The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  ​Ceto screams with fury.

  Shea braces for the hit, blocking the blow with blasts of ice.

  The empress keeps swinging and Shea keeps dodging, staying on the defensive. She can hear Triton grunting in effort and turns to see two more Merrow have joined them; they must have come from the open doorway.

  ​Her distraction costs her as Ceto cuts her side. She masterfully avoids the full blow so it’s a shallow scratch, but it’s enough. Her waterskin is ripped apart. The last of her water splashes to the ground.

  ​The surprise makes her lose her bending and she quickly draws the black Lycon blade, catching Ceto’s second thrust before it kills her. Shea shrugs off her ruined leather jacket, and when she turns back to face Ceto, the empress moans in delight.

  ​Shea sneers in confusion but catches the line of her gaze and looks down to see her brand is exposed through a tear in the black material. She must have forgotten to cast the illusion charm this morning.

  ​“That brand proves you’re mine,” Ceto laughs.

  Shea snarls, thrusting her sword forward, landing a slap across Ceto’s face and throwing the empress to the ground.

  ​“Actually, it just proves what a crazy bitch you are,” Shea spits.

  ​Ceto glares up from her position on the floor, licking the blood at the side of her mouth. She scurries away, avoiding Shea’s lunge as the elf brings her blade down to stab her through.

  ​She’s back on her feet again.

  ​Shea makes a quick check of her surroundings.

  Triton is back down to two Merrow.

  And Poseidon seems to have gained the upper hand—Perses goes flying into the paneled wall behind the thrones, barely missing the secret door.

  ​“I will not rest until my chains hang from your neck and I’m wearing the tips of your ears on my wrists,” Ceto shouts, grinning maniacally.

  ​“What in Hades did I ever do to you?” Shea snaps.

  ​“You humiliated me, and that is the worst offense you could have done. I will not be beaten by some knife ear, by some elf!”

  ​“You’re about to be,” Shea snarls.

  ​She fights harder, swings and slashes her sword down on Ceto’s heavy broadsword. She can see the empress tiring; she’s skilled, Shea will give her that, but she’s chosen the wrong weapon.

  ​After a particularly hard thrust, the golden sword clatters to the ground as Ceto loses her grip.

  Shea uses as much of her strength as possible and kicks her square in the chest.

  Ceto flies back, landing solidly and groaning in pain as she tries to catch her breath.

  ​Shea stalks toward her with her blade.

  ​Triton is sparring with the last Merrow.

  Poseidon is advancing on Perses with his trident.

  ​They’re actually winning.

  ​Ceto scrambles back, choking around the pain in her chest, but Shea simply stomps her foot onto the golden breastplate, pinning Ceto down.

  ​The empress looks confused.

  ​She shouts for help, screaming, “Perses!”

  ​But Perses has problems of his own. He too is on his back with Poseidon about to plunge his trident into his chest.

  ​But a cry splits through the throne room.

  ​Shea turns at the sound and she sees the Merrow got the upper hand.

  Triton is on his knees his hands over his face. There’s yellow liquid on the end of the Merrow’s sword, and it’s then that Shea realizes the sword it’s wielding is made of the same gold metal as the one Ceto has.

  ​Triton pulls his hands away and there’s a long cut starting from the left side of his forehead down to the right corner of his jaw. But what makes Shea freeze, turning her back completely on Ceto, is the fact that the cut isn’t healing.

  Not like with Thetis’s cuts. And instead of red blood, golden ichor flows from the wound.

  ​Shea studies the blade the Merrow carries, and a single thought shivers down her spine.

  The gold sparkles in the morning light, a bit of magic visible to her eyes. But it couldn’t be.

  ​The cut still isn’t healing, and Shea knows—she doesn’t know how, but she knows. If that Merrow stabs his blade through Triton, her brother will die. Because these blades aren’t just any enchanted metal.

  ​Celestial steel.

  ​Shea makes her decision. She cocks her arm back and throws her sword as hard as she can. It swings through the air and she summons her magic, pulling water from the atmosphere, and guides the blade, plunging it into the Merrow’s back before he can strike again.

  ​The celestial steel sword clatters to the ground next to Triton, who’s shaking from the pain of his slashed face.

  ​Shea worriedly turns toward Perses and Poseidon; her father is staring at Triton, his attention distracted, and Perses goes for something under his cloak.

  ​Shea opens her mouth to shout, but a scream comes out instead as Ceto thrusts a celestial steel dagger through her leg. She startles, when she sees golden blood pouring from the penetration. She crumples to the ground, preparing herself for a final blow, but a splatter of water hits her face instead and she looks up to see Poseidon’s water trident sticking out of Ceto’s chest.

  ​The empress looks stunned, trying to grab the weapon, but the water dissipates, leaving three open stab wounds in its wake. Ceto collapses to the floor and Shea grits her teeth against the agony.

  ​Triton’s hands find her side and she feels his touch along her leg, looking at the dagger. He doesn’t seem surprised by the ichor flowing from her.

  ​“Triton, get Dad,” Shea orders, biting back a wave of pain.

  ​But as they both look up; they find it’s too late.

  ​Poseidon is standing behind the thrones, his face strangely calm while Perses stands in front of him, his hand on the hilt of a celestial steel blade run straight through their father.

  ​“No!” Shea cries, trying to get up, but she can’t put any weight on her leg.

  ​Triton is by her side, his breath is ragged, while Perses smiles at Poseidon.

  He slides his blade further through until he’s pressed against him and whispers something, but Poseidon just continues to stare over at Triton and Shea.

  ​Poseidon smiles.

  She can see his lips move, but she can’t hear what he says.

  ​Triton gasps as he looks down and he finds his conch shell in his grasp.

  Poseidon must have used the last of his magic to steal it. His voice echoes through both their heads one last time.

  ​“I love you.”

  ​Poseidon starts glowing. A gold light emits from his body and it hurts to watch. The light obscures their view of the two of them, both Poseidon and Perses.

  Shea feels like her skin is burning, like she’s in the process of getting an extremely painful sunburn.

  The sound of rushing water fills the air.

  ​Water from the fountain is being pulled toward the light, surrounding Poseidon and Perses, but it doesn’t block the stunning gold rays.

  ​“What’s happening?” Shea screams over the tumultuous sound of the ocean crashing around them.

  ​“He had my sword. That was my sword,” Triton mutters to himself, attaching the conch to his waist, before explaining, “Poseidon’s immortality is being sucked out of him into Perses. That’s celestial grace; if we don’t get out of here, it’ll burn us to dust.”

  ​Triton tries to help Shea up, but she can’t put any weight on her leg, and his strength is weak as well.

  ​They hobble toward the entrance to the garden; the light is scorching their skin. They both look sunburnt and their lips are chapped and dry. It feels like all the moisture in the air is being sucked away.

  ​“I can’t,” Shea yells. “You have to go, I’m slowing you down.”

  ​“I’m not leaving you,” Triton shouts back.

  ​Shea pushes him away and he stumbles back.

  ​“Damnit, Triton, think about your fa
mily!”

  ​“I am!”

  ​He pulls her close and keeps dragging her away from the throne room.

  The light is still raging and the pain on their skin is growing more intense.

  ​Triton collapses, and she falls beside him.

  ​“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he tells her.

  ​But it’s okay, she wants to tell him, they both failed.

  ​Shea holds on to Triton, their eyes closing as they wait for Hades to take them, but a strong hand wraps around her bicep and pulls her to her feet.

  ​“Sorry I’m late!”

  ​Caen pulls Shea off the ground and into his arms, then grabs Triton, pushing him back onto his feet.

  ​“Caen!”

  ​“Yeah, I know, yell at me later, now we gotta go. Where’s Poseidon?”

  ​Triton points toward the light, and Caen nods, not looking back.

  ​He takes off running with Shea in his arms.

  Triton remains a few feet behind them, but they keep going. They pass the Lover’s Fountain, and Shea absently wonders if it’ll survive this day.

  Caen leads them through the barracks door, through the hall that’s crumbling with dust around them, past the kitchens and servants’ hall, and finally out the last door.

  ​A yowl echoes as they exit the palace, and Shea smiles up at her lucky Lionbird. There’s a horse waiting and Caen places Shea on first, before hopping behind her and helping Triton onto the back.

  Caeruleus flies ahead, scouting. The farther they get from the palace, the more they can see the bright golden light reaching into the sky—it rivals the sun. Caeruleus clears them a path to the harbor, using his claws to scratch out the eyes of any enemy soldiers who dare to stand in their path.

  Shea cries as the horse ride jostles her leg.

  ​The light seems contained to the palace, though it shines like a beacon, a golden city on the cliffs.

  Caen hurriedly dismounts the steed, and Shea can see the Duchess out at sea. He practically throws her and Triton into one of the hidden longboats that remain and rows them out to the ship.

  They’re about halfway there when the light from the palace seems to expand just a bit more and then clashes like a bolt of lightning, shrinking back into the castle. A loud crack, like the sound of a whip, echoes across the water, and Shea cries out in pain as does Triton.

  ​Their magic snaps in their chests, taking their breath away.

  Shea is pulled into her mind, back into her room of doors. She sees Poseidon’s door, gold cracks creaking through the frame, and then it shatters. The blast pulls her out of Olympus, and Caen is screaming at her to snap out of it.

  ​A rush of wind settles over the ocean, pushing the boat closer out to the Duchess and pressing the ship toward the rest of the sea.

  ​“He’s dead,” Triton announces.

  ​Shea is breathing heavily. Her magic feels distant, but she notices the shell on Triton’s waist is losing the purple shine, returning to the color she first saw it as.

  ​They make it to the ship.

  ​They have to bring up the longboat because Shea can’t climb the wooden steps on the side of the Duchess.

  They pull her onto the deck, Triton following behind with Caen.

  ​Jo is there, holding her, embracing her tightly. She doesn’t see Beck but suspects he’s down below with Nol.

  ​James is giving orders, and Aster is steering the ship away from Arethusa; they’re getting ready to sail her away to the fleet, to Erebos.

  ​Because they lost.

  ​The crew breaks off running in different directions, manning their stations, the gunners finding their places at the harpoon launchers and cannons.

  ​Because they lost.

  ​Jo is examining Triton’s cut.

  Shea can hear her ordering them both below, but there’s something about the ocean wind. Something untamed and wrong.

  ​“We need to go,” Caen orders, and the ship lurches forward as it catches the strange breeze.

  ​V is watching Shea and Triton with a miserable expression; Shea’s sure she can feel it too.

  ​“V, send notice to the fleet to sail to Erebos,” Caen commands, and V nods. She walks away toward the bow.

  ​When she gets there, she holds her hands up to her mouth, speaks softly, and then releases a light. Soft pink rays fly into the air and race ahead out to the horizon.

  ​Shea’s watching the palace as the Duchess sails away, and she can feel Triton right beside her.

  ​She doesn’t know what’s happening. She can’t feel Perses at all, and it scares her. She wants to know what’s happening.

  ​So, she makes a decision.

  ​She enters Olympus, closing her eyes. She journeys down the massive hall to the door where she knows it’ll be waiting. The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention like maybe she's not so alone in this mental palace.

  ​The door is still cracked like before, but the power seems contained, possibly by distance or his new immortality.

  ​She’s not sure what will happen when she does this, but she doesn’t have a choice.

  ​“Shea, what are you doing?” she hears Triton ask.

  ​“Shea?” Jo’s voice joins in too.

  ​But she ignores them in favor of walking closer to the door. Maybe it didn’t work, maybe he’s dead, and Poseidon’s grace killed him. But then she has to know for sure, right? She places her hand on the doorknob, turning it gently; she thinks she can hear Triton shouting at her, but she doesn’t listen. Instead, she opens the door, completing the connection between her and Perses.

  ​Power floods her core. Memories split her mind. The Underdeep, the black city, Triton’s smiling face while sparring, the despair, the betrayal of their father’s rejection to save him from his own magic killing him.

  ​She sees it all, everything, rising in Erebos, her mother…She sees her mother, she’s alive!

  ​She sees herself when Perses first formed the connection, she feels a sick sense of pride, of family.

  ​And then Poseidon, his dying face all-encompassing in her vison, the feeling of triumph wrought with pleasure.

  ​Someone’s screaming, she can hear it even while trapped in her mind. Then she realizes—it’s her.

  ​Her chest aches, and the power is burning through her body. She collapses, falling on her bad leg, letting loose another scream.

  ​“Were you concerned, sister?”

  ​A voice echoes in her head.

  ​“I’m alive. And I won.”

  ​Shea shakes her head, gathering her courage.

  ​“Not while I still breathe,” she responds.

  ​A cold chuckle lilts through the air.

  “Then you best run, Captain, as quickly as you can, because if that is all that stands in my way, your breath can be easily extinguished.”

  Shea is brought back to the land of the living when Jo slaps her across the face, breaking the conversation with her now immortal brother.

  “I’m sorry,” Jo gasps when she sees Shea’s awake.

  She’s on the ground, looking up at Triton, V, Caen, and Jo beside her. The knife, she notes, is still in her leg; she’ll need to get that out.

  “It’s okay. We need to hurry. Where’s Proteus?”

  “Down below. He’s coming?” Caen asks.

  Shea nods, and her quartermaster curses, taking off running to talk to James.

  “What did you see?” Triton asks.

  “Everything. He’s alive,” Shea tells them and all their faces fall. “But my mother is alive too.”

  Triton’s head snaps up at that.

  “Ami?”

  “Yes,” Shea chuckles.

  “She’s alive?” Triton bursts out laughing, hollering with delight.

  “I didn’t know you were so close,” Shea murmurs.

  Jo is staring at his reaction as well.

  V starts laughing too; she’s shaking her head, and Shea asks Jo to help her
stand so she can look at the goddess of love properly.

  “What?”

  “You don’t know? You still don’t know?”

  “Know what?” Shea growls.

  V looks over at Triton, who’s bent over at the waist. His shoulders are shaking, and Shea can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying with relief.

  “Of course they’re close. She’s his mother too.”

  “What?” Jo questions, grabbing ahold of Shea so her wife doesn’t fall over.

  And she just might.

  “Ami? Her true name is Amphitrite, goddess of the sea, queen of the oceans, wife of Poseidon, and mother of Triton,” V states. “And you.”

  “But I’m not a god,” Shea croaks.

  “You sure about that? Because I’ll tell you, no demigod I’ve met has ever been as powerful as you without a price.”

  “Is it true?” Shea gasps, turning to Triton with Jo’s help.

  He looks up at her with a tired grin and points to the golden ichor pouring from her leg. “Yes. The knife wouldn’t have affected you. You’d be bleeding like normal. But you’re a god and therefore vulnerable to celestial steel.”

  “He has celestial steel? We need to get you two to Erebos,” V murmurs, horrified, noting the blade in Shea’s leg.

  Triton nods, sobering up.

  “Why?”

  “Because. The king is dead, and Atlantis will need a new ruler; it’ll have to be one of you. You’ll need to travel to the black city, into the Underdeep, and restore order to the ocean.”

  “What? I—I can’t do that. I don’t understand,” Shea whispers.

  She feels like she’s asking this question for the millionth time. “Why?”

  “Because if someone doesn’t claim the throne, Nereid will have a lot more to deal with than just a pissed off immortal. It’ll have the ocean against it, and we don’t want the ocean ruling itself. Plus, if it’s not one of you who claims the throne, then it could be Perses, and I’d prefer if he wasn’t the king of the sea,” V mutters.

  “This war isn’t over,” Triton states. “We could still beat him, if we can make it to Atlantis first.”

  “So not only do we need to get our entire fleet to Erebos before Perses sends someone after us or comes himself, we have to travel into the realm of the gods and enter Atlantis to replace Poseidon to stop the entire ocean from possibly killing us all,” Jo says, with an anxious expression. “Is that all?”