Chapter 38 Dove
thirty-eight
Dove
“Yes, the pearls,” she whispers softly with reverence. “They have been slowly dwindling each decade, showing up less and less after each new cycle. We suspect it has something to do with our decreasing numbers.”
“So you don’t know anything about the pearls disappearing from the Silver Sands?”
Her eyes squint, her fingers drumming on the rock of one perfectly sculptured tentacle armrest. “What are you trying to say, girl?” She’s not pleased with my insinuation.
“I’m not saying anything. I’m just asking if you know if their disappearance is related to your pearls disappearing.”
She stands, her hackles somewhat raised. “Those pearls never belonged to the silvers to begin with. They were a gift from my ancestors to the silvers, in exchange for their seed.”
Okay, but the Silver Sands people never knew their men were being taken? By the way Calypso is looking at me, I know I’ve hit a sore spot. So they didn’t just take without giving anything in return. Did they see their pearls as compensation for what they did?
The longer I spend in each new territory of the Forgotten Lands, the more I see the pendulum of mortality swing greatly from side to side.
I can’t speak to whether what they did was truly right or wrong because they did what they needed to survive, to keep their people alive.
Isn’t that what I’m doing for Haven? I’m planning on killing a greater evil to save people who don’t know how to help themselves.
She steps closer to me, her pink, tightly braided hair swishing around her face. My males edge slightly in front of me, blocking my body from hers, my forever protectors. She chuckles at the sight.
“I see it in your face, colourless one. You think it wasn’t a fair trade, but those pearls contain magic—a magic that suspends life itself.
We gave them a gift. As our numbers have been falling, so has our magic.
So have our pearls. We are all connected.
Our magic is connected to the sea—the great mother Oriel saw to it.
We are the water. We are the fish. We are the pearls. Do you not see?”
In the Kingdom of Haven, back in the one Goddess’s temple, they said we were separate.
Our choices were our own. I see choice has played a big part in getting me here—the choice to follow my heart and my inner knowing, my truth.
But my intention and connection to those around me have made all the difference.
It has brought me love, friendship and strength.
For so long, I thought the world was out to get me, that staying within the temple was the only way. Now I see that it is what kept me small. It was barring me from growing into the woman I was meant to be. It stunted me in a lot of ways. Trauma can do that to a person.
I won’t let it define me.
Like the mers, I choose to believe we are all connected in minute, mystical ways that draw us down our chosen paths. To think we are completely separate from the water, the dragon, or the food we eat is foolish. I won’t make that mistake again.
Calypso raises two blue arms to the water above. Like magic, the liquid bursts. I flinch, Gideon and Rivern caving in on me. Small droplets of water rain down on us.
When I look up again, a large bubble big enough to fit Saff inside travels towards us.
“This is how we will travel to your God. I assume you all require air to breathe, yes?” Calypso’s hands are now at her side, the bubble just above us.
“Yes,” I murmur in disbelief.
“The bubble will keep you alive until we get to the island.”
Trust. The word doesn’t come from Rivern or Fury or Gideon. It’s just there. I don’t even know if it comes from the Goddess anymore. Maybe it is me, reminding myself. Back when I’d originally sung the Goddess’s song, I thought it was her telling me to sing.
Now, though…
Now, I wonder if it’s something else, especially as I’m bonded to a God who is steadfast in seeking revenge on the other Gods. Maybe the voice was just my own wishful thinking, some part of myself urging me on.
Pushing myself past a growly Gideon, I stand before Calypso, a niggling undercurrent preventing me from fully leaving yet.
I look past the wide-eyed mer queen and spot her tentacle-carved throne.
“Free the kraken,” the words spill out of me. He may be free of his chain, but before we leave, I need to make sure he is free to roam without being captured again.
Calypso’s eyes flash with irritation, squinting. Taking my measure, she moves one step forward.
“He is our beast. While the silvers have their dragon, we will have the kraken.” The hypocrisy of her statement makes me want to counter with … What about everything being connected? Instead, I tell her the facts.
“The dragon no longer presides over the Sands. She is free to travel the lands as she chooses, just as any other creature.” This new information gives the queen pause.
“Once I see proof of the dragon free, I will free the kraken. We no longer have a need for him if the threat from the Sands is neutralised.”
I nod my head—no need to go into this topic any further. Brutality on the backs of miscommunication is nothing new. I care about moving forward. The longer we take to get back to Fury, the longer my people are starving.
I hope the people in Terra are faring better with the fae behind them.
The longer this journey spans, the more worry builds in my chest. Argus has barely made a peep since journeying through the Sands towards the void, like a statue, a relic of a rhythm when I relied on the strength of a mighty dragon from children’s stories to keep me moving forward.
Now, I rely on…connection.
There’s no need for the independence I once sought, for a separation from others, for a dragon who isn’t real. By breaking through the walls of the temple and speaking up, I found my voice, and I found my strength.
And I’ve found my people.
There’s still so much I’ve yet to do, but I take this small accomplishment as a win.
Warm, soft fingers lace through mine on my right. The bonded fae of my heart feels like a comforting forest breeze as calloused fingers find my left hand, wrapping Rivern’s pine scent around our little threesome in a hug.
The energy—their energy—fills me up.
“Are you ready to go?” Calypso asks in her no-nonsense tone.
“Yes,” I reply, squeezing my protectors’ hands as the bubble comes down around us, pushing at our bodies until we breach the lining and are inside an air-filled sphere, encased in a thin layer of shimmering water.
“We are coming,” I whisper down the bond.
“That’s my good pet.” Fury’s voice is a velveteen slither down my spine, making every inch of my body tingle at the untold promises in his words.
I’m in trouble.