Another sailor fell beneath slashing claws, lifeblood spilling across the deck in a dark flood.
Alaric surged through the smoke, sword drawn, cutting down a siren that had cornered one of his men. Blood sprayed. Wind caught his coat, snapping it hard.
His eyes met mine across the battlefield—brief, hard, assessing—then he turned, already moving to block the next strike.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind: these things had been sent by my mother to bring me back. I felt it in the way the sea twisted around them—violent, unnatural.
They were here for me.
I would not go back to Thalassia. Not now.
Not without a fight.
I had no training in defensive magic. I didn’t know how to fight. Standing there, barely keeping myself upright, I felt useless.
Powerless.
My heart climbed into my throat.
And beneath that fear, something worse stirred: a hollow absence where something vital should have been. A song I used to know but couldn’t recall.
My magic was there—should be there—but it wouldn’t answer. Maybe I had never possessed anything special at all.
The thought was a knife that the Tidekeepers—especially Calder—would have been delighted to hand it to me.
Even as it lodged in my chest, something in me rebelled. A slow, smoldering ache in my core.
Not power. Defiance.
I ran for a reason. I crossed the Veil for a reason. I cast myself into the unknown because I had to know who I truly was.
If they took me now—before I found those answers—then everything would be for nothing.
Something inside me snapped. The tide broke.
Power surged up from beneath my skin—vast, unrelenting. Not gentle. Not gradual.
It tore through me.
The moment my bare feet touched the deck, the ship shuddered. Wind rose from nowhere, twisting into a sudden cyclone thatyanked at sails, hair, screams. My heart pounded like a war drum, each beat sending heat through my veins.
Magic bloomed beneath my skin—not the soft pull of ocean current, but the jagged flare of something forged in flame.
Light erupted—silver and violet—arcing across the deck. It seared the air with a sound that belonged to the sky. Ozone and crushed violets filled my lungs.
The sirens shrieked, writhing as the light tore through them, splitting shadow from body. A shockwave burst outward, flinging forms across the deck—wood splintering, ropes snapping, barrels rolling.
The sea recoiled. Waves flattened under the force. Steam hissed up in thick plumes, cloaking the ship in ethereal fog.
My vision flickered—gold and silver stars at the edges. I could barely stay upright, but the storm inside me didn’t ease. My skin glowed with veins of starlight, constellations crawling over my arms. My crescent mark burned white-hot, a beacon etched into flesh.
The power poured out. Beautiful. Terrifying.
It was the scream of someone who was silenced her entire life. Fire buried under water.
It wasn’t perfect. Not even close.
The magic answered too fast.
