The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  ​Hands are pulling on her body and she pushes them away with a wave of her hand, the water protecting her from whoever is trying to stop her from exacting justice. And just as she’s about to snap Thetis’s neck, she feels a hand rooting around inside her chest.

  Someone’s in her room.

  ​She closes her eyes and finds herself back in her mind filled with doors, and she sees it.

  A girl is trying to close her door. A redheaded child; she is pushing on Shea’s door trying to take away her magic.

  ​Shea reaches her hand out, drawing her magic from her own door, capturing the thief. She strides toward her enemy, turning the girl around, gripping her by the throat and finding her younger self. Shea frowns, glaring at her struggling twin, wriggling in her grasp.

  ​“Stop,” the girl rasps.

  ​Shea shakes her head, confused. “Why?”

  ​“Because…” Shea loosens her grip on her twin so she can speak. “Because the power does not control us, we control it. Don’t let it turn us into something we’re not. We’re the captain, and this is not who we are.”

  ​Shea drops her hand; the twin doesn’t cough as she lets go. Instead she turns toward the door filled with turquoise and gold magic and walks through it.

  ​Shea gasps as she comes back to herself, the rage fading, the power slinking back, and she allows Caen and Jo to pull her off of Thetis. She releases the water cord and Thetis coughs turbulently.

  Her face is practically purple.

  ​Shea pats Jo’s white-knuckled hand, letting her know she’s back.

  Caen has already left her side, checking on Triton, whose chest cuts are healing.

  Triton crawls over next to Beck, and Beck gestures at Triton’s healing abilities.

  ​“Nice trick,” he croaks, and Triton sighs, seeing his arm.

  ​He pulls Beck against him as they all come back down from the fight.

  ​“You could have killed me,” Thetis hisses, fuming.

  ​“Yes,” Shea huffs, “but I refuse to let power control me. Because I know now what happens when it takes control of you. You’re not a bad person, Thetis, and I hope you take back control before you’re truly lost.”

  ​Shea grabs her old sword from Jo before the queen can stop her and slams the hilt against Thetis’s forehead, knocking her out.

  Shea drops the sword, leaning over, resting her arms against her knees and breathing heavily.

  “Let’s not do that again,” Shea groans.

  Jo laughs tiredly. “Here, here.”

  “She brought down the barrier,” Triton comments.

  Shea rolls her eyes and whispers in her mind so only he can hear, “No shit.”

  Triton bursts out giggling, scaring Caen, who startles and smacks Triton on the leg.

  Beck, who has no idea what just happened, starts chuckling as well and Jo eventually joins in.

  All of them are hysterically laughing, except Caen, who is glaring at them all.

  “Fight’s not over,” Triton sighs, standing up as the laughter dies down.

  “It might as well be,” Caen notes.

  “No,” Shea says, agreeing with Triton.

  “Caen, Jo, get back to the Duchess. We’ll meet you there once we have Poseidon.”

  “We’re giving up?” Beck groans.

  Jo shakes her head. “I think we should call this a tactical retreat.”

  “We’ll meet you at the ship once we have our father. If we’re not there in half an hour…leave without us.”

  “And go where?” Jo objects.

  “Charis,” Caen growls.

  Shea nods. “Last resort.”

  “I don’t want you to go, we should just leave.”

  “I can’t leave him here alone. He’s still my father, Jo.”

  Jo grits her teeth and instead grabs Shea’s jacket, which is cut to shreds, exposing her black peasant blouse underneath. She pulls her in for a hard kiss and Shea gives it back the best she can.

  “Okay,” Jo states. “We’ll see you at the ship.”

  “One last thing,” Shea says, stopping everyone before they leave. “Jo, I need you to go in there and get Proteus and take him to the ship.”

  “Shea,” Triton argues, but Shea glares at him, shutting him down.

  “We can’t leave him here. Not with Perses and not while Thetis is like this. You take him. Keep my nephew safe.”

  Jo hesitates but Caen is already walking inside.

  He walks out with a small boy in his arms, still asleep.

  Triton gasps, seeing his son for the first time. He walks up to Caen and softly, gently runs a hand over his three-year-old boy’s head.

  “He’s beautiful,” Triton murmurs.

  Shea wants to give him more time, but they have to go.

  “Triton.”

  Triton nods and steps away.

  “Here,” Caen tells Jo gruffly, and she takes the boy reluctantly.

  “Unless you wanna carry him, that’s fine.” Caen raises a brow, pointing to Beck, who isn’t looking too good.

  “I can walk,” Beck says, trying to get up, but instead he passes out in Caen’s arms.

  “Like Hades,” Caen sighs.

  Shea kisses Jo one last time, and then she watches the four of them leave.

  Jo carrying Proteus and Caen carrying Beck.

  Shea wonders if this really is the last time she ever sees them all again.

  Chapter 45: Inheritance

  Shea

  “Triton?”

  They’re standing at the door to the throne room, and they don’t need to be told he’s inside. They can feel it.

  There are shouts of fighting from behind the doors, swords clashing, pained cries. There are dying men inside.

  The door is still sealed shut; they must have come through the gardens because Triton tried it and it’s still barricaded.

  “Yes?”

  Shea swallows. She managed to summon some water from one of the rooms they passed on their way here, refilling her waterskin. She also picked up a black Lycon blade off of one of the bodies closest to the ballroom.

  Triton summons water from the air, encasing his fists in ice.

  “Are you scared?”

  Triton turns to her. “Of what?”

  “Death,” Shea tells him, staring at the doors, focusing on the noises coming from inside.

  There’s a large crash of what sounds like a wave pounding against a rock.

  Poseidon’s still alive.

  “Yes,” Triton tells her.

  “Really?” Shea asks.

  “I have so much to live for now. I don’t want to go yet. But most importantly, even dead gods all go to the same place. The underworld, where the judges decide each fate. We’re not just given a pass. There’s a reason most dead gods fall to Tartarus.”

  Shea shivers at the mention of eternal torment.

  Could she go to Tartarus?

  Shea steals herself, pulling her water from the flask. She leaves her new blade strapped to her back in a stolen sheath.

  “Are you ready?” Triton murmurs, the water around his fists turning back to liquid.

  “Always,” Shea whispers.

  She summons her strength and they blast the door at the same moment, throwing everything they’ve got against it.

  The column breaks the door open in an explosion of noise, the left side swinging off its hinges and slamming onto the floor.

  The barricade of wood splinters toward the rest of the throne room, and Shea hopes it kills at least a couple enemies.

  They summon their weapons back to them, Triton encasing his fists again and Shea summoning her water lasso.

  They take one last look at each other before stepping through.

  There are dead soldiers everywhere.

  Arethusian men who must have retreated back to the throne room to protect themselves and, probably, to protect Poseidon so Shea and Triton could get here.

  Perses is standing near the Arethusian queen
’s throne.

  It’s been turned over in the chaos. The consort chair miraculously stands. The marble flooring is stained with dark bits of flesh and blood.

  ​They spot their father standing in the Amphitrite fountain, he has a shield of water encasing him in a circle, keeping Perses from getting to him.

  Perses has no weapons. He’s standing there calmly, staring, but not at Poseidon—at Shea and Triton entering the room.

  All the screaming from before has been silenced except for one Arethusian on his knees, blubbering as Ceto, in a display of power, slits his throat.

  Shea sees Lycon men intertwined with the dead, and two Merrow encased in ice, courtesy of Poseidon she assumes.

  But that still leaves another two, growling in front of their master, threatening the two new players in the ballroom.

  Ceto’s armor shines brilliantly against the morning sunlight. It’s gawdy next to all this death, but Shea knows she likes it that way.

  Poseidon steps away from the fountain, keeping his shield up. He slowly backs toward Shea and Triton until the three of them stand before the other four—Perses, Ceto, and the two Merrow—in a lineup.

  Once he’s beside Shea, Poseidon drops his shield, swirling the water around his hands.

  “Took you long enough,” he mutters.

  She huffs a quick chuckle.

  Ceto looks as if she might say something but Perses holds up his hand, quieting her before she can speak.

  To Shea’s surprise, the empress listens.

  Her half brother clicks his tongue and the Merrow move from their positions, surrounding Shea, Triton, and Poseidon, leaving Ceto and Perses before them.

  In comparison to Ceto’s gold armor and spiked braided hair, Perses looks relatively plain. He’s wearing all black: boots, leather pants, and a robe similar to Thetis’s that falls about his knee slit in three pleats. His hair is cropped, darker than her own, closer to a brown, but the red is still vivid. But his eyes. His eyes are the exact same shade as her own.

  “You made it,” Perses announces, his voice drawing her in like an undertow.

  “Got a bit held up,” Shea snaps, clenching her fists, thinking of Thetis.

  “Yes, her alliance was quite a surprise.”

  “No more than yours and the slave queen,” Shea argues, and she sees Ceto’s eyes widen.

  “He’s getting me what I want. How could I say no?” Ceto growls, stepping up next to Perses, but Shea’s brother pays her no heed.

  “Even you must see how insane this is; you ravaged your own lands! Are you truly so desperate for power?”

  “I am not desperate,” Ceto screeches, lunging at Shea, but Perses holds her back.

  She glares at him, reluctantly obeying his commands.

  ​“And along with this deal I made, I get you in the end. Enjoy captivity. You’ll be nothing more than a dog at my feet for the rest of your days.”

  Shea laughs coldly. “The only bitch I see right now is you.” Shea looks between Perses and Ceto and the empress’s face turns a dark shade of red.

  “You insolent little knife ear—”

  “Enough,” Perses commands, bringing the focus back to himself. “Darling, let me deal with this please.”

  He phrases it like a suggestion, but Shea knows an order when she hears one and he is definitely in charge.

  ​She can feel Triton practically shaking beside her; she chances a look at his face, and she notices it’s not fear, it’s anger.

  Perses must see her look, because he glances to their brother with a harsh smirk.

  “Hello, brother, it’s been a while,” Perses states, exposing the shell attached at his waist.

  Its color has changed since Shea last saw it; once a beautiful white with orange marks running through the curving seams, it’s now a dark purple, molted with spots of brown brimming with the same magic Shea saw coming from Perses’s door.

  He’s corrupted it.

  Triton’s expression wavers when he sees his tether, before his face hardens again.

  She notices for the first time he looks younger than Perses, and Shea realizes someday if they survive this, though it seems unlikely, she’ll look older than him too.

  “How did you survive?” Triton whispers.

  But it’s loud enough that Perses hears it. He lets go of the conch, his robes falling back over it.

  “It wasn’t easy,” Perses answers, his voice changing, taking on a darker, sinister tone. “I fell into darkness. Cold, harsh, the pressure almost broke me to pieces, squeezing my bones. I was dying, you threw me to the depths, but you all forgot one thing.”

  “I don’t understand,” Triton mutters, but Perses cuts him off.

  “You forgot what else was down there!” he shouts. “What else lives in the depths with the monsters you keep, what keeps them contained.”

  Poseidon audibly gasps beside them, a hand rubbing down his face. He ages remarkably as the answer comes to him first.

  “Atlantis.”

  Perses smiles, and Triton’s eyes widen, horrified.

  “She saved you?”

  “Who?” Shea growls.

  “Atlantis,” Perses answers. “You see, little sister, the city is more than just that. She’s an entity, the soul of the ocean. We, as gods, protect her and her domain, and she grants us the power over it. Her core lives in the depths of the black city, she felt me. Felt my fall. And her one drive, her need, her will is to protect what’s hers. So, when she felt a child of Poseidon dying, she rescued me. Fed me some of her own power, allowed me to build my strength and return. She has no conception of right or wrong, she only knows survival. She wanted me to survive.”

  “You are not a god,” Poseidon states.

  “It is my right!” Perses bellows, spit leaving his lips.

  “You fed from the core, the core of all ocean magic,” Triton breathes. “No wonder you’re insane.”

  Perses straightens, his face losing all emotion once more and twisting into a semblance of what others could consider a smile.

  “Sister. I want to give you a choice.”

  “Why me?” Shea questions, warily.

  “Because for some reason these pathetic people have chosen you to lead them. So, I’m going to give you a choice, a decision to make, a way to save your people.”

  Shea brings her hands up anxiously, the water surrounding her pulsing as she watches him nervously.

  He takes a step forward and Poseidon transforms the water around him into a trident, pointed at his son.

  Triton creates two swords of ice, holding both out to the Merrow behind them.

  Ceto draws her sword, but Perses stops her again. She growls in response.

  “What choice?”

  Perses smiles when she asks, but either way, she knows she can’t trust him.

  But the longer she keeps him talking, maybe the longer she can think of a way out.

  “Clever.”

  ​Perses’s voice whispers from the back of her mind.

  ​Shea growls, “Stay out of my head!”

  ​“As you wish. Now about that choice. I will spare the people of Arethusa; in fact, I’ll spare the city. They can resume their lives here. And I’ll leave.”

  ​“What? Perses!” Ceto cries, but Perses turns to her with a raging expression and she cowers back, afraid.

  ​“In exchange?” Shea prompts.

  ​“In exchange,” Perses continues once he’s dealt with Ceto, “you let me kill him.”

  ​He points to Poseidon, who now at his weakest can be killed by a mortal blade. Shea is waiting to find out why this all matters, so she remains silent and allows Perses to complete his terms.

  ​“And you and Triton come with me to Erebos, to return to Atlantis and claim our rightful places on the thrones of the black city. As gods.”

  ​As he says that, a bit of blood begins dripping from his nose. Flowing freely, it runs down his upper lip, into the crease of his mouth. He doesn’t bother wiping it away.<
br />
  ​“You wouldn’t live long enough,” Triton barks, glaring at the two Merrow behind them.

  ​“Don’t worry, brother, I have my ways. Now do we have a deal?”

  ​Shea stares at her half brother, examining him more closely now.

  He’s pale, ghastly so, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

  She realizes that his powers haven’t made him strong, they’ve made him desperate, and desperate is something she can beat.

  ​Shea smiles at him with a challenging grin. “No. Sorry, I’m just really sick of men who have these ridiculous entitlement issues.”

  ​Shea blasts him in the chest.

  ​Perses goes flying back, and the moment Shea does it, Ceto attacks.

  She lunges at Shea with her gold broadsword, slashing it down with a screeching cry.

  ​The Merrow behind them attack and Triton blocks their blows.

  They’re quicker, smarter than the ones from before, and he’s having a hard time keeping up with their attacks, but he manages.

  ​Perses stands, running a hand through his hair. He draws the water from his clothes and turns it into a spear, pointing it at Poseidon.

  ​Ceto blocks each of Shea’s water blasts with her sword, cutting through her magic, and it’s then that Shea realizes the blade must be enchanted.

  ​Perses gestures for Poseidon to come get him.

  Shea fights harder against Ceto so she can join him, but for now he’s on his own. She watches from the corner of her eye as Poseidon takes off running with his water trident, jumping up and slamming it against Perses’s spear.

  ​Triton is still fighting the Merrow.

  Poseidon is now dueling with Perses, their weapons clashing together with the sound of metal instead of splashes of water.

  ​Leaving Shea alone with Ceto.

  They find a bit of space away from the obstacles of the dead and circle each other. Shea with her hands encased in ice and Ceto with her gold broadsword dragging beside her making the worst screeching noise.

  ​“You’ve come a long way from that little girl on the ship I once knew,” Ceto smirks.

  ​“I could say the same about you, at least you’re wearing clothes this time.”

  ​“I’m going to enjoy breaking you,” Ceto hisses.

  ​“You haven’t done it yet.”