31. Currents of Memory #2
Suddenly, the water around us churned violently.
Massive jaws snapped shut inches from where Vance hovered, barely missing him.
His concentration broke, and the paralyzing effect caging me shattered instantly.
Vance's eyes widened in shock as an enormous leviathan emerged from the depths, its ancient scales gleaming in the murky water.
"Damn it!" Vance snarled, the energy spear dissipating as he twisted away from a second attack.
The leviathan's massive tail whipped through the water, creating a current that sent Vance tumbling backward.
He regained his balance quickly, eyes darting between me and the beast before making his decision.
"This isn't over," he hissed, then propelled himself upward with a burst of energy, disappearing into the darkness above.
I raised my blade, ready to face the leviathan, when a figure swam into view. "Put that down before you hurt yourself," Marx said, her voice distorted through the water. Her expression was unimpressed.
The leviathan circled back to hover protectively behind her. Its spine-covered back rippled as it moved, eyes burning like embers in its massive head.
"I had it under control," I replied, though even I knew that was a lie.
"Clearly." Marx's sarcasm was in full force. "What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone?"
Before I could answer, Thatcher arrived, his face a storm of worry and anger. "Thais! What were you—" He stopped abruptly, taking in the blood-clouded water and the remains of the fight. "Gods. What happened?"
"Your sister decided to get herself killed," Marx said flatly. "I intervened."
Thatcher grabbed my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. "What's wrong with you? Why would you rush off alone like that?"
"We need the keys," I said, confused. "I knew where to find them. Why wait?"
"Because it's dangerous!" he exploded. "Because you could have died! Don't you understand that?"
I blinked.
Marx narrowed her eyes, studying me. "How did you know where to find the keys?"
"The cyclone showed me," I explained. "While I was trapped inside."
"It just gave you this information?" Marx asked, suspicion edging her voice.
I frowned, considering. "Well, it certainly didn't come for free.
My fear was magnified while I was inside.
Made it almost unbearable. When it finally ejected me, the shark from earlier was waiting—but so much larger this time.
Massive, the size of a ship. I suppose it fed on all of that fear while I was inside. "
"And where is this monster now?" Marx asked, looking around as if expecting to see it lurking nearby.
"I destroyed it," I said with a small smile. "Cut it clean through. It dissolved into nothing."
Marx's eyes widened. "You killed your own fear manifestation?"
"What else was I supposed to do?"
Marx and Thatcher exchanged a look.
"Thais," Thatcher said carefully, "just now, during the fight—were you scared at all?"
I considered the question. "No. Why?"
"He nearly killed you," Thatcher pointed out. "Most people would find that frightening."
Marx's face shifted with sudden understanding. "You killed your fear."
The realization dawned on me slowly. "Is that possible?"
"Not just your fear," Thatcher said grimly. "Your sense of self-preservation. That's why you charged in here alone, why you fought so recklessly." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "You're not just fearless—you're incapable of recognizing danger."
"Is that such a bad thing?" I argued. "Fear holds us back."
"Fear keeps you alive," Thatcher countered. "It stops you from taking stupid risks—like attacking a man who could disable you completely without backup."
"Good thing I was following her," Marx interjected dryly. "Well, me and Bertha here." She patted the massive leviathan's side, and it rumbled in response. "Turns out when you've seen the worst the world has to offer, rage becomes just another tool. No emotion needed."
"So you feel nothing?" Thatcher asked.
Marx shrugged. "I feel plenty. I just don't let it control me. In turn, I can control Bertha." She gestured to the whisper key still hovering above the altar. "Now, are we going to claim that or keep chatting about our feelings? "
I swam to the altar and reached for the key. The whispers intensified as my fingers approached, though no specific words were discernible. But when I touched its surface, I heard them—fragmented confessions in different voices:
"We sold what should never be sold..." "The gold was worth more than faith..." "Forgive us, we have corrupted sacred trust..." "Divine knowledge for mortal coin..."
The voices faded as I placed the key in its container and sealed it tight. One whisper key secured.
"There has to be more," Thatcher said, already moving deeper into the temple.
We followed him through winding corridors, the whispers growing louder with each turn. Thatcher's movements were cautious, checking corners before proceeding.
"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he informed me as we swam. "Not until we find a way to restore your fear."
"If we can," Marx muttered, low enough that only I heard.
The temple descended into darker depths, corridors leading downward until we reached a section that appeared partially buried in sand. The whispers here were different—intertwined with what sounded like cries for help.
"Something's wrong," Thatcher said, pausing at the entrance to a large chamber.
I peered past him and saw the reason for his concern.
Kyren was backed against a far wall, facing off against a massive crocodile-like beast with too many teeth and scales that shifted color.
Kyren himself was flickering between different forms—sometimes solid, sometimes transparent, sometimes appearing to be in multiple places at once.
"Illusions," Marx said, watching the display with narrowed eyes. "He's trying to confuse it."
The whispers in the chamber were deafening, making it almost impossible to hear our own thoughts. I spotted what we'd come for— keys floating in alcoves around the room's perimeter, their surfaces rippling with escaping bubbles.
Thatcher grabbed my arm before I could move. "Thais, flank position, but do not move until I give the signal." His eyes bored into mine. "I mean it."
I wanted to argue, but the intensity of his gaze stopped me. "Fine."
"Marx, distraction. Your beast should draw its attention."
Marx nodded, already directing her leviathan forward. "On it."
"And Kyren?" I asked.
"I'll get to him," Thatcher replied. "He needs to calm down—that's his own manifestation attacking him. The more he panics, the worse it gets."
We moved into position, Marx's beast charging forward to engage the crocodile while I circled to the side, keeping to the shadows. Thatcher swam directly toward Kyren, avoiding the clashing manifestation carefully.
He reached Kyren, grabbing the man's shoulders and speaking directly into his face. Though I couldn't hear the words, I could see the effect—Kyren's frantic illusions began to slow, his form solidifying as he focused on Thatcher's voice.
The crocodile responded immediately, its attacks becoming less coordinated, its massive body beginning to lose definition at the edges. Marx's leviathan drove it back further, giving Thatcher and Kyren space to retreat to safety.
Within minutes, the crocodile had dissolved completely, leaving only swirling currents where it had been. Kyren slumped against Thatcher, exhaustion evident in every line of his body.
"What happened?" I asked as we regrouped.
"Panic spiral," Kyren said wearily. "I’m absolutely terrified of open water."
"You weren't supposed to be the weak link," Marx said, but the edge didn't quite reach her tone .
Kyren straightened, indignation momentarily overriding his exhaustion. "Weak link? I've already got all three keys."
"What?" Thatcher stared at him in disbelief.
"Yeah, started in the amphitheater where I swiped an echo key off another contestant—never even knew I was there. Then the city center. Then my manifestation followed me here, where I grabbed the whisper key." He patted a pouch at his side. "All three, secure and ready."
"You got them all on your own?" I couldn't hide my surprise.
"Don't sound so shocked," Kyren replied with a weak smile. "I'm good at what I do."
"Which is what, exactly?" Marx asked, suspicious.
"Surviving." His smile faded. "The echo keys were the worst. They radiate such loud sounds when you get close—it's like your head is going to explode. My ears were bleeding by the time I shoved it into the container. Thought I'd never hear again."
"And yet here you are, complaining at full, albeit muffled, volume," Marx observed.
Thatcher intervened. "We still need echo keys. We should head to the Amphitheater next."
"Grab your whisper keys," I said, gesturing to the ones still floating in their alcoves.
They all grabbed one, pressing the keys against their ears to listen before sealing them safely in our containers.
"Each key shows something different about Memorica. We need to piece together what happened here." I looked at each of them. "The memory keys show moments from citizens' lives as the city drowned. The echo keys?—"
"Consequences, I think," Kyren interrupted.
"The whisper keys have confessions," Marx added. "Something about selling things that shouldn't be sold."
"And I saw Thalor," I said, watching their reactions. "In the cyclone. He appeared above the city. Then he drowned them all. "
Kyren's face paled. "But why?"
"Whatever was sold was clearly dangerous," Thatcher said grimly. "Enough to warrant this."
"The memory I experienced," I said slowly, "was from someone with ink-stained fingers. I watched someone in turquoise robes—a priest, I think. He was handing over a scroll in exchange for gold.”
"So they were trafficking divine information," Marx said.