“No?” I can’t help but question. For a moment, I was certain she would.
“There’s no point… It’s not as if we could anoint anyone else in time. And you’ve already been marked as the offering; we’d have to kill you first if we wanted to try.” Grim, but works in my favor. “So even if you’re a subpar offering, you’re better than scrambling or, worse, nothing. I’d shudder to think of what might happen if we present no one to Lord Krokan. Moreover, I don’t want to see my brother get into any more trouble than he usually does.”
I push off the bed as well, drifting over to her. “Thank you, Lucia. I know it’s not for me, but it means a lot to me that you’ve done this.”
“Yes, well, prove that your word is all that Ilryth makes it out to be.”
“I will,” I resolve. In all I can remember of my life, I have never broken an oath. “I swear it to you. I will quell Lord Krokan’s rage and bring back calm and prosperity to the Eversea.”
“Good. Oh, and make sure Ilryth and I are the only ones to mark you from now on…let’s not risk anyone else finding out.”
“You’re a good woman and a good sister, Lucia. Thank you.” I wish there might have been more time to get to know her. Perhaps befriend her properly. Much like my feelings for Ilryth, there’s the start of a connection with Lucia—a friendship, but it’s not going to have time to mature into anything.
She gives a small nod. “Just don’t make me regret it,” she says, and gets to work.
Her movements are relaxed and purposeful. Confident. She’s just about finished when Ventris swims up.
“How is she?” he asks Lucia without so much as a greeting to me.
“I am just finishing.” Lucia does another check of her lines—the ones that were new, and adjustments to the old. I hope she was right when she said that she could cover the shifts Ilryth made in my markings.
Ventris swims over and I remain perfectly still, working to keep my expression relaxed.I have nothing to fear. You have no reason to be suspicious. I repeat the thoughts, keeping them for myself.
“She looks good,” he says, leaning away. I fight not to let my shoulders sag with relief. “Excellent work, as always.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Lucia bows her head. “If I may, when do the markings need to be completed by?”
“Our astrologers and tidal readers say that it shall be less than fifty nights until the summer equinox.”
Less than two months,I think to myself. It’s so close. Twenty-five years was all my life had. It’s too short. I might have accepted my fate, but for the first time it hurts. Today highlighted everything I’m letting go with painful color.
How did I allow myself to get to this place?
I try to remember the circumstances, but they’re hazy. I knew Ilryth when he came to collect me aboard my ship. I knew he would come and take me.So why…
“Now,” Ventris continues. “If you would please come along.”
“To where?”
“We are going to begin the preparations for the final verse of your anointing.”
I do as I’m told. But not for him and not because he tells me to. I do it peacefully because I think there’s a chance that I might see Ilryth again. It is dawning on me how little time I have left with him. This will all be over before I know it; I must savor every moment. I have things I need to ask him…things about myself.
We glide gracefully through the twisting corridors and oddly shaped rooms of the castle. I pay little attention to the direction we take. It doesn’t seem like something I need to know; it’s not as if I will be here for much longer. Instead, I focus on the multicolor beauty of it all. The intricate and organic skill by which the sirens build their homes that begets a seamless fusion of form and function—a stunning merger that I feel as if I’m seeing for the first time.
We end at another large cavern, not unlike where the chorus met. This one is filled with sculptures similar to those in Ilryth’s armory. On one side is a carved rendition of Krokan. On the opposite is one of Lellia and her Lifetree. However, unlike in Ilryth’s armory, the roots that wrap through this space are not carved from stone.
These are the real roots of the Lifetree, shimmering with a ghostly haze, much like the anamnesis spectral trees hanging from the ceiling. They illuminate the space with their glow. As if a forest has grown upside down, cradled and supported by the roots of the Lifetree itself. I briefly wonder why these roots shimmer with the same glow as the anamnesis when other roots—outside the castle, the ones that descend into the Abyss—are rotting. Perhaps Ilryth was right, and it is the waters of death poisoning life.
My thoughts are stilled by the two large emeralds that are inlaid as eyes for the carving of Krokan. My gaze locks with it, as if the real Krokan can see me through his stony counterpart. I can almost hear the whispering of words that I cannot understand because they were not made for mortal ears. They pool in the back of my mind, calling me, beckoning me closer and closer.
He is waiting for me in that endless pit of water and rot. The old god of death calls relentlessly, demanding my very soul as payment for a crime. A chill panic sweeps across my skin. I want to leave this room—to go anywhere other than where he can see me. I swim backward. Ventris notices the reaction and he can no doubt see the panic on my face.
He stops and asks tiredly, “What is it now?”
“I…” Words are stuck, unable to be freed from the corners of my mind.
“What is wrong with you?” Ventris demands.
