Page 24

Chapter twenty-four

H e must die to save her life?

Raggon listened to Circe’s horrific command for Thessa to walk to the sea, to continue Undine’s curse and to let the waves consume her as seafoam.

But Undine hadn’t perished… how many times must he shout the truth for Thessa to believe him? The great ancestress of their people had transformed into a sylph; she’d become their great queen, who loved their king with a love that overcame their age-old rivalries. The mother of their line who bound souls to her will and called forth the memories of all who had ever touched water, whose essence flowed through every raindrop, every tear, every crashing wave.

And if he was wrong?

No, he wasn’t. Something more was happening here! Some… trick! He struggled against chains forged from the hateful sea steel—the rare alloy blocked him from shifting. “Thessa!” He reached for her. “Fight it! You’re stronger than her magic!”

The tightening of her jaw was the only sign that she’d heard him, the twitching of her fingers over Undine’s Blade, but that was the extent of her resistance against the horrible hypnotizing power of Circe’s command.

He’d felt that same force when Thessa had wielded her siren voice against him, but it hadn’t been poisoned with such vindictiveness, such cruel spite, as the way Circe wielded it. He watched helplessly as Thessa moved through the crushed pathway leading to the sparkling seas beyond, her movement not her own, and just like that she threw herself into Scylla’s waiting hands and disappeared from his life.

Raggon let out a shout wracked with pain and grief.

Circe giggled in return—her soul was truly made up of crow’s vomit and festering tide pools. “Ah, poor Shadow of the Tide.” She came to him, gathering the stiff fabric of her dress in one hand. “And there your mermaid goes—taking with her the power of the sylphs. Did she tell you that you couldn’t touch it?” A cruel smile twisted her lips. “What a disgusting trick to play on her most devoted servant.”

He glowered at her. Was she already trying to sow more seeds of distrust between them? It wouldn’t work. “Make up your mind, Circe,” he said. “Am I the enemy of the people that will break her curse or is she trying to edge me out of her power? Or maybe you’d have me believe both lies?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously on him, her laughter snapping into the temper that had her minions edging away. “She’d have you dead, Prince of the Sylphorians.”

“She thinks she’s sacrificing herself for me,” he hissed. “You and I know that’s not true!”

“Ha! So superior, so all-knowing—so stupid!” she hissed. “The Sylphorian royal line carries the blood of Undine—Poseidon’s own sister. Never mind that more than a thousand years divide you from your ancestress—you are an heir to the Divine Sea Sovereignty. A single touch is all it takes for you to claim the power for your own. It’s too bad really… you could’ve healed your brother with the powers that blade would’ve given you.”

Raggon kept his expression neutral, though her words struck him like a blow. A cold clarity washed over him as he forced himself to consider the possibility. “How can I touch the weapon if Undine became a Sylph? She left her heritage to join my ancestors’. She’s no longer mermaid.”

“And neither is that girl!” Circe cackled as her eyes followed the pathway that Thessa had used to leave them. “That’s a fine thing! You can’t just leave your bloodline after you walk away from it, lover boy. Why else would I send you after it?” Her eyes glittered with malevolent delight at his sharp intake of breath. “Too late now! You truly are a fool.” She whipped away from him.

His mind raced through the possibilities. If he could touch the blade without withering away—if he truly carried Undine’s birthright—it would change everything. He could drive the cursed dagger into the heart of their true enemy. He’d use it against all of them if he could!

Maddox lumbered forward, his massive frame casting a shadow that swallowed the ground between them. His yellowed teeth bared in a smug grin that Raggon itched to smash. “Should I send your beasts to shadow the little sea creature?”

“No…” Circe said with a dainty flutter of her fingers. “I won’t chance you hulking idiots breaking my spell over her. Scylla will be waiting for her out there… as I vowed I’d do from the beginning. From there… my contribution stops.”

Why? What was she planning after that?

Circe’s brow lifted, as if he’d asked it aloud, and swung to him with a mocking glare. “Your little maid will perish—nothing you can do short of breaking those bonds will stop it.”

Raggon’s heart lurched at the brightness of her unfeeling smiles as she tried to twist out his heart without lifting a sharpened nail.

How would she die? What could the witches do to her after she’d gained her sylph powers? Was it that Thessa wouldn’t understand how to use them? He’d never seen a transformation of a sylph, such a thing was unheard of in these times, but the process might possibly be painful, leave her weakened at first. He’d forever blame himself if he stood by and did nothing.

He clutched his chains. If his rage had physical form, it would have melted the sea steel to slag and set the world ablaze, and yet, he’d never stood a chance against these sister witches! They had centuries to scheme and wait for the moment that Poseidon could no longer interfere.

Not for an instant did he believe they’d let the power of Undine’s Blade disappear into the waves without a fight—but they couldn’t touch it either. What were these witches plotting? And possibly against each other? Even now, Circe’s whole body had grown stiff and impatient, as if she forced herself to remain rooted to that spot. Such self-control was unlike her. She’d turn against her sister in an instant.

How could he use that against them? What could he do, tied down with the chains of sea steel? The monstrous guards loomed in the jungle shadows—abominations with scales glinting beneath leathery skin and eyes that reflected no light. They stood in terrifying silence, barely breathing as they awaited their mistress’s command. Maddox was less patient, shifting from boot to boot, his belts of weapons clanging together like a traveling tinker’s cart. The bejeweled rings adorning his thick fingers caught the golden light of the late evening as he fidgeted with his sword hilt. “Where’s the rest of this treasure,” he asked.

“Oh…” Circe laughed, “when I’m done, every pearl and sapphire hidden in the deepest abyss will be ours. We’ll weigh down your ship with so many sunken treasures, you will sink under their weight.”

A grin rode on Maddox’s lips as no doubt he was calculating how to redesign the usual cheap décor of his quarters into something resembling a sultan’s harem dripping with his stolen riches. “And a mermaid of my own?” he asked. “I’ll have one of those.”

Circe rolled her eyes. “I’m sure they’ll elbow each other aside for a chance to join your crew.” Her voice rang with brittle sarcasm that barely masked her loathing.

Oh, she had no intention of letting him live, did she?

Raggon recognized the finality of her tone. After she’d transported a certain prince and his kindred dragon to their homeland, Maddox would lose his usefulness; Scylla would too! There’d be no stopping her then.

“Secure that dragon for transport!” Circe commanded. Her blood-red eyes fixed on the western sky where the sun edged closer to the horizon. “Handle the muzzle with care. We don’t need dragon fire reducing our vessel to cinders.”

Her tentacles released his leg as suddenly as she’d snatched him. “Bring him.” Circe ordered a hulking guard whose amphibian face stretched in a grotesque imitation of a smile. Massive, webbed claws, dripping with brackish slime, dragged him to his feet.

Just as he’d suspected—the witch wasn’t taking him back to the ship yet. This was never about accepting her hand in creepy matrimony. Bah! This was about the blade, the blood, the power—the ancient dance of deception that had been spinning since before he drew his first breath.

The beast shoved him toward a clearing where other guards honed curved blades against whetstone, the rasp of metal filling the humid air. They were preparing for battle—but who was left to conquer but Scylla?

Raggon was right. He steeled himself, his mind a storm as he tried to work out an escape before the chaos erupted. Undine’s descendants had powers! All of which were useless under these bonds. Even if he could free himself, he’d never escape Circe’s Siren voice.

Tobias whined out behind his muzzle. Under Maddox’s orders, the scaly guards wrestled the heavy iron-woven nets tight over the massive onyx wings with cruel efficiency. They yanked on the rope of his muzzle, wrenching his serpentine head to the ground. The dragon’s claws scrabbled at the earth, his massive snout sniffing desperately at something lying past his talons—the gleaming copper contraption that Raggon recognized instantly.

The wind whistler was within his brother’s grasp.

The intricate copper device with its tubes, bells, and spinning metal pieces lay partially buried in the jungle soil. It translated wave patterns into music, mimicked whale songs…

What would it do with a siren’s voice?

Raggon’s shoulders stiffened. Was Tobias trying to tell him something? The urgency behind the dragon’s movements made the wind whistler seem less like a toy and more like a… weapon.

Impossible! And yet—his attention drew to Tobias’s eyes—they’d returned to that gentle brown again! The beastly guards rounded the moaning Tobias onto a cart, away from his wind whistler, and began the laborious process of dragging him away.

His brother’s whine at leaving his invention was heartbreaking.

Sterling swooped down from the canopy, circling frantically. “Man the ship! Witch at the helm!” The bird’s shimmering wings flashed in the golden light as it landed beside the wind whistler, hooking its sharp beak into one of the copper tubes and dragging with determined effort… towards Raggon.

Circe stood at the jungle’s edge, a spyglass of bone and pearl pressed to her eye as she gazed toward the sea. Her tentacles writhed with anticipation. It wasn’t too difficult to figure out who she watched. Every second that passed brought Thessa closer to Scylla’s reach and then the battle would erupt.

Sterling struggled with the heavy instrument, the bird’s little body straining as it pushed and rolled the wind whistler across the ground. The copper device bumped and clanged over roots and stones, inching toward Raggon’s bare feet.

So far, no hint of suspicion cracked the face of his grotesque guards. With one final heave, the parrot sent the wind whistler rolling the last distance.

Raggon snatched the invention up, fingers finding the intricate wind-up mechanism. With his eyes on Circe’s turned back, he cranked his birthday gift furiously, the copper warming beneath his touch as the internal gears began to whir.

Circe turned with a shriek of rage, her siren song freezing him mid-motion, but not before the wind whistler burst into discordant life.

The device vibrated in his hands, its copper bells and tubes producing a cacophony that mimicked and distorted the siren’s call. The sounds collided in the jungle clearing, skipping over the turquoise waters of the lagoon—the pure, hypnotic notes of Circe’s stolen voice and the wind whistler’s mechanical mockery creating a dissonance that shattered the spell’s hold.

Circe’s blood-red eyes widened in shock as her song faltered. She opened her mouth wider, forcing more power into her command, but the wind whistler matched and twisted each note, the copper tubes spinning faster, the bells ringing louder.

The eerie paralyses over Raggon’s body broke. He crashed to the ground, uncurling his fingers, testing their nimbleness, before rolling to his feet. The nearest guard held the chain imprisoning him taut, trying to control him like a leashed dog—a fatal error in judgment. Raggon jerked forward, then suddenly reversed direction, yanking his beastly captor off balance. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the curved cutlass from the mutant’s scabbard and drove it between his ribs. As the guard collapsed, Raggon ripped the weapon free, the end of his chain clanking against the ground as he twisted to meet Maddox’s punishing blade.

Steel met steel with a deafening clang that vibrated up Raggon’s arm. Maddox’s sword was as mean and bullish as he was—heavy as a ship’s beam and bearing down on him with crushing force. Spittle flew from Maddox’s lips. “Ah, a sad sight you’ve become! No more of your disappearing tricks? Good. You’ll stay and take your beating, little prince.”

Raggon gritted his teeth, feet sliding in the soft jungle soil. He was used to being lighter than air, and now he was forced to rely on raw strength against the pirate king’s brutal hacking. Maddox’s muscles bulged beneath his filthy coat as he pushed forward.

A flash of movement caught Raggon’s eye—Circe, her face twisted with fury, tentacles whipping toward him. He ducked low, spinning away from Maddox’s blade. The first tentacle bounced off a tree, ripping the trunk in two. Another lobbed over his head. At the last second, Raggon dove to the side, using Maddox as his shield. The tentacle caught Maddox’s thick neck in a clumsy move that seemed oddly imprecise for her usually deadly accuracy. The pirate’s eyes bulged in surprise, then fury, as he was yanked off his feet and thrown against the wall of limestone with bone-crushing force. He slumped motionless, the cruel gleam draining from his features as death claimed him.

Circe’s clumsy rage had forced her to get rid of her minion a little too soon!

Chaos erupted around him as the shrieking guards ran for cover from her wildly flailing tentacles. There was a downside to creating an army of stupid beasts. Raggon darted between them, slashing at any that came too close, then dashing through the broken trees that created an opening for escape by Circe herself. The torn remnants of his shirt fluttered around him as he rushed through the jungle after Tobias. The beasts hadn’t taken his brother far before abandoning him at the first sound of battle. Raggon scrambled onto the cart, his chain dragging against the wood as he hacked at the rope-and-iron netting that imprisoned his wings.

“Hold still!” he shouted, sawing through the reinforced cords. The blade made slow progress, but midway through, Tobias seemed to understand. The dragon tensed, then with a mighty heave, unfurled his massive wings, tearing through the weakened netting in an explosion of snapped ropes and twisted metal.

The sudden movement knocked Raggon backward, but before he could fall, Tobias’s ridged tail whipped around, catching him mid-air and tossing him onto his back. Raggon landed hard against the obsidian scales, the air forced from his lungs.

A shriek broke through the trees. Circe had discovered them.

Raggon’s fingers scrambled over the slick scales to hold on. “Take me to my mermaid!”

Tobias reared back, a sound like thunder emanating from his chest, slightly muffled through the muzzle. His enormous wings beat once, twice, creating a windstorm that flattened the jungle vegetation. Circe’s tentacles shot through the fallen debris—unadvisedly so. She screeched as the first got caught under a landing tree. Had her scream sounded oddly… rehearsed? Raggon glanced back, half-expecting to see her signaling to someone in the trees. But there was only Circe, her face contorted with rage. Another tentacle scraped uselessly through the air, missing them by mere inches since they were already climbing into the sky with heart-wrenching speed. They were beyond her reach now, racing toward Thessa.

Raggon’s fingers slipped against the rough scales, finding no grip. In desperation, he grappled for the trailing end of the muzzle rope, using it like a horse’s rein—in the sky. High in the sky! Heart racing, he scrabbled for purchase with bare feet, finally wedging between two of the bony plates that protruded from the dragon’s spine.

The world tilted sickeningly as they rose above the jungle’s reach. The island spread below them, a lush oasis set in waters glittering like fire from the sinking sun, while the dangling chain snaked through the air around him with each violent movement. On the western shore, Raggon spotted a solitary figure wading into the surf—Thessa, that scarlet robe of hers billowing around her as the golden waves lapped at her knees like flames.

In the distance, dark shapes moved beneath the molten surface—sinuous tentacles reaching toward the shore. Scylla lurked in the depths, waiting… for what?

What was he missing?

Tobias banked hard, wings slicing through the air as they dove toward the beach. Halfway there, the dragon’s form shimmered, then—

Pop—they vanished, only to reappear seconds later near the shore. How? The sea steel should’ve prevented his brother from shifting… had the rest of the collar finally fallen away?

His eyes veered to the long sinewy neck, almost unwillingly. Typhon’s Kiss was gone. Raggon’s heart stuttered to a stop. That could only mean one thing—the dark iron had fully absorbed into his brother, no remnant left to trap the sea steel in place. The dragon form held his brother forever in its grip!

The sorrow cut him through, but he couldn’t dwell on it. Thessa now stood thigh-deep in a sea of flame, the horizon shimmering behind her.

Tobias landed with a spray of sand and foam, wings folding as Raggon slid from his back. Without waiting another instant, Raggon plunged into the surf, each step sending up splashes of gilded water. The salt stung the cuts and injuries sustained from this day, but what was that to the joy of seeing her, touching her, pulling her from the arms of danger?

Her chin rose as he approached, Undine’s Blade glowing in her hand. The gold sky reflected in her dark eyes, which blinked with confusion. He grabbed her free hand, massaging her fingers gently, trying to bring her back to him.

“Why are we here?” she asked in a voice that sounded far too distant.

“Circe sent you here to—to follow Undine’s steps.” His voice broke with urgency. “Thessa, listen to me. Believe me, please! Dissolving into seafoam means you’ll turn into a sylph—you’re going to survive this! You just have to know how to use these powers! I can teach you.” In a way, he could. Though the blood of human consorts had tempered her gifts, they had a chance! His heart thundered against his ribs. “Undine turned into a goddess of the air, a beautiful, powerful being that served her people all her days. All royalty has her blood—you’re going to be like me, but more!” Pure unadulterated power, actually.

Her gaze drew to the collar on his own neck. The enchanted sea steel felt heavy against his skin. “I need to free you!” she said. Was she not listening? Once she faced her transformation, she could defeat all these witches and more, but not if she couldn’t handle these powers!

“Hold very still,” she whispered, raising the blade. The edge mirrored the sinking sun as she touched the sharpened point to his collar. The metal fell away into the golden waves with a quiet splash.

Liberating him had been so simple! Could he do the same for her?

Sighing, she buried into his arms. Relief filled him at holding her again—her softness, the scent of her hair mingling with the salty air—she had always belonged in the sanctuary of his embrace. “I can cut your brother free too,” she breathed into his neck, her lips warm against his skin.

“Clam? You’re driving me crazy.” How did he get her to take him seriously? He clutched at his country’s coin hanging from her neck, pointing to the ornate relief that caught the light. The coin’s polished surface gleamed with the regal profile of a woman whose delicate features were framed by flowing hair. The queen’s serene expression and proud bearing was the emblem of their people’s bravery. “This is Undine, our queen! You’re going to be fine—different, but a Sylph—way more powerful, but… we’ve just got to get you away…”

A resonant rumble drew their attention as Tobias splashed into the waves with them, his long tail carving elegant furrows through the glittering surf.

“Tobias.” She broke away from Raggon, reaching toward the dragon—the hope in her eyes breaking his heart. The dragon hesitated, then skipped backward, powerful legs propelling him just beyond her reach. He launched into the air again, hovering tantalizingly close before retreating farther.

The sight twisted into his gut—his brother’s playful dance, even in this monstrous form, and Thessa’s tears glinting like rubies in the sunlight as she splashed after him. “Where’s his collar?”

“Gone…” he answered. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“Of course, there is! There has to be!”

Her desperation made his breath catch. His mermaid thought she only had until sunset to free his brother before she melted into nothing. And tragically, she believed Raggon’s life would be spared at this final sacrifice she was prepared to make—just as Scylla had wanted her to do, after falling in love with him.

Was this Scylla’s plan all along? The woman knew Thessa would turn into a Sylph if she didn’t turn the blade on the enemy of her people—only then would his mermaid have the dizzying command over air and seas, an ancient magic that had been diluted for thousands of years through his bloodline, a force whose true potential Raggon couldn’t even begin to comprehend!

But why would Scylla want Thessa to have such mastery of the elements?

His attention veered back to the tentacles writhing further out, cutting ribbons of gold and crimson through their wake. Scylla waited for them out there. A coldness seeped into his belly as Thessa moved deeper into the water.

Oh, depths! He knew what the Sea Witch wanted—and it wasn’t the blade, was it?

Raggon tugged Thessa back, catching her around the waist, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You promised Scylla your powers. She’s coming after you!”

“She has them already…”

“No! This world can barely hold the magic you will possess—and you made with her a bargain; you promised all the power you had for those legs. The witches just needed you to do this—all of this—touch the blade, refuse to kill your prince, and turn to—to the empress of the skies, so she can pounce on you! Thessa, listen to me! Scylla will drain you like a wineskin until there’s nothing left of you.”

Other than a flinch, the paleness of Thessa’s face hardly changed—she’d already expected her death, but didn’t she see? This terrifying power would be stolen and used against her people… and against Raggon’s.

And he was the only one who could stop this unparalleled disaster. The witches would keep their distance until she’d made her transformation into a Sylph. Their hearts were far from his reach… only one enemy’s was near.

How had it come to this? He was supposed to grow old with Thessa, have little Sylphorian babies, dance under more sunsets like the one now looming—a harbinger of doom for the woman who had captivated his very soul!

And he’d sworn to protect his people, his brother, and now as he drank her in—her goodness, her sweetness, and everything he wasn’t—his hands tightened on her. He’d protect her to the death.

“Honey,” he said… “you’ve got to do this one last thing…” His urgency made his words stumble as he realized exactly what must happen. How did he make her understand? “Circe was right. You have to put that blade through the heart of your enemy.” He took a steadying breath, knowing what she’d say, preparing himself for her objections. “That’s me . Just do… it. Free your father and stop this madness against our people!”

Her eyes widened. He knew she’d put up a fight, she always did. Behind her, he noticed the dreadful march of Circe’s beasts as they emerged from the jungle. That was the true reason they’d prepared for war. They’d take Thessa at her transformation. The golden hour was fast dwindling away. How could he convince her that this was the only way?

That’s when Circe’s words from earlier hit him full force—Thessa wasn’t the only one who could touch Undine’s blade.

He caught her wrist. “You’re not alone in this anymore.” His royal blood carried the same legacy as hers. Circe had hinted what could be done. Did that make him a fool to listen to a witch? None of that mattered anymore. “I’ll take that blade and drive it through myself,” he said, “if that’s what it takes to save you from falling into their hands.”

“Please, stop!” Tears spilled down her cheeks, the droplets catching the light from the fiery sun. He was powerless against those tears, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” He’d never let the witches suck her dry of her sylph soul. Why couldn’t she understand? Scylla had realized the danger, knew what would happen if Thessa didn’t love him, but she hadn’t guessed the all, never imagined the consequence of Raggon falling head over heels for his little mermaid.

It was about time these Sucti realized they were dealing with a Sylphorian prince—unfortunately for them, after what they did to his family, they’d made a pirate out of him. It was no longer in his blood to surrender in the face of the impossible, especially when he could lose a love like this.

Let Scylla and Circe make their schemes—they’d never take his heart.