He exits and slams the door behind him.
The rock of the ship shifts into a more violent motion through the night, finally rousing me as the waves splash against the tiny windowpane, like my own alarm call.
My hand still grasps the sheets of paper I’d filled with information after the showdown with Fenix yesterday, as if the words could seep into my unconscious and be unlocked while sleeping, unravelling all the secrets within them.
It’s still dark, but there’s a glow of light from under the door. I wrestle with the idea of getting out of bed and banging on the door again, but that did little for me yesterday. An evening meal was all the company I got after Fenix locked me back in, and he sent Selina to deliver that to me. He’s like a child in some ways. Angry that his new toy isn’t playing by his rules. Well, tough shit.
Instead, I unfurl the crinkled pieces of paper and run my eyes over the darker shapes on the page. The words that I let pour from my heart. Not just information and the names of my parents, but what Micah told me. The deception he shared, the truths.
Everything in my mind was inked into those pages as I tried to put the pieces of the puzzle that is my life back into order. My tears tried to wash away parts, falling onto the sheet and sending the ink dancing into the salty tear stains. They punctuate thepainful parts of my story, and I fall asleep with tears still in my eyes.
As I watch the light under my door, I hear footsteps, voices, and general noises, and I wonder if the storm has dragged everyone from their sleep.
Fenix said we’d arrive today. And after the last two attempts to use my power, I channel all my calm and Kyra’s grounding influence, focusing on the feeling at the centre of my chest—the still well of water.
Calix told me to think of it as colours mixing. Kyra gave me the water analogy. I pull on the strength of my friends and force myself to be able to wield thisgift.Without the anger and rage my brother seems to elicit from me, it’s easier to stay calm, but it’s as if my emotions are needed here, as if being outside of Kirrasia amplifies them.
The Maker warned me of them and the danger they can lead to, although perhaps she didn’t think of this particular scenario when she did.
My eyes close, my breathing slows, and the crash of the waves outside grows harsher, like they’re trying to attack the boat we’re in. I block that out too, until I’m in the dark. An echoey place, with the gentle hum of power around me, and the sound of water. Dripping.
I look up, and there’s nothing but a blanket of stars, as if I’m the well—deep down in the well—looking out. And the silver glow of Aslendrix crosses into view.
It’s magical. Ethereal, but there’s something real about it. Something visceral. Is this… her? A jolt, like a slap over the perfect sheen of the water’s surface, has my eyes wide open.
Light now filters into the room, and the pendant at my neck is hot, radiant with a warmth I’ve never experienced before, and I wonder if Aslendrix has come to me. If her crossing into view wasn’t a coincidence.
A heavy thud on the door makes me jump. “Time to go,” a murky voice I don’t recognise says, but the lock doesn’t open.
I stand and hastily fold the pieces of paper in my hand into a small square and secure them inside my top, tucked away and hidden as best I can.
“I can’t go anywhere, locked in here,” I snark back.
No response. So, I wait. And the longer I wait, I realise the ship’s stopped moving, the rock and tilt are different now. It’s still buoyant and moves with the ocean, but not the same way it was before.
We’ve arrived.
As the lock finally sounds and as the door opens, I see the man who helped with the books waiting for me outside the door.
“No Fenix?” I walk out.
“No.”
I turn back and see a hessian sack and rope in his hand, and as my eyes flash between the restraints and his face, he smirks.
I dash into a run, but am only met with the sandy shade of the material as someone else shoves it over my head. My weight drags me into a wall, and my fingers reach to pull the material from my head, but both my hands are seized and bound quickly, before I can find any sense of touch to pull power from.
The instinct to fight, to run, is there, like it’s already charged in my muscles and wanting me to get away, but there’s nowhere I can run to. I don’t know where we are or what Fenix’s aim is. It won’t serve me to fight. Yet.
My muscles relax, and I slow my heart, hoping it gets the message I’m sending to calm down.
There’s a tug on my binds, and I lurch forward, tripping over my feet as I aim to keep vertical and walk forward. My steps are timid as I edge forward. Surely, they will have to concede and let me see where we’re going, or help me, because there’s no way I’m climbing off this ship with my hands tied.
But I shouldn’t have even thought that.
Because I’m suddenly jutting my tied hands forward, desperate to keep my balance and fighting against a force—Fenix—moving me with his power.
It slithers over my skin, inside my muscles, as my limbs disobey my own mind. I’m flung around with no care, my body obliging to his will. Not to freeze this time, but to move. To animate me, guide me, and know me from my footing.
