Chapter 16
In Your Eyes
Vaelis
The Silt District mimics the rotting intestine of a dying beast.
Freezing water chokes this realm, viscous with suspended particulate, blooming algae, flaking rust, and toxic chemical runoff from the atmospheric processors far above.
A film of cold, suffocating oil clings to my bare skin.
Visibility ends short of an arm’s length.
The world reduces to a claustrophobic tunnel of murky brown and sickly yellow, illuminated by the occasional, sputtering glow of a dying thermal vent.
Swimming flush against Kael, my uninjured shoulder brushes his scarred flank with every kick of my tail.
He is a gray shadow cutting through the heavy gloom. His imposing presence anchors the shifting, dissolving landscape. Every few seconds, I reach out to touch him, offering a grounding graze of my fingers against his rough skin. An anchor keeping me from falling into an isolated nightmare.
I clutch the silver mirror to my chest.
Terror grips me.
The dark holds no fear. I have witnessed the absolute black of the deep abyss.
I have survived the crushing, unforgiving weight of the open ocean, biologically adapting to its pressure.
I have stared into the dead, black eyes of a Great White, waiting for razor teeth to tear my flesh.
That was physical terror. A sharp, adrenaline-fueled spike of pure survival instinct.
This dread creeps, settling into the marrow of my bones.
Hope terrifies me.
If Oona refuses to help us, or the magical antidote proves a myth, Kael stays silent forever. I stay drowning in my guilt. The weight of his stolen voice will be the stone pulling me beneath the silt.
Navigating an unstable maze of collapsed industrial pipes, we pass through a graveyard of broken machinery the glittering Reef discarded centuries ago.
The Silt District rests upon the forgotten ruins of the old city foundation.
Twisted iron skeletons loom out of the smog, mimicking exposed rib cages.
"Left," I whisper into the dark. Kael cannot hear the spoken word, but his lateral line catches the subtle vibration against the water.
Memory and blind instinct guide us. I trace the precise coordinates Mira rasped out before collapsing back into her frozen sleep. North quadrant. The intake pipes.
The current shifts, a sudden, violent shove.
A surge of freezing water pushes through the rusted canyon, carrying a blinding cloud of toxic yellow smog toward us.
Kael reacts. Grabbing my waist, he pulls me into the dark, hollowed cavity of a discarded atmospheric intake valve.
Cramped inside the rusted iron tube, Kael blocks the narrow entrance with his broad back, shielding me from the passing toxic surge. We press flush against each other.
The darkness inside the pipe is absolute. The gloom swallows my own hands. His physical presence remains the singular reality.
His chest heaves against mine. His powerful tail tangles with my own. The trapped water warms with his radiant body heat.
Reaching up in the pitch black, my trembling fingers find the sharp angle of his jaw.
Kael leans into my touch. Turning his head, he presses a soft, lingering kiss into the center of my palm.
My breath catches in my throat. Sliding my hand, I trace the muscular column of his neck, stopping when my fingers find his vocal cords.
The skin bears brutal scars. It is tight and ruined.
Kael covers my hand with his own. Wrapping his fingers around mine, he presses my palm against his ruined throat.
He forces me to feel the silence. To understand the gravity of our task.
You don't have to do this, he signs, tracing the clumsy words against my skin in the dark.
"I do," I whisper, my voice cracking with unshed tears.
You are beautiful, he traces against my chest, over my racing heart. The mirror is special to you. You should keep it.
"The mirror is polished glass, Kael," I argue, gripping his shoulders in the dark. "It projects an exterior illusion. A useless, arrogant thing. My life in the upper reef was built on useless, arrogant things."
Resting his warm forehead against mine, the familiar vibration of his deep purr rumbles to life in his chest. A low, soothing thrum settling my frayed nerves.
"Looking into the glass back in the city revealed a pampered prince," I confess. "A fragile, decorative piece of bait. But in me you reveal a survivor. Someone worth fighting a swarm for. I forsake the mirror. I choose to see myself in your eyes."
Kael releases a long exhale. His breath washes over my face, carrying the scent of deep water and sharp ozone.
Sliding his hands to my waist, he pulls me closer until no space remains between us. He kisses me.
This is no frantic, desperate kiss born of adrenaline. It is a slow, tender consummation. A quiet, profound promise made in the pitch black of a rotting city. He tastes of raw salt and devotion.
I kiss him back with everything I possess. I pour my guilt, my lingering fear, and my overwhelming love into his mouth.
Breaking apart, we gasp for air.
Ready? he traces on my collarbone.
"Ready," I confirm, my resolve hardened into iron.
Kael exits the rusted pipe. The toxic surge has passed. The murky brown water returns to a stagnant calm.
We swim forward.
The fissure appears.
It matches Mira's description. A narrow, jagged crack in the deep foundation rock, choked with dead, slimy kelp and towering piles of refuse.
It mimics an infected wound refusing to heal.
A human skull rests on a rusted iron spike near the dark entrance, empty sockets staring into the toxic murk. Green algae packs the nasal cavity.
Kael stops.
Hovering before the dark opening, his body grows tense. He studies the human skull, then shifts his attention to the unwelcoming throat of the cave. He turns his head to face me.
He points a finger to the entrance, then points to me.
I nod. I channel the fierce fire Elder Soryn claimed made me a prime target. I am no victim of the Vanguard. I am a willing participant in my own salvation.
"Let's go," I say.
I take the lead.
Squeezing my lean body through the narrow fissure, the jagged rock scrapes my healing shoulder. A hot jolt of pain radiates down my arm. Biting my lip to trap the cry, I push through the gap. The rocky passage is tight, forcing my fine fins flush against my body.
The trapped water is stagnant. Colder than the outside smog. A cloying smell bypasses the nose, coating the back of the throat. Formaldehyde, rotting flesh, and old, dry spices.
I emerge into the main cavern.
Small, cramped, and cluttered.
The curved walls forgo solid stone for smooth glass.
Thousands of sealed jars of every conceivable shape and size stack from the sandy floor to the high ceiling on shelves carved into the rock.
The sickly, pulsing green light of phosphorescent moss clinging to the ceiling in dripping stalactites illuminates them.
Inside the glass jars, dead things float.
I fight the urge to look, but the horror draws my attention.
A severed, gray hand fingers curled into a fist. A blue, forked tongue, pinned to a piece of floating cork. Eyes. Hundreds of them, staring from cloudy preservation fluid. Shredded fins. Plucked scales. Human teeth threaded onto wire.
And a suffocating silence.
The small cave chokes on it. This is no peaceful, comforting silence of the House of Drift. This is a stolen, violent silence. A terrible silence woven from things that used to scream.
Kael squeezes his shoulders through the fissure. Swimming to my front, his body forms a rigid shield between my scales and the glowing jars.
"I have visitors," a voice croaks.
The sound comes from everywhere and nowhere. Bouncing off the thousands of glass walls, it distorts into a sinister echo.
Oona emerges from behind a macabre curtain of dried, inflated puffer-fish skins.
A horrific sack of loose, pinkish skin. Bloated and draped over a skeletal frame lacking rigid bones.
She has no eyes. Smooth, indented patches of pale skin sit where the sockets belong.
Her mouth forms a circular, toothless maw wreathed in long, sensory barbels, writhing in the water like living worms.
"Ah," she wheezes, the sound wet and terrible. "The broken Shark. And the pretty Prince."
Swimming closer, the long barbels around her mouth twitch, tasting our scent in the stagnant water.
"You want the noise back," Oona croons, her eyeless face turning toward Kael. "You want the monster to roar. You want him to sing you sweet, bloody lullabies in the dark."
Swimming forward, I emerge from Kael's protective shadow. I hold the silver mirror to my chest, gripping it until my knuckles turn white.
"We want the specific antidote," I say, keeping my voice steady and authoritative. "Mira offered your name."
Oona laughs. Grinding stones in the dark.
"I have it," Oona admits. Reaching a flabby, boneless arm toward the ceiling, her long fingers wrap around a glass vial of clear liquid resting on a high shelf.
"The small Vanguard warrior paid a handsome price to silence the shark.
But to reverse the magic, the price is no simple coin. The price is vanity."
Pointing a pale finger at the silver mirror clutched in my hands, her barbels twitch.
"Give me your precious reflection, Prince," she hisses. "Give me your beautiful glass. Swear to forget your own beauty, and I will give the shark his tongue."
Lowering my attention to the polished silver mirror, frightened golden eyes stare back. I trace my vibrant hair. The final physical tether to my identity from the glittering upper world.
I shift back to Kael.
He shakes his head. No. Reaching for my arm, he tries to pull my body toward the safety of the fissure. Keep the mirror, he signs, panic widening his dark eyes. I will stay silent. Let's go.
He loves me enough to remain mute forever, ensuring my vanity remains intact. He chooses a quiet prison over asking a sacrifice of my comfort.
That profound, selfless love grants me the courage to sever the past.
"I don't need it," I whisper, meeting his dark eyes. "I see myself in you."
A shudder rips through his frame. His rough fingers dig into my waist, anchoring my body to his own in the freezing water. A ragged breath escapes his ruined throat.
Turning to the witch, I hand the silver mirror to her.
Snatching it with a wet croon, she caresses the polished silver with her flabby fingers, mimicking a starving creature hoarding fresh meat.
She tosses the glass vial. I catch it against my chest.
"Drink it fast, monster," Oona warns, retreating into the green shadows of her jar-lined museum. "The violent voice has suffered a dam for a long time. When the barrier breaks, it tends to drown things."
My fingers crush around the glass vial. My free hand drops to the hilt of my ceremonial dagger, the familiar sting of the ray-skin grip grounding my fury.
"He is no monster," I snap. My voice rings with authority, the sound cracking like a whip against the thousands of glass jars.
A grinding laugh echoes from the shadows. Oona vanishes behind the curtain of rotting puffer-fish, leaving us alone in the sickly green light.
Anger vibrates in my marrow, leaving my chest heaving in the stagnant water. I want to chase her into the shadows. I want to draw my blade and demand her respect. But Kael swims closer.
Placing his larger hand over mine, he covers the vial, shielding it from the glowing jars and the suffocating silence of the witch's museum. Pulling my fist to his broad chest, he presses my knuckles over the steady rhythm of his heart.
The solid heat of his skin settles my racing pulse.
His dark eyes lock onto mine. He ignores the cure.
Thank you, he signs with his free hand. The motion carries the weight of a sacred vow. He offers the gesture for the loss of the mirror, but the raw devotion burning in his dark eyes reveals the truth. He offers his gratitude for the defense of his soul.
"Always," I whisper. The word catches in my throat.
We refuse to linger in the cavern.
I turn my back on the Trench Witch. I abandon the polished silver mirror. I forfeit my vanity, severing the final tether to my life in the glittering upper reef.
Kael takes the lead. Guiding my body through the jagged fissure, his broad shoulders push the toxic kelp aside to clear a safe path for my scales.
We swim from the cursed cave, emerging into the freezing smog of the Silt District.
I clutch the glass vial to my chest. My heart races with a terrifying, beautiful hope.
We will break the dam.