CHAPTER SIX
Sunlight filtered through the cracks above me that next morning, along with an argument rumbling into fullness on the main deck, jerking me awake.
I survived the night. My head whipped to the floor where the god slept the night before, but it was empty.
“Sailing through Serpentwake is a death wish. If the Marrowtwists rise, this task won’t be the only thing shattered. Kingdoms will fall with it,” Zahara argued, each word increasing in volume.
Serpentwake? Marrowtwists? Death wish?
We’d just beat death the day before, and now, they discussed running back into danger. I’d pick the scales from my skin just to get a moment’s rest.
The hammock shook as I threw myself from it, landing where Noctis called his own bed. If only he’d still been there, so the boots still latched to my feet would have crushed his sound pipe and hopefully his raging ego.
I ascended the stairs silently, freezing mere feet from the crew standing around the table mid-conversation. They discussed our next steps, fear lacing my senses at the debate arising. Calvin caught my confused glance and strutted from the table to my side.
“The banished god wants to sail through giant serpent-filled waters,” he explained.
My eyes shot open wildly. “Why?” I breathed. That definitely did sound like a death wish.
“We have to see the Threnai. What’s the point of finding the entrance to Shadeborne Bound with no way in?
” Noctis’s voice raised an octave at his irritation.
Shadowed veins bulged from his biceps gripping the edges of the table before them, his scarlet wings flaring in protest. My attention caught, narrowing in closer, trailing the blue lines in his muscled arms until I froze at the transparent tunic hugging his chiseled flesh peeking through.
“Oracle arachnids,” Calvin further established in a hushed whisper to me. “The Threnai will tell us what is needed to get into Shadeborne Bound, the underrealm that holds one of the trident pieces.”
Zahara’s fists slammed into the wooden table, the chiseled-out pieces marking specific locations teetering and falling over.
“It’s too close to the nearby villages on Plumsu Island.
When Marrowtwists awaken, they destroy until they’re killed.
They won’t stop when we are dead. They’ll ensure all civilians along that coastline meet death’s gates with us,” she snapped back, clear frustration lacing her words as she jabbed her finger into the map, sharp eyes never leaving the god’s.
Jun’s veiled head leaned across the map of the Bounds, studying it carefully alongside the argument, focused on the conversation. “We could go straight to the entrance of Shadeborne and ask around for the key.”
“Serpentwake is the fastest route—one we don’t have to hope someone can give us the answers for.
The Threnai will know. It’s the one we take.
” The finality in the god’s words boomed.
Chills peppered my spine like short endings being awakened.
My people died at the hands of the Terraguard Bound, the land folk draining the merfolk’s power to fuel the gilded beasts, and even I agreed we must endure the most agile course.
More innocent people would die with every passing moment.
Memories, I possessed none; loyalty and sympathy, I carried in full measure.
What’s the point of surviving if everything else dies?
Zahara glared at Noctis with heat that roared like a celestial forge, her brimmed chestnut hat casting shadows across her ebony skin.
“This is my ship,” she spat. The metal medallions sewn into her long, twisting braids glinted in the daylight.
“And I wouldn’t jeopardize it if I didn’t think we could make it through the waters,” the god barked, cutting her off.
Calvin swallowed audibly. This was about to get interesting.
“I don’t believe that. You’re the fallen God of the Forsaken. I think you’d be eager to punish this crew of misfits and anomalies,” she seethed through gritted teeth.
The god leaned forward, nearly nose-to-nose with the crew’s leader, but Zahara did not cower.
Scarlet wings expanded on command, a feathery umbrella blocking the sun from the main deck. “Would you like me to punish—”
Noctis’s words clipped short, interrupted by a hasty Calvin, his blonde curls swaying with his head.
“There’s no need for all that.” The usual cheery demeanor he carried fell in that moment, and my nerves trembled.
“Zah, we have to get answers from the Threnai. They’re our only chance to get into Shadeborne.
We can’t just pray someone around the entrance knows how to get through, but the spiders will know. ”
If looks could rip the sentience from a person, Zahara would have ensured Noctis fell to the ground in an unseeing, agonizing heap.
“Turn her east. Haul in the starboard lines and let out the portside. But not for you. For Calvin. If anything happens to my boys, I’ll drag you screaming to the gates of Aetheron, and even gods will tremble before death’s blade.” Fury flared her words, and she stormed off to the wheel on the helm.
Noctis leaned back, arms folding as he exhaled, the air thick with quiet arrogance. He shifted his attention to me as I silently assessed the conversation and the danger we seemed to be rushing ourselves into.
The crew just agreed to sail east through serpent-lurking waters to reach the Threnai, oracle spiders capable of telling us how to get into the entrance of Shadeborne Bound.
I agreed with Zahara; it did sound like a death wish.
But I also agreed with Calvin. Every second, I got to choose who I became… and I chose to help.
“Do you trust me?” Noctis asked, a slight tilt of his head and twinge of plea in his voice, as if begging for someone to be on his side. His proximity stirred something in my chest—something unrecognizable but slithering.
“No, but I trust them,” I replied, nodding toward the crew.
How could I trust an exiled god I’d just met?
The crew saved me from the Tide Reapers and worked to end the sacrifices put on by my own worshipped goddess.
They’d proven their loyalty, whereas he had only proven to be a self-centered prick.
His gaze flickered, a frown growing across his scarred face. He stalked away to the lines of the ship. A quiet pain settled across the god’s face when he looked at me, and for some confusing reason, I cared a bit to understand why.
The others worked quickly, pulling ropes and unfurling sails I did not understand.
When their direction shifted and the ship became steady hours later, Calvin spread a breakfast of bread and tea from the food galley across the top deck.
Noctis and I joined the crew hesitantly as if inviting ourselves to a meal we weren’t intended to partake in, but Calvin waved his arms quickly, urging us to sit.
There was something about the crew’s innate nature to include me that sang to my heart.
We basked in the heat of the sun in silence at first for several hours, cross-legged in a large circle over the beams looking out on the open sea. The beauty entranced me, each wave breaking only to be reborn, as if every ending gave a promise to begin anew again.
“What are the Threnai?” I finally asked, eager to learn more of the creatures of the Terraguard Bound and what awaited us. A wry smile lifted on Calvin’s lips as he turned to look at Jun, who sipped his tea under the veil of his onyx cloak.
“This one’s on you, cleverboots,” Calvin quipped from between Zahara and Noctis.
The hooded assassin rubbed his hands together, dusting the bread crumbs before he shared the lore.
“Long ago, before ink knew paper, the gods divided all the gifts to the world's creatures. They gave birds their wings, trees their leaves, and humans their hearts.” He stopped to take a sip from his tea. A shadow lived in his voice, a haunted echo that trembled beneath the surface.
“I think you’ve gone too far backwards in the history,” Noctis murmured.
“Quiet,” I jabbed with a stern look at the god, so Jun continued.
“Wisdom, however, remained unclaimed. When each creature begged for it, the lion, the owl, and even mankind, the gods only saw that as vanity and shunned them. Then came the spider, small, silent, and usually overlooked. She crawled up the Tree of Luminae and spun her web beneath the stars, not to catch anything, but only to listen. She heard stories through the wind. Stories no one else was intended to hear. Of unborn kings, injustices from royals, even rivalry amongst the gods. She did not speak. She spun. One night, the gods took notice and gave her kind a blessing.” Jun cleared his throat to recite it in his most godly voice, a comical contrast from what I’d seen from him.
“‘You will never walk again through the light, but you will know all that it touches. Your webs will catch not only your food, but dreams and stories untold. While others speak, you will remember.’”
Calvin broke the silence that followed suit. “So, where are we supposed to find them, then? We’ve only heard of them through storytelling. In our stories, they crawl into the ears of naughty kids and nibble away at their brains until they—”
Zahara smacked him in the chest. “You would be foolish enough to believe that.”
Chuckles erupted from deep within me. “We have to go at night and find the Tree of Luminae, which by the conversation earlier is on the island of Plumsu,” I answered, earning a silent nod from Jun.
“At least someone was listening,” Noctis mumbled.
My eyes caught the sea, a small lilt lifting the corners of my mouth. The compliment was small and fringed in sarcasm, but my heart skipped wildly, face warming suddenly that I attempted to muster.
“When you say Tree of Luminae, does that mean this thing is going to be a glowing beacon? That sounds easy enough,” Calvin continued, drawing me from my thoughts.