A predatory grin touched the edge of her lips. "The Gauntlet is built from vibration. War-song," Sera continued, moving closer as the barbed hook of her strategy ensnared him properly. "Both choirs, blended to sing in opposition. They’ll carve themaze with their voices." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in the fine silt. "What if the Thalassari choir never finished a verse?"
Understanding bloomed in the dark. And with a hiss, Nyxarion’s gills flared. Gaping. “A trap.”
Offering a single, sharp nod, Sera’s eyes gleamed. “The Abyssari choir is unpracticed. Far from the equal of Thalassari voices. We shouldn’t bother conquering the Gauntlet. Not truly. Instead, we’ll break them.” Drifting closer, her voice a hissed whisper, she said, “An undertow. While the Thalassari focus on building perfect currents, we shall build what lies beneath.”
"They'll feel it coming," Nyxarion objected, but stilled.
"Yes," Sera admitted. "But by then, it will be far, far too late.” She paused, fins flicking in a delicate shrug. “We cannot stop Thalos. But the Thalassari choir themselves?”
Flashing his teeth, Nyx let his spines flare. “The Deep itself will be our weapon.”
CHAPTER 10
It floated at the center.
Limp.
Asleep.
Thalos' head tilted as he looked upon it.
A mockery of Pelagorn beauty.
Short human limbs that were frail and almost smooth, all but absent proper fins. A creature that looked too feeble for the deep, and yet… delicate gills fluttered at her throat. Her every breath a defiance to the order he’d dedicated his life to upholding, while her skin shimmered with scales.
Kissed by the sun.
Nyxarion's precious living flame.
Lip curled, Thalos circled. Tail flicking in a slow arc, he let his claws drag through the current holding her aloft. Inches from her skin. Watching the water swirl as he moved.
Fingers twitching, he watched the way her throat worked around a breath. Sluggish. Struggling to pull enough oxygen from the water to simply breathe.
AlivingSiren.
The creature was a poison.
A relic of their darkest chapter, one his forefathers had gone to war to exterminate.
And yet…
… there it was.
Sleeping.
In the heart of the Gauntlet.
Still alive, despite his efforts.
Sending a torrent of water through his gills, Thalos hissed. A sharp, controlled sound. He'd have to conquer the Gauntlet of Tides after all—and all that went with a victory.
The scent hit him, then. Not the cloying flavor of a purebloodedVirelii, but something… deeper.
Alien.
Fins flaring, Thalos reached. Letting the back of one claw drag through the current swirling around her.
His fist itched to wrap around Cymareth's pearl hilt. One easy slice from the Waveblade and she'd scatter to the currents.
