He woke me up. Peeled back the layers of mud I’d buried myself in and reminded me who I truly am. Not someone who runs—but someone who fights.
Leaning in, I kiss Niko’s cheek and whisper, “Stay with me.”
The floor trembles beneath my feet as I stand, painting myself into leather armor with hardly a thought. My gladius hangs on my hip, a throwing knife strapped to each thigh. There is comfort in the familiar weight of them.
“How long can you hold the palace?”
I don’t ask Sam or Adira. I ask Marina. The Aeternalis’ right hand. The fallen pixie. Her lips go tight, as she understands what I’m asking of her. How long can she return to the hated version of herself? The one capable of shoving aside her feelings and doing what needs to be done.
Just hurry,she signs.We’ll do what we have to. The Lunaedon won’t fall under my watch.
I don’t need to be told twice. Squeezing my eyes shut, I burrow deep into myself. Past the pain, past the scars marring my heart. Past the boredom and the darkness. Down, down, down, to where the pool of power shimmers. The one that’s always been there, if only I’d thought to nurture it. Starved and waiting for me to feed it the dreams of my soul.
I plunge into its colors. Let them race through my veins. And with them, I begin to paint. I capture the iridescent blues of the Crocodile, the glistening black stalactites and stalagmites. Long, sweeping strokes form the shapes of the cave and more delicate ones depict the smells and sounds. The rhythmic tick of the tide against the hull of the Indomnitus; the briny scent of salt and sand. The pull of time, the feel of it racing through our blood.
The Lunaedon shudders again and more glass crashes to the floor as distant shouts ring in my ears. I block out the discordant clang of steel on steel, the bursts of explosions and cries of horror, and focus only on the soft drip of moisture on the cave walls. I release my terror and worry—for Niko, for my friends, for the kingdom—and think only of the peace of the cave.
With bated breath, I carefully paint each detail until the Crocodile fully comes to life in my mind—until I canfeelthe warmth of the heated rock beneath my skin, and the way Niko had smelled when he’d trapped me between his arms and whispered of the power flowing through me.
My breath escapes me in a rush, as a violent tug slices through my chest.
And when I open my eyes, it’s to find myself kneeling in the exact spot I’d knelt beside Niko so many weeks ago and pleaded with his ribbons to help me. The sudden silence of the cave is almost deafening in contrast to the clamor of battle raging around me only seconds before.
I rise to my feet, brushing off the knees of my pants. With a leveling breath, I scale the steep rock wall that dips into the bowlof the Crocodile. The tide has risen in the short amount of time since Niko and I were here, and my boots squelch unpleasantly in the silt as the water laps up over the toes.
Tick, tick, tick.
The water laps against the keel in time to the rapid beat of my heart.
The Indomnitus looms above me, still and haunting as ever, and as I climb the gangway toward the upper deck, I try not to think of the hollow expanding deeper beneath my ribs with every step. The ship is a ghost: of itself, swallowed by the waves of the sea, and of its captain, lost to wounds inflicted by the cruel hand of fate and love.
I grit my teeth as I reach the deck, forcing a sudden wave of nausea down my throat with a hard swallow, as I take in the stunning wood and silky sails. A morbid statue of the King of Carrion, mired in time. The lines of him with none of the life.
I’ll be damned if he ends up like his ship. The very thing that connects us—pain—has also made us into survivors. We fight and we scrape and we claw. We don’t give up, even when the world demands it.
Niko and I—we’re eternal.
Heaving a deep breath, the heat of newfound determination swirling through my veins, I plunge forward, searching the deck until I find the lattice hatch. With a grunt, I lift the hatch to reveal a steep set of stairs disappearing into shadows. Holding on to the railings, I lower myself slowly down until my feet find purchase on the lower decks.
“Fuck,” I mutter aloud, peering into the dark. The only light spilling in from above is swallowed by a black so abiding, I feel as though I’ve gone blind. Feeling my way slowly forward with one hand, I keep the other trained on the gladius at my hip, having learned well enough to expect the unexpected in the kingdom of dreams.
I can only hope there isn’t a blood-sucking tiger, or some other monstrosity borne of a child’s imagination, lurking in the dark. I’ve just begun to wonder whether I’ll be able to imagine myself a torch without accidentally burning the entire ship down, when a pinprick of light suddenly flares to life in front of me.
A single will-o-wisp twinkles in the darkness, so far from its home in the forest. Holding my breath so as not to spook it, I slowly open my fingers, reaching my palm toward its soft glow. While the people and creatures of Letum have gravitated toward me in the weeks since my magic began nurturing the island’s, the will-o-wisps have kept a steadfast distance.
The small light drifts toward me, dancing over my fingers, before settling lightly in the center of my palm. Its presence vibrates from my hand, up my arm, warm and light, like the little faerie is made up of sunrays.
I’m still staring in wonder, when I notice another small light drifting from the deep darkness. Then another and another. The will-o-wisps’ pleasant hum fills the harrowing silence of the ship, as hundreds of them appear, their soft lights winking as they circle around me. Some tangle in my hair, tugging gently at the strands, while others graze over my arms, sending tiny zaps of electricity racing from each point of contact.
I keep still, afraid one wrong move will fracture the moment and send them scattering. Just like Niko’s ribbons when I was terrified and desperate, the small faeries’ presence in the dark is enough to soothe the edges of my worry and make me feel less alone. They begin to swirl more earnestly, their lights blurring and shifting into an incandescent line.
They wait expectantly, shivering and humming, their glow emanating through the darkness and lighting up the bowels of the ship. I follow their lead, past shining canons and neatly coiled nets. Through another hatch, and down to lowest deck. The Indomnitus is expansive, far larger than it appears from theoutside. Together, we venture into its depths, walking until we reach the very back of the ship.
The will-o-wisps flee the confines of their line, and swarm into a glowing cloud in the far corner. Their buzzing hum grows excited as they dart around in the air, and my breath stops in my throat as I realize what’s beneath them.
Another hatch. It appears out of place within the belly of the ship, as it is not made of the same shined wood as everything else, but of carved obsidian.
Just like the doors of Lunaedon.
