I need bait. A reason for the shark to lower its guard, to be vulnerable.
The memory surfaces. The shark's hand, made for rending flesh, taking the stolen fruit from Vaelis's palm. So gentle. So impossibly trusting.
The beast believes it is safe with him. That arrogant trust is its greatest weakness.
I will use Vaelis's own gift as the weapon. I will lace the fruit.
The barracks come into view, pristine and ordered. Just as the loud shift-change whistle blows across the plaza. The sharp sound vibrates through the water, calling the faithful back to duty.
I am faithful. I am the most fiercely faithful thing in this entire ocean. I will protect my own, no matter the cost.
My fingers brush the shape of the vial through my pouch one last time.
I am so sorry,Vaelis, I confess silently, though the words feel hollow. I am not sorry. I am righteously determined.You will hate me for a little while. But one day, when you are safely back in the light and the dark song is gone from your mind, you will understand.
I swim out and join the tight guard formation, falling into line. My face is a flawless mask of stony duty.
But my eyes are fixed on the dark, crushing water beyond the boundary wall.
Enjoy your voice while you still have it, monster. Tonight is the last time you will ever use it to call his name.
Chapter 7
The Cure for Curiosity
Kael
Thetrenchdoesnotforgive distraction.
Survival demands absolute focus. You must track the freezing shifts in the water. You must feel the microscopic bedrock vibrations that herald rockslides. You must taste copper leaking from above. The moment you forget the dark, it consumes you.
I am completely, dangerously distracted.
I hover near the Anvil's jagged lip, the same basalt shelf where Vaelis left me hours ago. My mind refuses the water. The hunt is lost.
The phantom friction of his smooth scales against my scarred palm lingers. The frantic flutter of his pulse against my fingertips. The way his golden eyes shut when I leaned in. The way his lips parted—a silent, terrifying invitation.
He wanted me closer.
The realization is a physical ache in my chest. A hunger sharper than any famine season. A craving that twists my gut, locks my muscles with tension.
I push off the basalt with a brutal kick of my tail. The violent displacement scatters a school of blind, translucent scavengers feeding on the rock wall. I don't care. I need to move. To burn off the restless energy flooding my blood.
I dive deeper. I swim away from the boundary wall, plunging straight down toward the toxic vents.
The water grows hotter, stinging my gills with the familiar taste of sulfur and boiling minerals. Giant tube worms sway sluggishly, their neon-red plumes glowing like dying embers inthe absolute black. I ignore them. I ignore the ghostly white crabs scuttling from my path.
I swim until my lungs burn. Until the exertion dulls the noise in my head. I finally stop near a crumbling pillar of old lava. I anchor my hands into the porous stone to hold against the violent updraft.
I reach into the leather pouch at my belt. I pull out the comb.
Vaelis had forgotten it in his haste to leave. Or perhaps he left it on purpose. A small, incredibly delicate thing carved from smooth white bone. It looks entirely ridiculous resting in the center of my palm. A tool meant for vanity. For soft touches, for grooming, for the bright, shallow world of the reef.
My blunt thumb drags across the smooth teeth. The friction sends a shiver up my arm.
You never fix yourself,he had said. His voice had been a soft vibration against my spine, a sound that melted the ice in my veins.
My fist closes tightly around the comb, hiding it in the dark.
