Chapter Seventeen #2
A horrified scream climbs to the tip of my tongue, but I bite down on my jaw to keep it contained. Then it happens again. Two more dinghies are seized, pulled under by the monstrous tentacles.
This time, I get a good look at them. Dark, slick, covered in suction cups the size of dinner plates. The water around them churns, frothing with bubbles and debris as the boats vanish beneath the waves.
“What are you waiting for? Go!” shouts Cyrus and, at his command, Gideon calls forth a wave to carry their dinghy forward.
Panic breaks out. Those teams whose talents don’t offer much sway over the sea are rowing furiously, anything to put distance between themselves and whatever creature is lurking below.
“Help me, please…” The voice is a gurgle at first, then a hand erupts from the dark water and clamps around my arm, followed by a face I only vaguely recognize from the banquet.
I scream, and the drowning competitor digs their nails into my skin. Taron drives his heel into their face. Their fingers spasm before they sink back into the water.
Then it all happens too fast. A tentacle rises behind us, a giant silhouette against the now-waning eclipse. It crashes down on the water, and our dinghy tilts.
I topple overboard. Salty water spreads into my lungs as I feel myself sinking … deeper and deeper like an anchor.
My eyes are wide. Head throbbing. I want to scream, but I know that would only drown me faster. Darkness spreads around me. Above, the moons’ reflection fractures across the surface, growing smaller and smaller with each passing second.
Something moves in the water beneath me. A figure, only barely visible in the dark.
A hand. A face.
Blank features written with such helplessness that cold dread unfurls in my chest. The competitor who grabbed my foot opens their mouth, and a single air bubble bursts forth.
Then a thick, sinuous appendage coils around their waist and yanks them into the depths. This time, I can’t hold back my scream.
When something wraps around my waist, I brace myself for the same end. But it’s not a cold, sinewy tentacle around my waist. It’s an arm.
Taron pulls me into him, and I bury my face in the corded muscles of his chest. I can see the pulse of his talents rippling underwater, feel it surging through me as he propels us upward.
He doesn’t say anything as he hauls me on to the dinghy.
Only gestures for me to hold on as he dips his hand back into the water and propels us forward.
I catch my breath, keeping my focus on the great vessel ahead – our sanctuary – dark sails blocking the three moons. I try not to think about the bottomless murky depths beneath us. Try not to scream when, out of the water, the monstrous abomination rises.
It has a serpent’s head with eyes like molten gold, and a body crowned with barnacled tentacles dripping with brine. Its mouth, lined with jagged, razor-sharp teeth, opens in a roar that shakes the ocean breeze, a sound so deep it reverberates in my bones.
One of the creature’s tentacles swings wildly, smashing into another team’s dinghy with the force of a tidal wave. The team is tossed overboard, their screams lost to the sea.
The tentacle lashes out again, this time flailing in the direction of Kara and Savannah, who are frantically trying to steer their boat away.
Kara plucks something from the pouch attached to her belt, and it looks like the long fleshy leaf of a succulent with serrated edges.
When she snaps the leaf in half, it releases a blinding stream of light. It must be a sunblade – a hardy desert plant from Solara, often used by Helios when no other light sources are present.
Kara grabs the stream of light like it’s a pliable thing, and it forms into a blade in her hand, a brilliant glowing weapon that she swings at the monster to sever its nearing tentacle in one clean stroke.
The limb writhes and falls back into the water, and Kara lets loose a guttural scream.
Her emotions release into the air like a smoky breath.
“Hold on,” Taron’s voice cuts through the chaos.
I barely have time to grab the edge of the dinghy before he looks up at the trio of moons, his blue eyes reflecting their cold light. He takes a deep breath as if drawing strength from the silvery glow, and then we surge forward with a speed that knocks me back.
The current around us shifts, bending to his will.
Tentacles thrash at us, but Taron’s focus is unbreakable.
I do what I can to help. My emotions are explosive, manifesting as sharp, straggly spikes in the air around me.
I dodge one tentacle before my spikes perforate another.
My heart is in my throat as we weave through the chaos.
Ahead, the ship is looming larger and larger. I spy Cyrus and Gideon docking their dinghy against the side of the hull. They grab hold of a thick rope ladder hanging down from the deck and start climbing, muscles straining as they pull themselves up.
As we draw closer, the size of the ship becomes overwhelming. It towers over us, built from ancient wood carved with patterns and symbols that mirror the constellations.
The ship’s name is etched into the side in gold letters. The Leviathan. A fitting name for something so colossal.
When our dinghy reaches the ship, a rope ladder descends. Taron goes ahead of me. I climb as rapidly as I can, but the side of the boat is slick with sea spray and my muscles are straining.
We at last reach the deck, and Taron pulls me over the edge before collapsing on to the wooden planks, gasping for breath. Throbbing veins spread across his arms and into his neck, framing the sides of his face.
“I’m fine,” he insists before I can ask. “I just need a minute.”
I glance back at the water but immediately regret it. The monster has two competitors wrapped in its tentacles.
One of them, a Pyro, shoots a jet of flames from his hands to sear the tentacle holding him. The other, a Flora, tries to blind the creature by throwing small erupting seedlings at its serpentine face. But it’s no use.
The tentacles tighten before pulling them down into the dark depths. I look away, trying to block out their gargled screams. The Reckoning is here. It’s chaotic and violent and more unforgiving than I imagined.
Suddenly, I’m not sure any of us are truly prepared for what lies ahead.