Page 82 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

That number aligns with my expectations. Each current begins with promise, but as the duels wear on, that promise thins. Recruits either rise or they falter. Those who fail their first duel are sent back to Current One; the rest grind their way through until they either pass all four or break under the weight of them.

I should care about keeping those numbers high. They are my warriors, my responsibility, but another thought presses at the back of my mind sharply.

“What of Defymin—Zevrin’s newest prodigy? “

“As of now, he's ranked number two,” she says, tone watchful, sensing the weight behind my question.

“They will face each other again. Are they aware?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Has any other news arisen since her arrival in Drekaris?”

Nyxalene hesitates. “Some finlings on night watch reported Sarah and Defymin sneaking from their quarters to spar. Zevrin confirmed they've been training in secret.”

“That's not against The Currents of Mastery, Nyx,” I cut in.

“It isn't, your majesty. But word has spread regardless. Whispers of favoritism, of the human wannabe being given advantages that the others are denied.”

The title burns hotter than any blade.

“The blatant disrespect of their king! How dare they?” My voice rakes the chamber like a current tearing at stone.

“Orion.” Nyxalene’s tone is calm, the voice of reason. “You must not let anger control you. Times are shifting. Many still resent that a human was allowed to enter our world and learn our ways.”

“She's no human.” The words escape before I can temper them. “She's my mate. Even if she refuses to admit its presence.”

The truth behind that statement envelops me. It's the first time I've spoken those words aloud with such certainty. She may have been born human, but she was always meant for the sea. It shows in the way she moves, in the way she tends to touch everything she sees beneath the waves. Born human or not, Mother Ocean has bound us, and I will stop at nothing to see that bond honored.

Hours slip by as I scour the abandoned village. Many of the buildings are little more than husks, worn down by years of neglect. Stone walls lie in jagged heaps across the ocean floor, archways crumbled into broken ribs of what once stood. I weave through the wreckage, my hand trailing along the scarred stone, as though the ruins might whisper what they endured.

Before Virellan was forged, the Great Sea War razed countless villages, claiming thousands of lives—sea folk and creatures alike. Their bones still litter these waters, reminders of what comes when the ocean is divided. It's the very reason peace within Virellan’s borders must be upheld.

When my father built this kingdom from ruin, he forged more than walls and halls; he bound it in protection. The magical barrier he cast shields our great villages and even the scattered hamlets. From within, we may see out. But to those beyond, there is nothing, only the endless illusion of the sea. A mirage concealing all that remains of us.

I lose track of how many abandoned homes we've passed. The buildings stretch endlessly before me, rows of broken stone and crumbled archways that seem to continue farther than the eye should allow. A half-broken stone pillar comes into view. My entourage pauses around it. This section of the ruin feels wrong. Too still. I glance around. No creatures swim nearby, as if they too sense my father’s death clinging to what remains of this pillar.

Coiling tightly, I lower myself to the sand. The Deepwatch Captain assigned to this mission shows me the place where they found the pendant originally. Nothing else about this area stands out. The ocean around me feels thicker here, heavier than it should. Each stroke through the water meets subtle resistance, as if the currents themselves hesitate under some unseen weight. I knew before leaving the protected barriers of Virellan that the chance of finding any sign of my father would be slim. I came regardless.

Before I left, I told Nyxalene the same thing I always tell her. She's to be queen if I fall. She's to rule in my absence, indefinitely, if I don't return. This journey is only to last a few sea days, yet I made my intent clear. I instructed her to care for Sarah. To help her return to her world if that is what she chooses.

The sand here holds the same shape, weight, and color as anywhere else. I study the pillar before me. It rises a few feet above the seabed, its edges jagged from the ocean’s relentless waters. Perhaps it was once part of a home or a place for trading goods. Now it stands as nothing more than the last known mark of my father’s life.

I rest one hand on the pillar. The other presses into the sand at its base. A small tremor of grains shift beneath my fingers. The sound echoes longer than it should, expanding across the water as if the ocean delays its reply. I reach inward for my magic, awakening my hydro-senses. I search for remnants of that day—the day the original King of Virellan fell.

Nothing stirs. The ocean remains silent. I knew this was likely, but I attempted it regardless.

My warriors keep their looks trained outward, guarding for threats. They don't watch me. They know I'm more powerful than all of them combined, but I would never say that aloud. Gratitude runs deeper than pride. My guards have earned their place beside me.

I sink fully into the sand, resting my stomach against it, and reach eye level with the pillar. A stone catches my eye where the sand meets the pillar’s base. It shouldn't be there. The currents move everything. This has been forced to remain.

I reach for it. The stone is smooth and flat, fitting neatly in my palm. Flipping it over, I find my father’s insignia carved into the surface. The mark is uneven, rushed, and imperfect. Yet unmistakable. Only one thought runs through my mind.

I draw again from my magic, searching for whatever essence clings to this relic. Heat floods my chest. Emotion strikes in waves—sharp and chaotic. Surprise, anger, and regret rush through me. Then sorrow, worry, triumph, and joy. The sensations claw at my heart. My mind reels, drowning in a storm not my own.

Were these his final moments? Was he defeated? Who felt worried? Who felt triumph?

No answers come. Only the echo of what once was. I end my search and head for the kingdom. Mysteries have never suited me. When my father vanished, the unknown consumed me, gnawing at every thought. I despise the unknown. This discovery confuses me, but it's a lead nonetheless.