forcing the skiff forward. I grip the side, fingers whitening as I watch the water recede, exposing more rock with every passing second. And ahead, that gleaming pillar looms taller by the moment.
“Faster!” I shout, urging them on. The skiff surges forward, Zayan and Fabien rowing in rough rhythm, their breath coming hard.
“Almost there!” Zayan calls, casting a quick, fierce glance over his shoulder.
The pillar is just within reach now, its surface etched with three openings—one horizontal slot in the front, two smaller round ones on either side. But with the sea draining so fast, there’s only a slim window for us to figure out their purpose.
“The scales,” I breathe. “They’re connected to this.”
Vinicola fumbles through his pockets, pulling out a shimmering scale from the moonlit island, and Fabien does the same, taking his own scale from his coat. Zayan grabs them and presses each one into the circular openings.
