Secrets of the Void (Deep Waters #5)

Chapter 1

One

Proteus

Proteus had long been asleep.

But no longer.

He could feel himself coming back to life, piece by piece.

First it was his gills. The fluttering, thin membranes against his neck filtered in seawater that he hadn't tasted in centuries.

So many flavors danced through his mind.

The sweetness of oysters and clams that were just outside of his prison.

The saltiness of the sea itself. Brine from hundreds of years of brewing in the deepest depths of the sea.

It was as it always had been, and yet, somehow more.

It was fresher than he remembered. The sea itself had come back alive in the long years he'd been imprisoned.

This place, this ocean, had once been filled with tragedy.

It had tasted like oil and blood when he'd first been locked away.

Now, it tasted as it always should have.

As he remembered it from when he had first been created.

Then his claws flexed. His hands had always given him away as something "other.

" Inhuman, certainly, but not one of the People of Water either.

They were larger than they should be, with an extra joint that made his fingers even more elongated.

The claws that tipped them were poisonous, if he remembered correctly.

He still dreamt of the time when he had first been created. He had gone to the People of Water, a messenger from the depths itself, and they had been terrified of him. They had feared his massive claws, his strange body. His odd appearance proved that he was like them, but not close enough.

The memory flared an age old anger that had once nearly burned him alive. His chest heated, and rage flowed all the way down into his tail. Slowly, piece by piece, anger heated his blood and made him glow.

The light that illuminated his prison didn't come from his skin.

The People of Water glowed through tiny, bioluminescent dots that emerged from the depths of their skin.

They were stars in his sea, sparkling with beauty and grace that very few could ever mimic.

But Proteus? It was not his skin that glowed.

It was his bones.

His ribs illuminated first. Each of them warming, blinking, one by one, the light spearing through the thin flesh of his chest. He knew if he looked down, he would see the shadows of his dual hearts and the four lungs that dotted down his massive torso.

And then it continued, light sparking down his spine and traveling into his tail where all the dozens of bones made up the massive length.

He was so brilliant that he could suddenly see his tight prison in stark relief.

Every detail. And the lack of anything in this coffin but him.

He'd been trapped here so many years ago, he couldn't even remember how long he'd been waiting.

There was no way to tell how many days had passed, or how many years.

Only that time had seemed to pass so slowly that his mind had eventually snapped.

He'd given up even trying to think about where he was or how long it had been.

Proteus had passed into a meditative state that had given him some peace of mind.

Plotting what he would do when he finally escaped this prison was the only thing that had kept him sane. And oh, he had plans.

He had great and wondrous plans.

Flexing the fins along the side of his tail, he moved his palms so that they were pressed against the cold metal that surrounded him.

All those years ago, he'd been locked in here by his own people.

The People of Water, who were meant to worship him, had deemed him too dangerous, but they were willing to keep him alive in hopes of stealing his gifts.

For the first hundred years, they had still come to worship him.

They begged and pleaded for him to see into their futures, but also into the minds of those who would harm them.

They had used him as an oracle, locked where they could use him as they pleased, and he was so bored he would do nearly anything he was asked.

Until they petitioned the ancients, begging for more than just a limited existence and a need to rattle his cage for prophetic truths.

Soon enough, there was an entire subspecies of their kind that could see the future.

But they would never know what he knew. They would never see as far into the future, nor would they experience the depth of his power.

They had not lived during the time he had. They did not know the secrets he knew.

What had awakened him this time? The last time had been a depthstrider who had dared come speak with an ancient being.

He had told the priest what he wanted to hear, but also added in a flavor of fun to the mix.

He did not care why that depthstrider had been so desperate, but Proteus was so bored in his prison.

Playing with them had once been his favorite past time. He hadn't done so in a very, very long time. Let the male see his dead wife. Let him dream of a future with a human at his side. It was possible after all.

And it brought Proteus one step closer to being released from this hellish place.

He listened intently, waiting for a voice that might have woken him from his slumber. No voice came, though. There was only the faint sound of scratching on the outside of this locked prison.

No one knew how to open it. He'd had many people try over the centuries.

Many People of Water were easy to trick.

They listened to who they believed was once a god, and he had been, so they did whatever he said when they found him.

But they had all failed. Each and every one of them until he was certain the locking mechanism required something else.

The tiny sounds could easily be just another crab.

They had driven him mad years ago; hearing the sounds of their claws scraping above him had made him want to tear out his ears.

It was a uniquely grating sound, and it made him want to scream every time he heard it.

Years ago, there had been hundreds that clambered all over his prison.

More and more of them, each of them devouring parts of his mind as he was forced to endure their movements.

Even the thought made him want to tear at his prison again.

Attacking the coffin would only lead to broken claws and his own blood, but sometimes it helped ease the anger.

Proteus was the teeth and claws of the ancients.

He was the creature who was made to terrify the world when they could not leave the depths.

His creators had been very explicit about what he was to become.

He would guard the sea against all those who would stand against the ancients. He would ensure the oceans remained under the ancients’ control, as it always should have been and as it always would be.

He had a feeling that had changed since he'd been locked away.

Agitation grew in his chest as it hadn't for many, many years.

He usually knew how to keep himself calm.

Getting angry in a place like this only served to make his life more miserable.

But he was angry. He was furious at all those who thought he could be contained, and he was furious with the ancients for leaving him here.

Worst of all, Proteus was offended by the very world for throwing him into this prison and never once giving him a chance to fight back.

He deserved to be free. He deserved to be out in the waves.

Another tap. Another long scrape of what sounded like a claw, and then...

Light.

It wasn't coming from him, and then there was water. More seawater that wasn't burdened by the bitter bite of the metal that surrounded him. He could actually breathe it in without wincing. There was life that came with that.

Reaching with his fingers that were still pressed down against his sides, Proteus felt for the tiny gap that had suddenly appeared around the lid of his prison.

The coffin they had placed him in was always upright, but his arms were pinned to his sides.

If he moved his fingers just right, he could slide his claws out into the open sea.

It was the closest he'd been to freedom in so many years. His heart thundered in his chest. His bones glowed even brighter with hope and excitement.

Whoever this was, he was going to gift them whatever they wanted for solving a lock that had kept him imprisoned for this long. He would heap gold upon them. Raid every wreck that still languished at the bottom of the ocean to give them jewels, crowns, and coin.

Just a bit more, that's all he needed. Just a little more and then he would be free. He would be able to push the lid of the coffin off, and he would burst forth from this prison forever. They would never be able to put him back in here. He would make sure of that.

And then he looked to the right, at that small splinter of light, and saw the legs of a crab through it. Not entirely a crab, though. Those legs were made out of metal. They had seen better days, rusted as they were, but they were still legs.

Then antennae that were made of metal peered through the gap. There had once been screens at the end of them that likely were meant to look like eyes, but now only one still worked, and it blinked on and off rapidly.

"There you are," the voice emitted from whatever strange droid had found him. "I've been looking for centuries for this tomb. Do you know how hard it was to find without a tracker?"

"Open it."

"It's mostly rusted shut now. But considering the size of you, if you give it a good push, it should move. The silt has grown up from the bottom, or you’ve been sinking into it. You're almost level with the sea floor."