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I don’t know where the words come from. I am too heavily gripped by the pain that comes with not dying properly.Let me die!I think.I don’t want this.Now that I’ve had a taste of death and had it taken from me, I feel like a child who’s lost their way home.
I think I hear someone sobbing. But that can’t be right.
My sight must not be working properly, either, because all I see when I open my eyes are bright yellow orbs staring back at me, then nothing…
* * *
I don’t openmy eyes at first.
I just have to be grateful the pain has subsided when I surface into consciousness again. There are still errant ripples of pain, but it’s nothing compared to what I endured before. My joints ache and so does my throat. Like I’ve been screaming and swallowing salt water all at once. I grimace, then try to rise on unsteady limbs.
The air here is just as dense as the salty sea air on the Yaccarres Isles, and I wonder if I haven’t washed up on an isolated beach somewhere. It’s almost amusing to imagine Malachi’s surprise when I stumble back into camp, reborn from the ocean.
The look on his face would be priceless.
My head is heavy with a dull throb, but when I glance up and around, I can’t help but gasp softly. This is certainly not one of the islands. I’ve never seen anything like it, bioluminescent barnacles clapping at the air in too many colors to count. Glowing mushrooms and strange growths crawl up the cave walls in droves, only to hang down and brighten the space with their soft light.
It takes me a long moment to realize I’m not alone.
His presence barely registers at first. I don’t notice the shadow he casts in a darkened corridor. It’s the blue rings of light around yellow eyes that finally make me realize he’s not part of the lush spray of underwater life all around. The rest of his body is concealed in shadows as if he’s apprehensive of my presence here. Tentacles curl outwards from him as if feeling the space between us.
I’m shocked when he finally speaks, his deep timbre echoing off the cave walls. “You’re awake.” I recognize the voice from my living nightmare.You are mine.The memory shakes me to my core, and I try to stand if only to put a little more distance between us.
“What are you?”
“I am Laiken.”
I hesitate to ask if his answer is in relation to his name or his species. No one I know has ever seen his kind up close. And those who have didn’t live to tell. Just me. I swallow hard, the pain in my throat making itself known again.
I feel my sore neck. “Did you do this to me?”
“You were suffocating.”
His answers are short and to the point, without the frills of explanation. It does little to calm my rising anxiety. “One would think,” I whisper, my eyes blurring with tears. “You dragged me under the water.”
He gives no indication he heard me, except for a long, slow blink.
I think he’s studying me. It’s hard to tell when I can’t see his expression. But do I want to? I’d seen enough of him in the cove to last a lifetime. And now, I’m stuck here with him, in his dank lair, wherever we are.
I finally manage to find my footing on the uneven rock and stumble against the wall of the cave. There’s a little pool beside me that reflects the light of the barnacles. Otherwise, there is no escape from him except the tunnel behind him.
“You are a Laiken?” Amusement reaches his glowing eyes, but he says nothing to correct me. “Answer me, damn you.”
At that, he merely tilts his head.
My clothes are soaked, sticking to my skin, and my hair hangs loose over my shoulders in wet clumps. Everything smells of the ocean, including me. I can’t get away from the stench. I look down at my hands. There are cuts and scrapes, but what amazes me the most is how a ripple of light passes over my skin and sets my little hairs on end. “What did you do to me?”
“I changed you.”
“Is that why my throat hurts?” I accuse, rubbing the side of my neck, hating how he can’t be bothered to elaborate.Changed me how?
“Yes.”
At least he’s answering my questions, I suppose. “Where are we?”
“My home.”
Good, great, I think, huffing a little of the humid air. If it wasn’t so warm, I think I’d be cold. But I don’t want to be cold ever again. I clutch myself regardless, my poor, strained body having endured too much in the last few hours. “What happened to the others?” I ask with a more earnest expression, daring to look in his direction.
