Page 113 of Whisper of Nightmares

She swears the watery woman grins too, a stream parting where her mouth should be to reveal sludge and sharpened seashells.

She giggles again, a horrid, wretched sound that feels like a dagger dragging down Euphemia’s spine.

Euphemia can no longer hold back her shock.

“What is that—” Is all she can splutter before the silhouette of water crashes atop Ash. “No!”

Euphemia screams as the wave rip him from her. The top of his skull disappears into the blue. Into darkness that should not be so dark. Not when the water is only⁠—

Euphemia realizes now that the water has already creeped up to her chest. It grabs at her collar bone. Claws at her throat. It wants to take her too.

Ash’s head pops up from the waves with a gasp. “Get to shore! Now!”

Euphemia jumps, fearing the worst at first. She never thought she’d be relieved to see that hollowed out skull of a face. “I’m not leaving you!”

He dips back under. Then resurfaces again.

“I’ll be fine,” he insists, teeth gritted, clearly straining against…something she cannot see. Something formidable enough that it frays the edges of his voice. “I know how to handle the Wave Maidens.”

The Wave Maidens?

Euphemia doesn’t linger too long on it. It is yet another piece of the jumbled puzzle that is becoming this man, this place, and everything he knows or doesn’t know.

“Nine of them,” he continues, the jaw of his skull sinking closer to the water’s surface. His words splutter against the rocking waves. “Some harmless. Others deadly.” Another swallow leaves him coughing and spitting out the sea. He gestures below. “This maiden is one of the harmless ones.”

“Harmless? She’s trying to drown you!”

His head dips again. Comes back up. “Just a surging wave that wants to carry me to shore. You have to be careful. Don’t let the Blood-Haired one catch you.”

“Blood-haired?” her voice cracks.

The image her mind conjures is one that will haunt her every day forward. Another silhouette, but this one of blood. His.

He points near the shore, off to the side. “There. The pool of red. Don’t go near it.”

“I didn’t plan on it. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

The words leave her before she can stop them.

Before she, herself, even knows she was thinking them.

Euphemia searches for his hand under the water, but her fingers slip over something thick and slippery instead. Tightly spun cyclones of water, coiled around him like tidal ropes. She gasps and jerks her hand back. “It’s wrapped around you.”

Once the initial shock passes, Euphemia doesn’t hesitate.

She claws at the watery ropes, desperate to untangle him.

“I promise I’ll be alright,” he says, his neck straining to keep his skull above water. “I’m more worried about you. You have to make it to shore.”

This is madness.

Euphemia can’t just leave him here. He’s her⁠—

Regardless of who he is, he’s bound by whirlpool ropes that seem intent on dragging him toward a watery grave.

“You promised, Euphemia.”

He says it so gently, so pleadingly, pressure builds in her chest. It takes her a moment to realize what he’s referring to.