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I n her chamber, Astraea blasted the oaken sword with another wave of spelled salt water. The scent of power, metallic and bitter, washed through her gills. She boiled the water, flushing her own cheeks even though she was well past the spell’s borders.

But nothing harmed the Earth Queen’s sword. The weapon remained whole, unblemished, unbroken despite the hundreds of attacks Astraea had thrown at it.

She had to destroy this sword and break the human’s spirit.

If she simply flooded the land again, the earth magic might rise and find a new way to disturb her plans.

Sadly, many of her army who had the ability to multiply the waters and thus flood the world had died in the fighting.

There were too few of them to attempt it now regardless of the oaken sword and the Earth Queen’s army.

Snarling in frustration, she went to her closet and removed a vial she’d taken from the Watcher’s cabinet before destroying the disgusting pit.

The vial was the green of a Jade dragon’s scales, glittering and tinged with the look of pure evil.

Swimming back to the sword, Astraea worked the cork from the vial.

She stretched an arm out over the carved blade.

The elf in the artwork there seemed to sneer.

“If you withstand this, weapon, I’ll be well and truly impressed.”

With careful movements, she poured a drop of the black liquid from the vial onto the wooden blade. The drop sizzled on its path, then landed against the hilt, not a mark in its wake.

“What? But how?” Astraea began to look closer but held herself in check, called up a spell to whisk the drop of deadly potion out of her window and into the currents where it would disintegrate enough to be harmless. Mostly.

Setting the vial in the netted shelves beside her chaise, Astraea chewed on a new idea. “The human will be searching for this. She is working with Lilia. Hmm…”

She circled the sword, thinking and tapping her nails against her spear. What guidance would Lilia give? She’d surely tell the Earth Queen that Astraea had most likely brought the sword here. But what advice would the stupid, self-serving rebel leader give the human about retrieving the weapon?

Astraea stilled. She would suggest using the retrieval spell, the same magic every sea kynd used to bring a weapon back after it had been lost or thrown in battle. Astraea’s mind flipped through the possibilities.

Ryton had turned Vahly into one of the sea folk. Lilia would do the same so that Vahly could use the retrieval spell.

She began to laugh, a rolling, ringing laugh that came from the deepest, darkest parts of her soul.

“Oh, you will be reunited with your sword, Queen Vahly. Worry not about that.”

At her dressing closet, she found the dress she’d been wearing the day she’d been captured. She removed one long, blonde hair from the pocket and held it to the shimmering light of the nautili positioned around the ceiling of her chamber.

“Perfect.”

There was a knock. Astraea pocketed the hair in her loose trousers, then flung open the doors of her chambers to see her guards holding the Watcher’s hunched form.

“Yes.” She grinned and snatched the Watcher’s thin arm to drag her inside.

“Did you enjoy betraying your queen, you disgusting wretch? Why the Source gave you the gift of Sight, I’ll never know.

Such an absolute waste.” She threw the crone against the wall and stared into her face.

The Watcher’s wrinkles deepened around her blind eyes and her withered lips. “Tell me how to destroy it.”

“How to destroy what?”

Astraea cracked her knuckles across the crone’s face. Blood snaked into the water. “The oaken sword. You know exactly what. Toy with me again, I dare you.”

The Watcher’s head turned so that if she’d had her eyes, they would have seen the oaken sword lashed as it was with rope to a stone bench at the far end of the chamber.

The nautili cast light over its carved figures.

It was just so impossibly ugly. So…earthy.

Wood was such a stupid thing for the world to choose as a conduit for such great power.

Even obsidian would have been a wiser choice, though Astraea would admit nothing of the sort to anyone.

Obsidian was the rock of the Earth Queens. Why wood?

“You have tried your own spells to break it apart?” The Watcher shuffled toward the weapon.

“Of course, fool. They have no effect. Simple violence against the wood does nothing either, though I’m sure if I had ten years with it, the sad material would rot like wood always does when faced with my ocean.”

The Watcher knelt beside the sword and ran a pale hand down its blade. She made a strange cooing sound that raised the tiny hairs on the back of Astraea’s neck.

“Well, don’t sing it a lullaby, old female.

Crush the life from it. You know this weapon means the end of all of us.

Or didn’t your new favorite, Lilia, tell you as much?

Did you not see this outcome yourself? I think you’re worthless.

Yes, I don’t even know why I had my guards bring you here.

You have lost your power, your wits, your mind. Get out. Get out!”

The Watcher turned slowly. “Your crown is gone, I see.”

Astraea grabbed her spear, shouted, and blasted the crone with a vicious current of boiling water. The Watcher remained kneeling, her head cocked like she was studying Astraea and the water around her, as calm as if no magic had been cast at all.

The Sea Queen blinked. The spell hadn’t ruined the old female.

She shook off the shock and tossed her blue hair.

“Fine. Your power remains. You’ve proven your point.

But don’t think I couldn’t have you torn apart by my warriors.

Now, destroy that sword or bid farewell to this life.

Or, if you cannot unmake the weapon, bind it to the Earth Queen. ”

The Watcher’s mouth opened. “But it is already bound to her.”

“No, I mean bind her to the sword. A true binding.”

“A bent sort of magic, that is.”

“And you’ll do it, or I’ll cut out your tongue.”

The Watcher smiled.

“What are you smiling for?” Astraea loomed over the Watcher, breathing heavy.

The fool always infuriated with her mad mumbling and nonsensical ways.

“Just do the binding.” She shoved the Earth Queen’s hair into the crone’s hand.

“Bind it tight. I will know if you disobey me. This is your last chance to live what life you have left.”

The Watcher pushed the tattered sleeves of her loose robe up her arms and moved her webbed fingers in a slow rhythm, up and down and to the side. With the hair between her finger and thumb, she whispered a spell, too quiet for Astraea to understand.

The Watcher stood. “It is done.”

Blackwater of the depths, why was she still smiling?

“Good. Now, go. Guards! Get this thing out of my sight before I have to slay it and ruin the water of my own bedroom.” The crone began to shuffle away, but Astraea pressed her hand into the Watcher’s chest. “Why did you go to the rebels? What did you learn there?”

“I go where the magic takes me, my queen.”

“Don’t even bother with the title. I know full well you aren’t loyal.” She gave the crone one last shove before spinning around and swimming to the doors. “Guards! Where are you?”

The guards burst into the room.

“Take this rubbish out of my castle,” Astraea said. “I never want to see her face again.”

As the guards dragged the Watcher toward the doors, the crone turned and looked at Astraea over one humped shoulder. “Your time grows near, my queen.”

Astraea smiled. “That’s the first wise thing you’ve said this day. Indeed, my greatest day is near, Watcher. Soon, the Earth Queen will come for her precious sword. Once she is under my sea, she will die.”

And then the Watcher was gone, and Astraea was left with the terrible weapon of her enemy.

“Now,” she said, swimming toward the oaken sword, “I think you and I need to take a trip to Scar Chasm. I do think the deepest part of the ocean will do nicely. That, and a boiling spell.”

She called up a whirl of water that lifted the sword and carried it behind her as she swam out of the castle, through the courtyard of tall, emerald coral. She had death on her mind and satisfaction in her heart.