The hallway was dim, lit by sconces. Dozens of keys lined the walls, hanging from hooks or threads from the beams—some rusted, some gleaming, some with teeth too strange to open any normal door. One near my shoulder turned slowly as I passed, clicking once like a lock being tested.
“Don’t touch them,” Camille said without turning. Her wings were gone, but the back of her fashionable silk dress was ruined.
We moved deeper. A low chime rang somewhere ahead, not from a clock but from the bones of the building itself.
One door opened on its own, revealing a long corridor bathed in golden light.
It led us to a chamber that looked half-temple, half-war room. Sunlight spilled through latticed windows in slendercolumns, casting patterns across shelves and writing tables. Dust motes drifted through the beams. The walls were lined with drawers—tiny ones, each marked with a different glyph or sigil.
“This used to be a place of worship,” Camille said, gesturing around. “It still is, in a way.”
I walked to the long brass table cluttered with arcane tools, maps, black candles, and dried flowers. A hearth burned low in the far corner, and Camille sank into a chair facing it.
“They should be here soon. Come, sit with me.” She patted the cushion of the chair next to her. “I’ll make us some tea, and you’re going to tell me why Nibble appeared out of the blue, interrupted me singing Lamento della Ninfa, and begged me to help Emrys.”
My brows climbed. “You performed Monteverdi?” I asked. Instant guilt stung me. I was sitting here, talking about music, while Arthur was somewhere at the bottom of the sea and Emrys was fighting for his life.
I should’ve been trembling, falling apart. Instead, I felt… numb, like my body had decided to keep going while the rest of me floated somewhere behind, still trapped on that ship.
Her blue-green eyes delved into mine, warming up. “Lascia ch’io pianga...” she hummed, her voice so deep and velvety that shudders ran down my spine.
“Mia cruda sorte.” I finished.
She reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it.
“Great voice! Daphne, right? That’s what Nibble called you. There’s more to you than meets the eye. Now, tell me—what in the seven hells is happening here?”
Probably, it was her sincere interest. Or the jasmine tea. But the story I was carrying within me filled the quiet room. She listened without interrupting me. And when the tears came, she just pulled me in, offering me something I never realized I was missing—a shoulder to cry on.
Emrys
Just like in old times
Itore through the swarm in the sky. Quickly and mercilessly. But I was distracted, my thoughts returning to Daphne. Was she safe? What if this was a diversion?
I landed soundlessly on the deck of the fishing barge. The black portholes stared back at me like empty, dead eyes. No sound came from the hold, but I sensed their presence. Their twisted magic tugged at the fabric of this world like someone trying to play a harp with a bone saw.
“I know you’re here,” I whispered in the old tongue. The words crept into the cracks of the wood, curling into every corner of the vessel. “You’re not allowed to board the ship. Leave now, and you might keep your pathetic excuse of an existence.”
More came from above—typical. I turned in time to slice one in half. It hit the deck with a wet thud, its black intestines uncoiling across the boards like rope. The rest followed in a frenzy, and I let them.
The deck grew slick with their blood, the air thick with rot and sulfur. I sank into the rhythm of the fight, every motion clean and precise. Here, in the heart of chaos, I found clarity. The battle became meditation. Every swing wascalculated, every parry a breath. How many had the Renegade sent this time?
While evading claws and conjuring blades of shadow, I kept glancing toward the steamer. Its upper deck looked undisturbed. I prayed she’d reached the captain in time. My duel with a hulking Hollowborn with a shaved skull took us into the air.
He was wielding a spiked whip of bones, and I was evading the hissing lashes by an inch.
That’s when I sensed it. A shift in the air. A disturbance, deep and cold.
Something ancient near the bridge.
The undyne.
She was here.
Her presence washed over the deck like a tidal wave.
No.
