Curse of the Forgotten City

by Alex Aster

  He took her hand.

  And jumped.

  * * *

  Underwater, Tor saw the gates extended for miles, down to an abyss. Vesper swam through the small opening, beckoning for him to follow.

  He did, diving deeper and deeper below.

  Past the gates, the water looked exactly the same as it did on the other side. A few schools of fish passed him by without a glance. Vesper swam straight down, farther and farther without a thought. Tor followed, reaching forward, then back, bare feet kicking behind him. He had never been so deep before—deep enough he would have drowned before making it back to the surface.

  The sea changed colors every ten or so feet, getting slighter darker. Green, to light blue, to deep blue. The sun above, a golden, fractured light, began to dim. His ears started popping at the pressure.

  Something lurched in his chest. His lungs constricted painfully, and his throat ached.

  Vesper turned around to face him. Then, she spoke, as easily as she had on land. It had a slight echo. “Tor, breathe.”

  He hesitated, even as his organs seemed to shrivel, eating at themselves. What did she mean, breathe? Wouldn’t the water rush into his lungs, drowning him?

  She shook him by the shoulders, bubbles escaping her lips as she said again, “Tor, BREATHE!”

  Unable to take the pressure in his chest a moment longer, he gasped for air—

  And found it. No, not air, something thicker. Remarkably smooth in his throat. It filled his lungs, and he took another breath. Then another.

  Vesper nodded. “See? Tor, you’re a waterbreather. You never have to surface.”

  Something clicked into place, pieces coming together. The shadow that had been haunting him, the guilt and anger at having been given the Night Witch’s power, fell away in the water. Tor smiled wide, looking around as if seeing the ocean for the first time. “I’m a waterbreather,” he said, his words spilling seamlessly from his mouth. He said it again, so loud a fish stopped to gape at him. “I’m a waterbreather!”

  Tor dove down, bubbles erupting from his every kick. He spun, and turned to float on his back, without water rushing into his nostrils. The sun was just a golden smudge far above. Fish traveled in layers, some closer to him, some near the surface—and he saw it all. An entire world above and beneath him.

  He turned back around and kept swimming toward the dark below, Vesper now following him. He swam until the darkness cleared, and then he saw it.

  Sandstone stretched for miles beneath his kicking feet, rolling streets of stone carved right into the seafloor. Buildings were domed in the same blue of the sea, masking the city from above, and crafted from compacted sandreal-life versions of the sandcastles he used to make on Estrelle’s shores. A palace sat at the center, made up of several smaller, circular structures, each framed by tall columns. The space between them was filled in by giant, blooming coral. Reefs of every color decorated each block of Sandstone, a rainbow trail through the city.

  He had so many questions about underwater life, all of which Vesper could answer.

  “What do you eat?” he asked her.

  She was floating by his side. “Seafood…obviously.”

  “Have you never had land food? Vegetables?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Now I have,” she said, and Tor remembered their breakfast.

  “Do you have school?”

  “We have elders, who teach us what we need to know. Practical knowledge.” She sighed, bubbles escaping her mouth. “Or, at least, what they believe is practical.”

  She dived down, their conversation clearly over.

  Tor made his way toward what must have been a neighborhood, once upon a time. Dozens of sandcastle houses sat side by side, the same size as his own home back in Estrelle. Shells had been pressed into some exteriors for decoration. Some had fallen to the ground.

  Beyond the neighborhood was a market, a cluster of shops with empty windows. White marble statues filled the town square, giant carvings of a variety of sea creatures, most of which Tor didn’t recognize. What else was hidden in the waters beyond Sapphire Sea besides this forgotten city? For the first time in a long while, a spark of excitement lit in Tor’s chest. He wanted to see it all.

  At the end of the road of statues stood the second-largest building in Sandstone, a swirling tower.

  “It’s a library,” Vesper said. He tensed and whipped around, not realizing she had continued to follow him. She grabbed his hand and said, “Think heavy thoughts. Ships, marble, whales, anchors.” At once, they began to lower to Sandstone’s road, bubbles trailing from their mouths, as if Tor’s pockets had been suddenly filled with rocks.

  The moment her feet touched the street, Vesper began walking, as normally as she had on land.

  Tor still floated inches above.

  Vesper motioned down. “Come on, then. We don’t have all day.”

  He thought about boulders, the hydroclops, mountains, the heaviest things he could imagine. And, a second later, he, too, had landed.

  Tor followed Vesper into the library, through an archway. No door. Inside the tower was a swirling spiral of bookshelves, the center completely empty, so Tor could see all the way to the sea-glass ceiling. There had to have been millions of books inside, all neatly pressed into shelves that lined the library walls.

  And it was abandoned, just like the rest of the city. “Where did everyone go?” he asked.

  Vesper shrugged, making her way up the stairs that went around and around the interior of the hollow tower. “If you believe the legends, one of their own went to land, after years of hearing stories of the darkness and gloom on Emblem Island, only to find it bursting with light and color. He returned to tell the rest, and they abandoned their watery home for the great wonders of island life.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “But leave all of this?” She threw an arm up as she reached the first floor, other hand trailing along a coral-crusted balcony. “Leave this sacred, ancient knowledge behind?” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and continued, down the rows of books, seeming to be looking for something. “I don’t believe that.” Vesper stopped suddenly, so quickly that Tor almost bumped into her back. She turned to face him, expression serious. “I think they fled.”

  Tor blinked. “Fled what?”

  She shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. A curse by the Night Witch? Pirates? Invaders? It happened hundreds of years ago. I don’t think anyone knows. And these things aren’t written down in Swordscale.” Vesper bent to look at a row of books, brow scrunched. “They didn’t go to Emblem Island, though, that’s for sure. There would be a lot more people with waterbreathing markings if that was the case, and there aren’t. I’d be able to sense it.”

  “So where did they go?”

  She looked away from the shelf to glance at him. “Another hidden underwater world, of course. One so secret it’s not written about in pirate books.”

  He leaned down, too. “What exactly are you looking for?”

  Frustrated, Vesper straightened again, continuing around the long halls of the tower to the second floor. “Something that might not exist. Another myth.”

  Tor didn’t quite like the sound of that. If Vesper had known exactly what to search for in Sandstone, why hadn’t she told the others?

  As Vesper kept walking around and around the stacks, Tor grabbed a book off the shelf, only to find blank pages inside. He reached for another—blank as well.

  “It’s enchanted,” Vesper said from above, poking her silver head over the balcony. She rolled her eyes. “Press your emblem to the first page.”

  Tor did as she said, and the moment the fish on his skin came into contact with the paper, ink flooded its pages. A title appeared on the cover—How to Catch a Gleamington and Why You Never Should.

  He slipped the book back into its place on the shelf, before grabbing ano
ther—Low Tide Rituals for the First-time Seafloor Excavator. Another—A History of Mermaid Tail Colors.

  Before he could read another cover, there was a thud above, followed by an “Ow!”

  Tor rushed to the fifth floor, halfway up the tower. Here the manuscripts were older. Instead of books, each shelf was packed high with tightly rolled scrolls. Vesper was still on the floor, looking like she’d fallen. She scowled at something against the wall. “Help me get that, will you?”

  He followed her gaze and froze.

  On a tiny shelf carved into the wall sat a skull.

  Vesper scoffed. “Not afraid of it, are you? Legend says more than a thousand years ago a great oracle lived in Sandstone. And power from her fortunetelling emblem is still in her bones.”

  Tor took a step back. “You’re not thinking of taking it, are you?”

  Vesper stood, dusting herself off. “Of course not. I’m just trying to get it to work…” She stepped past Tor to reach back into the shelf, gripping the skull by its sides. “Just a little…” She fell back again with the effort, but something had changed.

  The skull’s jaw had opened.

  Inside, where a tongue once was, a tiny, thin scroll unraveled.

  “This must be it,” Vesper said, reaching for the parchment. It was yellowed and blank. And there were just a few inches of it left.

  “What, exactly, is that?”

  She took the paper between her two fingers. Then, to Tor’s surprise, she ripped it. “Legend says if you’re able to tear a bit of her parchment tongue off, she will give you a prophecy.”

  Tor stared at the bit of paper in Vesper’s palm. Slowly, words began to be etched on it, letter by letter.

  Vesper went still.

  The curling script fell into place.

  Your quest will prove useless—and one of you will perish.

  Though now impossible, Tor felt very much like he was drowning.

  Something groaned below. He gripped the balcony and stared down at the rest of the tower. That’s when he noticed it extended underground, beneath the entrance. The hollow center of the library was pitch black like a well, so far down Tor would be surprised if even Engle could see the bottom.

  Another noise echoed through it—one like a growl.

  Vesper was by his side in an instant. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know,” Tor said quietly. “But it’s coming from there.” He pointed down at the abyss.

  From which something surfaced.

  Fast as lightning, a giant squid burst from the darkness, tentacles first. Tor jumped back toward the hall, pulling Vesper down with him, just as a tentacle the size of a hydroclops struck where he had been standing. The stone balcony crumbled away, falling to the depths below.

  “What is that thing?” Tor asked, back now pressed against the bottom of the wall. The squid was looping back, its long orange tentacles thrashing around—trying to find them.

  “It’s a capsizal, a type of squid.” She looked panicked. “Some sacred places underwater have keepers, animals who protect them.” Vesper shook her head. “I thought, since the city was abandoned—”

  Tor tensed; Vesper screamed.

  The giant squid’s enormous eye took up the entire floor as it gazed directly at them.

  “Go!” Vesper said, and Tor almost tripped getting to his feet. He shot down the path that lined the walls of the spiral tower, ducking behind bookshelves, trying not to look behind him.

  They climbed to the next floor, then the next. Then, Vesper said, “Look out!”

  Something wrapped around Tor’s chest so tight he gasped. It pulled him back down in a whoosh, into the middle of the library.

  “Fight it!”

  The squid had him by the waist now. He punched its tentacle with all his might, but its skin was tough as leather, its suction cups stuck tightly against him.

  “Can’t you make it small?” Tor asked, gasping for breath.

  Vesper was staring at him, wide-eyed, from a balcony. “No, I haven’t—I haven’t mastered large living things!”

  The squid jerked its tentacle—and Tor—forward. Toward its mouth. The creature was at least three times bigger than the Night Witch’s ship, its body taking up nearly the entire tower. “Can you try?”

  Vesper squinted, hand outstretched. Focusing. A vein popped from her neck in strain. But the squid remained giant. And Tor was almost at its mouth.

  Vesper suddenly brightened. She took a few steps back, then jumped over a crumbled part of the balcony, landing on another one of the monster’s tentacles. It whipped her back and forth, but she gripped its skin and stayed on. Tor watched as she took a charm from her bracelet and made it big—a dagger. Then, she aimed for the soft skin in between the beast’s suction cups.

  It roared as the blade found its mark, and the tentacle around Tor loosened. “Think thoughts light as a feather!” Vesper yelled as Tor squirmed free.

  First, he fell, right down through the tower, after the monster. But the moment he thought of hoppers—the giant red balloons that Emblemites used for travel—the strange underwater gravity stopped, and the sea took over. He swam once more, up after Vesper, toward the very top of the tower. Its stained glass ceiling had a tiny hole in its center, and Vesper made it a big one.

  Before the giant squid could recover, its tentacles having smashed the library to bits on its way down, Tor and Vesper slipped through the hole and out of the underwater city.

  The Pirate’s Pearl

  There were once two moons. One, high in the sky like a pearl, and the other, its reflection, pretty on the sea.

  The moon high above fell in love with its reflection, and would do whatever it commanded. When the water moon wanted the tides to rush in, the high moon allowed it. When it wanted the tide to again be low, the high moon made it so.

  A pirate discovered the influence of the second moon and devised a plan to capture it. One night, he cut the second moon from its place on the sea and folded it up until it was no more than the size of a real pearl.

  Devastated, the moon above sought its vengeance, sending a torrent of storms toward the pirate’s ship. But the pearl had absorbed some of the moon’s powers, and, by simply lifting it above his head, the pirate stopped the water.

  News of the pearl spread, and seekers from every part of the island came forward to claim it: the blood queen, the mermaids, the coastal kings, other pirates. They all descended upon the pearl like vultures. It was decided that a contest would be made, to see who was worthy to wield it.

  The mermaids were decided to be too wicked.

  The blood queen too grim.

  The pirates too treacherous.

  The kings too greedy.

  At last, there was no one left to claim the pearl, and all parties were set to go to war—until a girl came forward. With hair the silver of sirens, she said, I come from Swordscale, a community happy to be left be. We do not desire control of any sea—simply to be left alone.

  So, the pearl was given to Swordscale for safekeeping until someone worthy of the power could claim it.

  6

  The Devil’s Mouth

  The ship creaked beneath Tor as he shivered. Melda stood in front of him, arms crossed, mouth scrunched to the side. She was biting her cheek in worry.

  “Why, exactly, did the sea monster attack you? Guardians of libraries aren’t supposed to do so unless their territory is threatened.”

  Vesper shrugged limply. “It could have seen us taking a prophecy as a threat.”

  Melda had the small piece of paper in her hand, its parchment somehow immune to water, droplets dripping right off its edges. “About this prophecy—how much faith can we really put in it?”

  Engle was still blinking at it, wide-eyed, like his super vision was studying every curve of ink. “Prophecies don’t lie, that’
s what they say, don’t they? That’s why we haven’t had someone born with a fortunetelling emblem in ages! They’re too valuable, only born once a century, isn’t it? And when they are, they’re smart enough to hide their marking—I know I would. Can you imagine the line at your door of people looking for their futures to be told?”

  Melda rolled her eyes. “Yes. But prophecies are also riddles. Full of hidden meaning.”

  Engle raised an eyebrow at her. “I would say this one is pretty clear, Melda.”

  He was right. Tor repeated the words in his mind. According to the fortuneteller, their quest was doomed. Not only that, but one of them would die before it was over.

  Melda was yelling now. “So, what? Should we go home? Let the Calavera destroy Estrelle and the rest of Emblem Island? Give up?” She shook her head. “We knew this journey would be difficult. But we set sail anyway.”

  Engle scoffed. “You saw the prophecy! We won’t even find the pearl, our quest will be useless. And one of us will die trying. We might as well go home and try to fight.”

  Melda scrunched her hands into fists. “I refuse to let a skull in a forgotten city rule my destiny. The future is fluid; it can be changed.”

  Vesper had been very quiet, sitting a few feet away from Tor, towel wet across her shoulders.

  Melda turned to her, eyes blazing. “And you? You sought out the oracle. You asked for this prophecy. Did you get the answer you wanted?”

  Tor braced himself for a fight.

  But Vesper simply looked up, expression blank. The fiery light in her eyes had vanished. “No. I didn’t,” she said, before retreating to her room.

  * * *

  Melda, Engle, and Tor held a vote. They were a team. The prophecy, to be believed or not, affected them all.

  “I say we keep going,” Melda said.

  Tor wanted to be as resolute as Melda. But deep inside, he saw the prophecy as a sign. Maybe they should turn back. Maybe they were in way over their heads…