The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  Jo thinks of Aster and she can’t help the small laugh that escapes her as well. It would seem so.

  “I couldn’t say goodbye,” Beck confides to Jo, standing from his place on the grass.

  Jo stands as well, smoothing out her naval uniform.

  “Am I the only one afraid that she might not come back? I mean, I know she can take care of herself, but the waiting, the not knowing?”

  “It’s almost worse than watching her die before your eyes,” Jo finishes the thought for him.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t want to cause you more strife.”

  “I am afraid of losing her, if only because I haven’t had the chance to become her wife. I thought at the end of this year, we’d be wed, and now I don’t know if we’ll survive the last of the month.”

  “We’re going to beat him,” Beck states, placing a hand on Jo’s shoulder.

  “Maybe.” Jo nods and then a thought enters her head. “But I don’t want to leave this world having not bound myself to the woman I want to be with forever. Having not proclaimed in front of the people I care about that I will honor and protect her until my last breath.”

  The idea is overtaking Jo’s mind now. It is possible. Caen has the ability, being Shea’s quartermaster by seafaring law, but…would she agree?

  “Beck, would you excuse me?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to ask someone a very important question.”

  Jo takes off at a run for the doorway leading into the house but is stopped when Beck calls after her.

  “Jo!”

  “Yes.” Jo grins.

  “Are you doing what I think you’re going to do?”

  “Perhaps. Want to help?”

  Beck sighs. “No. But I will.”

  Jo waits at the doorway a moment for him to catch up and then she races off to find Dari.

  They check the kitchens first but quickly back out the door as they find the strange woman, Semele, instead, who glares them out of the room.

  They head off down the white clay halls and find a door ajar near the end, down a flight of stairs.

  Jo steps out with Beck behind her and both their mouths drop as they realize they’re standing in an orchard. Jo can just barely see the walls on the other side of the trees, and there’s a vegetable garden growing to their left. They’re in a room, but there’s sunlight shining and a breeze whisking through the branches.

  “I love magic.” Jo smiles.

  Dari is standing in the orchard with a basket, picking ripe apples and placing them in the wicker.

  “Dari!” Jo calls.

  The elven woman turns and waves at Jo with her right arm while holding a red apple.

  “Joana, I see you found my orchard.”

  “This is incredible,” Jo tells her as they meet each other halfway.

  Beck is still standing in the doorway with his mouth open.

  “Thank you. What can I help you with? Are they back already, what’s wrong?”

  “No, not yet,” Jo says, soothing Dari’s concern.

  “I need your help,” Jo explains. “I want to propose to Shea. Regardless of what happens, I want to propose to her when she returns and then I want to marry her. Here on the island with you and Phoebus. I don’t want to waste another second, and I don’t know how much longer we’ll have. So, I guess I’m asking for your blessing and your help?”

  Dari is quiet; she doesn’t respond, not yet.

  Jo watches her face for any sign that she heard what Jo has just said, and then Jo notices her eyes glossing over, a bright smile tugging at the corners of Dari’s mouth.

  “You have it,” Dari murmurs with deep emotion. “You have my blessing and my help. What do you need?”

  “Do you think you could help me recreate that night?” Jo asks, her own eyes filling with unshed tears.

  Dari laughs and hugs Jo tightly. “Who do you think helped Shea create it in the first place?”

  They pull apart and Dari grabs Jo by the hand, tugging her toward the door.

  “But first, you’re going to need a dress, and I think I have just the thing.”

  Chapter 27: I See You

  Shea

  They arrive just before nightfall. They’d reached the border fairly quickly, only having to stop once to cut down some of the foliage so that the horses could get through, but from there it had pretty much been a straight shot to Starfish Cross.

  The old elven roads of Starfish Cross are paved with the same materials used to make the buildings in Port Town. The roads are filled with shimmering gems, and when you look ahead, the sun dancing off the precious stones blocks your sight from the path, obscuring your vision of what is to come.

  ​They have to slow down the horses to avoid tripping over the jagged diamonds and other valuable stones.

  ​But they march on, the deserts of Orena surrounding them on either side of the road for hours until they finally reach the edge of Orena’s jungle at the heart of the island. The vines and tropical trees are too thick to lead the horses in, so from there they’re forced to go by foot as the sun begins fading.

  ​Phoebus and Caen tie up the horses.

  Poseidon grabs two of the packs to carry with their supplies.

  Shea takes a branch from one of the jungle pathways and quickly gets to work transforming it into a torch.

  ​There are stories, of course, of what lies within the Orena jungle but never anything truly confirmed. The only people who have returned from the temple in recorded history are insane or, not long after, dead.

  ​They enter the jungle with Shea leading the group.

  ​They walk for about an hour when Phoebus claims they’re getting close. He started in the back but worked his way up, leaving Poseidon and Caen to talk among themselves.

  Phoebus walks side by side with Shea, his sword drawn at the ready.

  ​“Where is your sword, Shea?”

  ​The condescension in his voice makes Shea’s toes curl inside her boots. She keeps her eyes peeled on their surroundings.

  ​The trees are huge, spanning at least fifty feet into the sky, and the plant life is so lush it’s hard to see past anything but the path again. There’s rustling around them but nothing has jumped out yet.

  Phoebus keeps them on the path and gestures to continue moving forward. The light is waning until all that’s left is the torch and diamond night sky. The moon looks huge in the openings of the treetops, as if Shea could reach out and touch it. It gives off just enough light to be of help.

  ​“Your cousin blesses us tonight with the bright moon,” Poseidon tells them all, and Shea realizes he’s talking about Artemis.

  ​Phoebus rolls his eyes.

  ​“I don’t need a sword,” Shea finally answers Phoebus’s earlier question, keeping her eyes on the path ahead.

  ​Phoebus snorts. “You might be good, but everyone needs a weapon.”

  ​“I have a weapon,” Shea responds evenly.

  ​She uncorks the waterskin on her hip and summons a bit of water, slicing through a branch in their way on the path ahead before summoning it back to her flask.

  ​“A real weapon. Suppose you get hurt, or you’re unable to wield the water, then what will you do?”

  ​There’s quick movement up ahead, and Shea grabs her dagger from her boot and throws it with perfect precision, stabbing a snake straight through its head before it’s able to strike Phoebus.

  ​“How about that?”

  ​Shea walks over and picks up the dagger, wiping the serpent’s blood on her pants.

  ​Phoebus grumbles and keeps moving.

  The farther in they go, the darker it gets, and so Caen stops to light a torch of his own. They’re getting closer, Shea can feel her magic drawing her in.

  ​“So, who was the immortal you saw years before?”

  ​“What?” Phoebus snaps and Shea actually jumps at his ferocity.

  ​“The immortal you saw. That made you think this could be Tri
ton?”

  ​“Oh,” Phoebus replies, “a woman. Can’t remember who.”

  ​“Okay, what is wrong with you?”

  ​Shea has had it with his attitude.

  ​“What do you mean?”

  ​“From the moment I got here, you have been a pain in my ass. Is it Semele? I told you I would have taken her to the mainland.”

  ​“What? No.”

  ​“Then what?”

  ​Phoebus stops and glares at Shea, who glares right back, not standing down.

  ​“Gods. You’re just like your father!”

  ​“You barely know my father,” Shea retorts.

  ​“Barely? I practically raised him! Your father is Paetre. Not some absent god who decides to drop into your life and change you into something else,” Phoebus shouts.

  ​Shea chokes, understanding filtering into her brain.

  Phoebus completely deflates, all the angry energy and the tough-guy act dissipating; he starts to look more like the man who helped raise her.

  ​“Phoebus. Of course Paetre is my father, just like you’re practically my grandfather, old man.” Shea laughs, poking him.

  ​“Watch it,” he warns but Shea can tell he’s kidding.

  ​“When you sent the letter explaining you were coming, you called Poseidon…father. And my pride got in the way. It felt like he was claiming you. And then you needed to find your brother, and suddenly, you had family. Blood family. I worried Dari and I couldn’t compete, not when your real father is a god. And then with Paetre gone, I just felt like I needed to compete for him.”

  ​“Phoebus, you’re my family. You and Dari, and Caen and Paetre—Dad. I love you all with my very being, and at first I hated him.” Shea looks back at Poseidon, who has somehow managed to get Caen to start conversing with him.

  ​“But then, I can’t hate him to make you feel better. But I will reinforce that he will never replace you guys, or Paetre, as my family. He’s just an addition to who I am.”

  ​Phoebus reaches his hand out and Shea takes it without question. He squeezes.

  ​“I really am glad to see you, my girl.”

  ​“I know,” Shea responds, and as they break through a clearing, Shea gasps as the center of the jungle opens up.

  ​A giant stone structure with incredible pillars down the sides stands before the four of them.

  Caen and Poseidon find themselves beside Shea and Phoebus.

  ​Stone steps lead up to two giant gold doors with carvings of mythological battle scenes. The architecture looks ancient, and none of the vines from the neighboring trees have touched the temple.

  While the architecture dates it, the building is so clean it looks as if it was built yesterday.

  ​There are torches leading up the walkway to the golden doors and the fire is blue.

  ​“An immortal is within the temple,” Poseidon states, gesturing to the blue fire. “The torches only light themselves when a god is within the temple.”

  ​“But is it Triton?” Shea asks.

  ​“I think so,” Poseidon replies and then growls, “It’s like I can feel him, but the source of my magic is so far, I’m not strong enough to sense and confirm.”

  ​“But maybe I can,” Shea murmurs. “Father, you said you’re the source of mine and my siblings’ magic. That you’re stronger near us, but we’re stronger near you. Can I sense and confirm it’s him somehow?”

  ​“Possibly,” Poseidon answers.

  ​She walks closer to him, handing her torch off to Phoebus, who takes it.

  ​“What do I do?”

  ​“Close your eyes, go back to the place where you unlocked your magic.”

  ​Shea closes her eyes and pictures herself in the room again, but this time the door to her magic is open, flowing within the room itself. It’s no longer dark. A skylight highlights the door. Her magic dances around the room like the lights in the north sky she saw once, as a child on a northern voyage with Paetre.

  ​“Okay, now imagine a link of some sort to that familiar feeling you had on the island when we arrived, when you thought you sensed him.”

  ​Shea focuses on the familiar energy around her, and back in the room another door appears, this one already open. It has water inside, heavy tumultuous water and also light bubbles like sea-foam, creatures swim within the deep, and when she touches her hand to the water, her father’s face flashes before her eyes.

  ​Poseidon laughs deeply. “That’s me. My magic.”

  ​Shea chuckles, letting her hand reach inside the water, and she notices her own magic brightens in intensity as she connects with her father’s magic.

  ​“Alright, alright,” Poseidon says, but Shea can hear the smile in his voice.

  ​Shea pulls her hand out of the open door and looks around the room, searching for that feeling she’s had in the back of her mind all day. On the other side of her magical door is a closed one.

  ​Dark, murky blue magic swirls at the edges of the door frame. The door shakes from the power built up behind it. Shea can hear whispers around the edges, escaping from the small spaces in between.

  ​“Thetis!”

  ​“Perses, don’t!”

  ​“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

  ​She’s never heard this voice before, she cautiously steps closer to the door, her hand going to the knob.

  ​“I think I see it,” Shea tells them.

  ​Her hand clasps the handle, and as she touches it, a whole slew of emotions that aren’t her own flood into her body. She gasps. Pain, fear, guilt, all of it runs her over like a carriage hitting her at full speed.

  ​“Get out!”

  ​Shea is physically flung backward by the force of the magic keeping her out. She opens her eyes to find herself on her back on the ground, staring up at Poseidon, Phoebus, and Caen all crowding around her.

  ​“Shea?” Phoebus shouts, panicked, checking her over for any visible signs of injuries.

  ​Caen throws out his hand and pulls her up off the ground.

  ​“What the Underdeep happened?” Caen asks.

  ​Shea brushes the dirt off her clothes, taking a moment to catch her breath.

  ​“Well, he knows we’re here. But yeah, I think it’s Triton,” Shea says dryly, looking up at Poseidon with a raised brow.

  ​“He’s still got a lot of power in him, with me out and your and Perses’s powers growing, it doesn’t matter that the gates of Atlantis are closed.”

  ​“Because you’re our power source and Atlantis and your trident are yours,” Shea questions, “right?”

  ​“We’ll talk about it later. We found him, but first we have to get through the temple into the inner sanctum where the immortal garden is.”

  ​“Right,” Caen announces with obvious sarcasm, “this should be fun.”

  ​Shea groans as she takes a step and leads the group down the path and up the stairs to the large golden doors.

  ​The doors are massive, with incredible scenes of a battle fought long ago. It’s not just Poseidon, Triton, and other sea deities on it though.

  Shea has seen depictions of the air god Zeus before in other parts of Nereid and especially on other continents and islands. It looks as if the big six are on there, the original children of Kronos, the titan.

  ​“What is this?”

  Shea turns to Poseidon, and his face is a mixture of emotions. Pain, anger, and regret stand out among the many.

  “The Titan War. The door should respond to our touch and open.”

  He doesn’t say much more.

  “Are your siblings alive? I mean, are they godly still or more like you?”

  Poseidon chuckles darkly. “Most of us are still around. It’s been a millennium since we were truly needed. So many of us integrated among the humans. Some have been able to become mortal while others simply fade or remain on the outskirts trapped in immortality. I haven’t seen my other siblings in a very long time, nor most of my nie
ces and nephews. Those with varying skills didn’t need to push day-to-day people around anymore. You mortals started doing a lot on your own, and many of us became obsolete.”

  “Great history lesson. Think we can get this door open now?” Caen gripes, pulling his hammer off his back.

  Shea slams her elbow into his gut.

  Poseidon is mumbling to himself and it seems to cover Caen’s wheezing; he doesn’t notice the interaction.

  Poseidon places his palms on the temple doors, and they shake with effort, as if trying to open for the king of the sea. The eerie blue fire from the torches glows brighter, and it casts a frightening sheen on the scenes of the Titan War, like the carvings are watching them.

  “Shea, I…” Poseidon begins, but Shea doesn’t need him to finish.

  She places her palms on the door beside him, and the door rumbles a little more before a loud screeching noise fills the clearing. The door presses back into the darkness of the temple and opens grandly for their small group.

  Shea takes the torch from Phoebus and waves it forward into the darkness. Torches on either side of the entry hall spark with blue fire, brightening the room while casting a ghostly light, making the shadows flicker menacingly on the marble walls.

  The entry hall is huge.

  Shea can’t see the end as it’s still dark. They take one step inside and more torches light automatically for them.

  “Okay. Everyone ready?”

  “No,” Phoebus groans, but he’s the first one truly inside.

  “Phoebus!” Shea whispers harshly.

  He walks around the entryway, almost dancing along the floor.

  “Well, I haven’t been impaled by a magical spear, so I’d say we don’t have to worry about booby traps just yet.”

  Shea sighs in relief.

  “Alright, then.”

  They enter the temple, and as soon as all four of them clear the entryway, the doors close behind them.

  Caen groans.

  “We’re dead.”

  Chapter 28: Keep the Faith

  Shea

  “You said there was only one test,” Caen shouts, leaning up against the wall and trying to catch his breath after the last disciple test they’d all just had to go through.