Things are getting weirder by the minute.
Lurx swims upward along the spiraling light path, slipping easily past the dragonfish and vanishing toward the upper floor.
I glance at Bay, searching for any hint that I’m overreacting—but her wide eyes, locked on the shifting shadows above us, confirm she’s just as on edge as I am.
Onyx clears her throat softly.
When I turn, she tilts her head sharply, urging me forward without a word.
I narrow my eyes, trying to read her expression. There’s something she isn’t saying—and for some reason, she’s careful not to open her mouth here. Her soul vibrates. Surprised. Like a new threat just slipped past her guard.
“Do I need to worry?” I whisper.
She shakes her head so quickly it’s almost a tremor.
“Go,” she hisses, so quietly I almost doubt I heard it. Then, sharper—“Now.”
I don’t waste another second. I surge upward after Lurx, with Onyx, Alessio, and Bay close behind. We swim in a tight line, careful not to brush too close to the dragonfish drifting along the walls.
We pass the first floor in tense silence. When the second floor comes into view, I finally pause and turn to Onyx.
“Why the hell are you whispering here?”
She doesn’t speak. Instead, she presses a trembling finger to her lips, eyes wide, scanning the walls as if expecting them to listen back.
That doesn’t mean anything good.
I scan the floor quickly: dozens of closed doors lining the oval space, the spiraling light continuing upward. It feels less like a guest hall and more like a ghostly corridor, every shadow a mouth waiting to swallow us whole.
Onyx grabs my shoulder, points upward, and mouths the words:Throne room.
We’re expected in the royal throne room. Wonderful. Just what I needed—an audience with the entire bloodline.
“What’s up with your silent code? What are you two hiding now?” Alessio blurts, loud enough to ripple the water around us.
The shriek Onyx lets out confirms it: he’s just made a colossal mistake.
Fuck.
The currents shift instantly. A suffocating hush drops over us, thick as blood. The ocean itself seems to hold its breath. Below, a low flicker pulses in the dim light—the dragonfish. Their glow quickens, sharp and erratic, like warning beacons.
I freeze, trying to gauge their movements. Too late. The massive shapes surge upward, teeth gleaming, mouths opening in a blur of fangs.
Shit.
"Swim up! Now!" I scream. My voice cuts through the water like a blade—too loud, too sharp. The dragonfish respond with snarls and flashes of light, faster, closer.
"Keep your voice down! They’re sensitive to sound, you morons!" Onyx snaps, surging upward. One of the dragonfish snaps at her fins, missing by inches.
What in merhell is happening?!
"Myko!"I call, instinct more than thought, desperation coiling in my chest. I reach for my mother’s power, whipping the currents around us, forming a trembling whirlpool barrier. My arms burn, the water fighting back, threatening to tear our sphere apart. One wrong move, one dead dragonfish—and the entire pod will know war.
"Stay close!" I bark, panic sharpening my words. They press against me, tight and frantic, and I force the whirlpool to hold, shaking under the pressure.
Then, without warning, a sudden purple flare erupts around us. Bay’s chest ignites, blinding in intensity. Myko’s presence tears through my fragile barrier, unravelling the currents with a crack like underwater lightning.
In a single pulse, his scales shift—purple, jagged, stone-like, forming an unbreakable shield that curves around us. We’resealed inside, protected, but every nerve in my body screams that this is far from over. His power hums around us, raw and alive, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s enough.
