The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  ​“Did I?”

  ​“That makes two, Poseidon. We find another and I’m throwing you into the trap,” Phoebus growls, storming toward the sea god with his sword in hand.

  ​Shea steps in between them, patting herself down in case her hair wasn’t the only part that got singed from the last test. Literally walking through fire. There was a pattern and timing of course, but Phoebus hadn’t been fast enough, and Shea was the lucky girl behind him—providing a nice little burnt trim off the edges of her hair as a fire column had blasted out of the floor.

  ​Before that, their first test had been solving a riddle. And surprise, surprise the answer had been water. Good thing they’d gotten it right too because Shea could feel about a lake of water behind the wall to their left that probably would have drowned them all had they gotten the answer wrong.

  ​“Are there any more tests ahead?” Shea asks as she straightens and takes a glance at her surroundings.

  ​They’re in another stone chamber much like the one before, but it extends down a hall to another room. Torches are lit at certain intervals and it casts a blue glow on the stone, making it look like moving water. The hall narrows a bit, so they’ll have to walk in single file, but the structure still looks brand new.

  ​The magic is stronger in here, and she can sense her brother’s magic trying to ward them off.

  ​“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Poseidon points out.

  ​Caen glares at him, tapping his hammer on the palm of his hand.

  ​“Perhaps one more. Our culture does have a thing about threes.”

  ​“Air, water, and fire,” Shea comments, thinking about her father and his two siblings, Zeus and Hades.

  ​Well then, one could argue they had passed the test for water, and Hades was probably the fire they just walked through, leaving only air.

  ​“I believe him,” Shea remarks, taking a torch from the wall, her original having burned up in the previous chamber.

  ​“Of course, you do,” Phoebus growls, following behind her.

  Caen and Poseidon take up the rear.

  As they get closer to the next room, Shea spots a strange symbol over the arched frame; it looks like a lightning bolt. She steps into the new chamber and her eyes widen upon seeing what is inside. The torches light as she enters the room, and in the center is a large black hole.

  There’s a door on the other side of the chasm, but there doesn’t seem to be a way across. Phoebus peeks around and places his hands on his hips, staring at their new test.

  Finally, Poseidon and Caen shuffle in.

  The door slams behind them, startling everyone in the group. Caen latches his hammer to his back holster and tries pushing the door back open.

  “No luck,” Caen groans, putting all his weight up against the door, but still it doesn’t budge.

  “I guess we’ll just have to find a way across,” Poseidon states.

  Shea takes a step toward the dark hole; she waves the torch over it, but it’s like the darkness absorbs the pale light. She looks around the lit room and decides to give it a shot. She drops the torch into the hole.

  It lights the way down for a few seconds and then disappears into the black. She doesn’t hear a clatter from the floor either.

  “It’s too far to jump, even for me,” Caen says, examining the chasm.

  They’re all at the edge, staring down into the darkness.

  Phoebus puts his foot out, tapping the air like he’s looking for something solid, but Poseidon has to reach out and grab him when he almost falls in.

  “Phoebus, I could…”

  “No,” Phoebus responds, effectively cutting Caen off with a scowl.

  Caen shuts his mouth and starts looking around the room at anything other than Phoebus’s glare.

  Shea has to slap a hand over her mouth, so Phoebus doesn’t hear her giggle.

  “No one is throwing me, not now, not again, and no one is getting thrown plain and simple, so. Mister almighty? How in Hades do we get across this thing?”

  She nearly breaks when she sees Poseidon’s lips squish together as he holds back his own chuckle.

  Her father clears his throat and opens his mouth to answer when he stops. He’s staring at something across the room and Shea turns and looks just in time to see a torch go out.

  “Well?” Phoebus prompts.

  Poseidon shushes him and Shea’s eyes widen as another torch goes out and another.

  Caen turns as well, seeing the slight panic on their faces, and he audibly swallows as the last of the torches goes out on the far side of the room, leaving it in darkness.

  Phoebus on the other hand isn’t paying any attention; his back is to the darkness and instead he’s practically growling at Poseidon.

  “Real mature! I can’t believe you shushed me; you know, buddy, I’ve got a mind to cut you down to my size and deck you right in the—”

  “Phoebus!” Shea shouts.

  “What?”

  Phoebus looks over at Shea with an arched brow, but he doesn’t turn all the way. Instead he’s staring at the wall with the door they came through.

  “Ugh, guys?”

  Caen, Poseidon, and Shea all turn slowly back the way they came in and are surprised to find two circles about the size of a ship’s cabin window on either side of the locked exit.

  Shea takes a step closer to the one on the right and as soon as her foot hits the floor, it begins.

  Air shoots from the two new circular vents in the wall and it’s enough to knock them all off their feet.

  Phoebus goes flying backward, and Poseidon manages to grab him by the back of his shirt before he goes over the cliff and down into the chasm.

  Shea is holding on tightly to a lip of stone on the floor, and Poseidon and Caen are doing the same.

  The wind becomes harsher, she can feel her fingers slipping, she’s losing her grip.

  The last of the torches on this side of the room are going out.

  “What happened to the other torches?” Phoebus calls out over the wind, finally noticing the darkness on the other side of the room.

  Caen groans to Shea’s right as he tries to hang on.

  “We’ve got to get to the edge of the room and out of these wind tunnels.”

  Shea nods in agreement as Caen starts sliding to the right, and she looks over and sees Poseidon begin crawling to the left as he holds on to Phoebus.

  Shea slowly inches her way to the right after Caen, her fingers trying to hold on to the small lip on the floor. But her foot slips and she’s sliding backward toward the chasm. The wind is even stronger now, and it’s got her over the edge, her hands scraping at the floor. She can feel the stone tearing at her palms.

  Poseidon and Phoebus call after her, but they’re not close enough to catch her.

  Her boots can’t find a grip, and the next thing she knows, half her body is over the cliff and she’s about to fall into the chasm when a strong hand reaches out and grabs her hand.

  Caen roars at the effort of trying to hold himself back from the edge against the wind while trying to keep Shea from going completely over.

  She can feel his body slipping toward the chasm, and she’s too far down now to grab the edge with her other hand. All that’s keeping her from the darkness is Caen’s strength.

  “Caen,” Shea shouts over the roar of the wind.

  “I’m not letting you go; I’m going to pull you up!”

  He tries to bring her up, at least enough to grab the ledge, but the air pushes against him with more force and she can feel it. She’s dragging him down.

  “Caen, it’s okay.”

  “Somebody get over here and help me,” Caen commands, but Poseidon and Phoebus are too far away, and it’d take them too long to crawl over.

  “I’m not going to let you fall,” Caen growls.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” Shea tells him.

  Tears are gathering at the corners of her eyes.

  Is
this how she dies? Not by Perses’s hand or Ceto’s? Not with her ship. She’s pulling him down, she has to let go.

  Shea uses her core strength and puts her feet on the chasm wall, it pulls Caen forward a little more, but she needs the footing to pull her hand out of his grip.

  She won’t let him die for her.

  “Help us!” Caen yells again to Phoebus and Poseidon.

  Shea opens her mouth to tell him he has to let go when a pain rips through her head. She cries out, clutching her hand to her forehead as she sees Triton’s closed door in her mind shuddering. There’s a pull toward the door and she feels it pinning her down.

  “I have to go down,” Shea whispers aloud.

  The wind is too loud for Caen to hear, so instead she shouts out louder, “Caen let go!”

  “No! I won’t, not ever!”

  “It’s going to be okay, but I need you to let go. Trust me! I think Triton is down here!”

  “What’s she saying?” Shea hears Poseidon shout.

  “She thinks Triton is in the chasm. It’s too dangerous! I’m pulling you up,” Caen tells her.

  “Caen. Please, trust me.”

  Shea starts pulling her hand from his grip, but he holds on tighter.

  “Shea, stop it!” Caen growls, but Shea keeps pulling. “Bloody Underdeep, Shea!”

  Shea looks up at Caen and smiles fondly. “I can feel it, Caen.”

  “You girls and your bloody feelings,” he mutters and lets go.

  He lets go of the stone holding them up, and they both fall into the darkness together.

  ***

  “Shea?”

  ​Shea is back inside her mind, back in the room with all the doors, and is it just her or are there more doors now?

  Doors with symbols of shells, and tridents, and women with red hair. A flash of a woman with the most beautiful red hair fills her vision, the intricate details of her face blurred from Shea’s mind.

  ​“Shea?”

  ​Something’s shaking her; her head rolls to the side and as she opens her eyes, she sees Mariner’s dead face staring at her. She gasps, choking—she can’t catch her breath.

  ​Pieces of his silver-blond hair are stuck to his wide-open eyes, the same as the day Jo stabbed him through, but this time those eyes don’t stay open forever, this time they blink. His bloodied face grins at her with menace.

  ​“You should have stayed dead,” Mariner growls, blood sputtering from his mouth.

  ​“Shea!”

  ​Shea coughs, finally able to catch her breath as she sits up in Caen’s arms, groaning from the force of impact where she landed on her back.

  ​Her eyes wander over to where Mariner was lying next to her, but all she finds is empty grass.

  ​Grass?

  Now that the visions have passed, she takes a look around her.

  Caen is checking her over for other injuries, but she quickly waves him off.

  She attempts to stand but falls almost immediately backward.

  Luckily Caen is there to catch her.

  “Easy,” he tells her.

  Shea nods, laying her head against his chest for a moment just to catch her breath.

  Wherever they are, it reminds her of the gardens in Arethusa. The ones infused with magic. Giant trees that appear to be made of coral tower over them, along with palm trees, but instead of coconuts they have pearls clutched near the top. The grass is glowing a soft, pale blue. Shea lifts her hand from its spot and a vague glowing impression is left behind. Above them is the dark chasm; they must have either fallen a long way and somehow survived or magic obstructed their view from up above. Shea sees the torch she dropped lying nearby.

  Tan stone is scattered around the grass, as if this huge area used to be built inside but was overtaken by the exotic, glowing sea plants.

  She looks around the strange chasm tunnel that goes up and then to the right inside the temple. She can see the night sky up above. This must be the sacred gardens Poseidon mentioned at the center of the temple. The light from the moon and stars are bright, but there are also random tall torches positioned at various points of the garden lit with the same blue fire from before.

  Large marble columns lay in the distance and closer ones to their left, they must line the courtyard garden. The plant life is so thick she can’t see the other side of this place.

  A strange high-pitched noise fills the air, and Shea and Caen turn to the hole they came out of before Caen quickly starts pulling Shea away.

  He drags her away from the drop site, and just in time too, as Poseidon lands on the grass back-first, and Phoebus lands on top of him.

  ​There’s an audible grunt from Poseidon as Phoebus slams into his stomach.

  ​“Phoebus!” Shea shouts, forcing herself to her feet, albeit a bit wobblily.

  She pulls him off of Poseidon and lays him softly on his back on the luminescent grass.

  ​“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Poseidon wheezes, clutching his stomach.

  ​“You’re immortal,” Shea snaps, and Poseidon waves her off.

  ​Phoebus groans but he’s awake.

  ​“I think I broke something,” he gasps, and Shea feels around his upper body until she looks down at his legs.

  ​His right leg is twisted in an awkward position.

  ​Shea reaches down, lightly feeling, and Phoebus barks a curse as her gentle fingers graze across his broken bone.

  ​“Shit,” Shea grumbles.

  ​“Broken?” Caen asks.

  ​Shea nods her head and goes to Poseidon, who luckily managed to hold on to the two supply bags he brought.

  ​“We’re going to need to make a splint,” Shea orders.

  ​Shea rummages through the supply bag and comes across some bandages; Caen grabs a sturdy stick nearby and brings it over.

  ​“Can you set it?” Shea asks Caen.

  ​Poseidon has managed to turn over; he’s got his hand wrapped around his stomach but otherwise he looks okay.

  Phoebus’s face has gone a little pale from the pain.

  ​“Only if I wanted to take his leg off,” Caen chuckles. “We’ll need Nol or Jo’s delicate hands and expertise for this.”

  ​“Okay then, let’s bind it. Can you carry him?”

  ​“Please don’t,” Phoebus groans. “I’ll get up.”

  ​He struggles against the two sets of hands before finally giving up.

  ​“We need to go,” Poseidon reminds them, looking around cautiously.

  ​“In a minute,” Shea tells him, and Poseidon looks like he might argue.

  Shea turns her back on him before he can, helping Caen set up the splint, and soon he’s got Phoebus in his arms.

  ​Shea draws her water from the waterskin, scanning the perimeter, but she doesn’t see any movement.

  Caen gestures for Poseidon to take his hammer.

  ​“I don’t need it,” Poseidon replies, but Caen doesn’t take no for an answer.

  ​“Take it, I don’t see you carrying a water pouch, and Shea’s proven she’s magically stronger, so if I can’t protect her right now because I’ve got him, then I need you to do it for me,” Caen states, ignoring the glare Poseidon shoots his way.

  ​“She didn’t—” Poseidon starts but Phoebus cuts him off.

  ​“She did,” Phoebus gripes.

  ​“Guys. Triton is somewhere in here, and I have a feeling he knows we’re here too. And he’s not happy about it, so I need the three of you working together so your son doesn’t kill us,” Shea commands, drawing up to her full height. “Understood?”

  ​“Yes.”

  ​“Yes, Captain.”

  ​Phoebus nods.

  ​“Good,” Shea states.

  ​She sees a trail with a torch leading into the heavier plant foliage. It looks worn down, as if someone has used it repeatedly and recently.

  Shea finally notices a water source near their drop site. A pool of sparkling water, where she thinks she sees fish swimming.
<
br />   ​“This way,” Shea says and leads the party farther into the garden with Caen and Phoebus in the middle and Poseidon holding up the rear with Caen’s hammer.

  ​The trees reach high into the sky, obscuring their view of the pillars and the clearing where they landed. Torches are planted along the way, lighting the area for them to see. The path reminds Shea of the shell pathway in the Arethusian gardens, ground down until they’re soft and smooth to walk barefoot upon. Strange chattering noises and beautiful birdcalls span the treetops. Shea looks down where she steps, and her footprint appears in the luminescence before fading away. Gorgeous plants of purple, orange, and white are scattered on both sides of the path; periodically Shea can see the marble columns through the plants, and she knows they’re getting closer to the other side of the courtyard, and hopefully, closer to Triton.

  Multiple paths break off from this one, going off into all sides of the gardens, but something tells her to stay on the straight path.

  ​Shea thinks she can see the edge of this incredible garden and the pillars are so close, they’ve almost made it to the other side.

  ​They break into a second clearing and this one has a stunning fountain in the center.

  The fountain is a carving of a gorgeous man in a chariot drawn by dolphins, a crown sits upon his stone head, and he’s holding the reins to the chariot in one hand and a conch shell in the other, lifted to the sky.

  The conch shell is spurting out a column of water, falling into a glittering pool the statue stands within.

  If they can get through this clearing, Shea thinks, they’ll be on the other side of the courtyard finally.

  A strange clicking sound stops her in her place. It catches her off guard and reminds her of someone’s nails, impatiently tapping against a wooden surface.

  “Do you hear that?” Shea mutters, and she looks back at her companions, who all nod.

  Shea takes a step toward the clearing exit and something akin to hissing erupts from that direction.

  “We’re not alone,” Poseidon states, tightening his grip on Caen’s hammer.

  Caen, Poseidon, and Shea all retreat together slowly until their backs are to one another.

  Phoebus is struggling to get out of Caen’s grip so he can help.