Page 57 of Claimed By the Depths

“Look around you,” Jaskor interrupted again.

Obliging his command, I peered out of the corner of my eye in the direction Syoran had been before my collapse. Mid-stride and swing, his sword aimed for the otherworldly beast awaiting its meal, but he… He froze in place, as if the very concept of time had become an anomaly.

“W-What…”

“This is a glimpse into how my abilities work, how you have been able to dodge the impending doom you have stepped into countless times in the past. As the God of Luck, seconds and minutes become assets I wield, ones that I can toy with just enough to obtain benefit.” His brief pause told me he was giving me a breath to process. “As the God of War, hesitation and distraction become detrimental. The very damnation of one's existence, which, apparently, you haven’t learned quite yet. But when human error is introduced, there is a need to manipulate time to my advantage.”

“So you’ve… rewritten history?”

“Not necessarily,” he replied. “Though I will not deny that, as my Son, my capabilities of toying with the strings of fate just enough is how you’ve skated around sitting across a table from Elaros. And believe me when I tell you that is the last thing you would want to do.”

Mind reeling, I pulled back from Leilani’s touch just enough to glance at the others. Unmoving, they each held a pose similar to Syoran’s, one indicative of saving both my little fang and me from the hellish torment that awaited us. Not one of them blinked, nor did their chests rise and fall with the influx and release of oxygen.

They were… statues.

“How… How long can you do this for?”

“Without Ysalyne getting pissed off at me? A day at most. Though I’m certain you do not wish your friends unmoved for that long, correct?”

Running my tongue along my bottom lip, I swallowed to coat the dryness of my throat. “Well, yes. But⁠—”

“But nothing.” The god’s timbre held no room for argument, an intensity clinging to it that hadn’t been there before. “Do you wish to see this realm crumble beneath the influence of Sorva and the corrupt experiments she has created?”

“No.”

“Good,” he hummed in satisfaction. “It is time you stepped into your role as my heir, and with that title comes power far more potent than you even realize. If you truly wish to see Wraelira reinstated to its former health, then rise and show your friends all that you are capable of.”

“Which is what exactly?” The question came from me without hesitation, every part of my essence recoiling at his suggestion. “You are acting as if I haven’t been fighting my whole life, as if I am incapable of standing my ground without your influence. My friends are perfectly aware of⁠—”

“My apologies, I can come off quite… brash, as my counterparts like to inform me.” Jaskor exhaled as if trying to hunt for the right words, and after a few passing seconds, he spoke once more. “You have always carried greatness. That is undeniable. Just as you have always been more than capable. As much as I wish I could have connected with you sooner, there were circumstances outside of my realm of control. I am sorry for the time you have spent alone, questioning your importance in this world and why you have been spared so many times. Truth is, I value you endlessly, Alastair, and that is why I have intervened as often as I have. You are needed in this plane of existence because there is a greatness you wield that no other does.”

I bit the inside of my cheek in an attempt to rid myself of rising emotion. “And you plan to do what? Show me this greatness?”

“No.” He chuckled softly, and I couldn’t help but grin at the sound. “I am here to remind you, for you are the one who will showcase it all. Because, at the end of the day, you are my Son, and there is no fucking battle we will lose.”

CHAPTER 32

She Has Risen

KAEL

After what felt like a lengthened pause, I stumbled forward. Sucking in a rasped breath, oxygen stung my lungs, a sign of a stalled intake. A frigidness followed, curling around my spine as my weaponless hand patted over my frame. Notably uninjured, I scanned the others to try to understand what had happened.

Expressions mirroring mine—twisted with irrefutable confusion—Syoran, Sapphira, and Leilani exchanged glances with one another. It wasn’t until I settled on Alastair that it all started to click.

Tainted blood dripped from his sword, its inky hue polluting the cobblestone beneath his feet. Beside him, the creature that had been seconds away from impaling him and Leilani rested in a heap of discarded limbs and lacerated flesh. Untouched, Alastair lifted his chin, and as his gaze met mine, the reinstated expansion of my lungs vanished.

A newfound intensity pulsed through his irises, their already vibrant hue glowing like the setting sun. What were once fractals of gold became a beacon, illuminated with a thirst for eradication I’d already borne witness to. They ignited further as his lips upturned, and as I went to comment, he cut me off as he chucked the head of the Others’ damned beast to the side.

“What… the fuck?” Syoran forced out, instinctively shoving Sapphira behind him. “Seridean?”

Alastair peered at the Bloodmarked’s temporary captain. “Yes, Kao?”

Brows drawing together, that all-too-familiar annoyance painted Syoran’s expression. “Nothing about this is fucking casual,” he spat, his nostrils flaring. “Considering the lot of us were rushing to your rescue, and now you’re standing without a mark or ounce of exertion to explain the slain beast beside you, there is⁠—”

“Finally,” Parran interrupted, the mounting relief in their voice enough to earn my attention.

Frosted locks slightly disheveled, their cornflower pools found me. Still free of any blemish, I roved over their periwinkle skin, hunting for anything that would explain their audible alleviation. Trailing along the length of their collarbone, I caught sight of an iridescent sheen and paused.