Page 17 of Pets in Space 10

Landry opened his eyes, desperate to see through the murky shadows, searching — there. A shape struggling near the bottom, thrashing violently. Landry kicked hard, muscles burning as he dove deeper.

His fingers stretched —

Almost.

He reached for Hog’s hand.

Their fingertips brushed.

A flicker of hope surged through him — before Hog was ripped away.

No — no, dammit! Landry’s exhaled curse sent a stream of bubbles bursting from his mouth.

He was kicking upwards when a flash of color swept past him — twin streaks: one sapphire and cobalt, the other a shimmering kaleidoscope of pinks, reds, and violets.

Pug and Lilypad.

They surged past him like underwater missiles, chasing the serpent’s coils.

Landry angled his body toward where Hog had disappeared, lungs screaming for air. The hunting knife at his waist glinted in the filtered sunlight. He yanked it free and slashed downward through the water, chasing the fading trail of bubbles.

His vision blurred.

Black spots pulsed at the edges.

Air. You need air. Now.

But he wouldn’t leave Hog.

Unable to deny his protesting lungs’ demand for oxygen, he kicked upward. He broke the surface with a desperate gasp, sucking in a lungful of humid air. He twisted in the water, flinging droplets from his face just as he heard Cap and Tyson shout.

“There! Hog! He’s coming in!”

Landry spun, saw Hog’s broad shoulders breaking through the surface as he swam toward the deck, blood trailing from a gash along his arm. Tyson leaned over, yelling encouragement, reaching out to grab him.

Relief surged through Landry so fast he nearly sank beneath the water. He twisted toward the cabin and began swimming. He was less than ten feet from the safety of the cabin when the water behind him shifted.

Not a ripple. A pull.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

He didn’t hesitate.

He sucked in a deep breath right as something snapped around his waist with a punishing force that squeezed the precious gulp of air he had taken out of his lungs.

Pain lanced through his ribs like molten knives.

The pressure was unbearable — crushing — as Ceto’s coils tightened, her slick tail wrapping around him like a vice of bone and hate. His head lolled, limbs limp, the knife gone to the depths. His strength bled out like ink into water.

Black spots danced before his eyes.

He was going to die.

But then —

Light.

A surge of raw, electric light.

He blinked, trying to clear the fog of pain and oxygen deprivation.

Above the water, Harmonia hovered like something out of legend — his legend.

Her body radiated a pulsing blue glow that shimmered over the bayou like moonlight on oil. Her hands were raised, her fingers spread wide, her voice rising into the thick, humid air with an ancient rhythm that thrummed through his bones.

He didn’t understand the words with his ears — but he knew them.

He felt them.

She was calling them.

The Stormhold line.

Shadows flickered behind her.

One by one, ghostly figures emerged — Selene, William, Malcolm, Gloria, Sarah, Mavis, Arastan, Lyia — a circle of translucent light and power forming to encircle Ceto.

Their names echoed in his mind like a sacred song.

His chest burned with unbearable pressure — and something else.

Love.

Love for the woman glowing like a goddess, her hair crackling with magic, her eyes blazing with fury and sorrow. Love filled every fractured part of him and made him fight to stay conscious. To live.

Then Ceto hissed, low and furious.

Her tail coiled tighter.

He screamed, the sound ragged, torn from his chest like a death rattle.

His gaze found Harmonia’s. His lips trembled as he tried to show her, one last time, everything she meant to him.

“I love you,” he mouthed, his eyes locking with hers in resignation. “End it. Do it. For all of us.”

As his ribs cracked, a white-hot agony radiated through his chest, dimming his vision until everything swam in a hazy darkness.

Harmonia’s eyes widened, brimming with tears — and fire.

As if she could feel his pain.

And then she raised her hand.

In her palm gleamed a golden ring.

The ring.

The one Lilypad had given her. The one he had forgotten about.

Now it pulsed with eerie, golden life, threads of power coiling around her fingers like living light.

Her voice deepened. It wasn’t just her speaking anymore — it was all of them.

Her ancestors.

The ring burst open like a flower of flame and frost, unfurling in waves that warped the very air.

A rift formed in the space behind her — a swirling void that yawned like the mouth of hell.

Only this hell wasn’t fire.

It was ice.

Endless.

Unforgiving.

Black ice stretched as far as the eye could see, the bodies of souls trapped beneath the surface — screaming without sound, frozen in time and torment.

A void that devoured light.

That fed on misery.

That sucked magic away from any being caught in its web.

Ceto recoiled — but too late.

Tendrils of magic burst from the ring, invisible threads that sank deep into her pulsing form. The light pierced through the serpent’s hide, winding their way toward her soul — exposing it.

Ceto’s tortured screams filled the air. Landry groaned when the pressure around his body lessened as the serpent mage writhed in agony. He drew in a painful breath, tears burning his eyes at the relief.

“By the Stormhold bloodline,” Harmonia cried, her voice echoing with power and pain, “you are undone!”

Ceto’s outraged fury ripped through the bayou like a hurricane wind.

The swamp trembled. Birds took flight. Trees bent against the power of the magic tearing away all the poison Ceto had spread through the vast, wild, and fertile landscape.

Farther down the channel, villagers paused to offer a prayer, drawn to the haunting cry of a darkness being undone.

Pride and love glistened in his eyes as he watched Harmonia — her arms stretched wide, the power of her lineage burning in her veins.

She wasn’t just a mage.

Not just the woman he loved.

She was a Stormhold.

And Ceto — this ancient evil — was nothing in the face of that legacy.

Ceto shrieked as her form withered, her flesh turning gray, then translucent — until nothing remained but a brittle husk.

Still caught in the serpent’s ribcage, Landry watched as the ring snapped shut.

Like a puppet whose strings had been sliced, the husk of the serpent fell to the dark water below, dragging him with it.

He saw Harmonia’s face twist in horror, her hands reaching toward him even as the glow surrounding her dissolved. She had given every ounce of her energy to summon and bind the dark magic that defeated Ceto.

He tried to reach for her. To give what little life he had left in his body to protect her, but he was helpless. Instead, he watched in despair as she tumbled from the sky and plunged into the bayou.

Darkness closed over him again as he sank beneath the surface.

He reached for her. His arms floating limply as he sank deeper into the dark abyss. His eyelids fluttered as the dark edge of unconsciousness clouded his mind.

Then — he felt a tug on his collar.

Tiny claws grasped his shirt, his arms, his belt.

Then another pair of hands, these warm, familiar.

Harmonia.

This time, she had caught him. The spell she cast was weak, but it wove around them like a protective cocoon.

He released a shuddering, pain-filled breath as they broke the surface together, sputtering and gasping for air.

Arms dragged him from the water.

Cap. Tyson. Hog.

“Come on, boy!” Cap wheezed. “Don’t you die on me now!”

Landry coughed, water pouring from his mouth as he collapsed on his side on the deck, Harmonia in his arms, barely breathing but alive.

He held her tight.

His body shook with emotion as he held Harmonia, uncaring that the others could see the tremors racking him, or hear the tortured sobs tearing from his throat. She was safe. It was over, and she was safe. That was all that mattered to him.

“I love you, Harmonia Stormhold. I love you so damn much it hurts,” he croaked out, threading his fingers through hers and holding her as tightly as his bruised and battered body would let him.

Out in the heart of the swamp, the ring floated — silent, suspended.

Then, like a secret kept too long, it slipped beneath the surface, vanishing into the murky depths of the Louisiana bayou.