Then a thick, sinuous appendage coils around their waist and yanks them into the depths. This time, I can’t hold back my scream.
When something wraps around my waist, I brace myselffor the same end. But it’s not a cold, sinewy tentacle around my waist. It’s an arm.
Taron pulls me into him, and I bury my face in the corded muscles of his chest. I can see the pulse of his talents rippling underwater, feel it surging through me as he propels us upward. He doesn’t say anything as he hauls me on to the dinghy. Only gestures for me to hold on as he dips his hand back into the water and propels us forward.
I catch my breath, keeping my focus on the great vessel ahead – our sanctuary – dark sails blocking the three moons. I try not to think about the bottomless murky depths beneath us. Try not to scream when, out of the water, the monstrous abomination rises.
It has a serpent’s head with eyes like molten gold, and a body crowned with barnacled tentacles dripping with brine. Its mouth, lined with jagged, razor-sharp teeth, opens in a roar that shakes the ocean breeze, a sound so deep it reverberates in my bones.
One of the creature’s tentacles swings wildly, smashing into another team’s dinghy with the force of a tidal wave. The team is tossed overboard, their screams lost to the sea.
The tentacle lashes out again, this time flailing in the direction of Kara and Savannah, who are frantically trying to steer their boat away.
Kara plucks something from the pouch attached to her belt, and it looks like the long fleshy leaf of a succulent with serrated edges.
When she snaps the leaf in half, it releases a blindingstream of light. It must be a sunblade – a hardy desert plant from Solara, often used by Helios when no other light sources are present.
Kara grabs the stream of light like it’s a pliable thing, and it forms into a blade in her hand, a brilliant glowing weapon that she swings at the monster to sever its nearing tentacle in one clean stroke. The limb writhes and falls back into the water, and Kara lets loose a guttural scream. Her emotions release into the air like a smoky breath.
“Hold on,” Taron’s voice cuts through the chaos.
I barely have time to grab the edge of the dinghy before he looks up at the trio of moons, his blue eyes reflecting their cold light. He takes a deep breath as if drawing strength from the silvery glow, and then we surge forward with a speed that knocks me back.
The current around us shifts, bending to his will. Tentacles thrash at us, but Taron’s focus is unbreakable. I do what I can to help. My emotions are explosive, manifesting as sharp, straggly spikes in the air around me. I dodge one tentacle before my spikes perforate another. My heart is in my throat as we weave through the chaos.
Ahead, the ship is looming larger and larger. I spy Cyrus and Gideon docking their dinghy against the side of the hull. They grab hold of a thick rope ladder hanging down from the deck and start climbing, muscles straining as they pull themselves up.
As we draw closer, the size of the ship becomes overwhelming. It towers over us, built from ancientwood carved with patterns and symbols that mirror the constellations.
The ship’s name is etched into the side in gold letters.The Leviathan. A fitting name for something so colossal.
When our dinghy reaches the ship, a rope ladder descends. Taron goes ahead of me. I climb as rapidly as I can, but the side of the boat is slick with sea spray and my muscles are straining.
We at last reach the deck, and Taron pulls me over the edge before collapsing on to the wooden planks, gasping for breath. Throbbing veins spread across his arms and into his neck, framing the sides of his face.
“I’m fine,” he insists before I can ask. “I just need a minute.”
I glance back at the water but immediately regret it. The monster has two competitors wrapped in its tentacles.
One of them, a Pyro, shoots a jet of flames from his hands to sear the tentacle holding him. The other, a Flora, tries to blind the creature by throwing small erupting seedlings at its serpentine face. But it’s no use.
The tentacles tighten before pulling them down into the dark depths. I look away, trying to block out their gargled screams. The Reckoning is here. It’s chaotic and violent and more unforgiving than I imagined.
Suddenly, I’m not sure any of us are truly prepared for what lies ahead.
Chapter Eighteen
The Leviathansways, and my stomach lurches. The deck stretches out, its polished wood gleaming wet in the moonlight. The ship is undeniably grand, but it feels claustrophobic with the weight of exhaustion pressing down on my shoulders.
Competitors can barely stay on their feet around me, their bodies broken from the surprise first trial. Some are gagging, others crying. The air thickens with emotions, the lingering aftertaste of anger, betrayal and fear hanging like a fog.
Two more competitors tumble on to the deck with a victorious scream – a copper-haired guy and a girl with a shiny black ponytail, the pair who had asked Fritz and Harry for their autographs. I remember their names from the Introduction. Troy and Selene.
Taron sits on the floor beside me, his arms loopedaround his legs. His chest rises and falls heavily, and his dress shirt is soaked through, clinging to him like a second skin.
“It’s been a minute,” I tell him. “And you don’t look any better.”
“I said I’m fine,” he heaves. “I’ve experienced worse.”
