Page 9 of Beneath the Veil of Tides
Zahara flattened the parchment along the table. Four main sections divided the map, one for each of the layered Bounds, the Terraguard map the largest. Red ink marred its surface. Circles on islands, places crossed out, and Rescine Isleblackened out with void-like ink, the name of the land formation left off to its side.
Jun and Calvin joined.
“The Eternal Seats, rulers from each of the Bounds many centuries ago,” Jun said as he leaned over and pointed to the center of the map, “siphoned their magic into a piece of the trident right before their synchronized deaths. They hid them in their own divided kingdoms, so that no one from other Bounds could bring them back together.”
“We don’t have Eternal Seats anymore amongst the Bounds,” Zahara cut in to add.
“Yeah, one pissed off a Thirstling,” Calvin added, and my heart nearly stopped. My mind clawed against the skull at the word. “When one died, their magic killed them all. A giant, catastrophic eruption that took ages supposedly to settle without their rulers.”
“Magic?”Was that really the only thing I got out of all of that?I knew magic existed, even as it flowed dormant in my own merfolk blood.
“Yes, each of the Eternal Seats, the rulers of each Bound at the time, carried magic beyond comprehension. So do most of their people if they chose before their deaths to offer it,” Zahara responded carefully.
“Do you all have magic?”
“The Terraguard Eternal Seat gifted many with magic before his death—magic that's been passed down through generations of life. Calvin and I hold no powers. Jun is a healer,” Zahara responded.
“Except the power of my good looks,” Calvin quipped, earning a sideways glance from Jun.
“And what exactly is the trident supposed to do?” I shuddered through my skin.
“It’s enough to awaken a titan,” Jun responded, words clipped and finite. “Enough to stop the Terraguard Bound from harvesting the merfolk sacrificed by the Oceanwrought.”
I froze.Harvesting.They wanted our blood for further bloodshed.
Zahara’s hand cupped my shoulder, an embrace meant to soothe my reeling mind.
“Tell me,” I breathed. I wanted the truth. All of it.
So Zahara continued. “For centuries, the Ocean Mother has willingly sacrificed merfolk, like you. The Royal Vanguard on our Bound harvest their magic every day and use it to control the Oricaan that you saw today.”
“It’s brutal,” Jun added, a hint of despair in his wavering, deep voice.
“Why?” I quavered, the words barely above a whisper.
“That, we aren’t so sure on,” Calvin responded sadly.
“The trident is our last chance to stop it all, to bring peace back between our realms,” Zahara spoke with quiet assurance. “I’ve worked my entire life trying to do it by myself,” she paused on the words, as if unable to continue the rest, “but I can’t do it alone.”
“Four Bounds, only three trident pieces left to recover—Shadeborne Bound, Oceanwrought Bound, and Aetherkin Bound—before we can forge them and get the titan’s help needed to end the sacrifices inyourBound and the Oricaan destroyingours,” Calvin simplified.
The ship shook on impact, a male covered in onyx armor perching atop the railing. He raised upright slowly, feathery wings stretched over his head, the same inferno color as the wavy hair that blew across his shoulders in the wind. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession. His cheeks flustered a rosy hue against his tanned skin.
The waning sunlight caught on the scars flaring like embers from his hairline to sharp jaw. His lips curled into awicked smirk. Emerald eyes caught between defeat and fury glued on me, the smile faltering in the slightest before catching his composure.
But I saw the slip.
“Thought I’d drop in before thereal fun begins.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Dear gods,” Zahara murmured under her breath, unsheathing the blade strapped across her back before I even blinked. My own dagger pressed deep within my palm at the crew’s reaction to the interruption.
The winged male jumped toward us from the railing, as if not afraid of the glinting metal we held, bearing himself with fearless poise and unshakeable confidence.
Possibly even cockier than Calvin.
“Gods? Arrived,” he announced dryly, gesturing to himself. “Not that most prayers ever reached me anyway.” Strands of vermillion hair blew across his face, drawing attention to the fiery scars ripping through his skin.
