Epilogue
Riley
Riley woke up to an incessant tickle against her cheek, and as soon as awareness hit her, she groaned, because everything fucking hurt. Her limbs, heavy as lead. Her head, pounding. Her throat, burning. She coughed and brushed Patch aside as she tumbled on her side to expel lungfuls of seawater.
She blinked down at the sand beneath her hands, then turned her head–slowly–to look at the waves lapping at her bare feet.
Riley thought absurdly that the soreness in her chest had everything to do with the loss of her boots. First Calla’s gloves. Now her boots. She’d paid so dearly for them.
And then she remembered.
Haddock.
Eryx.
The lightning.
The Moonshadow was gone.
She looked hopelessly at Patch, who stared back expectantly, as if he was waiting for her to do–what?
Darkness crowded at the edges of her sight, threatening to drag her back under.
It was by sheer force of will that Riley dragged herself to her haunches, a pitiful groan escaping her lips.
She squinted at the too-bright water, then at the too-bright sand, her headache a constant pounding in her ears.
There were darker shapes, in the sand and in the water.
Bodies. Moving. Stirring. Dragging others out of the waves.
A shadow fell over her. Light slaps on her cheeks brought Riley’s gaze into focus. She shielded her eyes to stare up at–
“Nyxen?” she croaked.
“You okay?” he asked.
Riley nodded numbly. Then she remembered more and shoved to her feet with a gasp. She fell on her side, and Nyxen grabbed her shoulders, righted her. Even that hurt.
“Sable? Calla?” Riley asked, frantic.
“Alive,” he said.
Riley slumped in relief, and with the fear that had seized her chest soothed, the darkness crowded ever closer. Her head lolled. Firmer slaps against her cheeks summoned a half-hearted glare, directed at Nyxen’s boots rather than his face.
At least he still had his boots.
“Don’t fall asleep on me, Riley. Stay awake.”
A flicker of sense brought another question to her lips. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know, I–”
Riley frowned up at him. He’d never sounded so uncertain. Then her gaze lost focus again, dropping somewhere past his shoulders, and she froze. Blinked.
“We’re not alone,” she breathed out, staring.
Nyxen glanced behind himself, and he, too, froze.
There in the distance against the cliff rocks, a crowd was gathered.
They weren’t crew.
They weren’t human.
“Shit.”