33. 33
thirty-three
Sarah
My days have grown repetitive. Training sessions have become tedious.
Current Two’s challenge has been described as difficult, but they won’t give any further insight.
It’s supposed to happen in about two weeks.
Defymin and the twins remain by my side most of the time.
We've all grown closer. Whether that bond is from shared trauma or something genuine, I don’t know.
I’m too afraid to ask. Only when I lie my head down for the night do my thoughts drift to what might be happening back home.
School crosses my mind, too. I have no idea how much I've missed or what being gone this long means for my classes.
The thought of being unenrolled after everything I've worked toward makes my stomach twist. Getting close to others down here sometimes feels like a betrayal to Leo as well.
I know he has things handled with my company, but lately I’ve started missing his face more often.
His jokes, too. The way he could make a bad day—or even an exhausting one—feel lighter.
Last night, as I settled into sleep, I swear I heard his laughter in my dreams. I woke this morning with an emptiness in my chest, my heart aching from having to leave him all over again.
Today, Nyxalene came from the palace to give us a special training session.
She currently demonstrates a tactical maneuver—darting beneath your opponent to deflect a strike, then using the momentum to twist into the perfect slicing attack.
My eyes stay fixed on her movements, but my mind slips far beyond the practice ring.
Orion has been gone for several days now, and my heart drops at the mere thought of it. I can’t explain why.
Zevrin has everyone run through the attack sequence Nyxalene just demonstrated, but not before they pull me away from my teammates and direct me to one of the dual rooms. The space suddenly feels tight, as if a bomb is about to be dropped and I’m the only one who doesn’t know it.
“How do you want to start, General?” Zevrin asks. His voice is meticulous, careful—like he’s verifying the plan before jumping right in.
Nyxalene, however, doesn’t hesitate. “The king is missing,” she says. Then, softer but no less firm, “Orion is missing.”
Her voice is steady. Not a single syllable wavers or breaks. But I can feel what churns beneath the surface—the anger, the heartbreak. My mind refuses to fully grasp her words. My heart dropped mere moments ago at the thought of him. Now this? That can’t be a coincidence.
Nyxalene and Zevrin look at me now, waiting for a response. What do I even say?
Orion has been absent from my training for a while.
He's handling king duties and dealing with this threat that continues to conceal their identity. I wasn’t informed he would be leaving for a few days until Nyxalene told me.
Defymin keeps questioning how I feel and what could be going on, but I have no answers to give him.
Just as I don’t have any answers to give Nyxalene right now.
“How do you know he's missing?” I ask, unsure if this is the right thing to be asking, given Nyxalene’s position in the kingdom.
Her mouth drops open, eyes narrowing at me for doubting her skills.
“It happened to his father,” she declares.
“He set out on a mission, stating he would only be gone for a few sea days, and then never returned.
For a while we assumed that could not be true.
We sent out search parties and even denied Orion the title of king until we knew for sure.
Then one day, Orion said he felt a surge—one that vibrated from beneath him and spread throughout his body.
The Nexus was searching for its next heir to the crown powers.
The powers to restore the barriers if they fell.
“That day was a joyous day, but also a day of sadness. A day of mourning. The founding king of Virellan was gone and was never coming back.” Her words cut deep.
I never knew this about Orion, or his father. The thoughts that must've been swimming through his mind when he realized he was officially the king—but that his father was truly dead . . . it must have broken something inside him.
“What’s the plan to find him? Orion?” I question, finally forcing my mind to track what needs to be done.
“You will continue to hone your skills and prepare for Current Two’s challenge.
I cannot have you neglecting your responsibilities, costing yourself or your team the match—or worse, your lives.
If Orion does return only for you to then be gone, I would never hear the end of it.
And while you've shown your physical skills have grown, land-dweller, don't think I have grown to like you. My loyalties lie with my king, as they always will.”
She darts around me smoothly, releasing Zevrin from the conversation with a simple tug on his shoulder. He returns to my teammates and continues guiding them through the next course of spear-controlled movements.
I choose to do something stupid. Not anything new for me, I suppose.
I follow after Nyxalene. “I will remain focused on my skills on one condition,” I say, confidence suddenly coursing through my veins like strong waves during a severe hurricane.
Her sharp swimming comes to a halt. Her eyes burn into mine, reminding me of an ant under a magnifying glass on a hot sunny day.
“You're in no position to give ultimatums, land-dweller. We all have our orders, given by the king. We must obey and follow.”
“No, you have your orders. I voluntarily decided to learn and adapt.
And I'm doing it. I'm risking my life for this kingdom, and it isn’t even my home.
I may not know what's fully out there threatening your kingdom—Orion’s kingdom—but I'm still helping. I know you don’t fully trust me.
I really don't give a shit anymore. You will listen to my condition, and you will accept it because it's what I want. I'm tired of everyone down here thinking they can order me around like I’m just another subject. I’m not!”
Since day one, Orion has ordered me around. And with him gone, Nyxalene has done the same. I'm tired of feeling like I don’t have a voice—like what's happening to me doesn’t matter. Anger fuels me. It may have been sudden, but I meant every word I said.
Nyxalene doesn’t speak. Her silence clings to the space between us.
“If Orion truly is my sea mate, which I highly doubt,” I say, “I deserve to know what the plan is to locate him.”
Her expression shifts, her stare softening. “What's your condition?”
“I would like to travel to the palace with you every day until he returns,” I state, not breaking her gaze. “I swim much better now, and I can keep up with the distance back and forth to Drekaris for training.”
“You cannot be unaccompanied,” she retorts.
“I understand,” I say, a smile forming slowly. “You can swim with me every day. Which Orion has probably asked of you anyway—to keep me safe, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. But we leave and arrive when I say. I don't plan to wake you or tell you where to be. We must depart now, before it gets any later.”
I follow after her, keeping a short distance, not bothering to say goodbye to my teammates.
Orion has yet to return to the kingdom. I've slept at the palace for six nights since my agreement with Nyxalene. She's grown impatient and hardly sleeps. Every day, we swim between Drekaris and the palace in case he returns in the middle of the night.
Tonight, I’ve joined Nyxalene in the restless club, as my thoughts refuse to settle.
I shift to serpent form and leave my chambers, making my way down the long corridor and toward the dining hall.
The palace is eerily still at this time of night.
With only a few posted guards, they could pass as statues.
The dining hall—among the darkness of the corridor—glows with marilume, illuminating the space within.
The back of the room comes into focus as I swim into the cooking area.
Immediately to my right, a sudden warmth engulfs me—the heated stone slab, still emits heat from supper.
Across from it are open bays looking out into the expansive ocean, its blackness coating my already heavy thoughts.
“Why are you still up?” Nyxalene’s voice cuts through my intrusive thoughts.
“My apologies, I didn’t realize you were in here,” I say, backing up slowly toward the exit. “I was just looking for something to drink.”
Nyxalene rests against a sea-stone counter, holding a long, thin green plant in her hands. She watches me intently, bringing the plant to her mouth.
Eyebrows raised, I ask, “What's that?”
“Moon-kelp milk,” she says simply, handing me a piece. I mirror her movements. “It’s supposed to restore your energy. Anytime I cannot sleep or feel drained, I get a few of these and enjoy it. It is better warm, but I try not to interfere with the staff’s space too much.”
With the plant between my teeth, I grip the base with one hand and squeeze from the top with the other. The substance resembles a mixture of coconut milk and honey.
It glides down my throat—cold and inviting. I can almost feel the blend settling into my stomach.
“Is it supposed to leave a tacky feeling behind?” I ask, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
“It can. It takes some getting used to if you have never tried it before,” she replies.
I pause, waiting for the right moment to ask, but remind myself there won’t be a “better time.”
“Any updates on the search for Orion?”
“No. I'm frustrated—with the search, with him.” Her voice rises, reverberating off the stone walls. “He didn't think to inform me where he was going. What he was doing. Nothing!”
“I’m so sorry,” I say.