Chapter 10 Alaric #2
She turned as if to argue—then stopped. That hesitation told me more than the argument would have.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
Reminder: speak softer. Flies and honey, or whatever they say.
“Look. I don’t know how to handle this either. But you need to give me something. I need to know who—what—I’ve brought onto my ship.”
I lowered my voice. “If you don’t know what you are… then what do you know?”
Nerina paused, glancing toward the sea before looking back at me.
“I know I wasn’t supposed to leave Thalassia,” she said slowly. “I know my mother kept things from me. Things about who I am. About what I am. And I think that thing—” she nodded toward the artifact, “—is part of it.”
She crossed her arms, posture tightening as if bracing for impact.
“You think I don’t know I’m different from the other merfolk? I’ve always felt… unusual. Like I didn’t belong. They never said anything outright, but I could feel it. There was something about me they didn’t understand. Something they feared.”
I tilted my head. “And you never questioned it?”
“I tried. Every time I got close to an answer, the Tidekeepers made sure I stopped looking.”
“Why?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Why would they care what you found?”
Nerina hesitated. “I don’t know. They were always watching—always making sure I never stepped too far outside the lines they drew.”
“Tidekeepers,” I repeated. “And what exactly are they?”
She sighed. “Guardians of Thalassia. Keepers of our history and laws. They ensure order among the merfolk and serve as Meris’s closest advisors. They’re powerful, relentless, and they don’t tolerate disobedience.”
The name landed heavier than she seemed to realize.
Meris.
I kept my expression neutral, but something tightened in my chest. Most people spoke of Meris the way they spoke of storms—something you survived, something you prayed never noticed you.
Sailors cursed her. Witches bargained with her. Even the boldest kept her name at arm’s length.
Nerina didn’t.
She spoke as though Meris was near. Familiar. I filed the thought away.
Nerina glanced at me, something unreadable flickering across her face. Under it—fear.
She is scared of them.
Her voice dropped, a tremor barely concealed. “They’ll come for me. The Tidekeepers. My mother. They’ll send threat after threat until they drag me back to Thalassia.”
The sea answered with a low, distant groan—too deep for thunder, too deliberate to dismiss. The water darkened a shade. Currents tightened beneath the hull, closing.
I let out a bitter huff. “They can try.”
I hadn’t meant to say it. It tore out of me—jagged and unrepentant. No nobility. No heroism.
Only the truth: I needed her.
Need made my skin crawl. I’d spent decades carving that weakness out of myself, hollowing into something precise and useful. Need had a cost. It made you reckless. It gives others the power to ruin you.
Still, something in her expression softened. The tension in her shoulders eased—only slightly. The storm in her eyes dulled to a fragile, reluctant hope.
The Black Marrow, The Forgotten Trench
The passage ahead narrowed, barely wide enough for the Black Marrow to slip through. The ship groaned in protest as we entered the trench, hull scraping unseen ridges. Towering cliffs jutted from the sea, enclosing us—jagged spines slicing through mist and blocking out the stars.
The air shifted—heavier, thicker.
A stench rolled in: rot, sulfur, old blood left to steep in stagnant tide pools. It crawled into your throat and stayed there. Stomach-turning.
Tongue-drying. Sour in the lungs.
The crew, already frayed from the siren attack, tightened further—nerves stretched thin. A hush fell. Some muttered superstitions, warding off unseen forces. Others clutched weapons hard enough to whiten their knuckles, eyes scanning the mist. Every sound echoed strangely in the trench.
They didn’t accuse Nerina. They simply watched her more closely than before.
Beyond, a cove waited—cloaked in shadow.
A crescent of black sand fringed the waterline, twisted coral jutting from shore in pale, bone-like spikes.
Tidal pools shimmered with phosphorescent light, revealing bioluminescent creatures…
and relics long lost to the tide. The cliffs rose in jagged spirals, forming a natural amphitheater that hummed with residual magic.
Memories surfaced—cold and relentless.
Damp earth. Brine. The same air as that night. The night my fate had been rewritten by something older than me. The pressure of unseen eyes in the dark. The past clawed at the edge of my mind.
Nerina hesitated, then studied me.
“You’ve been here before.” Her voice was quieter now—cautious, curious. “What were you looking for then?”
I exhaled and forced the memories down. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It does if we’re going into that trench together.”
I let out a short laugh. “You ask a lot of questions for someone who barely answers any herself.”
“And you don’t?” she shot back.
I smirked. “Difference is, people usually do as I say. No questions asked.”
The words landed measured and deliberate.
Her eyes never left mine. I watched her for a beat. That curiosity was infuriating. And… compelling.
“Not sure if that’s admirable or just annoying,” I muttered.
She tilted her head, considering me. Then shrugged. “You brought me on this ship. That makes my business yours, doesn’t it?”
I smirked. “And yet, you’re still being cagey.”
I debated answering. She’d given me pieces of herself, guarded as they were. Maybe it was only fair that I offered one in return.
“I was looking for something I thought I wanted.”
Nerina shifted beside me, watching closely. “And did you find it?”
I had come here in search of immortality.
And I found it.
A storm rose in my chest—one I’d kept buried for years. My pulse hammered, an unwelcome reminder of the past clawing back. Breath came shallow, tasting of salt and something colder. The trench had never truly let me go.
My fingers curled around the railing, grip hard enough to splinter, anchoring myself to the present.
I turned to Nerina. “Yes.”
“We’re almost there,” I said. “Whatever you’re hiding—I hope it’s worth the headache.”
What was she after?
She hadn’t wandered into my world by accident. She didn’t cross forbidden water for scenery or to simply piss off her mother. The way she spoke about the Veil, the way she fought the sirens—she wasn’t only running.
No one crossed into unknown seas without a reason that cut deep. And whatever hers was, I had a feeling it would complicate everything.
I studied her in the dim lantern glow. Guarded expression. Exhaustion. Determination beneath it—stubborn, relentless.
She wasn’t simply looking for answers. She was demanding them.
And I wasn’t used to being questioned.
Was she an ally… or a threat I’d been foolish enough to pull aboard?
The power she wielded could destroy us as easily as it saved us. Power that large couldn’t be caged—not truly. And power like that never went unnoticed. I’d seen men—and monsters—chase sparks smaller than hers across oceans. They never asked what it cost to catch them.
And yet… a part of me hoped she wasn’t my enemy. If she could be trusted, she would be a powerful ally—one I’d rather have at my side than against me.
That same pull I felt when I first saw her still lingered, whispering that I’d made the right choice.
I learned long ago that fate was rarely kind—and hope was no kinder.
The last time I stood at the edge of an abyss believing I could claim something eternal—untouchable—control it. I drowned in it, instead. Swallowed whole by arrogance. By blind faith that power and time could be mastered.
I stood before Meris herself, thinking I could bargain with a goddess. Thinking I could twist fate into obedience. I was so sure I held the leash.
The sea doesn’t grant gifts without collecting its due.
I was too desperate to see what I was paying until it was too late. Hope undid me once.
Why would this time be any different?