30. Hydrathis #2
Thatcher pointed toward the far edge of the city, where the structures ended abruptly at what appeared to be an underwater cliff.
Beyond it, the water darkened to impenetrable blackness.
Perched at the very edge stood a building unlike the others—a massive structure that was far more decorated than the rest.
The Archive , I realized. Our ultimate destination.
But first, we needed the keys. I scanned our surroundings, trying to formulate a plan.
There , Thatcher pointed to a large plaza between two temple-like structures. That looks like somewhere important things would be kept.
Worth a try.
And we began racing toward it, letting instinct take over. Our bodies knew how to cut through water efficiently, how to conserve energy, how to read the subtle shifts in pressure that signaled changes in the environment.
We'd covered about half the distance to the plaza when movement caught my eye—a flash of silver darting behind a coral column. I grabbed Thatcher's arm, pointing.
What was that?
Something huge. And something we do not have time to deal with , he sent down the bond.
Keep moving. Just be alert.
We approached the plaza more cautiously now. It was circular, surrounded by towering columns of crystal that cast prismatic light across the open space. In the center, floating about six feet off the ground, were two crystalline teardrops—identical to the memory keys Thalor had shown us.
Two of them! I sent, unable to believe our luck. That's too easy.
Maybe , Thatcher replied. But we need them regardless.
Could be a trap.
Most definitely. Question is—what kind?
We circled the plaza, staying close to the columns as we looked for any sign of danger—guardian creatures, trigger mechanisms, other contestants lying in wait. But there was nothing. Just the keys, rotating slowly in the center.
I'll go , I decided, pulling one of the containers from my pack. Cover me .
Be careful , Thatcher warned, positioning himself to watch all approaches.
I swam toward the keys, every muscle tensed for an attack that didn't come. As I drew closer, I noticed something strange—images flickering within the crystals' depths, too fast to identify. They created a hypnotic effect, almost pulling me forward against my will.
My fingers closed around the first key, and the world exploded.
Not in fire. Not in destruction. In memory—though clearly not my own.
Young hands. Trembling, ink-stained fingers. Watching an older man in deep turquoise robes accept a heavy purse from a hooded figure. A sealed scroll changed hands.
Reality twisted. A new scene. The same ink-stained hands frantically burning parchment as bells tolled overhead. Water seeping under the door. Rising. Rising too fast. A final prayer to Thalor dying on drowning lips.
The sensory assault was so unexpected, so visceral, that I gasped, water rushing into my mouth and being processed by the enchantment. I had lived someone's death.
Thais! Thatcher's mental voice cut through the flood of images. What's wrong?
I couldn't answer, couldn't form coherent thoughts as the memories continued to assault me.
The key, Thais.
The key. Right. With tremendous effort, I wrenched my focus back to the present. The key was still clutched in my hand, its surface now pulsing with light.
It shows memories , I managed, my mental voice shaking. Memorica's memories. Its death.
Put it in the container , Thatcher urged. I'll get mine now.
My hands trembled as I placed the key in its crystal sphere. Even contained, the key continued to pulse, images still visible within its depths but no longer overwhelming my senses.
Be careful , I said, securing the container in my pack. It's... intense .
Thatcher nodded and began swimming toward the second key, moving with deliberate caution. I watched as he approached, noting how his movements slowed the closer he got, as if pushing through invisible resistance.
When his fingers finally brushed the surface, his body went rigid. His eyes widened, then glazed over.
But something was wrong.
Thatcher's expression transformed into one of pure horror. His mouth opened in a silent scream, bubbles escaping from between his lips. His body convulsed as if trying to pull away from whatever visions the key was showing him, but his hand remained locked onto its surface.
Thatcher! I called through our bond. It's not real. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real!
He gave no indication he'd heard me. His face contorted further, agony etched into every line. What was he seeing? What memories had the key chosen to show him?
That's when I noticed it—a dark shape forming in the water behind him, coalescing from nothing. At first, it was just a shadow, a distortion in the water. But with each passing second, it took on a more defined form—sleek, predatory, with fins and teeth and malice.
I started swimming toward him, intending to break his connection to the key, when something moved in my peripheral vision.
I turned to find a creature materializing beside me—a shark with scales like black metal.
What froze me in place weren't its rows of teeth or powerful form, but its eyes—indigo eyes identical to my own.
Thatcher , I tried again, fighting to keep my voice steady. You need to let go of the key. NOW.
This time, something got through. He blinked once, twice, then wrenched his hand away as if it had burned him. The key bobbed in the water, momentarily forgotten as he spun around, coming face to face with the creature that had formed behind him.
Don't. Move, I sent, freezing in place myself. We're being circled .
Both creatures were swimming in slow, deliberate patterns around us.
They maintained perfect distance, their movements synchronized like a carefully choreographed dance.
The one close to Thatcher was different from mine—larger, with armored plates running down its spine, but the eyes were the same. Indigo.
They came from nowhere , Thatcher sent, his mental voice tight. One second nothing, then...
A scream tore through the water—distorted but unmistakable in its agony. I inched my head in the direction. There was a contestant maybe fifty yards away, surrounded by a different monster. A massive, slime-green serpent with a spine-covered back had wrapped itself around him.
The contestant thrashed wildly, his terror evident even at this distance. With each panicked movement, with each bubbled scream, the serpent grew larger, its spines elongating and sharpening.
Then, with horrifying suddenness, those spines plunged inward.
The water clouded with blood.
The contestant's struggles weakened, then stopped altogether. The serpent began to lose definition. Its form wavered, edges blurring, until it simply dissolved back into the water. Like it had never been real at all.
Gods , I breathed. It was his fear. His panic made it stronger until...
Until it killed him , Thatcher finished grimly.
The realization crashed over me. Thatcher, your creature—it only formed after you touched the key. After you saw whatever memory it showed you.
Understanding dawned in his eyes. "The waters of Memorica do not merely reflect what you are. They release it." He quoted Thalor's warning. They're manifestations of our emotions. And they're feeding on them.
So if we control our emotions...
We control the manifestations.
We both closed our eyes, hand in hand. I pictured the calm waters of Saltcrest at dawn, the rhythmic sound of waves against the shore, the familiar weight of an oar in my hands. Gradually, deliberately, I slowed my breathing, my heartbeat, pushing away the panic that threatened to consume me.
When I opened my eyes again, the creatures were fading—becoming transparent, then translucent, then nothing more than ripples in the water.
It worked , Thatcher sent, relief evident in his mental voice.
For now , I cautioned. But we need to be careful. Any strong emotion could bring them back.
I have a feeling it won't be the last time we see those , he said, reaching for the memory key again—this time prepared for its effects.
With swift, efficient movements, he placed it in his container and sealed it tight.
What did you see? I asked, noting the lingering horror in his eyes.
Thatcher's face was ashen, his hands trembling slightly. I was... I was a mother. I felt everything she felt. She was putting her children to bed, singing them a lullaby. Then the walls began to crack. Water exploded through the windows.
He had to stop, closing his eyes against the memory.
She tried to reach them, but the current was too strong. I felt her lungs fill with water as she watched her children swept away. Her last thought was asking Thalor why he'd forsaken them. His voice cracked. I felt her die, Thais. Felt her heart break before it stopped beating.
Gods, I breathed. I saw a priest conducting some shady deal. And then my hands were burning scrolls as water came crashing in. I felt him die too.
Whatever happened here, Thatcher said, his voice hollow, everyone paid the price.
Two memory keys secured, but the true horror of Memorica was only beginning to reveal itself.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the direction of the amphitheater. We could see figures swimming frantically.
That's Marx! I recognized her distinctive silhouette, even at this distance. She was fighting, surrounded by swirling shapes. One massive, rage-red creature seemed to be attacking her.
Wait , Thatcher grabbed my arm. We need a plan. Those manifestations ? —
No time , I cut him off, pulling free.
I propelled myself forward, pushing through the water with newfound urgency.
I swam hard, my focus entirely on reaching Marx. I didn't notice the subtle change in the water current—a powerful undertow suddenly caught me, pulling me sideways.
Thais, watch out! Thatcher's warning came too late.
I spun to see a swirling vortex of water and air—a cyclone that had formed without warning. It towered from the seabed to the distant surface, a spinning column of destruction that was already drawing me into its orbit.
I fought against the current, arms and legs working desperately, but the pull was too strong. Within seconds, I was caught in its outer edge, being dragged inexorably toward its center.
THAIS! Thatcher's scream tore through our bond as the vortex swallowed me.
The last thing I saw was his face, contorted in horror, his hand reaching for mine across an impossible distance. Then everything dissolved into chaos as the cyclone claimed me, ripping me away from my brother and dragging me deeper into the unknown heart of Memorica.