Chapter 20
The Crucible of Bone was to be held between the Deep and the Shallows. The mid-ground between both suitor and challenger. Lacking the true challenges of both.
Just an expanse of frigid, empty water stretching in every direction.
Neutral territory where neither sovereign held dominion.
Motionless, Nyxarion floated, watching the courts gather. Sera was a silent force of tactical brilliance hovering at his side.
From below, the Abyssari ascended in steady waves. Taking their time to adjust to the change in pressure. Biolume flickering in silent communication as they joined the swirl of Pelagorn whirling around the edges of the mid-ground.
And from above, Thalassari descended in a school of radiant, synchronized harmony. Dancing in an elegant fall. Stars drifting into the gloom.
All of them witness to this, the final trial.
The Crucible of Bone.
Combat.
No weapons.
No law to be broken, nor ancient, primal edict to be satisfied.
There was only this. Survival. A rival to be crushed.
And the prize.
Kore.
Gills flaring wide, Nyxarion's blood surged hot in his veins.
Possessive.
She hadn't arrived yet, but the memory of her was enough to fill his veins with the vicious need for bloodshed. Retribution for what Thalos had touched.
Chest thrumming with the deep hum of his Resonance, a subsonic growl made the water shiver in a halo around them. Sending young Pelagorn scattering into the current.
Serakh slipped closer. A silent reprimand. And then, "His pelvic fins," she said, voice pitched low. Intimate. "They'll be bound. His penalty for breeding the Siren out of turn. He won't be able to maneuver as fast, but—"
Teeth flashing, Nyxarion's fluke flexed in the current. "It doesn't matter," he said, claws flexed where they were braced against his forearms. "I'm going to peel his fins from his body."
Irritation trembled in the flare of Serakh's gills. The flex of her coil. "Overconfidence is a luxury you cannot afford," she murmured, her voice laced with a sharp reprimand. "Even bound, even handicapped, Thalos will fight with deadly precision. He is not to be underestimated."
Scales lifting with scarcely contained violence, Nyx rumbled. "He will pay for what he touched," he hissed, low and poisonous.
And then, going still, Nyxarion's eyes flicked up.
Because the Shallow King had arrived. Descending into the mid-ground, his scales shone with the kiss of moonlight. Silver gleaming against the void of the abyss.
And there, bound in a tight, restrictive sash, his pelvic fins—those that lent Thalassari their legendary agility—had been immobilized.
It should have been humiliating.
But Thalos' lips twitched around a coy grin. "Korrides," he murmured, voice thick with droll amusement. As if the handicap meant little.
Returning the smirk, watching with unblinking eyes, Nyx's biolume thrummed. A slow, eager pulse of light. "Asterion."
Thalos' smile thinned.
But before either male might come to blows before the Crucible had even begun, the current shifted once more.
Nyxarion felt her approach.
That delicious pull. The scent of ozone and citrus—his precious living flame burning with the heat of a setting sun. Captured, remade in his image.
He turned.
And she was there.
Kore.
Flanked by Abyssari guards, slender, human arms cradled in Nerissa's claws, they moved at the Tide Mother's pace. Slow. Achingly so, for Nerissa was a tattered, spectral shape drifting at Kore's side.
The Tide Mother was… haggard.
Gills gaping when they fluttered. Scales growing a fuzzy coat of mossy film.
The gathered Pelagorn stilled as one. Thalassari and Abyssari. Each and every one recognized the sacrifice for what it was. At a glance.
Nerissa was doomed.
Already half taken by the tide.
But Kore…
She was radiant.
The shade of her biolume had shifted. A subtle thing, yet profound. Her glow threaded through with the touch of venom Thalos had pumped inside. Hair an untamed cloud of defiance drifting about her face.
And her belly.
It was still round.
Full.
Thalos' sperm, yes. But the sight of it?
The knowing ignited a territorial blaze in Nyx, the urge to wash the other male out.
To fuck her before the gathered courts, arousal and fury twisted into a thermal vent of villainous, desperate need.
To claim. Breed. Win his bride back, to install her at his side, and set her forever in the heart of his kingdom.
And then grey-gold eyes slid through their audience. Cool and blank.
Until they met his.
Fury.
Delicious, searing wrath.
His bride was a towering inferno.
Breath catching, Nyxarion turned.
A single, lazy flick of his fluke. Shifting, pulled toward her, the current rippled at his command.
And for a moment, all else fell away, and he looked. Truly looked upon the creature he'd claimed. Created.
"Magnificent," Thalos breathed, and for the first time, the Shallows and the Deep were in harmony.
A single crystalline note shattered the moment.
It sang through the current.
The chime was the signal to ready the competitors for battle.
All around them, the spectators began to swirl. Creating a wall of scales and flickering light. The Crucible's arena.
Simple.
Brutally clean.
Opposites, Thalos and Nyxarion took their positions inside the walls of their people.
Waiting.
And when the second chime sang through the current, coiled muscle launched through the poisoned tide. An explosion of trench-forged wrath whipped through the water. Bearing down upon the Shallow King, absent any whisper of elegance or grace.
It was raw, brute strength. Everything the trench had bred him to be.
A weapon aimed.
Pure mass hurled toward Thalos, intending to obliterate the Asterion line in one strike.
Thalos twisted.
Even handicapped, his speed was a brutal response. Flexible, spine wrenched at a nauseating angle, he snaked sideways with an elegant roll of his shoulders. Slipped through the hole in Nyxarion's guard.
Claws sweeping through the current, Nyxarion missed, leaving a trail of bubbles where Thalos' throat had been only an instant before.
"Slow," Thalos crooned, mocking and cruel. Laced with droll amusement. "So slow, trench king."
Snarling, Nyx's fins flared wide, pivoting his mass in a wide arc. Momentum carrying him toward the limit of their arena, fast enough to scatter the wall of Pelagorn. His fist flew out, aimed at Thalos' ribs.
But silver fingers locked tight around Nyx's wrist, the Shallow King caught the strike. Claws sinking deep into the flesh, he used the momentum against Nyxarion. Forced the arm out sideways, hyperextended.
Glacial eyes gleaming, Thalos grinned when he said, "All strength," in a low murmur. "No strategy." Claws raking his forearm, Thalos tisked. "Pathetic."
White-hot, searing pain lanced through Nyxarion's blood, but he twisted. Free hand shooting up. Sacrificing the joint to send his claws across Thalos' chest.
Ichor bloomed in the water.
And with a snarl of his own, Thalos released him.
Circling, they separated.
Shoulder throbbing, forearm trailing ribbons of crimson gore, Nyxarion dared to smile. Watching Thalos inspect the damage lacerating his chest. Four parallel slashes bisecting that perfect, silver flesh.
Pressing his palm flat against the wounds, Thalos laughed. Lips tipped in a fond smirk. And then, "First blood. I'll grant you that, at least."
Rolling his shoulder, Nyx tested the wrenched joint as he slipped through the current. Swimming a wide arc around the smaller male. Maintaining his momentum.
Thalos brushed flaking scales away. Sending them glittering into the depths.
And then his grin grew cutting and sharp.
Gleaming blue eyes slipped to Kore, he said, "Tell me, did you train the wretched little thing to choke on your cock?
" he asked, trying to provoke. "Or is that something she knew to do without you? Something she's done… before…"
Feinting, Nyxarion didn't allow him to finish.
He drove right. Cutting through the current with a deliberate flick of his coil, he forced Thalos to dodge.
But he wasn't fast enough.
Claws sinking in deep, tearing through scale and muscle, Nyxarion landed another strike.
A snarl of pain splashed through the sea. A plume of blood perfumed the waters.
Grinning, Nyx didn't release him—his claws sank deeper. Tearing through all that glittered and gleamed.
But Thalos twisted once more, a revolting angle Abyssari just could not reproduce.
The impact that landed next was blinding, enough to snap Nyx's head back as an elbow connected with his temple.
Enough to force his grip to falter, just for a moment.
It was an instant Thalos did not waste.
He moved.
Between one blink and the next, Thalos became a weapon forged. Limbs more liquid than the sea itself, claws parting the water, he slashed. Shredding one of Nyxarion's fins.
Roaring, Nyx tried to twist. To answer the savagery with that which had been born to inflict violence.
But even bound, Thalos was faster.
Landing rapid strikes, the Shallow King slipped through the current. Slashing at his ribs and back, scoring a strike across Nyxarion's belly and flank, Thalos was an eddy of pain. Surgical. The blows not meant to kill.
Nyx blocked the next, caught the following slash across his forearm—where it shredded another fin—but the next landed.
Bisecting the dense muscle of his shoulder, the one already tender with trauma, Thalos' claws rent muscle and touched bone. Leaving the water heavy with the scent of a king's blood.
Nyx roared, swinging wild. Claws raking through empty water when Thalos twisted and ducked. Slipping through Nyxarion's guard.
"Sloppy and slow?" The Shallow King laughed. "My Siren deserves much better than this, don't you think? Don't worry," he murmured and opened yet another wound across Nyx's lower back. "I'll make sure she's well kept. That she's put to use for the Hollow Court."
Lunging, Nyxarion's tail whipped through the gloom, trying to catch Thalos in a desperate bid for dominance.
Pivoting, Thalos answered with a cutting, sleek denial. Making Nyx pay in another bloom of crimson and gore.
Small wounds. Meaningless alone. But layered, one upon the next?
Nyxarion was flagging. Damage accumulating with every strike.
Hovering just out of reach. Gleaming silver, mocking when he crooned, "Tending a Siren requires discipline, Korrides.
Technique," Thalos added, grinning now. Drunk on the scent of blood hanging thick and metallic in the water.
"Patience and skill. A firm hand you just do not possess.
Because you're trench-filth. Nothing more. "
It was then, as Nyxarion heaved for breath. Bleeding freely from too many wounds to count, that Serakh's warning echoed through the roar of rage pounding at the back of his skull.
Overconfidence.
It might've been his own downfall if he hadn't recognized the very same scent dripping from Thalos' every smug angle.
Nyx didn't blink. Didn't pause to calculate or plan. Tail a heavy whip, he launched himself through the current. Claws a wicked flash of deadly intent.
Dodging, Thalos swept down.
And Nyx's fist caught him. Clean in the ribs.
The crack of splintering bone was nauseating.
That perfect Thalassari symmetry folded as ichor burst from his lips. The impact of raw strength drove him back. Up, toward the surface.
It was Nyxarion's turn to attack, and he didn't squander the moment.
Refusing the other even an instant to recover, Nyx unleashed a flurry of trench-born wrath. Absent precision. Technique. It was pure, overwhelming violence that stained the mid-ground crimson. Peeling away silver scales until the water glittered. Until he felt ribs give under the assault.
This.
This was what was needed to claim his precious Siren.
The true price.
Trying to slip free, Thalos twisted, bound fins straining to flare.
But when his face contorted, he wasn't wearing the look of suffering Nyxarion had bestowed.
It was a wicked, unhinged smile.
Nyx didn't see the strike flash through his blindspot until it was much, much too late.
Two fingers tipped in wicked claws slashed against Nyxarion's gill slits.
Deep.
His world inverted. Water flooded his lungs without being filtered by his gills. Crushing delicate tissue.
Vision flashing white, Nyxarion's biolume dimmed. Flickering a frantic, devastated pulse. His color a throb of blue tinged with desperate red.
And he slipped back. Muscles locked. Stunned. Floating in the dark waters, he sank. Tail limp. Claws grasping at the slashes bisecting his gills.
Grinning in the bloodied water, Thalos hung motionless above him. Watching him sink.
The only thing Nyx heard before his consciousness slipped… was the haunting melody of a Siren's scream…