Chapter 3

chapter 3

CEPHARIUS

I waited by the statue the next morning until the very last minute—I even reached out to Sylinda for help.

"Where is Gerron?" I thought out to her.

"I assumed he was with you?" she thought back to me, with a tinge of concern. "Shouldn't you be ascending already?"

Even those of my kind needed to be concerned with rising or falling in the water too far too quickly. "I swim with the manatyls. I'll be fine." I'd built up a tolerance for pressure changes while on guard duty, and had learned to use my magic at just the right time to keep myself safe—and, more importantly, not run out of it before my body had reached equilibrium with whatever new depth I'd chosen.

I sought around on the 'qa for Gerron as best I could, without running into too many other krakens' minds, and then after that I physically searched the next few rooms, before finding Sylinda back where I'd been, in the hall.

She looked at me and crossed her arms. "He's testing you."

"Why?"

"To see if you'll stick around long enough this time to say goodbye. "

I groaned. I didn't want to disappoint Gerron, but—I saw the back of my right hand, healing from the damage I'd done the night prior.

"Don't worry," Sylinda said, going on. "I'll try to explain to him that you had a job to do. For your country." Sad slow patterns flashed across her skin in muted tones. "At least this time there's a reason."

Implying that the last time I'd left there hadn't been. But I managed to keep my thoughts to myself, turning my skin a shade of stoic gray. "Whatever it takes to make him understand," I granted her.

"I don't know if he ever will," she said, her tone on the verge of snapping, and then she added. "But don't make me do this again, Ceph."

I blinked. "Do what?"

"Put his little heart back together," she said, and I could feel the sorrow coming off of her in waves. "Don't ever come back if you're not going to stay."

I heard the emotions beneath what she was saying on the 'qa.

She didn't want me to come back—even if something happened to her, or to Balesur—not unless it was forever.

Which was what I wanted, too, right? To go, and never return? I looked at the statue of my brother and I in much happier times. The leg that Balesur had lost, and that was commemorated as missing on the statue, he had since regrown—whereas my recently chipped tentacle would stay broken until the end of time, or when Thalassamur was swallowed up by the sands beneath the sea.

My damage being permanent felt apt.

"I understand," I told her, and then before either of us could say anything further, I swam for the nearest hole in the ceiling and propelled myself straight up.