12. 12
twelve
Orion
The water is quiet. That rare kind of stillness only the open sea knows, where even silence has pressure, and you can feel it against your bones.
Sarah swims slightly behind me, arms slicing through the current.
She’s still adjusting to the drag and flow of the deeper, underwater currents.
But she seems persistent. Every motion becomes stronger than the last. Her legs don’t kick as wildly anymore.
She’s adapting, like the sea’s already starting to claim her. But she still falls behind very often.
So often in fact, that I threw her over my shoulders just a mere moment ago. My patience was wearing thin.
She kicks and flails against me as we continue the swim to Myrrhallow.
Nyxalene does not pay me any mind. She glides ahead, leading us along the trench walls toward the village, her silhouette sharp against the dappled light filtering through layers of coral towers. The trench we follow spirals into darker territory.
An escort of Pearlguards fans out behind us, silent bodies with tridents at their sides.
But I am not watching them as close as I am watching her.
Sarah’s hair drifts like ribbons of burgundy ink, streaked with brown that catches the bioluminescence from the reef overhead.
She’s radiant in a way she probably doesn’t even notice.
Her skin is faintly glowing and I wonder if that glow is her or the newest addition.
Like the shimmer of moonlight over dark water, impossible not to follow.
She has not said much since we left the palace, other than the small fight she gave after placing her over my shoulder. Our last conversation holds the ocean captive.
I swim smoother, just enough to make her position slightly more comfortable.
“I was doing fine on my own. I didn’t need your help!” she exclaims. Her voice carries easily through the water.
My gaze flicks behind me somewhat, getting a quick glance at her face. “You were falling behind, Snapdragon. We cannot risk losing you or my father’s magic to the rough currents.”
She huffs in response. Her hair still flows as she places her elbow onto my back.
I chuckle under my breath. “Is there a way we could start over?” I ask hesitantly, my voice becoming serious.
The current curls lazily around us as I swim past a ridge of ancient stone, its face carved with markings nearly lost to time. Her aura shifts—curious, but guarded. She keeps herself wrapped in layers, and I doubt she will shed them anytime soon.
“Start over?” she asks, tilting her head, exhaling a trail of bubbles. “If I could start this all over, I wouldn’t have ever entered that room, saving me from this entire situation.”
Her hands fidget with each other as she turns her head away from me, those emerald eyes gone as she refuses to look my way now.
We are strangers. Nothing more. But something inside me is telling me to protect her. Seeing her like this, knowing she wishes this never happened to her, it consumes me. A fire—or desire—burns in my chest to understand her from here on out, instead of pushing her away.
“I hope your room was at least comfortable,” I offer. “I thought it best that I give you some space after the day we had yesterday.”
She locks eyes with me again, a look of surprise on her face. “You could’ve at least told me the room was dry . . . Falling flat on my face was definitely the most human thing I have done since all of this happened to me.”
I stopped swimming for half a beat. “You are right. That was on me. I did not think to warn you,” I admit. “I . . . needed space. To clear my head.”
She glances at me again, slower this time. Not quite wary. Just searching.
“Why’d you ask your guards to do it?” she asks. “The room. Why for me?”
“I had them embed the room with some of our crystals to keep it dry because I wanted you to have something familiar. Something safe,” I confess, running my free hand through my hair.
“I can only imagine how overwhelming it can be learning to live underwater as a human.” I pause.
“The first time I came onto land and shifted to human form, I felt out of place. Unwelcome. I figured giving you this one temporary thing would help you out until we can return you to the surface.”
“And what about the nickname?” she adds.
“Nickname?” I ponder for a moment, forgetting the name I gave her, resembling a creature home to our kingdom.
“You mean, Snapdragon?” I let the name settle between us.
“They are inhabitants in my kingdom. A combination of eel and sea dragon. Sharp-tongued, loyal, beautiful, and temperamental as hell.”
She blinks. “So you’re saying I remind you of a sea monster.”
“I am merely saying your personality reminds me of them,” I continue, voice lower now.
“Look, I know all this must feel forced. You did not ask to be dragged into all of this, especially since we do not have all the answers worked out. But the longer you deny what is inside you, the more dangerous it becomes.”
She adjusts her body slightly on my back, steering clear of the fin along my spine. “You are giving me whiplash with this conversation.”
“Let me ask you this,” I say, knowing the answer before my question is even out. “If you were given the chance to keep these powers, would you?”
She opens her mouth, but then closes it again.
And that is all the answer I need.
We make our way up to the outskirts of Myrrhallow. The buildings are made of ancient sea stone and are still covered with the magic of our ancestors. The Pearlguards at the entrance to the village announce my arrival, and everyone clears a path. I should visit here more often.
I lower Sarah off my shoulder and allow her to swim ahead of me. Wandering eyes lock on us as we journey down the village’s path. My voice is not loud for the sake of volume—it is shaped by purpose. It rises from deep within, anchored in the marrow of my bones.
“Please return to your duties. We do not desire an audience.” Every word I speak echoes through the air with reverent command. It vibrates in my chest, steady and deliberate, trained to hold silence hostage. This is not the voice of an average ocean-born, it is measured, the voice of a king.
The path laid before us is slightly dug out, the sand pressed low from years of travel, the edges built into soft ridges that catch drifting silt.
Buildings rise on either side. Some are narrow and tall, stacked like coral pillars; others squat and wide, their roofs covered in woven seaweed tiles that ripple in the current.
Each one holds small square openings, glowing faintly from marilume veins lighting their interiors.
Tidelets cluster in the openings, elbows braced on ledges, faces bright with curiosity.
Their eyes follow us, but quickly drift to Sarah, who moves like she is afraid to blink and miss something.
Perhaps she stands out more than I realized.
She turns her head so quickly it startles a few of the tidelets into giggles.
Her awe spills across her features as though every detail is a revelation.
As we pass a workshop on the right, its open doorway flickering with the same light throughout Virellan, Sarah drifts off the path and presses her palm to the wall.
“Basalt,” I offer. “Pressed, then hardened under deep pressure before it is enchanted. Myrrhallow’s buildings outlast storms, currents, and even kingdoms. If Virellan ever fell, this would be the last place standing.”
“It’s smoother than I expected,” she murmurs, fingertips gliding over the sleek surface before she rejoins me.
We continue, the buildings growing taller and closer together as we near the heart of the village. Ahead, the temple rises like a shadowed crown, its curved roof peeking into view above the arched stone bridge crossing the chasm below.
“This village,” I tell her, “is where most of our minerals are mined. Weapons, marilume, tools—anything you saw in the castle started here. Everything is harvested, refined, and then distributed outward.”
Her eyes widen again, taking it all in as we cross the stone bridge and approach the temple doors. Pieces of seaweed drift across the top section of the structure with Velmira already positioned at the entryway.
“Velmira, we are here as requested,” I state as we follow her into the temple, moving along the carved ledges and past our usual prayer alcoves. Before we reach the statue of Amphitrite—goddess, queen of the sea—I bow, offering the respect owed to her, second only to Mother Ocean.
Sarah gives me a puzzled look when I return to her side.
“Our kingdom is goddess-centered. We honor other gods as well, though most of their rites were lost after the war. Virellan was forged with the belief that our people must return to the reverence of Mother Ocean—a vision created by my father when he became king.”
The path falls to the left of the prayer alcove. The walls reflect a smooth surface, but runes line every inch of space. The meanings are known only to Mother Ocean now. If Velmira knew them, she would have said so by now.
Nyxalene halts her path, standing guard by the prayer alcoves as Sarah and I enter a small room hidden behind the statue of Amphitrite.
Fitting inside this chamber has always been a challenge, but I make it work, squeezing myself into the back corner along the wall where the entrance opens into the room.