We all freeze for a heartbeat, too stunned to breathe.
“This one isn’t friendly and doesn’t give a fuck about what I’m asking,” Havar roars as he throws his hands out toward the sea, snapping us all out of our stupor.
The deck slants again, causing us to stagger.
“Here.” One of Brogden’s men races toward us, hands full of swords that he drops at our feet. “That’s a Ravarie. Nasty fuckers. Their suckers are sensitive. Stab there if you can.”
“How do we kill this thing?” Gladian snarls.
He shakes his head. “We don’t. We hold it and however many more that join, off until a Valmareri arrives.”
“A Valmareri?” Havar asks.
“The original creature that this one was mimicked from. The protectors of the sea. They’ll hear the Ravarie’s commotion and come. We hold them off until then.”
Fuck us. Them.
I grab two swords and race over to where Thayla has shoved Lambrit, Rose, and Yemi behind Seismet and Verlet.
“You put one up and you protect them and yourself, Yemi. I know you can do it.”
Put what up?
“Here.” I grip her elbow and turn her toward me.
Panic flares in her eyes as power floods my veins. Her breath hitches as I command it to surround her.
“Stab it in its suckers and stay near me.”
The ship heaves and Thayla crashes into my side. I hold her steady as chaos, unfortunately, not of my brother’s creation, breaks free.
Six more tentacles slap down on the deck, forcing everyone to react.
Havar stands in the middle, eyes blazing, hands stretched out as he tries to use his power to reason with the beast. A black rope of death shoots out of Creed’s hand and wraps around a ligament. It slams down on the wood with a heavy thud, yet it still twitches.
“This thing’s blood and soul are not normal.”
“No shit,” Riven yells as he withdraws his sword, and not red, but black blood, almost like ink, gushes from the wound.
Thayla and I jump into the fray, our swords slash through the air as my power coats ours and my brothers’ bodies every time they come near me.
For a moment, my mind empties as my heart thunders. I go through the familiar motions. This is a different kind of flesh than I’m used to slicing. It glistens with slime and salty seawater and is as thick as a tree.
One hit of my sword doesn’t cut through like butter.
It leaves the rubbery skin hanging in a mangled mess.
A scream pierces the air, and my body runs cold as the sound tears through my soul.
I turn, as if in slow motion, not of my command, and all the blood drains from my body.
My bellow follows me as I lunge forward, power pulsing, hand outstretched.
“Kyzen!”
My fingers skim across the slippery skin of the single tentacle wrapped around Thayla’s waist for a millisecond before it snatches her overboard.
Thayla
