Chapter 8
EIGHT
Aria
The transition from sleep to waking was usually a slow ascent, drifting up from dark waters. This time, it was a collision.
One moment I was floating in a dreamless void, anchored only by the solid, furnace-hot weight of Flynn’s chest against my back and his arm banded like iron across my ribs. The next, his muscles locked rigid, turning him from a pillow into a statue.
"Don't move," Flynn whispered.
His voice was barely a breath, a vibration against the shell of my ear that sent a shiver straight down my spine, but the playfulness that had colored his tone earlier was gone. This was the Wolf. This was the predator who had scented something that made even his hackles rise.
I froze, blinking my eyes open. The cavern was dim, lit only by the bioluminescent moss clinging to the ceiling like reluctant stars and the faint, dying glow of the few embers Kaelen had managed to coax from damp wood.
The air had changed. The stagnant, earthy rot of the underground was gone, swallowed by a thick, cloying scent that burned my nostrils.
Brine. Deep, pressurized salt water. The smell of the ocean floor where sunlight goes to die.
"Flynn?" I breathed, my hand tightening on his forearm.
"Quiet," he hissed. "Something is in the pool."
I looked toward the center of the cavern. The black water, which had been glassy and silent when I fell asleep, was trembling. Ripples radiated outward from the center, lapping against the stone shore with a wet, rhythmic slapping sound that echoed too loudly in the silence.
Thane was already on his feet, a silent shadow near the tunnel entrance, his makeshift club raised.
Kaelen stood by the water’s edge, his hand on the hilt of the stolen sword, the golden fire in his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
Elias was gone. No, he was above, crouched on a ledge of obsidian, blending into the darkness like a copper wraith.
The water bulged.
It didn't splash. It rose, displacing liquid with a thick, viscous sucking sound. A shape broke the surface, slick and black, reflecting the moss-light with an oily sheen.
At first, I thought it was a rock, pushed up by some geological spasm. Then the rock opened three sets of eyes.
They burned with a pale, radioactive green light, illuminating a face, if it could be called that, composed of chitinous plates and wet, exposed muscle.
It looked like a crab stripped of its shell, fused with the nightmare of a squid.
It was massive, easily the size of a carriage, and it pulled itself onto the rocky bank with too many limbs, claws clicking against the stone like knitting needles.
"Scavenger," Kaelen spat, the word dripping with disgust and recognition.
The creature froze. Its triad of eyes swiveled independently, scanning the cavern before locking onto Kaelen.
Subject Alpha-One, a voice rasped.
It didn't speak the words; it projected them, a mental scrape of barnacles against a ship's hull that made my head throb. It sounded wet, gurgling, as if the speaker were drowning.
Subject Beta-Four. Subject Gamma-Nine. Subject Delta-Seven. It ticked them off, its gaze flicking to Flynn, Thane, and Elias. Inventory located.
I felt Flynn’s heart hammer against my back, a frantic, aggressive rhythm. "It’s a Skal," he growled low in his throat. "Poseidon’s lapdogs. They clean up the messes the High Seat doesn't want to touch."
The creature, the Skal, shifted, its limbs bunching beneath it. A heavy, wet tail slapped the stone behind it.
Status: Active, the voice grated in my mind. Anomaly detected. Subjects should be terminated or dormant. Subjects are... awake.
"And practically naked," Flynn added, releasing me and stepping in front of my seated form, his body a shield of tense muscle and scars. "Don't forget naked. It adds to the intimidation factor."
The Skal didn't seem amused. Its central eye widened, the pupil contracting to a pinpoint. Masters must be informed. The bait has broken the trap.
"You aren't informing anyone," Kaelen said, stepping forward. He raised the sword, the steel looking pathetic against the creature’s armored hide, but the dragon fire wreathing the blade made the metal glow cherry-red.
The Skal hissed, a sound like steam venting. Subjects are defective. Return to the abyss for recycling.
It lunged.
It moved with terrifying speed for something so ungainly, a blur of wet black motion. A claw the size of a man’s torso snapped forward, aiming to cut Kaelen in half.
Kaelen didn't block; he couldn't. The sheer mass of the creature would have shattered his arm. He dropped into a slide, passing under the savage arc of the claw, and slashed upward. The heated sword sparked against the creature’s underbelly, drawing a line of sizzling blue blood.
The Skal shrieked, a psychic blast that made me clap my hands over my ears.
"Elias, the eyes!" Thane roared, charging from the flank. He slammed his shoulder into the creature’s side, the impact shaking the ground.
It was like a boulder hitting a cliff face.
The Skal staggered, its legs skittering on the damp stone, but it didn't fall.
It backhanded Thane with a tentacled limb, sending the Bear Prince flying into the wall with a sickening crunch.
"Thane!" I scrambled to my feet, my legs wobbling beneath me.
"Stay back, Aria!" Flynn barked. He launched himself off a stalagmite, landing on the creature’s back. He didn't have a weapon, so he used what he had, he drove his fingers into the gaps between the chitinous plates, ripping at the exposed flesh beneath.
The Skal thrashed, trying to dislodge the wolf, but Flynn held on, snarling, tearing wet chunks of meat from its spine.
Parasites! the creature screamed in our minds. Filth!
It spun, plunging back toward the water.
"It's trying to flee!" Elias shouted from his perch. He turned into a streak of grey wool and phoenix light as he dropped from his perch, landing in front of the creature’s path. He threw out a hand, and a wall of turquoise fire erupted from the stone.
The Skal recoiled from the heat, screeching. It realized it was cornered. It realized the "livestock" had teeth.
Report, the thought broadcasted, frantic and sharp. Must report. High Seat. Poseidon. Breach.
It ignored Kaelen and Elias, tucking its limbs into a tight, armored ball, and rolled.
It was aiming for the water, for the deep, subterranean channels that connected this tomb to the ocean.
If it reached the water, it was gone. And if it reported that the Princes were alive, mobile, and plotting. ..
"Stop it!" I screamed, the fear of discovery overriding my exhaustion.
Kaelen brought his sword down on the creature’s armored shell, the blade shattering on impact. Flynn was thrown clear as the creature spun, hitting the ground hard and rolling.
The Skal hit the water's edge.
I felt it then.
Not a physical sensation, but a metaphysical tug. A leash.
It was faint, buried under layers of biological imperative and magical programming, but it was there. A thick, briny cord of magic connecting the creature to something vast and cold thousands of miles away. It stretched from the Skal’s core, disappearing into the ether.
It felt like the Gate.
It felt like a chain.
I didn't think about my empty reserves, didn't think about the warning Elias had given me about draining my life force. I acted on the instinct that had kept the Gate closed for five years.
I reached out with my mind, grabbing that invisible leash with spectral hands.
Stop.
The command wasn't spoken. It was imposed. I channeled the authority I had stolen from the Sanctorum, the weight of a thousand years of binding magic.
The Skal froze halfway into the water. Its legs locked. It quivered, fighting the sudden paralysis, its mental voice a static screech of confusion.
Error. Command override. Unauthorized user.
"I am not a user," I growled, stepping past Flynn, walking toward the water’s edge. My skin burned, the golden markings flaring so bright they illuminated the cavern like a second sun. My vision tunneled, the edges greying out, but I held on. "I am the gate."
I gripped the metaphysical chain connecting the beast to its master. It felt shifting and slippery, like holding a live eel, tasting of salt and ancient, divine arrogance. Poseidon’s mark.
I squeezed.
Serve me, I commanded, pouring the dregs of the princes' power into the bond. I didn't verify the connection; I overwrote it. I burned away the blue-green sigil of the Sea God and stamped my own golden chaotic mark in its place.
The Skal shrieked, arching backward, its limbs thrashing. The psychic scream tore through my mind, a headache that felt like a nail being driven into my temple.
Pain. Formatting. New directive required.
"Your directive," I gasped, my knees shaking, "is us."
I pulled the leash taunt, snapping the connection to the ocean, tethering the beast to the five of us standing in the dark.
The creature slumped. The fight went out of it instantly. It dragged itself toward me, moving sluggishly, and collapsed on a nearby stone. Its glowing green eyes dimmed, shifting to a muddy, subservient yellow.
Awaiting orders, it gurgled, the mental voice stripped of its arrogance.
Silence crashed back into the cavern, heavier than before.
Kaelen stared at the subdued monster, then at me. His chest heaved, sweat slicking his skin, mixing with the soot and blood. "Aria?"
I tried to answer him. I tried to say something witty and reassuring, like Flynn would have.
Instead, the world tilted sideways.
The golden light on my skin sputtered and died. The adrenaline that had propped me up evaporated, leaving a hollow void where my strength used to be. My legs simply ceased to exist.
"Aria!"
I heard Kaelen’s voice, panic threading through the baritone. I heard the scuff of Flynn’s feet scrambling for purchase. I saw the blur of movement as they rushed toward me, terrified that I would break upon impact with the stone.
No.
I wouldn't be the damsel fainting into their arms. I wouldn't be the fragile mortal girl who broke every time she used her power. I was the Gate.
As gravity claimed me, I didn't fight it. I twisted, instinctively pulling on the heavy, earthen gravity that was Thane's essence, even if I couldn't channel his full power, the echo remained in my blood.
I slammed my hand against the ground before my knees hit.
Earth magic rippled out. The stone beneath me softened, turning from unforgiving rock to something resembling packed sand for just a split second.
I collapsed, yes. I fell. But I landed in a controlled crouch, one hand splayed on the floor, head bowed, panting like a dying animal. I didn't hit the ground; I met it.
Kaelen skidded to a halt inches from me, his hands hovering, afraid to touch, afraid to shatter. Flynn was right behind him, smelling of blood and terror.
"I'm fine," I wheezed, staring at the floor, watching a bead of sweat drip from my nose to the dark stone. My vision was swimming in black spots, and my heart felt like it was fluttering a thousand times a minute, but I was upright. "I'm... fine."
"You reconfigured a divine construct," Elias said, his voice filled with a terrified awe. He walked into my field of vision, the hem of his grey robe brushing the stone. "You took over a signal to a god."
"It was just... a lock," I murmured, swaying. "Just had to... change the key."
I looked up at them. Four princes, battered, bloody, and staring at me as if I were a bomb that had just armed itself.
"Food," I whispered, my voice slurring. "Flynn was right. We need... food."
Then the black spots connected, and the darkness became too tempting to resist. It was warm, inviting, and silent, and it finally took me.
As I slipped away, I felt a surge of pride. I didn't need them to catch me. I had caught myself. Just like I always had as a Keeper.
Only I wasn't a Keeper anymore, was I? The only thing I knew was that I didn't want to be the queen the prophecy talked about either, so then what was I? Or, maybe the real question was what was I becoming?