They could all smell it.
And, fury boiling over, the darkness surged as the Abyssari were summoned once more by Nyxarion’s wrath. Pulsing blue in the gloom, the Deep answered its exiled king.
And it was Nyxarion’s turn to laugh. It was a sound that echoed through the trench. “You think your court untainted, Shallow King?” Trident pulsing, the dark waters surged, swirling with crackling power as the pressure rose around them. “Superior? When your people suffocate in the Deep. Crushed by the pressure even a Siren tolerates with ease.”
Coiling closer, snaking through the current, Nyxarion grinned and it was wicked. “You rule the Shallows because the Deep would devour you whole.”
Thalos’ face remained serene, but something flicked behind that narrowed glare.
“My bride breathes where evenyouwould die,” Nyxarion thrummed. “She bears a dose of venom that would stop your weak heart in seconds. She will birth a generation of Abyssari strong enough to conquer every trench from pole to pole, while the Thalassari wither. Breeding your own cousins as you cling to pure blood. Don’t speak to me of grotesqueries that pervert nature, Thalos. Though I suppose youarethe one true authority there.”
But Kore had stopped listening.
She was frozen.
Hanging suspended between sovereigns.
Unable to look anywhere but up as the Thalassari descended.
Hair drifting around them in silken ribbons of moonlight and pearl, adorned with spiraling shells and etched coral jewelry, drifting in a cloud, as if their every movement was by design. Deliberate. A court that moved as one harmonious body.
Thalos turned his head, acknowledging them with a single nod.
The Hollow Court had arrived.
And Kore—twisted, malformed, grotesque—hung naked before them all.
Slick poured from her pussy in a humiliating rush, bright and glowing as it dispersed into the current. Her fins flared involuntarily, scales pulsing with the light of her fear.
Her every mutation, each revolting grotesquery on display.
Covering her face, she cowered away from their inspection. Chest seizing, she tried to make herself smaller. To disappear.
But there was nowhere to hide.
The choir of Thalassari shifted.
Breaking formation, one elegant creature slipped toward Kore, then. Radiant. Her scales shimmered in tones Kore had never imagined before. Her fins were translucent. Nothing likeKore’s half-formed vestigial things, she carried a great age that did nothing to mottle her beauty.
Breathtaking.
Resplendent.
So much that Kore couldn’t look away. Couldn’t blink or draw a single, sodden breath.
“Nerissa Voralis,” Thalos announces, his voice carrying through the trench. “I have chosen the Tide Mother to attend the Siren. My right as challenger.”
As if struck with a bolt of lightning, Nyxarion bristled. Spines flaring wide, he snarled, and the trench brightened with his outrage. “You willnot?—”
At the same time, Thalos spoke over his counterpart. “The Spiral demands?—”
But Nyxarion cut him off, voice dropping to that subsonic register that rattled Kore’s bones. “—claimmybride through your underhanded, cowardly Thalassari corruption,” Nyx growled, shaking the entire trench. “She carriesAbyssarivenom. She is the heart of the Deep,ShallowKing. If you dare enforce this choice of Tide Mother, then Kore remainshere. In Vorynthar, where her transformation shall continue unimpeded by the weak pressure of shallow tides.”
At this, Thalos threw his head back and laughed. “Nerissa cannot remain in the Deep, exile. I won’t allow it.”
Showing teeth, Nyxarion continued without pause. “That your kind aren’t meant to endure the Deep is of no concern of mine,” he hummed, and gestured to the gathered Thalassari. Already, their fins drooped. Gills flaring crimson as they worked to pull enough oxygen from the black waters. “Can you feel it already?” he hummed. “The pressure. The cold?”
Tension grew thick. Violence hummed between males, floating on the edge, but a single breath from eruption.
