It’s as though the fear inside me has a mind of its own, and the energy unravels like a nest of snakes, slithering down my arms and across the vine with terrifying speed.
The Flora doesn’t see it coming. The sooty wisps of energy wrap around his arms, then snake around his chest, winding tighter and tighter until they reach his throat.
His face drains of colour, his concentration shattered as he tries to free himself. But it’s too late. The energy is more than holding him. It’s feeding on his fear, growing stronger, more aggressive. It slithers into his mouth, gagging him, choking him.
The Flora’s teammate approaches from behind, desperateto help, but the energy is relentless, latching on to him, too, pulling him into the same nightmarish hold.
They’re both caught, trapped by the monstrous creation of our combined terrors and, for a moment, I can only stare, horrified by what I’ve done.
Taron’s looming frame is suddenly beside me. He unsheathes a dagger from his belt and slices through the vine, then grabs my arm.
“Don’t look,” he orders, but I can’t prise my eyes away. He simply pulls me along to the dinghy and shoves me into it. I don’t resist.
We’re in the boat and Taron doesn’t waste a second. He leans over the side, plunging his hand into the water, his brow furrowing in concentration as he summons what remains of his waning energy.
There’s a shift in the ocean breeze, a subtle tug as he uses his talents to manipulate the currents. The dinghy jerks forward, and I have to hold on tight. I brace myself for the ocean’s salty spray on my face.
I scan the dark water for the other competitors. Unsurprisingly, the leading dinghies all have Aquas at the helm, perched confidently as they command powerful tall waves to carry them forward.
“We’re too far behind,” I shout into the wind.
Taron doesn’t react. He is determined, his focus on the water. I grit my teeth, trying to think of something – anything – to help. But then Taron abruptly slows the boat, so much so I nearly topple overboard.
“What the…” I swallow my words as I turn, and Taron is squinting at the surrounding ocean, a frown knitting his brows.
“Quiet,” he says, pulling his hand from the water. “I felt something … working against my current.”
“An animal?”
“A monster.”
As if called forth by Taron’s words, two enormous tentacles, thick as tree trunks, erupt from the dark water, wrapping around two of the dinghies further ahead.
The competitors are too shocked to react. Their boats are yanked under with terrifying force, the water swallowing them whole.
A horrified scream climbs to the tip of my tongue, but I bite down on my jaw to keep it contained. Then it happens again. Two more dinghies are seized, pulled under by the monstrous tentacles.
This time, I get a good look at them. Dark, slick, covered in suction cups the size of dinner plates. The water around them churns, frothing with bubbles and debris as the boats vanish beneath the waves.
“What are you waiting for? Go!” shouts Cyrus and, at his command, Gideon calls forth a wave to carry their dinghy forward.
Panic breaks out. Those teams whose talents don’t offer much sway over the sea are rowing furiously, anything to put distance between themselves and whatever creature is lurking below.
“Help me, please…” The voice is a gurgle at first, then a hand erupts from the dark water and clamps around my arm, followed by a face I only vaguely recognize from the banquet.
I scream, and the drowning competitor digs their nails into my skin. Taron drives his heel into their face. Their fingers spasm before they sink back into the water.
Then it all happens too fast. A tentacle rises behind us, a giant silhouette against the now-waning eclipse. It crashes down on the water, and our dinghy tilts.
I topple overboard. Salty water spreads into my lungs as I feel myself sinking … deeper and deeper like an anchor.
My eyes are wide. Head throbbing. I want to scream, but I know that would only drown me faster. Darkness spreads around me. Above, the moons’ reflection fractures across the surface, growing smaller and smaller with each passing second.
Something moves in the water beneath me. A figure, only barely visible in the dark.
A hand. A face.
Blank features written with such helplessness that cold dread unfurls in my chest. The competitor who grabbed my foot opens their mouth, and a single air bubble bursts forth.
