Chapter five
IMOGEN
The gentle current tugs at my hair as I make my way through the winding corridors of Krak’zol’s underwater palace.
Each step feels both alien and unnervingly natural, my body adapting to this new environment faster than my mind can process.
I catch glimpses of my reflection in polished shell surfaces—the faint shimmer of scales along my arms, the slight webbing between my fingers.
It’s like looking at a stranger wearing my face.
I’m so lost in thought that I nearly collide with a figure emerging from an archway.
Instinct takes over, and I drop into a defensive stance before I can fully process what I’m seeing.
The creature before me is clearly Leviathan, but unlike any I’ve encountered so far.
Her form is more slender than Krak’zol’s, with iridescent scales that catch the light in mesmerizing patterns.
What strikes me most, though, are her eyes—a swirling mix of blues and greens that seem to hold entire oceans within them.
“You must be Imoogeen,” she says, her voice melodic and soothing.
“I am Nira, the royal healer. Krak’zol asked me to tend to you.”
I force myself to relax, though wariness still thrums through my veins.
“Tend to me? I’m not injured.”
Nira’s laugh is like bubbles rising to the surface, light but with an undercurrent that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“No, but you are changing. The bond-bite brings more than just physical alterations. I’m here to help you understand and navigate those changes.”
The mention of the bond-bite sends a shiver down my spine, heat blooming across my skin as I remember Krak’zol’s fangs against my neck—the pressure, the sharp sting, the rush of something foreign and intoxicating flooding my veins.
I shake my head, forcing the memory away.
“Fine. Lead the way.”
The corridors narrow as we descend, the water growing denser, heavier against my skin.
Each turn reveals new wonders that make me pause despite myself.
Luminescent algae trace delicate patterns along the ceiling, pulsing in rhythmic waves that cast everything in an ethereal blue glow.
My fingertips brush against the wall, and I’m startled by the texture—not cold stone, as I expected, but something alive, warm, and slightly yielding beneath my touch.
“What is this?” I murmur, unable to contain my curiosity.
“Living coral,” Nira answers, her melodic voice echoing strangely in the enclosed space.
“Our structures grow with us, shaped by our needs and desires.”
As we descend deeper, the embedded mother-of-pearl in the walls grows more abundant, transforming from occasional accents to entire sections that shimmer like captured moonlight.
The iridescent surfaces catch and refract the bioluminescent glow, creating kaleidoscopic patterns that dance across my skin.
The effect is disorienting and beautiful—like walking through the inside of some massive, living jewel.
The water carries strange scents—mineral-rich currents mingled with something herbal and unfamiliar.
I feel it in my newly sensitive gills, taste it on my tongue.
My body responds to this environment in ways my mind still struggles to comprehend, instinctively adjusting to pressure changes I wouldn’t have survived a week ago.
When we finally reach Nira’s chamber, I stop at the entrance, momentarily overwhelmed by the sensory experience awaiting me inside.
The space feels ancient and alive, like stepping inside a living organism rather than a room.
Glowing creatures pulse in glass orbs suspended from the ceiling, their gentle rhythm almost hypnotic.
They cast everything in an otherworldly blue-green glow that makes my newly sensitive eyes tingle.
Shelves carved directly into the coral walls hold countless vessels—translucent shells, polished stone jars, and delicate glass vials filled with liquids in colors I’ve never seen before.
“Sit,” Nira instructs, gesturing to a raised platform covered in what appears to be living moss.
When I lower myself onto it, the surface shifts beneath me, molding perfectly to my body’s contours.
I fight the urge to jump back up as it cradles me like a sentient embrace.
Nira’s webbed hands are cool against my skin as she examines me, her touch clinical but not unkind.
Her touch is cool and clinical, a contrast to the heat of Krak’zol’s hand.
The thought sent an unwelcome shiver through me.
I watch her face as she works, noting the slight furrow between her brows, the focused intensity of her gaze.
“The changes are progressing well,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me.
Her fingers trace the faint pattern of scales emerging along my forearms, their iridescent sheen catching the light.
“Your body is adapting quickly to the Abyss.”
“That’s what worries me,” I admit, the words escaping before I can stop them.
I flex my fingers, watching the subtle webbing between them stretch and contract.
“It feels like I’m losing myself. Like I’m becoming . . . something else entirely.”
Nira’s eyes meet mine, swirling depths filled with understanding and something deeper—wisdom tinged with what might be regret.
“Change does not mean loss, Imoogeen. You are becoming more, not less. The bond-bite awakens potential that already exists within you.”
I snort, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
“Potential to be what? Krak’zol’s perfect little mate?” My hand unconsciously rises to my neck, fingers tracing the mark he left there.
“To be his equal,” Nira corrects gently.
“The bond-bite is not about subjugation. It is a joining of equals, a melding of strengths.” She continues her examination, her fingers pausing at my pulse point.
“Krak’zol chose you because he saw something in you that complements his own nature.”
Her words stir something deep within me, a mix of longing and fear that I’m not ready to examine too closely.
“You speak from experience?” I ask, studying her face.
“Do you have a bond-mate?”
A shadow passes over Nira’s features, quick but unmistakable.
Her hands falter for just a moment before resuming their work.
“My personal history is not relevant to your treatment,” she says, her melodic voice suddenly distant.
Something in her evasion makes my stomach clench.
I glance at her slender form, her graceful movements, the way her scales shimmer with an almost hypnotic beauty.
Had she and Krak’zol once shared this bond?
The thought sends an unexpected stab of jealousy through me, sharp and raw.
It’s ridiculous.
Illogical.
And yet, the image of them together, connected in the way I’m beginning to understand, burns .
“I think it is relevant,” I press, catching her wrist.
My voice comes out harder than intended.
“If I’m going to trust you with my transformation, I need to know you understand what I’m going through.” I swallow, forcing myself to ask the question burning in my throat.
“Were you and Krak’zol ever . . . connected?”
Nira’s eyes widen slightly, then soften with something like pity.
“No, Imoogeen. Not in the way you’re thinking.” She gently extracts her hand from my grip.
“I understand more than you know,” she says quietly, pain threading through her words.
“But today is about you, not me.” The finality in her tone makes it clear the subject is closed.
The knot in my stomach loosens, though I hate myself for the relief that floods through me.
I decide not to push further—for now.
“Tell me about the bond, then,” I say instead, steering the conversation to safer waters.
“What exactly is happening to me?”
Nira’s hands continue their examination as she speaks, her touch soothing despite the lingering tension between us.
“The bond-bite introduces Leviathan DNA into your system, awakening latent abilities and adapting your body to life in the Abyss.” She presses gently on my ribcage.
“Your lungs are already developing secondary chambers to process water more efficiently. You’ll find yourself stronger, faster, more attuned to the currents around you.”
I flex my hand, watching the play of new muscles rippling beneath my skin.
I’m simultaneously fascinated and horrified by the changes—my body becoming a stranger to me with each passing hour.
“I’ve noticed that. The other day, I shattered a coral cup without even trying.” I swallow hard.
“But it’s more than just physical, isn’t it?”
Nira nods, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth even as something wistful lingers in her eyes.
“The bond creates a connection between mates. You’ll become more aware of Krak’zol’s presence, his emotions. In time, you may even be able to communicate without words.”
The idea sends a jolt of panic through me.
I sit up straighter, dislodging her hands.
“I don’t want him in my head,” I protest, my voice sharp with alarm.
“I need to keep my thoughts my own. That’s—that’s the only thing I have left that’s still completely mine.”
“The bond does not strip away your autonomy,” Nira assures me, her tone gentler now.
“It is a bridge, not a chain. You control how much you share, how deeply you allow the connection to form.” She hesitates, then adds, “Though fighting it entirely can be . . . painful, for both parties.”
I run my fingers along the faint shimmer of scales on my forearm, a cold dread settling in my stomach.
“Will I even look human when this is done? Or will I become something . . . unrecognizable?”
Nira’s expression softens, understanding flickering in those ocean-deep eyes.
“You will remain yourself, Imogen. The changes enhance rather than replace.” Her webbed fingers brush gently over my arm where the scales catch the light.
“You will appear human to most eyes, but with . . . certain additions that allow you to thrive here.”
“Additions,” I repeat, not entirely reassured.
Great, what’s next, more gills and a blowhole?
My mind races with possibilities, each more alarming than the last.
“Like what, exactly? Will I grow a tail?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Nira’s laughter ripples through the water between us, musical and light.
Her eyes crinkle at the corners with genuine amusement.
“What?” I demand, heat rising to my cheeks.
“It’s a legitimate question.”
She composes herself, though a smile still plays at the corners of her mouth.
“Perhaps you should discover the full extent of your transformation as it happens,” she says cryptically.
“Some surprises are worth the wait.”
I narrow my eyes at her, not appreciating being kept in the dark about my own body.
“That’s not an answer.”
Her only response is another enigmatic smile as she continues her examination, leaving me to wonder just how much of my humanity I’ll retain—and what new parts of me might be waiting to emerge.
I sigh, studying her face for any sign of deception.
Finding none, I nod slowly.
“Fine. What else should I expect?”
Nira’s expression grows serious, the ambient light catching the fine lines around her eyes that I hadn’t noticed before.
“The bond will continue to strengthen, drawing you and Krak’zol closer together. You may find yourself experiencing intense emotions, heightened physical awareness of each other.”
A flash of heat courses through me at her words, as my mind flashes to the image of Krak’zol, the way his muscles rippled beneath his scaled skin, and I curse inwardly.
This was not the time for…
distractions.
I push the thoughts away, focusing on the implications.
“And if something happens to one of us? With Rynor’s threat looming . . .”
Nira’s posture stiffens almost imperceptibly, a flicker of something dark crossing her features at the mention of Rynor’s name.
It’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it, but my soldier’s instincts catalog the reaction automatically.
“The severing of a bond can be . . . traumatic,” she admits, her melodic voice slightly tighter than before.
“Especially if it occurs before the bond is fully formed. It is one of the reasons Krak’zol is so protective of you. He knows the danger Rynor poses, not just to his kingdom, but to your connection.”
I consider probing that reaction—there’s clearly history there—but decide against it.
Everyone in the Abyss seems to have reason enough to hate Rynor without needing personal grievances.
The monster trying to destroy an entire ecosystem and seize power; that’s sufficient cause for anyone’s discomfort.
The weight of it all settles heavy in my chest.
I’m not just caught up in Leviathan politics anymore—I’m intrinsically linked to their future, to Krak’zol’s fate.
The soldier in me rebels against the idea, but another part .
.
.
a part I’m not ready to name .
.
.
thrills at the connection.
“Tell me about your people,” I say, needing a distraction from my own tangled emotions.
“Your customs, your history. If I’m going to navigate this new world, I need to understand it.”
Nira’s eyes light up, clearly pleased by my interest.
“Our people have dwelt in the Abyss for millennia,” she begins, her voice taking on a rhythmic quality that speaks of oft-told tales.
“We were born of the Heart of the Deep, shaped by its power and bound to its rhythms.”
As she speaks, weaving stories of ancient battles and sacred rituals, I find myself drawn in despite my initial skepticism.
The Leviathans are more than just the warriors I’ve encountered.
They’re a people with a rich culture, with art and music and traditions that span generations.
“The bond-bite itself is one of our most sacred rites,” Nira explains.
“It is not given lightly, nor is it easily broken. When a Leviathan chooses a mate, it is for life.”
The implications of that statement hit me like a punch to the gut.
“For life?” I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper.
“But Krak’zol barely knows me. How could he make that kind of commitment?”
Nira’s expression softens.
“Our people feel deeply, Imogen. When we recognize our true mate, we know it in our bones, in the very essence of our being. Krak’zol may not know every detail of your life, but he knows your soul. The bond would not have taken if you were not truly compatible.”
I want to argue, to point out all the reasons why this is insane.
But I can’t deny the pull I feel towards Krak’zol, the way my body seems to hum with awareness whenever he’s near.
It’s more than just physical attraction—it’s like he’s become a part of me, as essential as the water I now breathe.
“I’m not ready for forever,” I admit, voicing the fear that’s been gnawing at me since I first woke in this strange new world.
“I have a mission, a team to protect. I can’t just abandon everything I’ve known for . . . for this. ”
Nira takes my hand, her touch gentle but firm.
“No one is asking you to abandon your past, Imogen. The bond doesn’t erase who you are. It enhances it. Your strength, your loyalty to your people—these are the very qualities that drew Krak’zol to you. Embrace them, use them. They may be the key to saving both our worlds.”
Her words settle something within me, a resolve forming where there was only confusion before.
I may not fully understand this bond, may not be ready to accept all it implies, but I can use it.
If my connection to Krak’zol can help stop Rynor, can protect my team and secure a future for both our peoples .
.
.
well, that’s a price I’m willing to pay.
A familiar scent reaches me, a mix of salt and iron that makes my newly sensitive gills flare and my pulse quicken involuntarily.
I know who it is before I even turn.
He fills the doorway, his massive frame blocking out the ambient light of the corridor beyond.
“Imoogeen,” he rumbles, my name a caress on his tongue.
“I trust Nira has been helpful?”
I nod, suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact between my body and the moss-covered platform.
“She’s been . . . enlightening,” I manage, fighting to keep my voice steady.
Krak’zol’s nostrils flare, and I see his pupils dilate.
Can he smell the change in me?
The growing acceptance of our bond?
The thought sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts thrilling and terrifying.
“Good,” he says, his voice a low growl that seems to vibrate through my very bones.
“We have much to discuss. Rynor’s forces are on the move.”
Just like that, the spell is broken.
I’m back in soldier mode, pushing aside the confusing tangle of emotions to focus on the threat at hand.
“Tell me everything,” I say, sliding off the platform and moving to Krak’zol’s side.