12
RUNE
The cenote yawns open like the mouth of the earth—dark, deep, and still. Jagged, moss-covered stone walls rise high above, veined with roots that hang like skeletal fingers, sucking greedily from the damp. From the rim, small waterfalls spill over the edge, silver streams tumbling into the pool. Their constant trickle echoes through the cavern, soft but unrelenting, like breath through clenched teeth.
The water does little to hide my siren form. No doubt by the time I rise back to the top, Odi will know that I, too, can shift my shape.
For a moment I allow my body to adjust to the temperature of the water, its cooling properties doing wonders for my aching bones and dry skin. I’d been prepared for a monster attack, the riddle had warned us, but I hadn’t been prepared for the sheer enormity of the creature. All those legs and feet tearing through the forest, and my crew.
I shudder at the thought of the three brave crewmen who’d lost their lives fighting for the mission that I’d thrown them into, risking it all for the slightest hope of finding answersabout my mother. I’d already asked too much, so there was no way I was allowing anyone to enter this cenote and swim to the very depths and collect whatever lay at the bottom, even though I know Elio and Tavi are going to be pissed that I didn’t give them a chance to follow me down here.
Being a prince has its pros and cons. Most of the time, I’m able to do as I please, but the price I pay is having someone breathing down my neck every five seconds. It's Elio’s job to protect me at all costs, and Tavi takes it upon herself to protect the entire crew without the paycheck to match. Secretly, I think she likes to know Elio’s whereabouts too. They’ve been eye fucking each other for weeks now. I don’t know why they don’t just get at it. There is certainly no qualms on my end.
Salty ocean water, and fresh spring water mix together, turning it a brackish green. I propel downwards, through the narrow opening that beckons at me from below. Tiny rays of sunlight pierce the murk, sending golden beams around me as I swim deeper. My eyes stay fixed on my surroundings. The last thing I need is to be surprised byanothercreature.
I grip my bone sword tighter as shadows form into mysterious shapes.
Seaweed. That’s all it is.
In this form, my sight is good enough to make out the shadowed details as I near. My shoulders drop, bubbles escaping the vents behind my ears where I breathe while submerged.
The water’s cooler down here, darker too. Each stroke pulls me deeper into the blue hush, the weight of the water pressing in on all sides. I’ve been swimming for a few minutes but I still haven’t reached the bottom.
My thoughts travel to Odelia. I’d been so hesitant to allow her to carry a weapon. What if she tore through my crew—or me—or simply shifted and bounded off into the island forest without a second glance? It would have been foolish to allow it, but then she went and found an axe, ripping through the creature with the litheness of an eel through water.
And instead of waiting and watching me die, she’d saved me.
I didn’t like this familiar ache that kept making itself known each time the image of wild, chocolate tresses, and umber eyes formed in my mind. Odi was making it quite difficult to hate her. Especially when she smiled.Salted seas. What I’d give to see her smile at me like I was more than just a means to an end. I shake my head. Light blue strands of hair swirl around me as I try to free my thoughts of a certain pirate-whom-I-despise-with-my-whole-being . . . right?
The seabed thickens with dark growth—tangles of slick, ribboning plants unfurling like fingers. Sticky, swaying things that curl up from below, reaching for skin and scales alike. One wraps around my tail. I flick hard, shaking it loose, but another brushes my side, clinging like it’s alive.
I push forwards, scanning the area for something. I didn’t even know what I was meant to be lookingfor? A chest? A key? Neither?
Perhaps I’d be searching down here forever. I shove the thought aside before it takes root. That’s not an option. We’ve already been on the island too long. Who knows what lurks out here under the blanket of darkness. I’m certainly not going to stick around andfind out.
The cenote opens into a wider cavern on the sea bed. The flash of silver scales to my right draws attention. A school of minnows dart into the shadows, concealing themselves amongst colourful coral and sea anemones. I’d do well to avoid them. Sirens in the past learnt pretty quickly the sting of an anemone.
I brush past the cavern wall as I swim into the centre. Two barbed plants catch my fins like hooks, their thin, jagged spines digging into the webbing with every movement. I manage to pull them free, but not without a sharp sting blooming across my tail. Scarlet blood slips into the water—thin, dark threads trailing behind me like a warning.
Shit.
If there are any predators down here, they’ll taste my blood before I see them. I need to move faster.
As I dart through the open space, the ground winks up at me. It’s made of white sand, stone, and scattered shells glinting like silver teeth. That’s when I see it. Nestled on the seabed, surrounded by a commune of large clams sits a tiny stone box covered in old runes that seem familiar.
I swim for it, gathering it into my hands. It’s locked. Of course it is. So where is the key? I glance around trying to see if there is another box stashed away somewhere, but I find none.
If I can’t find this piece then all of this was for nothing.
The box is weighted in my hands. I try forcing the lid open, squeezing the sides as I tug it apart. There’s no point, it’s sealed tight. Perhaps I can smash it on something? Thoughbrute force would likely result in harming whatever lay inside, so I’d better not.
Pearl coloured clams, covered in algae and wide open mouths turn to face me. My movements trigger their senses. I float too close to one. It snaps shut with acrackloud enough to thrum through my chest. I jerk back, narrowly avoiding losing a fin. The thing’s the size of a barrel, its ridged shell dusted in crusty sea scum.
Another to my right yawns, and that’s when I see it. On its large, slime covered pink tongue rests a key. Iron. Rusted but whole. No doubt the one I’m after.
How the fuck am I meant to get that.
Ihateclams almost as much as Ihatepirates.
