Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
KAELAN
Three days after the Windchaser sank to the bottom of the ocean, I left the cave system alone.
Lily was safe, wrapped in the arms of Vale and Thane, her sleep deep and dreamless for the first time in months.
Riven had offered to come with me, but this task required a different approach than his usual brand of violence.
I needed information, not bloodshed. At least, not yet.
The northern currents carried me swiftly, their familiar pull guiding me toward waters I hadn't visited in decades.
The ocean grew colder as I swam, darker, the pressure increasing with every mile.
Few creatures ventured this deep—fewer still survived an encounter with those who called these depths home.
I was counting on that.
The trench opened before me like a wound in the earth, black and bottomless, exhaling cold water in slow, rhythmic pulses. I paused at its edge, letting my presence be known. Letting them sense me.
I didn't have to wait long.
"Kaelan," the voice drifted up from the darkness, ancient and amused.
A shape emerged from the trench—long and sinuous, more eel than siren, with scales that shifted between deep purple and black.
Serath had been old when I was young, and the centuries had only made her stranger.
Her eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, pale silver against the void, and her thin mouth curved into something that might have been a smile.
"It's been... what? Forty years? Fifty?"
"Sixty-three," I kept my voice neutral, my body still, my dark tail motionless in the cold current. Serath traded in information, but she also traded in weakness. Showing too much interest in anything was as good as handing her leverage. "I need information."
"You always did get straight to the point.
" She circled me slowly, her movements hypnotic, her long tail leaving trails of bioluminescence in its wake.
The purple light played across her ancient features, illuminating scars that crisscrossed her scales like a map of centuries survived.
Her silver eyes never left my face as she moved, assessing, calculating.
"No pleasantries. No asking after my health. Just demands."
"Would pleasantries change your price?" I asked, turning my head slightly to track her movement but keeping my posture relaxed, my arms loose at my sides, unthreatening. With Serath, showing aggression was as dangerous as showing weakness.
She laughed—a sound like bones scraping together, echoing off the walls of the trench and disappearing into its depths.
Her thin body shook with the force of it, her purple scales rippling.
"No. But they might make me more inclined to give you accurate information rather than sending you on a pleasant little chase across half the ocean.
" Her silver eyes fixed on mine, sharp despite their ancient weariness, and she stopped circling to hover directly before me, her long clawed fingers folding together beneath her chin.
"What do you seek, pack leader? What brings you to my trench after six decades of silence? "
"A merchant." I kept my voice flat, my expression empty, though my claws ached to extend. "Human. Name of Marcus. Deals in... specialty cargo."
Serath's eyes narrowed, the silver glow intensifying for just a moment before dimming again.
I saw something flicker across her features—recognition, perhaps, or distaste.
Her long fingers flexed, claws catching the faint light, and her tail coiled beneath her as she drifted closer, close enough that I could smell the cold, ancient scent of her—deep water and old blood and something else, something that spoke of centuries spent in darkness.
"Marcus. Yes, I know that name." Her voice dropped lower, taking on a conspiratorial edge, and she tilted her head, studying me with renewed interest. "Deals in more than cargo, that one. Deals in flesh. Omega flesh, specifically."
My claws extended before I could stop them, sliding from my fingertips with a soft sound that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of the deep. I saw Serath's gaze flick down to note the reaction, saw her thin lips curl with satisfaction. Weakness. I'd shown her weakness.
"You have a personal interest." She spoke the words like she was tasting them, rolling them around her mouth to extract every drop of meaning.
Her pale eyes traveled over my face, reading things I'd rather keep hidden, and her smile widened, showing too many yellowed teeth.
"Interesting. I didn't think you were capable of personal interests anymore, Kaelan. You always seemed so... cold."
"The price." I forced my claws to retract, one by one, the effort of control making my jaw tight and my shoulders tense. "Name it."
She considered me for a long moment, her silver eyes unreadable, her ancient body perfectly still in the water. Then she smiled—a thin, knowing expression that showed too many teeth, each one sharp and yellowed with age, and she spread her webbed hands in a gesture of offering.
"A favor." The word hung in the water between us, heavy with implication. "Unspecified. To be called in at a time of my choosing."
"No." The word came out flat and immediate, leaving no room for negotiation.
I held her gaze without flinching, my dark eyes as cold as the water around us.
Unspecified favors were chains waiting to be forged.
I'd seen too many sirens bound by such bargains, forced into acts that destroyed them. "Something else."
"Then we have nothing to discuss." She began to turn away, her tail sweeping through the water with dismissive finality, the bioluminescent trail already fading behind her, her ancient body angling back toward the darkness of her trench.
"Three kills," I said before she'd completed her turn, and I saw her pause, her long body going still, her head tilting with renewed interest. "Fresh. Your choice of hunting ground, within reason. I'll drive them to you myself."
Serath turned back, her silver eyes gleaming with hunger, her tongue flicking out to taste the water between us.
She was old—too old to hunt effectively anymore, her speed diminished, her strength fading.
Fresh kills, delivered without effort, would sustain her for months.
Her clawed fingers tapped together in a rhythm of calculation.
"Five." She drifted closer, her ancient eyes sharp with negotiation, her tail swishing slowly behind her.
"Four. And you give me everything you have on Marcus—his routes, his ports, his schedule. All of it." I held up four fingers, my expression brooking no further argument, my posture shifting to something harder, more absolute.
She extended one clawed hand, her long fingers curling in the gesture of agreement, the webbing between them thin and nearly translucent with age. Her silver eyes glittered with satisfaction at the bargain struck.
"Done. The merchant Marcus operates out of Thornhaven—a port city on the eastern coast. He has three ships in his fleet: the Silver Promise, the Maiden's Fortune, and the Trader's Dawn.
He rotates between them, never staying on one vessel for more than a few weeks," she recited the information with the practiced ease of someone who collected secrets the way others collected treasure, her ancient voice taking on a rhythmic quality.
I filed the information away, committing each detail to memory. "His current location?"
"As of three days ago, he was aboard the Silver Promise, heading south along the coastal trade route.
" Her tail swished slowly behind her, stirring the dark water into lazy spirals, and she raised one clawed finger as if remembering something particularly interesting.
"He'll make port in Saltmere within the week—he always does this time of year.
Something about a seasonal market." Her lips curled with distaste, pulling back from her yellowed teeth, her expression souring.
"He attends an... auction. Private. Invitation only.
The kind where the merchandise doesn't consent to being sold. "
An omega auction. My claws extended again, and this time I didn't bother retracting them. The points dug into my palms, drawing thin ribbons of blood that swirled away into the darkness.
"The location of this auction," my voice came out harder than I intended, rough with barely contained fury.
"That will cost extra." Serath's voice held no apology, no sympathy—just the cold calculation of a creature who had survived centuries by never giving more than she was paid for.
She examined her claws with feigned disinterest, though I could see the gleam of anticipation in her silver eyes. "Another two kills."
"Done," the word came out as a growl, low and dangerous, and I saw Serath's eyes widen slightly—the first genuine surprise I'd seen from her. Her tail coiled tighter beneath her, an unconscious defensive posture, and she drifted back a few inches. "The location. Now."
She told me. A private estate outside Saltmere, owned by a consortium of wealthy merchants and nobles who shared certain appetites. The auctions happened four times a year, always coinciding with the seasonal markets that brought enough traffic to hide the comings and goings of the attendees.
Marcus wasn't just a buyer. He was a supplier.
"One more thing," I kept my voice cold, controlled, even as rage burned through my veins like fire.
My hands curled into fists at my sides, claws pressing crescents into my palms. "I need to find two humans.
A mated pair, living in a port town. The father sold his daughter to Marcus.
Recently—within the last year. I need their location. "
Serath tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her ancient eyes, her gaze sharpening with renewed interest. Her tail swished thoughtfully behind her, stirring patterns in the dark water.