Glowing.
One hand splayed across the gentle swell of her belly, the other cupping the back of her skull, Nyxarion's claws threaded through her hair. Petting her as he watched the Thalassari approach and did not blink.
Hands Thalos knew could crack bone and rend scales from flesh, holding her with the careful precision of a holy relic.
Vorynthar's beating heart. Nyxarion's precious living flame.
Molten silver eyes locked onto Thalos, and the sovereign of Vorynthar lifted his spines in greeting. A silent, subtle mockery of the memory of those very spines embedded in Thalos' belly, between his ribs, before he said, "Asterion. You brought your pets."
“Korrides,” Thalos returned, grinning. And then, sweeping one careless hand toward his scholars, he said, "Elders. If you would."
A beat of silence.
The angler fish swayed.
Behind him, the scholars hesitated—Thalos could feel their stuttering indecision lingering in the current. But it was Vorthane who pushed forward first, his scarred, lopsided tailpropelling him past the sentries with the grim resolve of a soldier who'd survived worse.
Pelagius and Syrathis followed.
Drifting into the antechamber with accidental grace, Thalos trailed behind them. His attention slipping from Nyxarion's irate snarl to the creature nested in his coils, and something behind his sternum pulled taut.
"Kore." It was a greeting. Warm. A tone reserved for something delicate. Precious. "How are you feeling?"
Grey-gold eyes found his. Reflective, luminous, catching the reef's ambient glow and throwing it back. The child's light pulsed between Nyxarion's fingers—violet and cyan chasing each other across the taut curve of her belly in slow, hypnotic waves.
“I…” Lips pressed together, Kore offered a tiny, fragile smile. “I’m… well. Thank you,” she said, her voice humming in that delightful, dual-toned frequency.
The scholars tittered at the sound of her voice. All three of them crowding toward the Siren, eyes raking over Kore's form with naked, clinical hunger. And in an instant, professional hysteria drowned out survival instinct, and with a flick of his tail, Pelagius drifted closer—deep inside Nyxarion’s killing range. Far,farcloser than any sane creature might consider safe when faced with an Abyssari king guarding his claimed bride.
"Elegant, if… under-developed gill structure," Pelagius muttered, describing what he saw for Syrathis. His tone low, voice laced with excitement. "So delicate, one dares to wonder how it functions at all. I see intact filaments layered along the cervical line, but the morphology is..." His fins flared with surprise. "The base architecture sings Abyssari patterning, yet the branching pattern suggests… a secondary adaptation? Fascinating,” he muttered, not brave enough to reach. “See?” he murmured, nodding at Vorthane. “Thalassari markers here. Where it has influenced the vascular network."
Barbles extended, Syrathis leaned toward Kore, tasting the electrical displacement her body wrote in the water. "Describe the creature's scales."
A low, warning thrum trembled in the water. “Speak of my bride as a creature once more,” Nyxarion said. Low and deadly. “And I will feed you to the reef.”
“Ah, well…” Syrathis recoiled, his barbles trembling. Chastized. “Apologies,” he said, foregoing the title that had been stripped from the exiled Abyssari king.
Pelagius ducked his head. "Sunset spectrum. Gold base transitioning through violet to deep indigo along the lateral line. Chromatophore activity visible. Highly active. The patterning is..." Pelagius trailed off, his calcified jaw worked once. Twice more. "Unprecedented. Both lineages plainly visible."
"And… her limbs?" Syrathis pressed, trying to appease. To be polite, much as the ancient eel was able.
"Retained bipedal structure," Vorthane supplied, steel-blue scales catching the amber light as he circled wider. Not touching. "Webbing between all digits. Fin development along the forearms and lower legs consistent with early Siren accounts, though the tissue density suggests greater tensile strength than historical records might indicate." A pause. His scarred tail stilled as his head tilted. "She's… remarkable, Korrides. Truly."
The word hung in the heavy, oxygenated water.
A low vibration rolled through the chamber, resonance so deep it bypassed hearing entirely and settled in the chest cavity, rattling cartilage with a low, warning thrum.
Nyxarion’s spines flared. Every ridge along his back and tail snapped erect in a cascade of dark violet.
As one, the scholars froze.
But Kore moved.
Fingers wrapping around the wrist of the massive hand covering her belly, she held him still with naught but the press of dainty digits wrapped around his wrist.
“My babe.Please,” Kore whispered, her voice trembling. Oblivious to the wrath, anchoring herself to it, Kore’s beguiling eyes tracked the scholars with a desperation Thalos could almost taste. Ignoring the wrath simmering off the male behind her, she held Nyxarion back with the weight of her palm. Gaze stripping the scholars of their titles and their endless centuries with a single penetrating stare, Kore’s lips parted. "The child." Her voice carried the strange dual-toned quality of her hybrid resonance—human cadence wrapped in frequencies that vibrated against Thalos' gills. "Please. Tell me if my baby is safe."
The fear in it was naked.
