Chapter Text
Phainon wanted to believe that the moment of revelation would be enough to force the lid back down on the void that held all his emotions, but even as Krateros and Hephaestion turned and hurried to bark orders to the crew, to mobilize, feathers still fluttered in the cold wind. His wings still hung from his shoulders and when Mydei stopped on the stairs and looked back at where Phainon had been left alone, it was written on his face. Phainon could see in those amber eyes the worry of someone who could peer right through him.
He needed to move, needed to get to his gear. Hysilens would surely know that they were there, and it would take little more than a firm slap from a kraken arm to send the crew to a watery grave.
An emotional exhaustion was settling on his insides, leaving him feeling scrubbed, raw, and exposed. The relief that Mydei had given him had helped but with no time to let those feelings rest… it was just a lot, and he could feel his body wanting to shut down to escape it.
“Deliverer?” Mydei called and Phainon gave him a reassuring wave.
“I’m fine, Mydeimos. I’ll be along.”
It still took Mydei a long minute to move. The captain kept looking between Phainon and up the stairs towards where the others were scrambling in an organized chaos. When he finally went on ahead it was with a trusting look, not soft, not pitying, but with a hardness in the way his brow was set, as though ready to hurl a challenge.
Don’t keep me waiting for long, it said.
Phainon took a breath when he was alone and stepped back to lean against the great lion. His wings were pressed against that stone mane, and he leaned on the noble muzzle for support.
It wasn’t a lie when he told Mydei that he was afraid. He wished he could say that this was the fear of the fight, something easy like a child afraid of monsters, the kind of fear that could be overcome with a parent’s reassurances and a toy sword. No, this was the fear that had haunted him forever, the fear that had defined Phainon into what he was now. The fear that he hated so completely that he had come to hate himself.
He was afraid of failing, of disappointing the people he loved, of not being enough.
It was the same fear that crushed him when he read the warrant for his arrest. The same fear that drove him to rage against the inside of a Dawncloud cell. The same fear that was born when a young man buried his village in ash with a broken shovel. That terror that warped and twisted and ate at itself with violence until it could no longer be accepted, only buried under something stronger.
Hatred and vengeance burned hotter than fear.
I forgive you, Phainon.
He tried to say the words in his head with his own voice, but it was Mydei’s pleasant growl that he heard instead.
I forgive you, he tried to say out loud, but the words were stuck in his chest.
He angrily slammed his fist against the lion’s muzzle, realized what he did, and then hurried to soothe the silent stone.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I just didn’t think this would be so hard.”
Phainon sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the statue, listening to the way the breeze whistled and breathed around the lion’s carved ears and open maw. Mydei gave him the first step, ending the Black Tide would be the second. His forgiveness would just have to hinge on their success, on his vengeance fulfilled.
The bubble of hate overtook the lingering fear and Phainon steeled himself again. His feathers melted away, and he found that easy smile once more. This was the fight he had been waiting for after all! There was no time to waste on trivial things.
Phainon admired his Kremnoan crewmates for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was their ability to mobilize immediately on command. Even when the crew were relaxing, making food, even sleeping, a part of them were always on alert and ready to spring into battle ready positions.
The crew’s scrambles were chaos to an untrained eye and precise execution to anyone else. In just the time that Phainon had paused to gather himself, the crew had turned the ship around, furled half the sails, were donning their gear, and the armory was opened. They had been in enemy territory since the first Descent Hour after they left the library, but it was very different realizing they had sailed over the enemy’s stronghold entirely.
Phainon passed Mydei in their room. The captain was dressing comfortably, wearing his regal and familiar red and black. He pulled the strap tight on his gauntlets with his teeth and then beckoned for Phainon with the bend of a golden claw.
“Are you well?” Mydei asked when Phainon stepped close enough to grab. Mydei’s grip was light above his elbow.
“I will be,” Phainon promised.
“Good, I need you to watch my back.” Mydei leaned forward to kiss Phainon’s cheek, holding him still with a hand against the side of his neck. His hair tickled Phainon’s nose, making him squirm, but Mydei held tight until he was satisfied.
“The war council will be on the top deck, when you are dressed.”
“Aye, captain.”
Mydei gave him one more longing look and then let him go to leave.
Phainon’s gear was technically dry. It was a good thing he had gotten up early to do his laundry. There were creases that felt cold but not wet, teetering on the edge of dry and damp, enough to eat up precious time while Phainon debated uselessly if he should wear something else. As though he had something else to wear to the battle of the millennium.
By the time Phainon had changed and left his room, the crew had prepared enough to let the initial confusion bubble back up over the urgency of following orders. They wanted to know why they were mobilizing.
Phainon saw Leonnius waiting by the rail. He caught Phainon’s gaze and fell into step beside him.
“What’s going on?” the runner asked urgently.
“Did Hephaestion not tell you?”
“Only that the enemy may be upon us soon.”
“We still don’t know how,” Phainon told him, “but we’re already at Hyperborea.”
Leonnius tilted his head, puzzled.
“It’s underwater.”
“Nikador’s taint,” Leonnius mumbled in Kremnoan before swapping back to Okheman, “how are we supposed to get there?”
Phainon stopped at the bottom of the stairs to the top deck. “That’s something we’re going to have to figure out,” he grumbled, “once we have a plan I’ll let you know.”
“Of course.” Leonnius still looked worried, but he stepped back and let Phainon go to meet with the others.
Mydei had pulled together anyone that might be able to help solve their current, unexpected dilemma, so the usual suspects were there. Hephaestion, Ptolemy, and the Demigods were all discussing the situation around the navigation table. A couple of very old maps were carefully stretched open by heavy, rectangular brass rods at the curling edges.
“The mountain is the only place where anchoring would be possible,” Hephaestion was explaining.
“Are we sure it’s wise to anchor?” Ptolemy asked, “we may need to strategically retreat… Does no one else think it strange that the Black Tide has not tried to attack us?”
“Give praise to Nikador that it has not,” the first mate grumbled.
“There are no records of the Black Tide attacking with aquatic or amphibious monsters,” Professor Anaxa reasoned, “though lack of recent records does not definitively prove that they do not exist at all. She could be alone and simply have chosen not to reveal herself.”
“She doesn’t have to, so long as she is underwater, none of us can get to her,” Mydei grumbled.
“Are the talismans waterproof?” Hephaestion asked.
“You think we’re going to swim there?” Ptolemy huffed.
The first mate was already at the end of his patience, a rarity for Hephaestion. “In case someone is knocked overboard,” he all but hissed.
“My charms are waterproof, but swimming was never an option. The weight of the ocean would crush anyone who ventured too deep,” Anaxa reminded them, completely glossing over the breathing problem. His arms were half crossed, one hand cradling the opposite elbow while the other rolled a pair of crystal shards around in his palm. The sound was mildly annoying, but Phainon recognized his old teacher’s fidgeting quirks from his university days. If it helped the genius think, then he wasn’t going to complain.
“Professor, everyone, I may have a solution,” Hyacine offered, “I cannot raise Hyperborea from the depths, but I believe I can lower the sky.”
The table was quiet as everyone looked at her. Phainon hadn’t even considered that as a possibility but as the Eye of Twilight…
“If I lower the horizon,” she continued when no one answered her, “it will be as though the continent never sank. I can do it in a pocket, here.” Hyacine leaned forward and drew a circle on the map with the pencil, big enough to uncover the entire city, the mountain behind it, and a sizeable part of the bay.
“Hyacine, that’s amazing.” Phainon finally broke the frozen shock around the table. The realization that their options were not as limited as they had been in prior campaigns opened whole new doors.
“Amazing and potentially very reckless,” Professor Anaxa huffed. He had his head tilted to the side, eye closed, holding still like he was listening very intently to his own thought processes.
“Wouldn’t that displace a massive amount of water?” Ptolemy asked.
“’A massive amount of water’ is relative,” Anaxa explained, “if we were filling a fish tank, then yes, but compared to the ocean as a whole, no. The force of the displacement is more dangerous than the change in water level.” He tightened his fist and the little stones in his hand ground together and then stilled. “Hyacinthia, I will work together with you to ensure the execution of your plan doesn’t create any unexpected natural disasters.”
“I would appreciate that, Professor,” she accepted with a smile, “the change will not be permanent. I will need to hold the pocket to keep the ocean from rushing back in.”
“How long can you give us?” Mydei asked.
“I don’t know, I haven’t tried this before,” she admitted, “several hours?”
If Hyacine got them down there before Action Hour… that would give them until sundown. Phainon rested his hand on the table and leaned over the map, trying to judge how much ground they had to cover. Too much.
“If something happens to her while she’s holding the air-” Hephaestion started.
“I will protect Lady Hyacine,” Castorice offered. She raised her hand politely and then stepped in close to wrap her arm around Hyacine’s. The two of them locked together at the elbows smiling broadly at each other. “Pollux and I will keep her safe while she holds the sky.”
“There’s too much of the city to search,” Phainon observed, “and with the song…”
Mydei uncrossed his arms and leaned over the map. “Only the Deliverer and I will go looking for the siren.”
“Are you sure?” Hephaestion asked.
“We will be able to cover more ground in our titan forms.”
“And you won’t have to be as cautious with your powers,” Ptolemy pointed out, “’For a god is not easily caught – not by a mortal man.’ We will only be in your way.”
“And I need the men here,” Mydei instructed, pointing at the docks. “We have not seen aquatic Tide monsters because we have never fought beneath the ocean, but we would be fools to not consider the possibility that there is an army waiting between us and the Demigod.”
Even if there wasn’t, another line of defense between Hyacine and Hysilens would go a long way. Hyacine was creating the best opportunity for them but would also become their greatest weak spot.
“Give us a quint to make calculations,” Anaxa requested.
“That gives us time to brief the crew,” Hephaestion agreed.
“Gather the unit leaders,” Mydei ordered. He leaned over the map and marked a spot with the pencil. “This is where we need the ship to be. We will need men on the oars, treading water until we are able to drop anchor.”
“I’ll take care of that positioning, captain,” the first mate confirmed, “professor, will you check my math when I have it.”
“Of course.”
“There will be no time for goodbyes,” Mydei said firmly, “the siren may rise from the depths at any moment.”
The group scattered to do their tasks without waiting for a formal dismissal. Mydei was right, they didn’t have the time to waste.
-
Mydei had lived his whole life preparing for combat, moving from one fight to the next. Sometimes that fight was a playful bout with Hephaestion, training with Krateros, or tug of war with Fig Stew. They included exchanges with the Okheman Navy, surprise attacks from the Black Tide, and scripted piracy when raiding for supplies.
This was different. Everything about this felt different.
Standing at the bow of the Chryseus Leo beside Phainon, watching Hyacine raise her hands was not something Mydei could have ever prepared for. It took a single gesture to instantly rip open the clouds to flood the world with golden sunlight and infinite, clear sky. They shared golden blood but watching this tiny woman with wild eyes command such power made him feel entirely outclassed.
One quint. It had taken one quint for Anaxa and Hyacine to determine the best way to perform a miracle. One quint to reshape the surface of Amphoreus. One quint to gather his best friends, tell them the plan, hand out the improved talismans, and get the men in position. The water splashed against the hull as the crew rowed, twisting the Chryseus Leo in a slow circle to keep her from drifting too far on the ocean waves.
This felt like too big of a fight, too high of stakes, to leave to the chaos of unknown variables, of a half-formed plan, crutching on their divinities as the easy answer to all things. As though they weren’t about to fight another Demigod, a creature of power and age and wisdom, who had a thousand years to perfect her lethality.
How long did they really have for this operation? Was the city even still intact? Could they be wrong and Hysilens was not here at all, leaving behind instead an army to intercept any trespassers?
What the hell were they thinking?
A hand grabbed his and Mydei blinked away his unease to turn his head to Phainon. He was smiling like this was just another day, as though they hadn’t spilled their hearts to each other within the Hour… as though his shining eyes weren’t still rimmed pink at the corners with old tears.
A gentle squeeze, reassuring, loving, and Mydei felt the courage inside him surge. He felt invincible. This was possible! They could save the world!
And then the weight slammed down on them, and they were ripped apart.
It punched the air from Mydei’s lungs and drove Phainon to his knees. Mydei followed a second after as his knees buckled, nearly breaking as they fought to keep upright before the deck rose to meet him. He could see Phainon struggling to breathe, his cheek pressed against the wood, just as his was. The world around them warped and tore. Beneath them the ship creaked and cracked, groaning with strain. The lines were popping, beginning to tear under the pressure.
Instinct told him to fight but Phainon’s hand found him again, looping his pinky around Mydei’s forefinger. He was still smiling, a little wobbly now, unsure, but trusting and comforting all the same.
Against the will of Strife in his heart, Mydei forced himself to relax as the weight of the Sky settled on the ship, on their shoulders. Every breath felt like choking, every tiny movement was pushing a mountain, he couldn’t hear anything now except the roar of the ocean as it rose in the corner of his eye.
A wall of water was slowly rising in the near distance. He could see the edge of it above the railing, too far away to feel the ocean spray that misted from the falling water, but close enough to filter the sunlight to create swaying patterns across their faces. They sank deeper and the weight of the world remained, until there was no longer a blue and cloudless sky, but a dark and imposing ocean, full of ink and song.
Phainon’s one-fingered grip loosened. The man’s eyes were rolling back as he struggled to breathe. Mydei tried to call to him, but his voice was buried in the roar, and it left him in a similar state of suffocation.
The black was creeping into his vision, and he thought perhaps they would perish before the battle began, but then salty, cool air flooded his lungs, the pressure abated, and the churn of the sea settled into the distant roar of waterfalls with a sudden lurch. The natural sway of the ship stopped, leaving behind an eerie stillness.
Mydei took a couple of test breaths. It was cold down here at the bottom of the ocean but as he slowly put his palms flat on the deck to push himself up, the air started to feel… normal. Beside him Phainon did the same, pushing himself up on steady arms while he took deep full breaths through his nose and mouth. They looked at each other and slowly smiled with shared relief.
The moment was short-lived, coming to an end when Hyacine shrieked and dropped to the deck. She was covering her eyes with both hands, shoulders shaking.
“Hyacine!” Phainon called and he was up in a flash, hurrying towards her.
Castorice cut him off, wobbling on her own two feet. “Please, Lord Phainon, you haven’t the time for sympathy.”
She was right. Mydei could see from where he was stumbling to stand that their time may be shorter than anticipated. Gold blood was trickling over Hyacine’s fingers where they covered her face. Holding back the weight of the water like this was far more taxing than they anticipated and his worry for her grew to include the rest of the crew.
“We will care for her,” Anaxa insisted. He was physically pushing them away while Castorice gently placed a lavender cloak over the Sky Demigod’s shoulders.
“Deliverer,” Mydei snapped as he turned, and Phainon reluctantly and stiffly followed.
The ship had caught on the ocean floor, as they fell to meet it. Hyacine had pushed the sky lower than intended and the Leo’s belly was resting gently in the silt that settled below the harbor. A quick look over the side confirmed it.
The water they rested in was as black as the heart of an evil man, but Mydei could tell from where it rose against the hull that they were resting in no more than a puddle, less than knee deep. The beach beyond looked like low tide during a drought, exposed, while the waiting docks of the marina reached into the open air, too far away to be of use.
“Damn,” Phainon whispered beside him. The rest of the crew had abandoned oars to hurry to the deck to join them with weapons ready. Mydei caught Leonnius and Peucesta out of the corner of his eye slamming into the rail at his side to stare at the marvel before them.
Hyperborea would have been an incredible sight without the wall of water. Hyacine had carved for them a miracle: a cylindrical air bubble exactly as she had said, leaving the ocean to frame the bay, the city, and the mountain. Seawater trickled down the sheer peak face in streams and the ocean churned against the invisible walls that Hyacine had erected. Loose spray fell from them as escaped mist, scattering the sunlight above into cascades of color.
The ruins of the capital city were a whalefall, white and gleaming where the reef had yet to claim it. Silver moss and dead coral clung tightly to the stone but there were no fish, no crabs, nor creeping things. It was a tomb. A tomb that did not take kindly to the air that sapped away the comforting weight of a crushing ocean.
In the depths of the city a familiar mass churned and boiled, slimy and amorphic. Black as a night that swallowed the moon and stars, and resonating with the distant sounds of a mournful song. It bubbled taller than the palace spires and slowly started to spread. Long tentacles reached from its core as it pulled itself over the buildings and towards the shore.
“Looks like you’ll need us after all,” Leonnius huffed to Mydei. The runner pointed with his chin, a sharp nod at the beach where monsters gathered. They were different than the Black Tide monsters they had seen before.
“The books never said what happened to the other sirens,” Phainon mumbled at Mydei’s side.
These creatures were fish on better days, but little was left of them but a rotting core and long, flowing fins. They were gray and sickly colored, pale at the joints and dark around reddened faceless flesh. Many of them had tears in their fins and all of them featured shimmering sharp horns.
They hovered over the sand, agitated but not hindered by the air. Like a nocturnal animal forced to scavenge in the daylight for food, they were irritable but not helpless.
For a moment both sides studied each other, trying to decide what to make of the other, trying to determine what the heck happened to create this impossible staging ground. And then the creatures shrieked and even Mydei hurried to cover his ears from that horrible sound. The war cry rallied the monsters, and they flowed towards the ship like serpents, fast and fluid, spilling over each other in a frenzy.
Krateros moved first. He was already shouting orders, calling Peucesta who relayed the commands by horn as the old vet moved down the line, tapping the helmet of each crewmate in turn before they jumped over the railing to land in the soft silt. Their talismans glowed faintly as the Tide called to them from the water, but they held and the corruption was stayed.
Rope ladders clattered down the side of the ship. Weapons splashed as spears and shields were thrown to the men that were forming the first line. They moved with deliberate, practiced haste.
Mydei counted them as they leaped, searching for the friends he didn’t have time to say goodbye to, but two of them were already missing and the battle had barely begun.
“Mydeimos,” Krateros called when he got to the prince. The old man grabbed Mydei by the forearm and Mydei returned it, holding tightly and leaning in to better hear. “These creatures are beneath you, leave them.”
“Hephaestion and Perdikkas?” Mydei questioned with a tilt of his head.
“Will complain over the victory feast that they were late to this most legendary battle,” Krateros said, “May victory be yours, Mydeimos.”
He let go and gave Mydei a firm shove before moving on to Phainon. The old man opened his mouth to speak, shook his head, and instead pulled Phainon forward by the coat to slam their foreheads together. He held it for a second and then shoved the Deliverer away before moving on to the next man.
Mydei smiled and snorted at Phainon’s bewilderment. Even a hasty and awkward Kremnoan farewell counted for something.
A roar brought them back to the present. The air vibrated with it, a melodic sound that should not have come from such an ugly mass. It shook the mountain, the city, and made waves at their feet, nearly breaking the Kremnoan line as the first of the fish monsters threw themselves with reckless abandon on the line of shields and spears where they burst into pointed shrapnel.
The distant kraken wrapped an arm around a building and wrenched it free with a thunderous crack. It crumbled as it was thrown, a launched barrage of scattered, inconsistent projectiles.
Mydei and Phainon moved in sync, leaping from the ship to take flight. The crack of the Lance of Fury shattered the largest fragments into gravel rain and a swipe of Phainon’s sword burst the rest into harmless dust. They were radiance and fury, power and pride incarnate hovering over the ship and their family at war.
The Black Tide was unimpressed.
The kraken reached for another monument to weaponize, but Mydei and Phainon had already had enough of that game. Phainon dashed ahead, blazing like the Ascent Hour sun, sword swept back beside the tail of his robes and his wings spread wide.
Mydei looked down where the Kremnoans were surging forward against a swarm, drastically outnumbered, knee deep in sludge, fighting their way up the shore. He remembered then what Marcus had said, about men and women trapped in bodies with hijacked wills. It would be so easy to trample these tiny things under foot, to save them and his crew.
The lance in his hand was heavy, the claws on his paws long and flashing with every flex, but then he saw the flash of Krateros’ sword, heard Hyacine’s pained shout, and remembered what it meant to trust, to never have to fight alone again.
Light flashed deep in the city. Phainon was dashing around the kraken, leaving long and oozing cuts. A tentacle chased him, another swiped. Gold wings flashed and one of the tentacles was severed. The beast screamed and the limb slowly melted into a runny goo.
It was bigger than last time. Even from this far away Mydei could tell that this was not the same kraken that had tormented him at Castrum Kremnos. That beast had been a shadow of this one, a puppet on a string far from home with waning power.
Mydei’s tail swished as he hefted the lance over his shoulder and extended his arm, aiming the massive bolt. He fought this thing for a month, this beast that did the siren’s bidding, a monster of the deep that she had created with her longing. And it had made a mockery of him.
Never again.
The Lance of Fury was lightning and when it pierced between the kraken’s tiny eyes with a flash of crackling red light, thunder echoed off the mountain and bounced off the walls. Crystal erupted from its body, ripping it nearly in half. It writhed and melted as though dying but as Mydei flew to Phainon’s side it was already bubbling again, reforming.
“How amusing,” Mydei huffed, “is this to be a battle of immortals then?”
“Mydeimos, are you asking me to leave this to you?” Phainon asked, deep and annoyed. There was a wild flash in his eyes akin to offense and Mydei was almost angry that those words even crossed the man’s mind.
“How do you expect me to put an end to this creature without my other half by my side?” Crystal shards formed slowly from red glitter in the air, reforming another lance. Mydei snatched it as it finished and held it at his side with the point angled down and the shaft resting along his forearm.
“Your other half?” Phainon teased with a soft chuckle. The light lilt in his voice was back. Whatever had made Phainon quick to anger had hopefully passed. “Is this really the best time for romance?”
“HKS, perhaps I do not need you after all!”
“No, no, Mydei, I would be honored to share this victory with you.”
“Yes, you will be,” he agreed with a happy growl. Mydei’s tattoos rippled with light as crystalline dust swirled around him again. Phainon’s halo and wings shimmered, a faint glow matching the bright yellow of his eyes. Their red and gold was taunting, baiting, and those beady eyes shook with rage.
The kraken screeched as it reformed and wriggled after them, reaching as they darted through the air in opposite directions. Agile dashes brought them close to swipe at oily flesh, but every wound was repaired and Mydei felt the futility in their actions. It reminded him too much of a month of listening to the Tide song, of dying to this creature again and again.
The fear of failure bloomed in his belly like a wound that would not heal. He could hear matching frustration in every one of Phainon’s shouts as they collected severed limbs to no avail. The burning of his Coreflame’s power filled him with exhilaration and adrenaline and the joy of combat but it was sour in his mouth when he thought of his friends and family fighting on the beach. Every sound of Peucesta’s distant horn was a reminder that they were the only thing between this beast and the end of their world.
Phainon brushed past him, flying under Mydei’s paws as he was pursued by a reaching tentacle. Mydei dodged to the side and swiped his lance along its side, intercepting it moments before the ink could envelop Phainon. The rubbery flesh burst in a spray of black that peppered across them. Droplets landed on Mydei’s lips, and he raised a hand to wipe them away, tasting the bitter salt of seawater as he did.
The Worldbearer was beyond words now. Mydei could hear it in Phainon’s guttural growl, in the reckless way he swung his sword. It was on his face as he bore his teeth in a twisted grin speckled in the same black that dripped down his cheeks. Phainon had stopped caring about dodging and Mydei was spending more time watching his boyfriend’s back and staying out of the way than fighting the monster.
Their synergy was waning. He was dancing a waltz with a man that was trying to step on his toes. The flow that he had come to love standing side by side with Phainon was stilted, jarring, and awkward, until the fight stopped feeling like dance and warped instead into disjointed snapshots.
Maybe Phainon should have left this fight to Mydei… or maybe he shouldn’t have come at all. The longer they fought the more Mydei could see and feel it: the sour and corrupting rage of revenge. But who was Mydei to deny a man his chance at vengeance, when Mydei had personally exacted his own revenge on the man that killed his mother.
Oh. He left the ring in his pocket…
A tentacle came flying out of Mydei’s blind spot and he was thrown down into the city, barreling through walls as his wings spun to protect him from the worst of the impact. His body skipped across a city square before sliding across sharp coral to stop against a crumbling wall. Debris rained on him, leaving him feeling more annoyed than pained.
Gold spread across his fur and ran over his armor in rivulets, Mydei’s vision was blurry, but he could see the shine of it when he tried to move. He hit his head when he fell and there was a worrisome warmth spilling over his cheek. Paws kicked aimlessly, stretching, testing his limbs and finding them sore. Nothing felt broken, but when Mydei tried to stand again, his knees buckled and the world spun. He leaned heavily on his lance and took a couple deep breaths.
He could hear Phainon fighting still and wondered if the man had even noticed Mydei go down with his tunnel-vision as narrow as it seemed to be. That fear of failure that had made a home in Mydei’s belly started to grow, wrapping around his throat like vines.
This fight was different.
He knew the moment they committed to the plan and the truth of it pumped through his veins even now. This was the battle that would determine the fate of the world, but more than that, it was the monster under the bed. This was the creature that killed Phainon’s parents, the one that corrupted Eurypon, the one that took their homes from them.
…and the one that was taking Mydei’s partner from him before his very eyes.
Mydei forced himself to take a step forward, shook his head to clear the blood from his brow, and then the weight of a tidal wave slammed down on him again. He clawed and fought at the tentacle that wrapped around him, dragging him back across the cracked and broken ground. The Lance was pinned to his side, crystal erupted from his body, but the kraken would not let him go.
Gold flashed in the corner of his eye where Phainon was still fighting, oblivious.
That wild, crazed, gleeful look on Phainon’s face faltered when he finally noticed Mydei in the monster’s clutches. Realization spread across his features and then the beak slammed closed, and Mydei was surrounded by darkness.
Perhaps he should have been more concerned about having been consumed by a monster of the deep. A dark part of him chuckled that finally, after all these years, something in the water finally got him. But as water filled his lungs, and blackness stole his vision, the thing Mydei noticed the most was the quiet.