Chapter four
KRAK'ZOL
Imoogeen’s hand in mine feels right, like a weapon perfectly balanced for battle. Her fingers are small, fragile-looking things, but I can feel the strength in them. Good. She’ll need that strength for what’s coming. I lead her through the twisting passages of my territory, every instinct screaming to claim her, to keep her safe from the threats lurking in the shadows. Her scent fills the water around us—salt, defiance, and something human. It makes my fangs ache, my claws flex. I have to focus. There’s no time for distraction, not with Rynor’s treachery poisoning the Abyss.
We approach the war chamber, and I feel her tense beside me. Her warrior’s instincts are sharp, even in this alien environment. Good. She’ll need that edge in the coming days.
“Before we enter,” I rumble, pausing outside the intricately carved doors, “there’s something you should know.”
Imoogeen arches an eyebrow, a gesture I’m quickly coming to associate with her particular brand of stubborn skepticism. “More secrets, Your Highness? I thought we had a deal.”
The use of my title, dripping with sarcasm, sends a thrill through me. Such fire, even in the face of the unknown. My little warrior truly is my perfect match.
“Not secrets,” I correct, resisting the urge to pull her closer. “A warning. My advisor, Zorath, can be . . . intense. He may not approve of your presence here.”
She lets out a sharp sound, halfway between a laugh and a snort. The noise stirs something primal in me—a mix of amusement and possessiveness. My little warrior, fierce even in her moments of mirth. “Shocking. An alien warlord’s right-hand man might not like the human captive. Who could have guessed?”
I growl low in my throat, my tail lashing behind me. “You are not a captive.”
“Keep telling yourself that, fish-face,” she mutters, but there’s less bite in her tone than before.
Before I can respond, the massive coral doors swing open with a groan that echoes through the water, sending a shiver of pressure against my skin, revealing the cavernous war chamber beyond.
The space stretches out before us, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadows pierced only by the eerie glow of bioluminescent creatures clinging to the rocky outcroppings. Intricate tapestries of woven seaweed and precious stones line the walls, depicting epic battles and mythical sea beasts that seem to writhe in the shifting light.
At the center of the chamber stands an enormous table carved from a single slab of obsidian, its surface etched with detailed maps of the Abyss and surrounding territories. Glowing crystals mark key locations in my kingdom, pulsing with an inner light that casts dancing shadows across the room.
Zorath stands at the far end, his scarred frame a living testament to countless battles fought and won. His skin, a mottled grey darker than Krak’zol’s, bears the raised patterns of ritual scars that speak of his high rank. Muscles ripple beneath his scaled hide as he turns, his massive tail sweeping a graceful arc through the water. His eyes, black as the deepest trench, fix on Imogen with predatory focus, assessing and cataloging every detail of the newcomer in their midst.
“My king,” he rumbles, voice like gravel over steel. “I see you’ve brought your . . . guest.”
The way Zorath says “guest” sends a ripple of irritation through my scales. I feel Imoogeen tense beside me, her quickening pulse a siren call to my protective instincts. Without conscious thought, I shift, positioning my bulk between her and Zorath’s piercing gaze. For a fleeting moment, I catch a flicker of something in Zorath’s dark eyes—not just skepticism, but almost . . . guarded. It’s gone as quickly as it appears, masked by his usual impassivity.
“This is Imoogeen,” I declare, my voice rumbling with the full authority of the Leviathan throne. “She stands with us against Rynor’s treachery.”
Zorath’s expression remains impassive, but the slight flutter of his gills betrays his surprise. And perhaps, that fleeting shadow I saw before was not surprise, but recognition. My inner beast purrs with satisfaction. Good. Let him be unsettled.
“I see,” Zorath intones, his skepticism barely veiled. His gaze lingers on Imoogeen for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, a subtle calculation in his dark eyes. “And how does an alien surface-dweller propose to aid us in the intricacies of Leviathan politics?”
I open my mouth, ready to assert Imoogeen’s value, but she surges forward before I can speak. The fierce set of her jaw, the defiant lift of her chin—it makes my blood sing.
“By offering a perspective your stagnant depths clearly lack,” she challenges, her voice as steady as the deepest currents. “Sometimes it takes an outsider to see the cracks in your precious system.”
Pride swells in my chest, and I unconsciously straighten, my tail lashing once in satisfaction. My little warrior, facing down one of the Abyss’s most formidable minds without flinching. She truly is my perfect match.
Zorath’s eyes narrow, but I catch the ghost of respect in his gaze. “Bold words, little one. Let’s hope you can back them up with action.”
“That’s enough,” I growl, my patience wearing thin. “Imoogeen is here as my equal, Zorath. You will treat her with the respect her position demands.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and I feel Imoogeen’s sharp intake of breath. She turns to me, those fierce green eyes wide with surprise and something else—a flicker of heat that makes my blood sing.
“Equal?” she asks, her voice low enough that only I can hear. “I thought I was your prisoner.”
I lean close, my chest rumbling with a possessive growl. “Prisoner? No, little warrior. You are my match, my future queen.” My claws trace the emerging scales along her neck, relishing her shiver. “The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can face our enemies together.”
She shivers, and I have to fight the urge to wrap her in my arms, to shield her from Zorath’s calculating gaze and the dangers that lurk beyond these walls. But she is not some fragile thing to be coddled. She is a warrior, my equal. And it’s time she understood exactly what that means.
I turn back to Zorath, keeping Imoogeen close to my side. “Tell us what you’ve learned about Rynor’s movements.”
Zorath nods, his demeanor shifting from wary to all business. He waves a hand over the massive stone table that dominates the center of the room, and suddenly the surface comes alive with swirling patterns of bioluminescent algae. They form a three-dimensional map of the Abyss, each pulsing light representing a different faction, a different potential threat.
“Rynor has been busy,” Zorath says, his claw tracing a pattern of red lights that cluster near the eastern border of our territory. “He’s been gathering supporters among the lesser houses, promising them power and territory once he takes the throne.”
I feel Imoogeen lean forward, her eyes sharp as she studies the map. “These red lights,” she says, pointing to a particularly dense cluster, “they’re not evenly distributed. They’re concentrated here, near this . . . what is that? A trench?”
Zorath’s eyes widen slightly, clearly not expecting such astute observation from a surface-dweller. “The Obsidian Chasm,” he confirms. “It’s a source of rare minerals and crystals, vital to our people’s technology and energy manipulation abilities.”
Imoogeen nods, her mind clearly working through tactical possibilities. “So he’s not just gathering allies,” she muses. “He’s positioning them strategically. Cutting off your access to resources.”
Pride swells in my chest. My little warrior, already proving her worth. “Clever human,” I purr, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice.
She shoots me a look that’s part annoyance, part something warmer. “I’m not a pet to be praised, Krak’zol.”
“No,” I agree, letting my hand rest possessively on the small of her back. “You’re so much more than that.”
Zorath clears his throat, drawing our attention back to the matter at hand. “Your . . . companion . . . is correct,” he says, grudging respect in his tone. “Rynor is moving to isolate us, both politically and economically. But that’s not the worst of it.”
With another wave of his hand, the map shifts, zooming in on a section of the Abyss I know all too well—the Heart of the Deep, where the very essence of our power resides. A pulsing blue light at its center represents the ancient crystal formation that has sustained our people for millennia.
“He means to claim the Heart,” I growl, fury building in my chest. “To drain it of its power and use it against us.”
Imoogeen’s sharp intake of breath tells me she understands the gravity of the situation. “And if he succeeds?”
“Then the Abyss dies,” Zorath says bluntly. “And with it, all hope of peace between our people and yours.”
I feel Imoogeen tense beside me, her mind no doubt racing through the implications. Her gaze locks onto mine, fierce and probing. “Why would Rynor do this? He’s your brother, isn’t he? This is his home too. Surely he must understand the consequences.”
Her question cuts deep, forcing me to confront the painful truth of my brother’s betrayal. I clench my fists, claws digging into my palms. “Rynor . . . he’s always craved power above all else. He believes he can control the Heart, harness its energy without destroying it. But he’s wrong.”
“And your people?” Imoogeen presses, her tone sharp. “Is he willing to sacrifice them too?”
I meet her gaze, seeing the fierce protectiveness there that first drew me to her. “Rynor sees them as a means to an end. He believes that with enough power, he can reshape the Abyss, create a new order with him at its center.”
Imoogeen’s eyes narrow, her tactical mind clearly working through the implications. “My team,” she says, her voice tight with renewed urgency. “If Rynor’s making his move, they could be in danger. We need to get them to safety.”
“No.” The word comes out as a growl, my protective instincts flaring. “It’s too dangerous. Rynor will be watching for any movement on the surface. If we try to extract your people now, we’ll only be painting a target on their backs.”
Imoogeen whirls on me, those green eyes blazing with fury. “So we just leave them there? Vulnerable and exposed?”
I catch her wrist as she moves to shove me, my grip gentle but unyielding. “Listen to me,” I say, forcing my voice to remain calm despite the storm of emotions raging within me. “Your team is safer where they are for now. The surface kings may be duplicitous, but they won’t risk open conflict while the negotiations are ongoing. We have time.”
“Time for what?” she demands, not backing down an inch despite our size difference.
I lean close, letting her feel the full weight of my presence. “Time to strike first,” I growl. “To cut off Rynor’s support and secure the Heart before he can make his move.”
Zorath nods approvingly. “A preemptive strike could work,” he says. “But we’ll need to move quickly. Rynor’s allies grow stronger by the day.”
Imoogeen’s eyes narrow, her tactical mind clearly working through the possibilities. “And where do I fit into all this?” she asks. “You didn’t bring me here just to look at pretty maps and state the obvious.”
I can’t help the rumble of amusement that escapes me. Even facing down ancient rivalries and the potential destruction of two civilizations, my little warrior maintains her fire. “You, my fierce one, are the key to all of this.”
She arches an eyebrow, skepticism written across her features. “Me? How?”
I gesture to the map, highlighting the complex network of alliances and factions that make up the political landscape of the Abyss. “Our people have been isolated for too long,” I explain, my voice a low rumble. “Set in our ways, resistant to change beyond our borders.” My gaze locks onto Imogen, assessing her reactions. “Your presence here, while unexpected, offers a unique opportunity. A perspective from the surface world that could provide valuable insights.”
I trace a claw along the map, careful not to damage the delicate crystals. “Your military training and tactical mind give you a unique perspective. You’ve faced threats, planned strategies in unfamiliar terrain. That, combined with my knowledge of the Abyss, could prove invaluable.”
I watch Imoogeen’s eyes narrow as she studies the map, her analytical mind clearly at work. “I may not know the players yet,” she says, “but I know how to read a battlefield. These currents here,” she points to a swirling pattern of crystals, “they’re natural choke points, aren’t they? Perfect for an ambush.”
Her quick assessment sends a surge of pride through me. “Precisely, mine . You see why I value your insight?”
Imoogeen doesn’t pull away from my touch when I move closer to her, but I can see the wheels turning behind those fierce eyes. “You want me to help you outsmart your brother,” she says, realization dawning. “To use my ‘human perspective’ to find weaknesses in his strategy.”
“Not just that,” I say, my voice dropping to a low rumble. “I want you by my side as we face this threat. As my equal, my partner.” I lean closer, inhaling her intoxicating scent. “As my mate.”
The word hangs between us, heavy with implication. I feel her pulse quicken, see the flush that creeps up her neck. For a moment, I think she might pull away, might reject the offer outright. But then something shifts in her gaze—a spark of determination, of curiosity.
“I’m not agreeing to anything long-term,” she says, her voice steady despite the tremor I can feel running through her. “But if working with you is the best way to keep my people safe and stop your brother from destroying everything . . . then I’m in.”
Relief and triumph surge through me in equal measure. I want to claim her here and now, to mark her as mine for all to see. But I force myself to remain still, to give her the space she needs. “A wise decision, little warrior,” I purr. “Together, we will be unstoppable.”
Zorath clears his throat, reminding us of his presence. “If you two are quite finished,” he says dryly, “perhaps we can return to the matter at hand? We have a war to plan, after all.”
Imoogeen straightens, all business once more. “Right. So, where do we start?”
As Zorath begins outlining our initial strategy, I marvel at the brave creature beside me. My little warrior, already adapting to life in the Abyss, already proving her worth as a strategist and ally. Pride swells in my chest, along with a possessiveness so intense it threatens to overwhelm me.
She may not fully accept her place as my mate yet, but she will. In time, she’ll come to see that we are two halves of a whole, perfectly matched in every way. And when she does . . . well . The Abyss itself will tremble before our combined might.