11. 11
eleven
Sarah
Iturn my attention to the doors in front of me. It’s easily a floor-to-ceiling door made of pure sea stone, like the rest of the castle’s structure, curving at the top. I glance at the doors across the hall, assuming that's where he rests.
Sleep pulls at my eyelids, so I lean my shoulder heavily into one side of the massive door and push. It doesn’t budge.
How do I open these damn doors?
It glistens as if responding to my touch. I caress my fingers over the surface of the doors and watch the ripple of magic around it. Weird. It resembles the rift from the other day, but now, even as I touch it, nothing surges or shifts.
I place both hands against the doors, and give them a slight push, only to realize they're already moving on their own.
Am I doing that? I jerk my hand away, holding them out in front of me. My eyes scan every inch of my palms, half expecting to find glowing veins or shimmering magic clinging to me skin.
The doors are only partially open when I swim through, immediately dropping to the floor. The water stops at the doorway, leaving me to crash onto the floor of the dry room as the breath is knocked from my lungs.
I take a moment here on the floor, trying to collect myself, confident now that I’m dreaming. Stone lines the floor beneath me, cool and solid. Scattered throughout the space are thick mats of what appears to be sea sponge, shaped and placed like rugs.
After a moment, I realize my breathing has adjusted.
No burning or coughing comes, as if my body knew what to do before I did.
I scan the room and push myself to stand, trying to understand how everything else outside these doors is wet, but this room stays dry.
I turn, facing the doors and what lies outside them—water.
I stick my hand through the doors and into the water beyond. I am allowed in, but somehow the ocean itself doesn’t follow; held at bay, perfectly still at the threshold. But how?
When I pull my hand back in, I notice the shimmer between the doors and the water. There seems to be some kind of barrier. So the original rift I saw before entering wasn’t on the doors themselves; it was to prevent the water from coming in.
I caress the handles at first, resembling coral, but looking and feeling stronger than the sea’s ordinary treasures.
The coral is white, spiraling into a perfect circle while keeping its jagged, natural texture.
The handles are on the inside of the room, and I grasp them firmly now, closing the doors softly behind me.
I savor the quiet, a welcoming break after the day I’ve had.
I walk hesitantly around the room, my glare hyper-focused on the bed before me.
The base of the bed is made of the same white, twisted coral as the door handle.
Spiraling upward toward the ceiling, sea silk creates a fabric-like barrier, wrapping around the tops of the coral pillars, draping down and encasing the bed with a dreamy look to it.
Above the bed lies a glimmering, bell-dome of a jellyfish. No tentacles, just the dome-shaped, umbrella-like top part that typically pulses to move a jellyfish through the water. It doesn’t move, but it hasn’t dried or shriveled either.
Preserved by magic, maybe?
Most bells are transparent or translucent; however, this one is milky white with a tinted pale pink color to it.
Jellyfish are mainly made of water. Once dead, they do tend to turn a milky white, but if not preserved in some way, they shrink and become a rubbery texture.
Climbing onto the bed, I reach for the top part of the jellyfish’s bell and trace the body of it with my fingertips. It’s still soft.
I quickly search the remaining parts of the room and notice that several items are imbued with magic.
I can’t see it, but I can feel it. Almost like it’s pulling at me, informing me of its presence.
The bed even has what appears to be natural ivory-colored sheets, and makeshift pale pink curtains hang from what are supposed to be windows.
The windows, a curve bore at the top, coming down to form a skinny half circle. Another magical barrier covers the openness of the windows, same as the entryway, the ocean stretching out beyond as I look down at the kingdom below.
Small white crystals rest on each side of the open windows at the top. They each seem to be holding an eerie glow to them, which must be what is keeping the room dry . . . for me.
Are these the crystals Orion referenced while we were in the dining room? Why do this for me? Is this supposed to be an apology for forcing me down here?
Don’t be naive, Sarah. He doesn’t care about you.
I hate this entire situation. I didn’t ask to be brought into this. Yet I barely fought him when he said where he came from and where we had to go, almost as if I subconsciously wanted to experience this.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
On the other side of the door, a fast and loud repeating thud ends my rambling thoughts. I open the large door, and standing before me is Orion’s general.
She speaks with hatred lingering on her tongue. “I was ordered by the King to bring you attire that fits in with our kingdom to avoid wandering eyes.”
Her presence and appearance are something from a child’s nightmares.
She has a slim, long nose with piercing, silver eyes that don’t wander from mine.
And when she blinks, they close vertically instead of horizontally.
She does not appear like anything I have ever seen before.
No textbook creature even comes remotely close to how terrifying she is.
Leo would be losing his mind right now, if he were here.
Most of our dives involved him staying on the boat, glued to the radar while I ventured below.
One time, I convinced him to dive with some sharks.
We came face-to-face with a hammerhead within the first few minutes, and he couldn't handle it.
That was the last time he ever went diving with me.
And diving alone? Forget about it. Jokes?
He can crack those all day long, but the moment something big or scary comes out to play, he turns into a complete baby.
It takes everything in me not to scream as I force myself to keep my composure, staring back at the general floating before me.
Her tail is sleek with bioluminescent scales that reflect a silver-white. Her hair is long and black, and flows in the water like drifting seaweed.
“Keep in mind one thing, land-dweller, he may appear as if he trusts you, but I can promise you, I do not. Your kind is selfish, manipulative, and evil. I will be keeping a close eye on you now that Orion has brought you here.”
I just stare at her, speechless. How do I respond to that?
Nodding seems to suffice, after realizing that she goes the extra mile to avoid touching me when handing me the clothing.
“The garments are created with magical properties to ensure that once you arrive anywhere dry, they too, will remain dry,” she educates, before adding. “This was at the King’s request.” She departs without speaking another word.
The doors shut and I observe the attire in my arms. Several dresses, all the same shade of blue or teal. Nothing vibrant. All matching with the sea and water herself.
I place all but one on a small side table, made from the same coral around the bed and door handles.
It rests directly across from the foot of the bed.
I choose to don a teal-green dress from the top of the pile.
One strap goes across one side of my body, reaching underneath my other arm, holding the dress perfectly in place.
The dress glides down to my calves and is surprisingly soft.
The top layer has pieces that appear to be cut into strips that sway when I spin.
It is very whimsical and majestic. Another reminder of the ocean.
Walking over to the bed, I slide in under the silk covers, praying I wake up tomorrow and this entire day has just been an elaborate dream.
I jolt awake from a loud set of knocks on my bedroom door. I swear, if that's Leo interrupting my beauty sleep again, I'm taking away his code privilege's to my building. I turn over and reach for my phone—nothing. My fingers graze silk sheets instead of my nightstand.
My eyes snap open. No nightstand. No buzzing screen. My memory evades me for far too many seconds.
No, no, no.
My throat tightens, and for a second, I can’t breathe.
I try closing my eyes again, shutting them tightly, thinking my mind is playing tricks on me.
But as I open my eyes again, I’m still lying in the silk covers and coral-made room from last night, the weight of reality flooding my memories back into my mind.
I rise to my feet and rub at my eyes to clear the remnants of sleep.
I stride to the door, opening one side forcefully, and see Orion on the other side.
Without invitation, he slithers in, his tail shifting with sharp, controlled precision.
There’s tension in every movement, like he’s holding something back.
His tail flicks once behind him, a snap of impatience I’m not supposed to notice. But I do. The air tightens between us as he halts in the center of the room, towering above me, silent but seething.
“We rise early in my kingdom. I expect you to be ready and downstairs shortly. We are leaving.”
“Leaving?” I echo, the word clawing its way past my tightening throat. “Where?”
“To Myrrhallow.” The way he says it sends a chill crawling up my spine.
"Why?"
“For you to relinquish your powers.” His words offer no room for arguing, but that hasn’t stopped me before.
“And if I say no?” I add as I cross my arms, popping a hip.
“You talk to me like I’m a prisoner one moment, and the next you’re having small talk with me over dinner or doing things like this .
. .” Gesturing towards the remnants of the room I slept in.
“Acting like I’m some burden you have to lug around. ”