4. Dovelyn
FOUR
DOVELYN
Holding hands with the Tennebrisian while swimming was just about the worst thing I’d done this past decade. He hadn’t shifted yet. I wouldn’t let him. I was supposed to fly above him, but with the storm I couldn’t risk it. I wasn’t as good with shields as Arcane was and there was no way I was risking damage to my wings. Which meant I had to swim, and I hated swimming.
There was no way I’d be able to maintain my invisibility over him in the vast ocean if we weren’t close, and I refused to touch a fish. Their slimy scales disgusted me and were one of the many things I hated about the ocean. Water alone was my least favorite element, and the ocean was downright terrifying.
All the elements were their own living entity without an Advenian controlling it. It was why there was such an emphasis on users who could create versus manipulate. And water was always the most erratic and unpredictable to me.
Fire was confined to the ground, only expanding upward as it consumed trees and bushes through smoke. If the flames didn’t have fuel or oxygen in the air, they’d be extinguished. But water… it engulfed everything in its path. It didn’t have a we akness. You couldn’t just take it away. If you added fire to it, it’d become a molten, scalding liquid. If you threw wind at it, you could only momentarily displace it before it would get angry and rush back in retaliation. The ground did nothing to it. If water was strong enough, it could erode mountains to carve out the space it needed.
I hated it. Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone, but whenever I willed my wings to emerge so I could fly in the sky, I opted to soar over the Luxian jungle rather than the ocean and bay surrounding the island. I often found myself by the Goddess Temples, and I wished more than anything I was in their presence now. I wanted to be high above the earth where the sun against my back felt blistering and the air was drier and hotter. I wanted the warmth on my wings as I beat them against the breeze and missed the sting of the wind on my face. But more than anything, I wanted to be alone with the Goddesses.
I imagined myself there as I tried not to use too much of my powers to block the waves tumbling over us, but each time we plummeted into the cold depths of the sea, I couldn’t help it. I forced myself not to think of the monstrous things lurking below us, forced myself not to focus on the creatures that could swallow us whole. The fact that humans swam in the ocean for fun astounded me. Luxians had shields in place by the bay to keep sharks and other creatures out, but the mortal beaches were exposed, exactly as we were now, and they didn’t possess any powers to protect themselves.
The storm didn’t allow me much time to dwell on my fears as monstrous wave after wave constantly tumbled over us, trying to rip us apart. I was barely able to pray to Pylemo while we half swam, half drowned. I tried to keep my mind void and just focus on the task at hand—on staying alive and making it to the trench. On numerous occasions, I swore we weren’t going to make it. And if we did succeed, I had no idea how we were going to swim back across the ocean with a half unconscious man. Because that’s what I figured he’d be— if Sie was even still alive —he wouldn’t be fit for what we needed from him.
Peter, at least, didn’t seem bothered by the ocean. He was dragging me through the water, pulling me behind him. I kept my invisibility over us, so I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was straining against the ocean’s full power, and I was only making things harder for him. Swimming and me did not mix, and I couldn’t really pretend I was helping much. Even while pushing back against the waves with my air powers, we were still being dragged under.
My abilities were already draining too fast, and as much as Scotlind’s enhancement would have helped me, I couldn’t risk her staying here. I just prayed that Tezya got her away from this place before my vision had time to come to fruition.
The gift of sight was a curse. It often led me to make the wrong choices in the hopes of trying to avoid whatever I saw, but sometimes the future had a way of coming true anyway. It didn’t matter how much I tried to prevent it, it usually found me. I prayed this time it wouldn’t because I saw all of us captured—Scotlind and Tezya included. In my vision, they entered the trench with us, and no one left. Peter was killed on the spot, Scotlind was thrown into the dark pit below the cages, and my sight ended just as Tezya jumped down the hole after her.
But if Tezya got Scotlind away from this place, if he listened, maybe we still had a chance. I had managed to avoid some visions in the past, not many, but there was still a possibility this one might not happen. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as my limbs grew weak and my body turned numb. I couldn’t feel anything except for Peter’s hand. He was clenching my wrist so tight I thought it’d fall off.
I sent prayers to all twelve of the lesser Goddesses, calling them each by name, before I sent my last plea to Pylemo, praying we could pull this off. We were swimming against the current, and I refused to believe it was their sign of answering me, urging us to turn around now before it was too late.
Peter stopped pulling me through the waves, and it took me a moment to realize we made it. I’d never been to the trench before. I completely avoided it every time I was offered the opportunity to visit.
The water stilled, and I realized air users must have erected a shield over the opening. It wasn’t strong enough to be noticeable to humans, but it tampered down the storm surrounding us. The pouring rain still pounded against my face, not that it mattered, every single part of me was frozen and wet. But we weren’t being pulled under the current anymore, and I was finally able to pause long enough to look around.
I wished I hadn’t. We were hovering over the darkest part of the ocean, haunting me with its depths below. It looked like a circular hole within the water itself and somehow Scotlind’s deep blue eyes came to my mind. I bristled. I hated her. I hated the spell she had over my brother, and I hated that I saw what was coming… what my visions portrayed of her…
She would destroy Tezya so thoroughly that it almost took away the guilt I felt about destroying her. I ruined her. Every horrible thing that happened to her was because of me. I guess it was Pylemo’s sick way of revenge. Because the only two people I truly cared for in this world were going to get hurt by her. First Brock lost his vision, and now Tezya… I tried not to think about what would happen to him. What the Goddesses showed me…
I tried not to think about Brock either. It hurt too much. I had to fight off the urge to curl into a fetal position and cry every time I did. But no one would see me cry. No one. I’d only shed tears for him when I was alone. My father taught me that. It didn’t matter that I knew Brock was suffering right now, that he was probably on the brink of death, going through unfathomable torture at the hands of my father—and now we were delaying getting him even more.
But being here, knowing Brock used to be forced to work shifts within the prison, that he used to make this trek alone, made it hard to not dwell on him. It was another one of my father’s sick forms of torture. After he killed Brock’s parents in front of him, he sentenced his entire extended family to the prison, then forced Brock to work there until every last one of them died.
It took two decades.
He had a younger brother, and I couldn’t imagine what he went through not being able to save him, having to watch him die in this place. Brock was the last survivor of his family. It pained me how alone he was and always would be. He never forgave himself for what happened, even though none of it was his fault. His parents were in the rebellion and their entire family suffered because of it. My father made sure of it. I knew it was why he never fully opened up to anyone. I knew deep down he was terrified—terrified to hurt like that again, to lose everyone he ever loved.
Peter let go of my wrist, and the lack of contact brought me back to reality and the task at hand. I knew he was transforming into whatever disgusting sea creature he had to in order to make it down the trench.
From the surface where we were treading water, the opening to the trench looked massive, like a black hole plopped in the middle of the sea. But I knew it would narrow the moment we started swimming. My body repulsed thinking about how I had to swim lower and lower until I was at the deepest part of the ocean.
I tried not to shake profusely while I prayed, erecting an air shield over my face and taking in my last breath of fresh air before I slowly descended into the depths below… toward the entrance of the prison.