Page 78 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

We rotate partners, taking turns, each of us chiseling away at weaknesses. For me, without any new magic to lean on, I’ve had no choice but to double down on physical combat. My peers may still doubt me, but I refuse to fall behind.

Zevrin announced our pairings for the next month at breakfast. Each week we battle someone different. Every duel involves some kind of battle strategy we must learn.

For week one each pairing seems scattered. Defymin faces Neiord, one of the weaker recruits. Aniah and Keil received opponents whose names I barely remember, but their skills are intimidatingly advanced. And me? I’m matched against Carella, the early defeat already ringing in my ears. She's built strong, sharp, and relentless. Orion worries she’ll overpower me, unless some spark of magic appears that will shift my chances, which I doubt will happen. And her continuous taunting during meal time doesn’t help my confidence.

When the training ends, we slip back to our quarters. Just before parting, Defymin breaks the silence. “Do you plan to use magic during your duel?”

I pause, uneasy with the question but too tired to overthink it. “I doubt I can conjure anything new at this point. No fresh developments have occurred with Orion since the first time, and even then, it wasn’t anything I could use in combat. I’ll just have to rely on my serpent form and hope the physical training is enough to hold her off.”

He doesn’t respond. Just turns and vanishes into the dark of the sea trench. I capture a glimpse of his dorsal fin. It’s split in two, halfway down, the cut section sputtering in the ocean’s waves. His movements don’t seem to falter much, but his strength has moved elsewhere through his body to compensate.

A few years ago my team and I rescued a bottlenose dolphin. She was badly injured after getting stuck in a trawler’s nets. We hauled her safely to my lab where we healed her and after six months of therapy and medicine, released her back into the ocean. However, her injuries didn’t come without a cost. By month three, we noticed her swimming patterns were not the same. She could no longer swim with the same urgency and swiftness as her species. But damn was she determined. We placed a tracker on her in case those injuries produced more damage. A year ago, Leo found her tracking number close to San Francisco, and took a boat out to her and found her swimming with her pod, no issues to be found. I hope the same can happen for Defymin.

After entering my sliver of space, I finally stretch out on the stone bed, but my thoughts won’t still. Closing my eyes, I slip back into my locked penthouse.

Every time Orion tested my magic, he also pressed me to strengthen my barriers, using Nyra to probe for weak spots. Only once did she break through, and only because I was distracted, chasing after the idea that some new ability might finally spark. Nothing has. I’m just a glorified serpent-human trophy, apparently.

He taught me to tuck my thoughts completely out of sight, even when the “metal doors of death” stay unlocked. That first night, after he left me at the Drekaris gate, I tried it his way.

I slipped back into the familiar shape of my mind, my penthouse. This time, though, I stretched it further. Beyond the living room and kitchen, a hallway unfolded toward my bedroom, the one from the surface, antique set and all. After several rounds of practice, I learned to place my deepest thoughts inside that room, locking it behind me whenever I left. A double-locked method: elevator code and bedroom door.

But Orion warned me, even locked-away thoughts must be reachable in an emergency, though he never explained what kind of emergency. His advice? Create another entrance. A hidden way that leads only to that room, without exposing the rest of my mind. A hidden entrance only known to myself.

It turned out to be surprisingly easy. I created a fire escape, just like back home, that opened only into that room. A hidden way in, mine alone. It gave me peace of mind knowing my deepest thoughts were still reachable if I needed them, yet the rest of my mind stayed locked away. Safe from nosy intruders like Nyra.

We Snapdragonis may not be allowed in Drekaris, but that doesn't mean I'm far away, human. And look at you, barriers down again. Sloppy.

Shit.

thirty-one

Sarah

The trench widened before us, opening into a vast circular expanse deeper in Snapdragonis territory than where I had first bonded with Nyra. Basalt pillars jut from the stone floor like jagged teeth, forming a wide open ring that seems to float in the dark, a natural arena carved by time and sea. Threads of bioluminescence drift lazily through the shadows, brushing over the currents and illuminating the rough, wet stone. No walls. No guards. Only the empty, raw expanse of their home where even silence had teeth, and even the loudest scream could vanish into the deep. This was the space Orion chose for our training, where he hopes I will stretch and flex my skills under his supervision.

He hovers in the center, tail shifting lazily, palms open as if coaxing the sea itself. When he sweeps his hands outward, the water ripples in answer. A soft wave nudges the glowing plankton, teasing me like the tide brushes a shell.

“You see?” he says. “The sea already wants to move. You only ask it to obey.”

“Why do you think I can do this?” I ask hesitantly.

He glides closer, drifting effortlessly to my side. “Everything else has proven true. My gut tells me this is too.” Guiding my hands into his, his soft palms brushing the backs of mine, he shows me how to move through the water with grace, mimicking him perfectly. The sudden closeness freezes me, my deepest thoughts unraveling, straining against the locks of my mental bedroom.

Swallowing hard, I release my hands from his, knowing the probability of success is low, but determined to try this insane idea on my own, rather than leaning on his guidance.

I emulate his movements, lifting my hands carefully, trying to mirror the fluidity in his motions. I wait, expecting something—anything—to happen.

Nothing.

“You're thinking too much,” he says firmly, his words reaching me from behind.

I could've told you that, Nyra chimes in, reminding me of her attendance. Orion is still talking.

“Reach within. Feel the pull of magic in your chest and bring it to the surface, guiding the sea to obey. Try again.”

We repeat the motion several more times, each attempt failing. My head throbs, but I force myself to focus, to trust the water and the rhythm of my own movements instead of my mind.

“This is ridiculous,” I complain, crossing my arms. “Just because you can do this, doesn’t mean I can. I’m not . . . built for this.”