“Are dead.” The leader spoke in a monotone, completely devoid of emotion. He turned towards the other Blue Men, communicating something only they could understand. The surface of the water grew choppy, soft waves picking up and rocking the boat back and forth.
“Lyra!” Theo turned towards her, grabbing her hand. “Get in the boat, please.” The wind was slowly picking up speed, and Theo was worried they were on the cusp of another storm.
“You know I'm safer in the water,” Lyra chided softly, trying to lighten the mood.
Theo paled and shook his head. He wanted her next to him, where he could feel her body heat and know she was real. The water was still a terrifying place for him, even if he knew it was Lyra's home.
Lyra saw the panic in his face and acquiesced, gracefully slipping into the boat. She kept her tail, sitting politely on the bench next to Theo as though riding sidesaddle. Lyra wrapped her arms around Theo's neck and placed her head on his shoulder. He placed his hand over hers, and they looked out towards the Blue Men, who were moving closer to each other. Theo was grateful Wyn didn't comment on how close he and Lyra were in that moment.
The weather was distinctly worse than it'd been a few minutes before, and the sea was choppier, but it reached a stalemate.
The Blue Men were in a perfect circle now, their ghostly arms reaching up towards heaven. Their eyes rolled back into their heads, and when their mouths opened, the most glorious sound came out.
It echoed inside Theo's head, nestling into his heart. He could see his mother's face and hear his father's laugh, as if he were transported to another world where they were all still together. It was bliss and agony. Theo wanted it to end and needed to stay in this moment forever. Then, the scene in front of his eyes shifted, and there was nothing but the ocean. The sun was setting on the horizon, and Lyra played in and out of the waves, cresting the water, bathing on sun rocks, and singing—oh, the most miraculous singing! It was the voice that still haunted his dreams, and he wanted to listen to it forever.
Theo didn't know how long this had been going on, this semi-lucid state, somewhere between being awake and being asleep. This agony, this ecstasy, which reminded him of his mortality and made him feel immortal at the same time.
Then the Blue Men closed their mouths, and the music stopped. Theo was thrown back into his physical body, pulled back to his consciousness with violence.
“Fuck,” he gasped for breath, grabbing at his chest to quell his racing heartbeat. Lyra was still holding onto him, her eyes wet with tears, and Wyn had tucked his head between his knees.
“What the fuck was that?” Theo gasped, wrapping an arm around Lyra's waist and pulling her into his lap. He needed her close to him and a desire to protect her from whatever madness they'd descended into.
“The Blue Men…” Lyra swallowed, her voice thick. “That is their language. The song of fallen angels… The music of heaven.”
Theo shuddered, a chill running down his spine. It was not the celestial choir that many a Catholic school had insisted upon in his youth.
“Excuse me.” The leader of the Blue Men swam towards them, reapproaching the boat. The others had disappeared. “We know what Cliodhna said to you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Theo's heart froze in his chest. He was so nervous about what the Blue Men had to say, you would’ve thought they had the actual cure for Cliodhna’s curse, not just the language of the curse. Still, Calum, Emmett, and the rest of their little family had been insistent that they could do a lot with the actual wording of the curse. Emmett had given Theo several long-winded lectures on the linguistics of magic when they first began their trek. Theo now found himself wishing he remembered more of Emmett's lessons.
“Well,” Wyn broke the silence with a loud scoff, waving his hands in the air, “What are ye waiting for, a drum roll?”
A slow roll of thunder echoed through the sky in response. Some of the Blue Men smirked at one another.
Huh,Theo found himself thinking,it seems some of them do have a sense of humor after all.
“At the time of your birth,” the leader turned towards Theo, looking at him directly in the eye. A cold shiver went down Theo's spine at the intensity in his stare, “Cliodhna said the following, ‘When the time is right, under the rolling waves, the prince will lose the fight, and take his beloved to their grave.’”
No one moved. Theo wasn't sure if he was still breathing. Lyra was frozen next to him, her hand still gripped tightly in his. Wyn was deep in thought, picking over the words in his head, unable to immediately come up with anything satisfactory as to the curse's meaning.
Finally, Lyra shook her head, as if she could reject the curse and they'd all be on their merry way.
“That doesn't make sense.” Lyra looked up at Theo. “Does that sound like a curse to you?”
Theo's face scrunched up in confusion.
“Um, yes. It does. Especially the whole bit about losing the fight and taking my loved ones to their graves.”
“It dinnae sound like a picnic, that's for damn sure.” Wyn's accent was thicker with frustration. Theo watched him pull a flask from his shirt pocket out of the corner of his eye. The three of them fell back into awkward silence, failing to make sense of Cliodhna's trickery.
“I’m serious.” Lyra insisted again, a more eager plea in her voice. “It sounds more like someone trying to read your fortune than it does a curse. A curse has more… I don't know. Verbs! Action! Something.”
Wyn poked his head out from behind Theo and gave Lyra a deadpan expression.
“Do you think all curses really need to start with ‘I curse you’? That wouldn't be very elegant now, would it?”
