35. 35 #2
At first, neither of us knew what to expect. But what happened wasn’t something I could’ve prepared for. My heart responded to her emotions, but along with them came flashes of images. Vivid, fleeting visions that swept through my mind like waves across glass.
The first time it happened, I froze. I wasn’t just feeling her emotions anymore. I was seeing them.
Nyxalene was thinking about her past. About the family she’d lost. I felt her grief and her hatred for the surface world, but what I saw is what clings to me even now, weeks later.
I never did tell her what I saw. But now that I’ve practiced on other finlings and a few warriors around the palace, I can admit my confidence is flourishing. I’m no longer so easily shaken—except for that God-forsaken sea mate bond. Not the bond itself, but him.
He makes me nervous. My heart leans toward him more every day without fail. Nyra reminds me of that every chance she gets. The bonded creature follows me everywhere I go and never misses a beat when Orion crosses my mind, which is apparently always.
She and I have grown closer, too. We’ve had long talks about our bond and what the future might look like.
My situation has never happened before, and several had asked if I plan to return to the surface in Orion’s absence.
I gave them the only answer I could give .
. . I don’t know. That was, indeed, the simplest answer.
But now, with his return, I don't plan on going anywhere.
I pull my mind back to the task before me. My hands move in front of me, guiding the swirls of magic that appear in my mind.
My goal: to see if the ocean holds any lingering emotions of the creature we’ll be facing tonight. I had hoped they might've brought it here early, but nothing stirs. Only the faint traces of plankton and other small creatures drifting through the arena, curious but unaware of what’s coming.
I practice my water-bending skills more using Defymin and my team members as targets, sending the water forward with enough force to shift them around lightly, testing how precisely I can control the strength of each wave. Then we take turns dueling, targeting each other’s weaknesses, if any arise.
They don’t.
I chose them as my team for a reason. Through every duel, every round of exhaustion, we’ve stuck by each other.
And even though they question if the favoritism the king seems to show me is true, they still respect me for who I am.
Aniah has even said she finds it admirable that I’m doing the Currents of Mastery with actual effort—proud, even, that I’m not some royal spy ensuring everyone’s training is up to par under the pretense of that lurking evil.
Which, apparently, everyone knows about now—despite Orion’s attempts to keep the details buried until we learn more.
By mid-sea day, we decide it's best not to drain all our energy practicing. My comrades spend the remainder of the day getting food in the dining hall. I’m not hungry, so I chose to stay here in the arena and sort through some of my thoughts.
I lie comfortably on the ocean floor, my tail relaxing into full length, as I enter my subconscious and sit on my old vintage bed where all my thoughts lay out before me. Not much gets completed before I'm interrupted by the loud thud of the arena’s gate.
I scramble quickly out of my relaxed position, my tail doing most of the work to raise my upper body.
“What the fuck, Orion?” I blurt. “Do you understand the meaning of personal space?”
He glides in, hands behind his back, resting on the upper portion of his tail as he saunters toward me. “In fact, I do. I just have a hard time giving it when every instinct tells me to keep you close.”
I ignore his truth. I know why he says that.
My mind betrays me with a fleeting memory of his lips claiming mine, and I force the thought away before it can take root.
The bond tugs on my heart and mind, too, but I don’t believe it should be my number one priority.
And something about the way he currently presents himself makes me believe that he has forgotten what that priority is.
“I have a battle to prepare for, if you don’t mind,” I say curtly, as I turn away sharply, swimming toward the exit.
The audience’s roar vibrates through the trench, a deep hum that seeps into my chest even from behind the gate.
The obsidian walls rise around us, carrying and twisting every shout as it echoes through the water.
Hundreds of sea folk fill the tiered seating above, their voices merging into an indecipherable chorus of anticipation and hunger.
We wait in the shadow of the tunnel, the water unnervingly still around us. Any moment, Orion’s voice will boom across the arena, the gates will rise open, and the unknown creature will emerge, but I’m trapped in the memory of his last words, the only sound louder than the crowd.
Orion’s voice reverberates just as strongly as the audience’s, and the crowd falls silent.
“Today, our finest finlings are called to meet what they have trained for,” he announces, his authority sweeping across the arena.
“This creature was selected for its ferocity and unyielding nature—a proving ground of both skill and nerve. Among these finlings is my guest of honor, Sarah, who remains above the rest. They will not leave this arena unchanged.”
I hear his words echo through the obsidian walls, my chest tightening as the weight of the announcement settles over us. I glance at each of my teammates, noting the quiet nervousness mirrored in their expressions.
Defymin’s voice cuts through the tension. “Are you ready to obliterate this thing?”
I dip my head, sending him a glare filled with determination.
He doesn’t understand the burden behind it.
I’ve made it my mission to prove I belong here, but a flicker of doubt lingers.
This world feels alien, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m here only because of my own mistake, summoned by a king who seems unable to stay away.
The gates rise, and we swim into the arena. We spread out, forming a straight line, side by side. The gate behind us thuds closed, a final seal, while the one in front swings open.
A tense silence hangs for a heartbeat, as the creature bursts from the gateway, charging straight at us. My jaw drops instinctively, disbelief rooting me in place.
Keil screams above the roars from the creature. “Swim! It’s a Mordyth!”