Chapter 41
Uncharted Waters
The throbbing in my bones became too painful to ignore. It was also what convinced me I wasn’t dead. Yet.
I opened my eyes, immediately regretting the decision. Sunlight cut into me like a razor. I closed them again.
“She’s awake!” That was Sarina’s voice.
I tried to move and couldn’t. I tried to move just my fingers, and managed a twitch.
Gritty granules slid beneath them. Sand.
Slowly, oh so slowly, I lifted my eyelids again, wincing against the light. As my eyesight adjusted, whited-out shapes began to coalesce into plants I recognized. Palm trees.
I was laying under the shade of a palm tree, encircled by sand.
Sarina and Corra sat beside me, setting down branches they’d been snapping into kindling.
Sitting up proved to be impossible.
“Take it slow,” Corra said, holding my shoulder as she supported me.
It hurt so much I whimpered.
“Careful! She’s injured.” Sarina scolded Corra. Corra’s hold loosened.
I wasn’t sure if I was more damaged or injured.
Minutes writhed by before I was able to move my limbs.
It took six more pathetic attempts before I was able to sit up.
They helped me lean back against the trunk of the palm. I panted from the effort of that simple action.
I managed to get my arm propped up underneath me only to nearly collapse as soon as I put weight onto it.
I did a visual check of myself. As sore as everything was, I wasn’t missing any important bits. The wound on the back of my hand was deep and jagged, scabs forming at the edges.
The miasma here was bright turquoise. It was semi-transparent as always, but one solid color all the way to the horizon.
It was an even lighter shade of blue than the unending sky above it.
The opalescence prism of hues that usually shifted on its surface were gone.
And there weren’t any shadows moving through it.
The sand wasn’t smoking near it, either.
I couldn’t stop staring at it. It was stunning.
“Beautiful, huh?” Corra asked.
“Yeah,” my voice was a smoky rasp, as if I was terminally ill. Maybe I was, after using the Sun glyph. I coughed, trying to clear the coarseness.
There weren’t any Starshells underneath the foam of the tideline. However, there were odd pale shells in a gamut of different sizes and conformations.
The Shadowtide floated on the sparkling shoreline, the broken prow adhered to the front with thick rope.
All three sails were shredded like confetti.
The main deck’s railing was in shambles, and several massive cracks were visible even from this distance.
The gangplank sloped down to accommodate for the lower than usual shore.
“It’s not miasma,” Sarina said. “We think it’s water.”
“It’s the once-sea,” Corra said. “An ocean.”
“That’s speculation,” Sarina countered.
“What happened?” I croaked out.
“Well, after you killed the Kraken and we finished off the Sanguir, Brialla lost her mind,” Sarina started.
“‘How did she do that?’” Corra imitated Brialla’s lower timber. “‘And who the hell are you?’”
“Yeah, we had to do a lotta explaining while you were unconscious,” Sarina said.
“Everyone gets pissed when they learn I exist.” Corra shrugged unapologetically. “One more mouth to feed on limited resources.”
“You’ll have to spill what you did to the Kraken later to Brialla. And us,” Sarina said. Corra nodded her agreement. “I thought you were done for,” she continued. “Out there in the miasma on little more than a few planks of wrecked wood.”
“Instructor Tyrell disobeyed Brialla’s direct order to put you in the brig,” Corra added. “Jumped onto the wreckage with you and tied it to the hull, then pulled you both back in. Henrik helped him get you back onto the main deck.”
“The brig was damaged in the fight anyway,” Sarina added. “Dunno why she thought it would be a good idea to put you in there. It couldn’t even hold Yeshar.”
What? Yeshar was loose?
Before I could muster the strength to ask, Sarina continued. “The sails were damaged too. So was most of the Arc. Now it’s got more creaks and groans than me going up a flight of stairs. Barely seaworthy.”
“We were adrift for almost three weeks before we washed up here.”
Three weeks? It only felt like I’d been asleep for a few hours.
“We dunno where the hell ‘here’ is,” Corra said. “We’re three weeks away from Raevar, and even tracking the wind’s direction we went through four more bad storms before we reached this place, so we’re officially lost.”
“Thank the Devourer we found land, at least.” Sarina picked up a bundle of sticks and began snapping them again. “We almost ran out of food out there, despite rationing.”
“We made shore a couple hours ago. Brialla divided everyone up to different tasks like finding food and building shelter.”
“Instructor Tyrell refused to leave you behind alone when everyone else disembarked. Carried you onto land himself. Brialla told us to watch you and make firewood for tonight.”
“Wonder how long she expects us to stay here,” Corra mused.
“Pasha,” I rasped, overcome with a coughing fit that hurt all the way to my marrow.
Sarina stared off into the distance, lips thinning. “She didn’t make it.”
“We lost Wyatt, too,” Corra said, chin dipping. “Lura, Ollie, and Gretta.”
Tears wouldn’t come. I choked on air, grief clamping me. Would they still be here if I’d acted sooner?
Pasha’s betrothed didn’t even know she was dead. Her little brother didn’t either. And they wouldn’t, until we found a way to get back to Mesmoria.
Craning my neck despite the pain it caused, I noticed the vegetation here was wild, overlapping and growing between itself as if it had never been maintained. Something squawked above me, and a flash of movement registered before it took to the air. My eyes widened.
What the hell?
“Oh yeah, those,” Corra said, following my gaze. “We dunno what they are, but they’re all over this island. Louder than a plague of lanternflies, too.”
Sarina wiped at her eyes, watching the creature rise into the sky. “They come in some wild colors, too.”
A rustling noise caught my attention from within the brush nearby. Zevrial appeared from the edge of a copse of trees, carrying more heavy branches under one arm and a bag toward us. His gaze roved over me, steps quickening.
“How is she?”
Hearing his smooth voice again was an immediate balm. With arduous effort, I lifted my hand toward him.
He threw the branches and bag down as he jogged toward us, enfolding my hand in between both of his. His fingers were steadfast. I curled my own against his.
His fear had saved me back from being lost to the Sun’s song. From accidentally killing us both with my short-sighted act of self-sacrifice. I was sure it was his fear that had blunted the endless euphoria.
Tiny hairs prickled on my arms. That had been too close.
And too wonderful.
“Seems mostly whole,” Corra said, pulling me from my thoughts.
"We survived the storm. The Kraken is dead.” Zevrial said.
“We filled her in,” Sarina said.
He glanced at her. “Then we need to prepare."
Sarina frowned. "Prepare for what?"
"What comes next." He tipped his chin toward the bag.
It moved.
I froze, waiting for whatever was inside to reveal itself.
Something small, dull gray, and slimy wedged itself out of the bag.
At its full height, it barely reached my ankle.
Thin serpentine protrusions extended from its body, wriggling beneath it.
Its head was darker than its body, corkscrewing up to a sharp tip.
Two gleaming recessed eyes peered at the world, one larger than the other.
Its eyes landed on us.
Sarina scooted backwards. “What the hell is that?”
All the air fled my body.
It was a baby Kraken.
I grabbed one of the thicker fallen branches, letting out a yelp of pain from the movement. Turning the stick toward it, I readied to strike.
Squirming forward, the baby creature ignored me, using its tentacles to propel itself forward across the sand and into the woods. In a few seconds, its back was to me as it scuttled away.
We should kill it while it's young.
I raised the stick, prepared to impale it on the sharpest end.
Another baby Kraken pushed its way free of the bag. It joined its kin on their journey into the heart of the island.
“Hatchlings. Found them in the forest. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of them, playing in a lake,” Zevrial said.
I lowered the stick, watching them. Both were completely unbothered by the human still considering murdering them.
How many damn Krakens does this island have? Why haven’t we exterminated them? Where are they going?
Something nagged at me as I watched them move. The shape of their inky heads was oddly familiar.
As I stared at them, icy cold comprehension drenched me. Tiny insect legs skittered down my spine to my toes, my pulse pounding.
The shape and color of their heads was identical to that of a Starshell.