Chapter Eighteen Arion #2
I study her. The soft planes of her cheeks to the angled cut of her jaw. Her pert nose and wide turquoise eyes. Even her tail. She’s always so alive. She’s always so beautiful.
Logic wars inside me. Merrow are evil. Zephyra is evil. Yet, I don’t know what I would do if I found her like that.
It’s the bond. It’s the cord. It’s the debt.
“I won’t betray you,” Gavriall says now, completely oblivious to my internal struggle.
He wipes moisture from his cheek and nestles deeper into the bench.
His eyes shut. “I’m here to help. If you can’t trust anything else, trust that I know how fucked-up my kingdom is.
Trust that I’m not willing to lay my life on the line for it. ”
I tear my eyes from Zephyra to scowl at him. “Says the man who used the threat of merrow to manipulate the king into pardoning him.”
Gavriall sighs. “I wasn’t willing to die, Arion. I did what it took to save myself. I have a perfect memory, I have intimate knowledge of Mortia’s gangs, and I’m smart. I help them more than they’ve ever helped me.”
“Arion thinks the heart is in Abysses,” Zephyra divulges. “We were trying to break into the Illuminated Library to find records of the utopia, but the warlock exploded it out of existence.”
Gavriall’s eyes widen. “You blew up the Illuminated Library?”
I glare at Zephyra, but she just shrugs. “What? You did.”
“We were going to die—”
“Exactly. So was Gavriall.” She turns to the historian and says, “Do you have any idea where Abysses might be? Our only lead is the Sol. ‘The heat of the sea.’ Some sort of Greenwood tale.”
“Zephyra is convinced Abysses is below the sea,” I explain. “And at this point, we really fucking need it to be.”
Gavriall considers this, rolling on his side to glance between us.
“There are far too many historical texts to try and narrow it down completely. Every kingdom has its own tales of Abysses and how it sprung from their god’s creation.
But… there was a historian a couple hundred years ago.
A young one. He claimed to have found it. ”
My brow furrows. I’ve never read anything about anyone finding Abysses. Although, by the time I discovered the heart might be there, I hadn’t had time to read much else. “Who?”
“Vasiliev,” Gavriall says, and my pulse starts racing. “He was obsessed with the idea of merrow and humankind existing together. He spent the whole of his career searching for proof.”
The name sounds familiar, as if I’ve read it before. But I can’t quite place it.
Zephyra stares intently at Gavriall. “What did he find? Where did he find it?”
“That’s just it—nobody knows. There are no sources straight from Vasiliev himself, only recordings from those around him.
He was rumored to have been an addict, and the entire human world thought he was stark raving mad, but eventually he led an expedition.
He found proper funding, and he took a team into the ocean.
” Gavriall shrugs as though this isn’t life-changing news.
As though this isn’t everything I’ve been searching for.
“The last journal entry from his colleague read: ‘Vasiliev found it. I don’t know how he did it, but he swears it’s true.
He brought us a rock. A silly little thing; however, the geologist swears he’s correct.
It’s old. Far older than anything we’ve seen before.
A material we’ve never seen before. Black as night, denser than any other stone.
We leave for the expedition at first light.
Gods help us, we have to traverse the seas.
Vasiliev says there will be merrow and monsters with which to contend.
He says we must be prepared. But he also says Abysses waits, and if we find it, the world will change.
Some of the others don’t believe him, but they don’t know him as I do.
Only a confident man would swim those dangerous depths without fear.
I trust him with my life. And so, I will leave, and I will not look back.
’” Gavriall sighs, leaning harder on his elbow.
“Obviously, that was the last anyone heard of the expedition. They never came back, and no one knows where they died.”
Zephyra continues staring, though the look in her eyes grows distant.
The cord pulses with a quick streak of fear, of terror, before she shakes her head.
“Monsters—that could mean the Sol. Krakens live there, and they were once notorious for wrecking sailor ships. And I believe there are a few megalodons swimming around, not to mention the giant crabs. Not many merrow inhabit the Sol because—well, it’s so shallow compared with the other seas.
Easily accessed and seen by humans. Easily destroyed by the monsters. ”
Something’s not adding up, however. “‘Dangerous depths’ doesn’t sound shallow to me.”
Zephyra rolls her eyes. “According to a human, everything in the ocean is deep and dangerous.”
I frown at that. Perception bias exists, but we cannot afford to operate on assumptions. We cannot afford to waste any more time. “Is there a deeper part of the ocean? With monsters?” I ask her.
She doesn’t speak. Her lips press into a stubborn line.
“The Syl,” Gavriall says, watching her with narrowed eyes. “Right, mermaid? The Syl is the deepest sea, and there’s a trench—”
“It’s not the Syl,” she snaps, and a hint of her anger slithers through the cord.
I tilt my head, studying her, as it wraps around her chest. Because it isn’t just anger.
There is something else there too, something she’s trying very hard to repress.
To hide from me, I realize with a start.
I can’t quite grasp what it is though, and I can’t understand why she’d be angry about returning to her home.
“How do you know?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. Patient.
Her eyes flash at the question. “Because I am Zephyra of the Syl. Because I lived there for sixteen years, and I never saw any evidence of ruins. Because I never ran into monsters. Because those depths weren’t…
they aren’t dangerous.” A lie. I stare at her.
Zephyra is lying through her teeth, and I resist the urge to grasp the cord as it ripples between us.
To wrench her closer and force her to tell me the truth.
To tell me everything. But we don’t have time for another fight, and fight is exactly what Zephyra looks ready to do.
Her eyes narrow under my attention, and her lip curls.
She looks like a cornered animal only seconds away from lashing out.
“The trench,” Gavriall begins again.
“I’m not fucking talking about the Sceleratus Trench!
” The anger coursing through our bond erupts with startling speed, and I blink, resisting the urge to physically move away from its intensity.
From its heat. Because I’ve seen Zephyra angry.
I’ve experienced it firsthand. I’ve seen her frightened too, and whatever this is—it isn’t that.
No. The thought of returning to the Syl has elicited a different response in Zephyra. Something primitive. Visceral.
Gavriall must sense it too, even if he can’t feel it the way I can. He leans up on his elbows as I ask, “What is it, Zephyra? What aren’t you telling us?”
She doesn’t look at me. Won’t look at me.
Her jaw clenches tight as if she’ll never speak again.
Until finally, she lifts her chin and says, “It’s not in the trench, and I can’t…
I’m not going to tell you how I know that.
I just do.” Her gaze shines bright—too bright—as it finally lands on mine, and desperation winds through the cord with her anger now. “Can you trust me here? Please?”
We stare at each other for a long moment.
Only a gentle drip of water from the cavern wall breaks the silence.
Even Gavriall seems to know better than to speak, instead watching us intently.
He doesn’t matter right now. Only Zephyra matters—her, and the question still echoing between us.
Can you trust me? Yesterday, I would’ve answered with a resounding no, and it would’ve been deserved.
But then she jumped atop a dryad for me.
She didn’t run from the cult either. Somehow, Zephyra of the Syl—liar, thief, mermaid—is still here with me, searching for Abysses. She is asking me to trust her.
More shocking still, I think perhaps I can. I do.
For now.
“Okay, mermaid,” I say quietly. “Okay.”
Her lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but no longer a scowl either.
The cord dims to a faint, soft light as her anger fades.
Her fear too. Exhaling slowly, she nods.
“With all the evidence from the isles and this entry, it really sounds like the Sol. Monsters. The heat of the ocean. Merrow don’t often frequent its sea, and those who do live there cluster in the center.
Maybe we can map out where the monsters are located.
Maybe they aren’t swimming aimlessly. Maybe they’re defending a location.
” She swallows hard and glances between Gavriall and me.
“There are depictions of Vila riding on the back of a kraken. A lot of times, in ancient sketches, she’s drawn interchangeably with krakens. There’s something there.”
I nod too, still struggling not to study her. Not to stare. We have direction now, at least. Purpose. “The Sol, then.”
“The Sol,” Gavriall echoes. “Sounds as good a plan as any. If the warlock can flex his magic, we could try to find the precise location through echolocation.” Gavriall flashes me a condescending grin and quickly explains, “Echolocation is the ability to locate objects by reflected sound, as used by animals such as dolphins and bats.”
My gaze snaps to his. “I am not a fucking dolphin.”
“No, but you’re about two sharp fangs away from a bat.” He gestures to my wings with a laugh. If I weren’t so exhausted, I might knock him out. One bolt of magic to silence him. At least for the rest of the night.