Chapter 27 #3
She clawed at her temple as if she could pull the vision back, digging her nails into her scalp. “No, no, no!” she screamed. “I need to see the rest!”
But the world before her tore apart. A great howl of wind, a crack of stormless thunder, and then she was falling.
Through stars and space and time, through nothing and everything. The agony in her mind was like being pulled through a needle’s eye as her body unraveled and reformed in the space between breaths. Light flashed, darkness surged, and a scream tore from her throat, but it was swallowed by the void.
Then Esmyra’s knees slammed into soft sand, sending it flying in all directions.
The air was cool against her skin, thick with the scent of salt and moss.
She gasped, her chest rising and falling as her eyes darted around.
She was in a cove, half shrouded in the moon’s shadow, with towering rock walls on either side.
The sky above was dark as midnight, the stars twinkling brightly even behind the cover of the clouds.
Waves lapped gently at the shore, but then there, far ahead near the water’s edge, Cyrus Blackwood stood.
Esmyra froze when her stare landed on her father.
He stood facing the sea, cloaked in a dark coat, his black hair tousled by the wind. Even from this distance, she could see the tension in his posture. His hands were fidgeting as they clenched and unclenched at his sides, ruining a parchment between them that she only assumed was some kind of map.
Several feet away from him, a small pinnace had been dragged on the shore. The Night Wraith was nowhere in sight, and their crew was absent.
Father is here alone. But why?
It was odd to see him standing in the sand, breathing and taking in the air like any other man. This must’ve been before Maerinys sank—before he was cursed to spend eternity at sea. This was what she had asked the Veil to show her… but why wasn’t this shown first?
She crept forward slowly, instinctively keeping to the shadows of the rocky ledge even though she knew he couldn’t see her.
Esmyra crouched behind a drift of stones, watching him with wide, glassy eyes. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Not just from the shock of seeing him alive again, but from the look on his face.
It wasn’t just fear.
It… it looked like guilt.
“Your father was the reason our kingdom sank to the depths.” Syrena’s words from when she arrived in Maerinys rang in her ears.
Cyrus was about to do something unforgivable; she could feel it in her bones.
A call came on the breeze like a low, lilting whistle.
Her father stiffened, his spine snapping straight like a soldier awaiting judgement. The wind shifted, heavy with surging power, as a pressure rapidly filled the cove. It pressed against her skin, crackling like the lightning in her veins.
From the jagged shadows between the rocky cliffs, curling tendrils of dark mist and flickering heat rose from the ground.
And then the air split. It was sudden and savage, as if the world itself had been gashed open by unseen claws.
Blinding light bled from within the lashing shadows, and she staggered back instinctively. Every inch of her skin prickled as power surged outward, crackling in the air as the earth trembled beneath her bare feet.
And then three figures stepped forward, emerging from the dark mist.
Esmyra recognized Irah instantly by his massive frame, while a subtle crimson light pulsed beneath his rich-brown skin like a living blaze. Fire kissed the edge of his fingers as he walked, his face riddled with anger.
Villaem, the God of Soil and Growth, emerged directly behind him, his hair a wild, tangled mane of red even when braided back with vines.
And lastly Vydenne, the Goddess of Illusion, followed them, her hair a flowing river of raven-black that shimmered with both silver and gold light as her pale skin became illuminated by the moon.
Esmyra’s mouth went dry at the sight of them all together. The last time this occurred, she had witnessed her own murder at their hands.
Cyrus stepped forward slowly, his boots crunching over gravel and damp sand as he approached them. His hands trembled at his sides, and her pulse thrashed harder with every step he took toward the gods.
They said nothing as he approached, merely watching with a subtle look of disgust.
When he halted before them, Irah began to circle her father slowly. A crown of flame ignited above his brow, as if daring Cyrus to run.
“It appears your loyalty is no longer to Lephyrin, Cyrus Blackwood.” Irah grinned as he took his place back in between Vydenne and Villaem.
Esmyra’s eyes flared at the accusation, and before she knew it, she was running up to them, stopping only a few feet away.
“And what might you mean by that?” Cyrus challenged.
“Enough of your petty taunts, Irah,” Vydenne hissed before she stepped toward Cyrus. “We know your loyalties lie with Maerinys and their royals. So, with that, we can only assume it also lay with their goddesses.”
“Well, I do live out at sea.” Cyrus stroked his beard and shrugged. “It wouldn’t be a difficult guess.”
“Are you capable of gathering the Aeress family together?” Villaem added.
Her father tensed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Irah scoffed. “Enough of that, Cyrus. You’ve sunk rival merchant ships on quiet orders and left no survivors.
You’ve smuggled contraband into ports wrapped in royal colors and even kidnapped the occasional political problem who dared challenge their rule.
We’re well aware you’ve made people disappear when it was convenient for them. Don’t insult us with your lies.”
Cyrus’s throat bobbed as they listed off his sins, but he didn’t speak.
“You’ve even posed as a merchant captain and poisoned a harbor’s water supply, just to shift trade routes in Maerinys’s favor.”
Her father opened his mouth to object, but Irah cut him off.
“We know who you are. You’ve served as their hand. You’re always outside the law, never spoken of in their courts, but you’ve become essential to them all the same.”
Father worked for the Aeress family in secret? That must’ve been why he was there that day the kingdom sank.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
“Aye,” he finally muttered. “I’ve done things for the crown. But it appears you don’t need me to confirm that.”
His words dripped with challenge, and Esmyra nearly snorted. Cyrus was taunting the gods just as she would. She truly was her father’s daughter, and it brought her an odd sense of comfort in the chaos she found herself in.
“So, they trust you,” Villaem interjected.
Cyrus hesitated. “They trust me… enough. What is it that you want? And why me?”
“A war is coming to their shores,” Vydenne said. “It would be in their best interest if they met.”
“What war?” Cyrus asked, his brows furrowing.
Esmyra took another step closer to them, rage from both her and Kaelypso boiling in her veins as they watched the plot of their demise.
“The one you’re going to tell them about.
” Vydenne clicked her tongue as she began to circle him.
“You were in port at Lephyrin when you overheard the talks of war and whispers of guards after too much wine. How the three northernmost kingdoms of Rymelle plan to eliminate the kingdom of the sea. Lephyrin, Sumnae, and Terrana formed an alliance, and they plan to bring war to Maerinys’s shores.
You think the only way to help the sea kingdom is by getting their goddesses involved. ”
Those fucking bastards, Esmyra thought as her lip curled back.
Cyrus stared at the elven goddess, eyes narrowing. “And you think they’d listen to me?”
Vydenne raised a brow, amused. “Don’t play coy. You have more influence than you let on.”
The sea breeze caught the edge of her father’s cloak, making it flare like a flag. His lips twitched, guilt overtaking his features as he frowned and averted his gaze to the sand.
“The sea doesn’t answer to men. Not even to those who’ve bled for her.” Cyrus managed a laugh, a dry sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re fools if you think I’ve got any pull with them. And besides, why should I betray the Aeress family for you?”
“Because you want power,” Vydenne said simply. “You want freedom and to sail forever, unchallenged.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and whispered the last few words in his ear. His body went rigid as goosebumps lined his neck.
“Convince the royals their goddesses need to attend the summit, and we’ll make you the eternal ruler of the sea. An immortal among gods.”
The cove fell silent aside from the soft wash of the tide brushing the sand.
Esmyra’s mouth fell open, and her father went still.
His gaze drifted to the horizon—to where the sea stretched wide and endless.
He swallowed. “You mean to say, that I can remain as I am, and sail the seas for eternity? A god among men?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say god,” Irah growled.
“But you’ll be immortal nonetheless,” Vydenne added.
A long moment of silence passed between them. And then Cyrus gave a sharp nod. “I’m listening.”
A single tear slid down Esmyra’s cheek.
As Irah moved to stand behind the others, his demeanor seemed to crack. His jaw clenched, muscles taut beneath his skin, and his fists glowed like burning embers. Though he said nothing, the barely contained storm in his frame earned Esmyra’s curiosity.
Had he been expecting Cyrus to refuse? Did he want him to?
“We’ll give you a ship that sails beneath starlight without time,” Vydenne said as she took her place alongside Irah and Villaem. “Cyrus Blackwood, you will be a king of your own right, wearing a crown forged of reef and ruin. You’ll be untouchable in the seas, ruling the tides.”
Her father sighed, his eyes squeezing tight as his jaw clenched. “If I’m to rule the sea in every sense, what’s to happen to the Aeress royals when I deliver them to you?”
“You let us worry about that, Blackwood,” Villaem said. “Now, what say you? Will you sail over Rymelle’s seas for an eternity, or do we have to find someone else to take the position?”
The wind fell silent as Cyrus lifted his stare back to them. “Aye.”
“No,” Esmyra whispered, lips parting as sadness cloaked her.
Her vision tunneled and blurred the moment the agreement left her father’s lips. A sudden whoosh of pressure yanked her backward. She screamed soundlessly as her soul once again rushed through time before slamming back into her body, hovering above the Veil of Visions.
Esmyra’s back arched, lungs seizing, and she gasped as her hands clawed at the basin’s edge. Eyes wide, she stared up at the towering chamber as sweat slicked her brow.
I’m back. Back in her own skin and body. But the weight of everything she saw was still sinking in, like an anchor weighing her down and bringing her to the depths.
Naerysa’s betrayal. Her father’s face. The trap set by the gods. And her own fate, bound and sealed in blood.
When she reached within herself for Kaelypso, all she felt was that same, unrelenting shock.
“Maerinys is no longer safe for us,” the goddess realized.
“I don’t think it ever was,” Esmyra answered aloud, staring at their reflection.
She once believed nothing could be more horrifying than witnessing her own death, but watching the betrayal take shape, piece by calculated piece, was worse. There was something far more agonizing about seeing the trap laid, knowing the hands that set it were the same ones she once trusted.