“Weeks ago,” Lucia says gently. I didn’t expect her to turn to me, but she regards me with wary confidence. I try to reassure her with a look alone. “She is stronger now. Even if she does attract them, she can defend herself.”
“There’s only one question that matters.” Ilryth swims up to me. His intense, dark eyes are like the space between the stars—infinite, cool, and dangerously inviting. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” Once more, I will charge ahead into the vast unknown. Keep moving forward. Keep putting distance between myself and the past.
“Lord Ilryth, I should give one cautionary note, we’ve never tested all this before. It’s impossible to know how her markings might be impacted by the trench, or going back to the Natural World,” Lucia cautions. “Everything we’ve discussed has been my speculation.”
That further confirms my suspicion that they’ve been in cahoots. My opinion of Lucia is increasing by the moment.
“Your Grace, as your general, I must still advise against this.” Sheel’s attention darts between Lucia and Ilryth, prompted to action once more by her hesitation. “We shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks with the offering. Think of what the Duke of Faith would say if he caught word of this.”
“We’re doing it,” Ilryth declares, as if emboldened by Sheel’s continued refusals.
“If you must…but let’s not be hasty, please.” It’s evident by Sheel’s tone that he’s struggling to come to terms with this. Part of him wants to follow orders. Part knows what Ilryth is risking. Part of me feels for the position he’s in. “Lucia, could you perhaps consult with your scrolls from the Order of the Lifetree on this before we go rushing in needlessly?”
She bristles slightly. “There isn’t anything in the records. I know them quite well and would remember anything regarding the offering.” I take it that this isn’t the first time Sheel has questioned her on matters of faith.
“There’s no time for consulting scrolls,” I interrupt. “I can do this. I must do this.” All eyes are on me. “I give you all my word. I will keep both of us safe. What’s the point of me learning the words of the old ones if I’m not going to use them?”
Ilryth studies me. I must measure up, because he holds out his hand to me. I hesitate a moment, trying to ascertain Sheel and Lucia’s expressions from the corners of my eyes. But it’s impossible. All that truly matters—exists, even—is Ilryth and me. It doesn’t matter what they think or feel, what matters is what I do.
I take his hand before them. His palm is larger than mine, but his grip is equally firm and calloused. I took his physique for a laborer’s originally, but now I see him for what he is—a warrior.
“Please, Your Grace,” Sheel objects. “If you leave the Eversea you risk her disappearing—You’re—”
Ilryth whirls in place, his lips part, and he lets out a low note—one of warning, of danger. He dips his chin, leveling his eyes with Sheel’s. The general stills, swaying slightly. His gaze softens and jaw slackens.
Lucia raises a palm to her chest, bowing before her lord. A soft melody emits from her as well. One that pulses in harmony with Ilryth’s.
The sounds would’ve once been unintelligible to me. It is as though every language of the world has been merged into one. There are the beginnings of words, given up and mashed together with other sounds before disappearing.
Yet, I can glean meaning from it. I hear Sheel’s worry and pain. How he fears for my anointment and the very magic that makes up my form. I hear Lucia’s understanding and support. All the sounds combine in my mind in wondrous harmony—a sound human ears have probably never heard before and certainly wouldn’t have understood if they did.
Ilryth closes his mouth, and the song stops. Sheel is still in a dazed state. The duke looks to me. I nod before a thought is exchanged. No need for words. I’m ready for what awaits us.
His body compresses in on itself. Ilryth bends at the hips, drawing his tail in, elbows back. He explodes with power, jetting out into the open water and taking me with him.
I twist, reaching up to his right shoulder with my right hand. Ilryth understands my movements and reaches back to help me. I settle behind him, gripping both his shoulders. Our bodies move together effortlessly. The feeling is familiar enough and my thoughts are too far elsewhere for me to be too distracted by our proximity. I’m focused on the trench ahead.
We soar over the coral barrier and wooden walls that serve as the defensive line for the trench. Much like how the water changed when Ilryth removed Dawnpoint from its place, the water shifts instantly when we pass the barriers. There’s a faint, bloody tint to the seas. The sand is paler. Gray. It looks like it would be cold to the touch.
Not far is a large chasm, greater and deeper than any I’ve ever imagined. We run parallel to it for some time. I regard the swirling depths of thick rot at my right warily, peering into the darkness for any sign of a wraith that might creep over the edge…or the curl of a massive tentacle.
Eventually an underwater mountain range begins to obstruct our path.
“Hold on tightly. It’s difficult for light to penetrate the depths so you’ll need to stay with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I squeeze his shoulders.
“Good. I want you nowhere but my side.” The words leave no room for doubt. I wonder if he knows all the ways I could read into them but choose not to.
We pitch over the vast trench. Night has pooled in its depths, like a sea within a sea. The water beneath us is somehow denser still and swirls with ominous curls of rot.
Ilryth descends. There is no time for hesitation. It is just like charging into a storm at sea.
Steel yourself, Captain, I tell myself.
The gloom and red swallows us whole. All light has vanished. Ilryth cuts through the darkness with the spear. It’s begun to emit a faint, shining glow. He waves it from side to side now and then, swirling away the muck that begins to cling to his arms.
