“Your—Elle, your eyes…”
I rise from kneeling but keep a consistent inner chant that lulls the tendrils into compliance.May these souls be of use to the most unholy. May they add fuel to the greatest of flames. Drag them into the deepest abyss for the glory of the highest evil.
Every chant is a different combination of the same intention: Grant these doomed souls the purpose of my sister’s preservation through the spiral. She’s the only redemption left for me.
“My eyes?” I repeat back to her. The two conversations threaten to confuse my tongue.
“The…” Liney stumbles over her words. My eyes are plain brown again. “Flames?”
It’s a question. A plea to prove this dark fantasy wrong. To make us make sense.
“The mirrors can cause illusions at night.”May these souls forge a new power for the Lord of Sin.“The light from my lantern, reflected.”
It should pain me to lie. It doesn’t. So many lies for so long have immunized me. Her expression wavers as a gust hits the window closest to her with such force, I fear the glass might shatter over us.
“Thank you for checking on me.” The distraction gives me back the composure I need. My stomach roils in the heat I’ve channeled away from any exposed skin. Something in the back of my throat tastes powdery. She’ll find only her sister, no longer an acolyte of darkness, as long as I can keep it down. “I’ll light the wick again. Go back downstairs.”
Liney stands, though her legs shake with every movement. She needs proper rest. Not half a night of storm sleep. Not unlike me.
“I can get you more oil from the basement,” she offers, nearly too quiet to hear.
Is she trying to be helpful or find a crack in my new mask? I can barely sustain the chant without saying it aloud. I need her gone.
“If oil is needed, I’ll be the one carrying it.” I hold my hand out for Liney to take. “It gets plugged up sometimes. That’s all.”
Liney’s gaze moves to my hand, but she doesn’t grasp it. She needs a task.
“How about you check downstairs for any damage to the lighthouse? Windows broken. Water leaks.” I step forward to grasp her hand in mine. It’s still too hot but not enough to burn her. She’ll assume a fever.
“Elle…” My name reels out of her mouth like a fishing line.
“This is nothing to fuss over,” I lie. “I’m wide awake. I promise. You’ve been a great help—but this isn’t your problem to fix.”
I lead Liney to the trapdoor. Once she’s at the bottom of the ladder, I lower the lantern.
“I have a candle,” Liney protests, showing me. It’s thin, one of a boxful that I use for the dining table at night.
“Those aren’t for carrying! You’ll burn yourself. Or the whole tower.”
Liney’s face is a splotchy red as she grabs the lantern.
“But you’ll be in the dark,” she counters. I resist the spiral’s urge to close the trapdoor and lock it preemptively.
“Yes.” I don’t have the concentration to come up with a reason. “Go.”
Sweat pools at the tip of my nose and threatens to drip until Liney is a good dozen or so paces down the stairs. I close the trapdoor and breathe out, releasing the hot coils of the island’s power to my whole body. My fingertips glow red like I’m holding them before the sun. The ashy taste lingers, but coughing doesn’t clear it. My vision tinges red again, and the room is revealed anew.
I walk to the window. Sparks sound as each footstep leaves a scorch mark I’ll have to sand off later. I peer out into the storm. The tendrils have reached the ship. Their smaller cousins at my spine wrap around my throat, pulsing. The crew will soon realize they can no longer turn. The ship has one path: toward the island, then within it.
The cave is hidden except during feeding. Passing ships can’t see its deep spiral on their way in and out of port. Liney can’t find it on her walks about the island. The cave makes no sense on such a shallow spit of land. Yet I see it now. A maw at the edge of the water, awaiting its prey.
The guilt doesn’t come from my chest, where the heat overtakes any other feeling. It starts behind my eyes. Pressure forms into a pulse to rival my heartbeat. The tendrils and I strain against it, forcing it back to whatever still holds onto my humanity. It can sense the panic of the sailors. This part of me proves I’m still mortal. This evil was given. And it will eventually consume me.
I couldn’t save these sailors even if weakness won me over. The spiral will have its due.
Mr. Pratterman explained this during my first sacrifice. I sobbed, tried to pull away, but he made me look. Asked me if I wanted them dead for nothing. If I valued myself so little. Did I want to leave Liney alone? I watched the coiling of those dark tentacles as more tendrils slithered into my skin.
It was a fishing boat. A man and his son returning late. I felt everything as they were dragged into the depths. The father’s alarm at the unnatural movements of the ship. The son’s fear of being out of control. The realization that there was nothing the man could do to save his boy.
