by Adalyn Grace
Stop helping her! hisses the fire serpent as it slams its body into the ground, chasing after me. The earth deity doesn’t pay the other any mind as it coils into a corner, body fading into the shadows.
With every inch closer that the godwoken slithers, fire and lava flare. They devour the ground beneath the beast, as if attempting to crack the island itself wide open.
I don’t know how the black, poisonous fumes of the volcano haven’t gotten to me, yet. It must be the same magic that has me on the back of this fiery beast, racing down the mountain as fast as the wind.
Drop that scale and leave, human. I won’t ask you, again.
I ignore the serpent and clench the rich onyx scale to my chest, pouring all my focus into it, using it as a beacon to focus my thoughts and keep myself standing.
I will not give in. I will not let go when I’ve come this far.
The godwoken rears its head back, bares fangs as long as my body, and strikes.
I cling tightly to the wolf beneath me as it banks a sharp left, digging the fingers of my free hand into its ember fur for balance. The heat of the godwoken’s body is all consuming, making the earth swim and my skin slicken with sweat.
The ground trembles and roars beneath us with every movement, steam trailing from the ground. I’m about to twist away from the threatening geysers beneath us when I see a flash of black hair in the corner of my eye.
“What are you doing?” I yell. “Get out of here!”
Vataea stands barefoot at the edge of the mountainside, nightgown clinging against her clammy skin. She grounds her feet into the earth, assessing the steam of the geysers beneath us.
“Keep running” is the only warning she gives before a song consumes her. It’s honey and wine, intoxicatingly sweet but soured with a bitter edge that makes my head spin. As she sings, the trembling amplifies, so fierce that even the godwoken jerks back.
But it’s too late. Vataea’s song commands the water, and as she lifts her hands to the sky, the earth cracks and water erupts, striking the serpent firm in the chest. It roars, twisting to her, but I’m quicker. Tugging on the embers of my wolf, I steer it sharply for Vataea, grabbing her palm and jerking her behind me, onto the wolf’s back.
“You could have already been down this mountain,” she growls, breathless. Her grip on my waist is weak, floundering like a fish out of water in the midst of this heat. “What were you thinking, Amora?”
Behind us, the serpent cries out. The sizzling of its body is so loud my ears ache, and the steam burns my eyes. I can barely squint through it all, disoriented as we race ahead. The scale in my palm burns, ready to tear a hole through my flesh. From the shaking ground and the steam that follows me, I know the serpent’s still behind us, slowed but not stopped.
“There was no time for thinking.” My lungs squeeze, starting to feel the effects of the volcano. “Can you call the water again?”
“I can try.” Vataea’s voice trembles with a song as she calls another geyser. This time though, the water not only gets the deity, but also the wolf. It sizzles beneath us, buckling with the effort until we stumble off its back.
Vataea hits the ground on her knees, snarling from the pain. Her breaths are too tight. Too loud in the overwhelming heat. She wouldn’t be able to summon more of her magic even if she tried.
Pushing her behind me, I clutch Rukan tight and spin to face the serpent that looms above us, raining steam and embers.
Its fangs are lava that drip from its mouth and onto its molten body. They’re startlingly bright, and white as Curmana’s shore. And they’re about to devour me.
Until, suddenly, they’re not.
The serpent throws its head back with a roar, and I jerk back in surprise, trying to find the source of its pain.
Bastian’s behind it on his own steed, his palms pouring blood that’s been coated on a group of rocks he floats beside him, using Valukan air magic. He throws the cursed stones at the beast, eyes raging.
But this beast isn’t like the Lusca. A curse doesn’t hold it for more than a few seconds.
I turn in time to see Ferrick’s here too, hauling Vataea onto a blazing orange horse. “The next time you ask me on a blasted adventure, I swear to the gods, it had better be a vacation!” he yells.
“If we get out of here, I’ll take you wherever you want. Now hurry and get Vataea somewhere cooler.” I choke on burning breaths, doing everything I can to keep my focus on Bastian.
“My duty is to protect you—”
“I’ll buy the queen some time.” The voice belongs to Shanty, who follows at a respectable distance behind, clearly wanting to be the first to get herself out of here if things go awry. “Get Vataea out of here, Ferrick.”
Vataea hisses at the words, but the knot in Ferrick’s throat bobs only once as he swallows, then nods.
“Just get out of here alive, all right?” he says to me.
I nod. “All right.”
Wrapping his arms around Vataea to keep her stable, he kicks the horse’s side and it takes off, leaving nothing but embers in its wake.
“You need to get out of here, too,” I tell Shanty, who rolls her eyes.
“Trust me, I’m on it. But not without a little parting gift.” Dropping to the ground, she slams a palm against the earth. Like the strange door from when I first discovered the Barracuda Lounge, the world around us twists into an illusion of enchantment.
Extra trees spring from the earth. Mist rolls in, concealing us. Visions of fiery wolves take shape, pacing back and forth in the darkness and tricking the eye.
By the time she’s done, Shanty sways and grabs on to her fiery steed. “Use that to your advantage.”
“We will. Now hurry and get to Keel Haul.”
I don’t wait to see her off. Instead I spin to see Bastian’s still fighting the godwoken with curses that have almost no effect on it. Though it stills for a moment each time Bastian hits it with a stone, it snaps out of the curse no more than a few seconds later, spitting fire. It’s enough time for Bastian to get back to my side, letting the godwoken struggle to find us in the mist.
Enough! Magma swells, brightening the night at once. And it’s clear that, no matter how magnificent Shanty’s power or how fast these steeds may be, there’s no way we’re going to outrun the godwoken.
“Do you have it?” His voice is harsh from the smoke.
I wrap my fingers around the scale and the handful of bloodied snake skin it’s attached to and nod. “We’re going to have to fight.”
“We can’t even touch it,” he argues. “How are we supposed to beat something that’ll melt our weapons?”
He’s right; not even Rukan is any match for this beast. To have even a chance of it, we’d need the power of the gods. Fortunately, we have that.
The fire serpent’s above us now, its heat and power all consuming, a true beast of legends.
But I’ve bested one legendary beast before, and I can do it again.
“We have to use soul magic. It’s the only way.” With the scale in one hand, I take Bastian’s hand in the other, as though my body knows exactly what to do before my mind can catch up. The moment our skin touches, it’s as though the fire all around us is now within me.
With the power of the gods in my palms, I can feel my magic pulsing within Bastian. It burns in my blood and takes root in my veins, spreading like wildfire.
Bastian rips his hand from mine, fizzling the fire away at once. Even in the sweltering heat, it makes me cold as frost.
“You saw what happened last time.” He scowls. “I can’t control it. Not to mention I had to put Elias’s blood in my mouth. I can’t exactly do that with lava, Amora.”
“Then we won’t use yours.” We won’t make it much longer in this smoke. Every one of my breaths comes in a rasp now, thin and painful. “We’ll use mine. My soul magic isn’t a gods-created magic; we can use it against the godwoken.”
Panic contorts his face. “But you can’t use your magic.”<
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“I can’t use it alone. I need you to trust me, Bastian.”
And though I know he’s scared—though I know he wants nothing more than to run—Bastian grips me by the shoulder. “I trust you.”
That’s all I need.
I slip the crinkling snake skin from my wrist and hold it like a cup, praying that this will work. The other godwoken hadn’t been worried about the fire; it wasn’t worried about being burned.
Its skin is immune to the flames. Why else would it live so close to the volcano?
When I work up the courage to lunge, it’s not for the guardian, but for the lava that drips from its body like a second skin. To my relief, it sits in the makeshift snake skin cup, not burning me.
The fire serpent sinks backs, angry and cautious, with seething white eyes. What are you doing? Its tension tells me it already knows—I have a fire and now its skin. I have everything I need for soul magic.
The fire is building, and now there’s only one way to know if my plan works. I take Bastian’s hand and let the magic between our souls swell once more as I hold on tight. “We have to try.”
“It’s my soul, Amora. If I let you in … there won’t be any going back. There’s no more running away from me.”
“I know.” I squeeze his hand. “It’s my soul too, remember? Bring me to it.”
There’s no time to worry about whether there will be consequences, or what this will mean for him and me. Bastian pulls soul magic around him like a shield, and despite the danger, I shut my eyes and follow his lead as it consumes us.
I feel him everywhere. In my skin, in my soul, in my mind. I feel his spirit. Taste the salt on his skin as he opens his soul to me. As he lets me into the most intimate parts of him.
Bastian’s soul is one of pain. Of longing. Yet it shines with adventure, brighter than any I’ve ever seen.
He’s beautiful.
I hesitate as I feel the familiar sensation of magic prying at me, trying to delve into my soul the same way I’d seen it done with Father the night he died.
At first, I don’t let it. My body tenses on its own, rejecting the attempt. For nearly a full season I’ve hidden from Bastian. I’ve hidden in my own thoughts, avoiding my own feelings. But not anymore.
Now, I let him in. And the moment I do, magic consumes us as he extends it out to me.
I press the snake skin and molten fire into his hands, and Bastian drops the piece of the fire serpent into writhing flames, keeping the earth deity’s skin in hand.
We are two people, but we are one soul.
Soul magic flows through Bastian and into me, and I relish its coolness in my veins. In the way it fills me, making me whole.
I shut my eyes to focus on the magic flaring to life within us, helping guide it through Bastian and into me. This time, with the two of us, the magic obeys our command.
We feed the serpent’s skin to the flames, and its fire fizzles out at once. The deity rears its head back as the lava peels away from its charring body. Without its fiery armor, it’s no longer as big as it looked, or nearly so threatening.
When the magic between Bastian and me snaps, I nearly fall to my knees before he catches me. There’s something different when our skin touches this time, a spark of whatever just happened between us. I feel him stronger than ever. The tension in his muscles. The awe as he watches the deity slink back.
Together, no repercussions come from his soul magic. Together, we were strong enough to take it down.
Heed my warning, human, the godwoken warns, voice a vicious hiss. If you choose the wrong path, there will be no coming back.
But we don’t listen. We only run.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
We make it to Keel Haul breathless and battered, stumbling onto the deck as though it’s our salvation.
The others have prepared the ship for departure. The moment we’re aboard Vataea begins chanting at the water, wasting no time. She’s already significantly improved, her dripping-wet hair enough to tell me she must have cooled off by taking a dive. Though I wish there was a chance to say goodbye to Azami and thank her for everything she’s done, there’s no time.
I fall to my knees, lungs gasping for the clean sea air, raw from smoke and breathlessness. My head spins, vision blurry as I fight the urge to pass out, as my body likely should have done ages ago. But I refuse to focus on the spinning, and I won’t give in to my blurring vision.
“I see none of this crew cares about beauty sleep,” Shanty grumbles as she wraps her arms tightly around herself. “Must we get into trouble at all hours of the night?”
Ignoring her, I clutch the snake scale close to my chest and let its magic pulse against my skin. It’s lightweight, with a warmth that sinks into my core. Its latent magic is powerful enough to clatter my bones and make my skin feel as though it wants nothing more than to crawl into itself.
This is magic. I thought before that I was strong, but I held nothing on this power. This feels impossible. Gods-like.
I want this magic, forever. This power. This ability of the gods. It’s mine.
It’s mine.
It’s mine—
“Amora?” My body goes rigid as Ferrick crouches beside me. Sweat and ash lick his brows and dust his face, though it’s the worry in his eyes that I focus on. “What is that?”
The snake scale’s no longer warm—it’s scorching. I gasp and set it before me on the deck when it burns my palm, wincing at the pain. Ferrick’s presence steadies me, and I realize with dawning horror that those thoughts were not entirely my own.
This magic is powerful, dangerous.
“It’s a scale from the godwoken.” Drawn to touch it again, I clasp my hands together and press them tightly against my lap, resisting. “This is what’s going to fix everything.”
When Bastian reaches out to touch it, I slap his hand away on instinct, going still as I do. Even Shanty and Vataea are watching now, and everyone recoils with surprise. Again I clasp my hands together, fingers twitching. “I … I’m sorry. Just, please, don’t touch it.”
Bastian’s brows knit with worry, but he withdraws his hands. “What were you thinking, going after that alone? You could have been killed.”
Dragging my trembling limbs to a stand, I wordlessly scoop the scale and cradle it close again. There are no words for the things I saw, tonight. For the things I experienced.
In my hands, I hold the chance to bring Father back. I have a chance to bring back everyone who died that night on Arida last summer. All I have to do is take it.
Even if it means Visidia must wait longer to be fully restored, and I’m forced to find another way to break my curse.
Even if it means losing my entire crew.
My body trembles from the weight of the power I cradle in my arms, and the anticipation of what’s to come. “Set our course to Arida.”
“That’s it?” Vataea’s honeyed voice is too bitter on the tongue. I level my stare, though it’s impossible to match the ferocity in her eyes. “Bastian’s right. You snuck out in the middle of the night after multiple assassination attempts, didn’t tell a single one of us, and nearly got yourself eaten by a giant snake. Are we your friends, or are we your subjects? Because I almost died for you, Amora. And I can’t understand why you’d put yourself in that position without saying anything to the people who care about you.”
I clutch the snake scale closer, leaning into its power. It calls to me even stronger than a siren’s song, and I want nothing more than to obey it. I just don’t know which path to choose—what could have been, or what could be.
“You are both,” I tell Vataea gently, unable to speak any louder. “I’m sorry, but wherever I drag you along, there’s always danger waiting. As a friend, I’d like to protect you, and would hope that you trust me to do that. But as your queen, I’m asking you to obey.”
Vataea turns her head away, fists clenched, while Bastian steadies a hand on my shoulder. There’s tension in his jaw. “Just tell us if
you’re all right.”
I try to focus on the magic pulsing against my fingertips. On the possibilities of the future I could give Visidia if I turned back time. If I had more help. If I had Father back at my side, my people would have more trust in their ruler. The fire serpent had meant to give me a moment of peace with Father, but all that’s done is make me yearn for a true reunion even more.
If I brought him back, I could sleep again, no longer plagued by the faces of the dead watching over me.
But the cost of this reality is growing more profound with each passing day. And to answer Bastian’s question, no, I don’t know that I’m all right. Perhaps I’m not. But I can’t waste this time dwelling when, one way or another, everything’s about to change.
I think of the all-consuming emotion of standing hand in hand with Bastian as we performed soul magic. Even now, I feel as though our insides have been cracked open and exposed to each other, raw and bleeding. And yet I can’t look away.
I don’t want to look away.
Because in opening myself to him, I know the truth now. Bastian Altair feels like home, and I never want to leave.
I take hold of his hand, squeezing it briefly, just once. Before I can let nerves get the better of me, I say, “Get this ship on course, and then meet me in your cabin. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Stepping into the captain’s quarters feels like walking into a memory. I cross the floor, heart heavy as I eye the luxurious four-poster bed and the warm flicker of the oil lamp, which reminds me both of my and Bastian’s first real kiss, and of the days I spent down here after I first lost my magic.
My fingers trail along Bastian’s desk, admiring the atlases and maps strewn neatly across it, organized in a way I know only him to be. His closet is color coded with fashions from each of the islands, with shoes carefully lined beneath them according to height and style. Seeing them like that, not an inch out of place, I smile. As abrasive as Bastian can be, it’s charming how meticulous he is with his belongings.