I watched the blood overwhelm my parents—how it consumed them, tore away at their minds. The Ocean Mother thought the land dwellers weak, knowing the energy under the merfolk skin would drive them mad.
A sharp needle dashed through the water and pierced my neck.
“And when you get there, make sure you tell them Thal’Maruun is coming. They’re already tangled in my fingers. They just haven’t realized I’ve started to close my fist.”
A cold, blazing fire spread rapidly through my veins, unraveling every thread of thought. In a heartbeat, everything familiar slipped away like sand through fumbling fingers. Faces blurred, names vanished, moments that once anchored me shattered into hollow echoes.
I was thrown into the nearest silo of rushing, channeling water.
Towards the Terraguard Bound.
Sacrificed.
Zahara’s lips parted, and wrongness followed. Her jaw unhinged too far, and instead of a voice, daggers emerged, scraping and biting inches from my face. I tried to scurry away, but my limbs held firm to the deck. Beside Zahara, Calvin’s hair flowed around him, nearly blending in with the sky, but the serpent strands hissed with fangs of ivory hue. He leaned in close, the snakes’ bodies knotting and unknotting in frantic bursts. Jun held a jagged blade to my heart, dripping with crimson blood that pooled on my chest. They attacked, drawing nearer with evil, brittle smirks splitting their faces.
I spiraled, kicking off with my feet and reaching to unsheathe the dagger at my thigh, but the sheath lay empty. My leg flew out, forcibly cracking the ankle of Calvin closest to me, who yelped as he flipped in the air and slammed into the wood of the main deck.
What happened to them?
“You moron,” Zahara barked, but the sound hit my ears lazily, sluggishly. She removed her brimmed hat, holding it down at her side and stepped closer.
Their faces settled, clearing with each blink—no more daggered teeth, no blood-slicked blades, no hair that hissed like serpents. Just masks of flesh, concerned and on edge staring at me.
A firm hand pressed on my shoulder as I shifted my frantic squint to each of the crew members. It was far too bright, the sun’s light blinding me as I came to.
Noctis reassured me with his touch, centering me back to reality as his warmth bled over my skin. My breath eased, heart calming with it.
Calvin winced as Zahara pulled him up, clearly taken aback by my reflexes and strength.
“How was I supposed to know she’d wake up swinging? I didn’t thinkI’dbe the one she saw sprouting fangs and betrayal,” he replied, hunching over and holding his chest.
“Sorry abo––wait, you’re awake,” I gasped, but my throat was scratchy, a metallic taste rising with the bile in my chest.
“Thanks to Jun, I woke up an hour ago. Right in time to see you being flown to the deck hallucinating,” Calvin quipped, shooting an elbow into Jun’s side, but his face scrunched at the movement. His complexion was paler than normal, deep wrinkles forming around his eyes.
A sudden wave of nausea hit me like a surging tide. I lifted my finger, then took off to the railing of the ship where my stomach rebelled, emptying with a shudder that left me cold and shaking.
Gods… the poison… Raoku…
Fingers drifted over my festering skin, pulling the hair from my face.
“What do you need?” Noctis’s voice whispered in my ear, caring and soft.
“Mint leaves. Fingercloth. Salt,” I listed between shuddering breaths. He gently tucked my hair inside the neck of my tunic and left to gather the supplies needed to clean my teeth.
I sank to the floor, working to ease the queasiness in my stomach. It slowed, but did not halt. My mind reeled with the information it held, the danger I remembered we faced. The fear seeped into me, a feeling I recalled all too well as the memories began to flood back.
Noctis lowered himself before me, concern in his face. His red hair blew in the wind as we sailed, revealing the pulsing, jagged scar that ran down his face.
He set the supplies at my side and watched as I used them to scrub my teeth—crushed mint leaf mixed with salt and water upon a fingercloth. He extended his hand to offer a cup of water, which I used to swish the taste from my mouth.
“I remember…” I whispered, and he froze.
“You remember us?” His words trembled on the edge of belief, every one laced with hope. He searched my eyes, begging for an immediate answer, but my sluggish mind couldn’t focus.
I shook my head, and the air in his lungs rushed out as his shoulders drooped.
“Everything is wrong. We’re running out of time.”
