We were going to lose this fight.
There was no time to grieve, barely any time to think. In the frenetic pandemonium, there was only time to react.
The Kraken was reacting too. It was lashing out with violence on instinct to each injury, drawn to whatever did the most damage. Like Orin with his reckless punches, it was striking out on impulse at any perceived threat.
A stick gouged into the Kraken's side, another ricocheting off its flank. No, not a stick, an arrow. They were being fired so fast it looked like they appeared out of thin air.
Another arrow shot out, piercing the larger of the two eyes. Black ichor and pus gushed out of the wound, and the Kraken let out another wailing screech as it flailed. I turned as Zevrial notched another arrow.
Everything caught up all at once. My focus narrowed in.
The Kraken would attack Zevrial next. It would kill him. Then it would continue to slaughter everyone else on the Arc because we kept hurting it. We were keeping its attention on the Arc, and it wouldn’t stop until all of us were dead and the Shadowtide was nothing but chips and slivers of wood.
There were too many people I cared about aboard the Shadowtide.
Zevrial’s eyes locked with mine across the main deck. With the briefest glimpse, time stopped.
A whirlwind of emotion passed through me in that frozen moment. I wanted to feel his kiss again, and so much more. Help him on his mad crusade to find out what happened to hisparents. Hear him laugh as he teased me. Rattle him until an apology fell out.
Our fight seemed so petty now, so trivial.
I wanted to tell him how I felt.
My heart vaulted into my throat.
Were these feelings mine or his? I didn’t know.
I knew I wasn’t ready to let go.Not yet.
I had to do more damage to the Kraken than Zevrial was doing, and draw its attention away from him. Away from Henrik, Sarina, and Corra. Away from everyone else on the Arc who I’d come to care about.
Rearing back with all my strength, I hurled my harpoon at it. The harpoon hit the side of the Kraken, but it didn’t phase it. Its one good remaining eye didn’t even flicker in my direction.
It was already turning toward Zevrial, as he fired another bark-tipped arrow into its side.
There had to be something I could do that would distract it.
There is.
I ran, boots slipping on the bloody pool where the severed tentacle lay. I stumbled and fell.
A Sanguir who’d been attracted to the puddle lunged at me.
I was unarmed.
No, you’re not.
Yanked my gifted dagger from my belt, I held it up just in time to impale the creature. It let out a heinous squeal as it died, flailing on the end of the blade. I ripped its carcass off the blade where it dangled like a profane kabob.
Sliding to my knees, I scrambled up to keep running. The prow was drifting further away from the Arc with every second.
My legs pumped and I lunged over the injured side of the Arc. My feet found the edges of the prow, palms slamming downon the opposite side as I fought for balance. My injured hand wailed at the impact. Miasma sloshed beneath the wreckage of the prow, mere inches below. The ruined chunk of Arc had enough room for me to stand. A few feet further out, the Sanguirs were concentrating on the Arc and the wealth of blood aboard it. The Kraken was focusing there too, but not for long.
This close, Perception showed me that the miasma wasn’t darker. It was so dense with creatures, thousands, millions of creatures, squirming within it that it appeared black. How many of those were Sanguir?
Or worse.
There wasn’t time to worry about them.
