Page 116 of Whisper of Nightmares

In his hand, a fish squirms, his fingers hooked through its jaw.

She watches, dumbly blinking, trying to decide whether what she’s seeing is real, or some strange trick of the light, her hair in her eyes again, or merely another random element of the dream world. Anything but the absurdity of him holding onto a fish—because why in all that is holy would he be holding onto a fish right now? When and how had he even acquired one?

Since they have bigger issues to contend with right now, Euphemia decides to simply pretends the fish isn’t there.

Looking past Ash’s shoulders, she sees the spill of crimson ahead of them.

“It’s not moving,” she whispers in his direction, and then casts a look at their surroundings. There are no other watery silhouettes climbing out of the ocean, clambering after them. No perfectly timed waves to pummel them from all sides. Nothing nefarious.

Nothing that she can see, anyway.

“She’s waiting,” he utters over his shoulder.

“Waiting for what?”

His chest rises and falls with a deep breath. “To see if we’ll be delivering ourselves into her belly or if she’ll need to hunt.”

Fear slicks down her spine. Euphemia swallows. “I don’t much care for either of those options.”

They fall silent, the water slowly rising around them again.

Ash’s attention on the blood-haired maiden is unwavering, the two of them locked in a standstill, with Euphemia watching in dread.

Until the red tide begins to advance.

Not the soothing, gentle sway of a tide.

More like a nocked arrow of blood and seaweed whizzing through the water, primed to strike its mark.

Ash hunkers lower, anchoring himself in place.

Fear lances through her. Somehow standing still feels worse than running, even when she knows there are seven other maidens somewhere behind them.

But Ash holds his ground. He waits.

Euphemia can take it no more. She reaches for him, ready to drag him out of the way of the monster careening toward them⁠—

When his arm arches overhead.

The fish flies through the air, landing with a splash. Not in the center, but just next to it. Close enough to entice.

The red stain in the ocean halts as if she’s struck a wall.

With predatory stillness, the creature turns. Faces the fish in the water. And lunges.

That bloom of sea churns like a thunderous sky. Water and blood spewing. Jaws snapping, unseen. The red bleeds darker.

Ash grabs Euphemia’s hand and pulls her forward, the two of them scrambling to land.

With a fleeting breath of relief, Euphemia thinks it’s over.

But behind them, the ocean roars its rage. Its loss. The souls left, unclaimed. And it will not let them go willingly.

Euphemia makes the mistake of glancing backward as the waves rise in the distance, taller than the apple tree in her garden. Taller than the Thorfell Manor. Taller than she thinks even the moon reaches in the sky.

They race across the grey sand like churned bones. The wind swarms around them. The sky darkens. A shadow falls over them, and Euphemia does not need to look back to know that it is the ocean. Dangling above. A cleaver about to drop.

With screams in their chests, they throw themselves into the bone palace.