Chapter 19 Rhianelle
“Move inland! Away from the water!” My voice is already hoarse from shouting, but I keep going. “Get to the cliff fortresses! The second wave is coming!”
The bells of Volundr ring in a frenzy, their urgent clamor echoing off shattered walls and collapsed buildings.
“Rhianelle!” Svenn’s voice cuts through the chaos. He grabs my arm. “We need to go. Now.”
“No.” I pull away from him. “I can’t just leave. I have to help them.”
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t argue further. He simply stays at my side.
People stumble through the ruins, many still in shock from the first surge. A mother sits in the mud beside two small bodies.
“Please,” I beg her, grabbing her arms. “You have to move. There’s another wave coming. Bigger than the first.”
I keep trying to pull her away but she won’t leave them.
“Your Highness,” Garrett says gently, appearing beside me. Blood runs from a gash on his temple. “We have to keep moving.”
He’s right. I force myself to turn away, hating myself for it. I keep pulling people to their feet. Some listen. Most don’t. They’re broken.
The temple bells continue ringing, but the temple itself lists dangerously to one side. Cracks run through its foundation. I turn around to look for the rest of my knights. Darstan is standing next to a child as she cries over a body half-buried in debris.
“I need you to get to higher ground now,” Aelfric whispers softly to an elderly shopkeeper. I can see the despair in his face.
Aelfric knows the cliffs might not be high enough. None of us know how big Tayum’s Wrath will be.
My heart cracks with every step through the destruction.
The white coral buildings that glow at twilight are rubble now. Elegant bridges over canals have collapsed into seawater. Markets where I walked happy and whole just days ago are gone, their stalls reduced to splinters.
This is my kingdom. My beloved Volundr.
And I couldn’t save it. Now the second wave is coming to finish what the first began.
I’ve never felt this helpless.
The Grand Library still stands, but water pours from its windows.
Centuries of knowledge ruined. I see scholars stumbling out, clutching whatever texts they managed to save.
Bodies float in the flooded lower streets.
Some are trapped in debris and others drift slowly toward the harbor, carried by the retreating water.
I can’t look at them. If I look too closely, I’ll recognize faces. People I knew. People I failed to save.
You are not a god, little queen, the Un’s voice whispers in my mind. You cannot save everyone.
The words settle something in my chest. They are right. I’m just a mortal. But I have to try.
The lighthouse still stands. It’s the tallest structure near the water, built from ancient stone that has weathered countless storms.
I start running toward the building. Svenn follows silently, his presence the only steady thing in this nightmare.
The lighthouse stairs are slick with seawater and cracked from the first surge’s impact. I climb anyway. Through the broken windows, I catch glimpses of the horizon. It has disappeared.
In its place is a wall of water blocking out half the sky. The sea that gives us life, that connects Volundr to the world, that feeds our people is gathering itself to strike again. I reach the top and burst onto the observation platform. Half the railing is gone, torn away by the surge.
Heavens above.
This one is bigger than the first wave. So much bigger. This is Tayum’s Wrath in its full terrible glory, the wave that erased Kashran’s coastal cities centuries ago.
I can see trees and ships tumbling within it, along with entire buildings. Pieces of my kingdom already consumed.
My knees buckle.
This will destroy everything. The cliff fortresses might not even be high enough. Those who are still in the lower city will die. Everyone who couldn’t make it far inland will perish too.
Thousands of my people are about to be swept away by something I have no power to stop.
I drop to the lighthouse platform and pull out the chalk I always carry. My hands shake as I draw. The patterns come from memory. This is forbidden knowledge from my father’s books, magic that shouldn’t be used lightly.
“What are you doing?” Svenn asks, his voice tight.
“I need help.” I finish the last line. “It’s the only way.”
The summoning circle takes shape. I have no right to ask this of her, but I’m out of options. There’s one being who might be able to help.
Nimue, the last of the water wraiths.
“Lady of the Lake,” I whisper, placing my hands on the circle’s edge. “Guardian of the Deep Places, friend of my heart. I call you in our hour of need.”
Power flows out of me. I’m already weakened from the battle. The summoning drains what little I have left.
Silver light flares from the circle. The air above it shimmers and reality parts. She rises from the light like mist.
Nimue is beautiful. She is too perfect to be real and not meant for mortal eyes. Her hair flows like water and those eyes hold depths I’ve only seen in the darkest parts of the sea. The dress she wears is made of foam and starlight. It moves constantly despite the still air.
She’s older than kingdoms and shy as a deer.
“Rhianelle?” Her voice ripples like water. Concern fills it immediately. “You’re bleeding.”
“We’re all bleeding,” I manage, pulling myself upright on shaking legs. “Nimue, please help me. Look.”
She turns toward the approaching wave. For a moment I see her true nature. The ocean recognizes her and acknowledges her as kin.
But doubt clouds her face as she stares at the mountain of water bearing down on us. “That wave... Rhianelle, I don’t know if I can—“
“You can.” I grab her cold hand. “You’re the Lady of the Lake.”
She stares at me for a moment then nods, unconvinced. Nimue raises her arms toward the sea.
The wave shudders, its perfect wall fracturing as Nimue’s will touches it. She pulls and the water bends backward. This is taking everything from her and more. The wave is massive, carrying miles of ocean behind it and she’s fighting impossible forces alone.
Her arms shake and her breathing turns ragged.
The wave slows further. For one beautiful moment, I think she might actually stop it.
But then Nimue looks around at the shattered lighthouse platform and at the crowds visible on the distant cliffs and harbor. Thousands of eyes turn toward us and she flinches.
Her form wavers, becoming more mist than substance.
“They’re watching,” she whispers, shrinking into herself. “I can’t, Rhianelle. You know I can’t—“
“Please,” I beg, grabbing her hands. They’re cold as mountain streams. “I know they terrify you. I know being seen hurts. But my people are dying. This wave will kill everyone left.”
She nods and tries.
I can see her trying, gathering her power even as her form flickers with anxiety. The water responds to her call. Tayum’s Wrath wavers at the edges where her influence touches it.
For a heartbeat, I think she might actually do it.
But everyone on the cliffs is watching the water wraith who might save them. They’re all shouting prayers and desperate pleas. Under that weight of observation, Nimue begins to fragment.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps, her form scattering. “I’m so sorry. I can feel them looking. I can feel their hope and their fear pressing on me like hands—“
She’s paralyzed by the terror of being perceived by so many at once. Her power, immense as the ocean itself, scatters like droplets in wind.
Tayum’s Wrath recovers its form and surges forward. We’re lost. I failed them again.
I see Nimue’s terrified expression. She’s shivering with fear. I pull her into an embrace.
“It’s all right, Nimue.” I reach for her dissolving hands with my own shaking ones. “I understand.”
Shadows suddenly explode across the lighthouse platform.
Svenn moves closer to me. Coinneach rises from his darkness.
The shadow familiar takes shape slowly. All the menace from the fight against the seadragon is gone. His wings fold close to his body as he turns to the panicking water spirit. Nimue flinches back from him, her already fragile form scattering further.
But Coinneach approaches with courtly grace. He bows, eyes cast down.
As he does, darkness unfurls from his wings.
It’s not his usual threatening nightmare of shadow that crushes. This is the gentle dark of closed eyelids, of caves that shelter, of night that soothes the frightened.
A veil of shadow rises around Nimue, blocking her from the crowd’s view. From inside, she can see everything, the wave, the city, the task ahead. From outside, no one can see her at all.
Your audience is gone, Coinneach tells her gently.
The change is instantaneous.
Nimue straightens. Her form solidifies and she seems more present than I’ve ever seen her. She breathes and I hear the ocean breathe with her.
“Oh,” she whispers, wonder replacing fear in her voice. “Oh, that’s... That’s wonderful.”
There is only the sea, and you, and what needs to be done, the shadow familiar whispers.
“Thank you,” Nimue says and her voice no longer trembles. It resonates with power held back for too long, finally released.
She turns to face Tayum’s Wrath, and everything changes.
Nimue raises her arms and the ocean recognizes its daughter. Every drop of water within miles suddenly remembers that it has a queen.
The wall of surging water freezes.
“No,” Nimue says simply and the wave begins to bow.
It’s like watching a mountain kneel.
Waves curl and saltwater rises, twisting into great serpents. A barrier forms against the oncoming flood. Nimue’s hands dance and the sea dances with her. The wave is still massive, still powerful, but it is no longer wild.
She pulls and the ocean responds, forming a cradle around the lighthouse. The force of Tayum’s Wrath is absorbed and redirected into vast spirals that encircle the coast, spilling their fury back into the open sea.
But the water still comes.