Page 17 of The Deep End of Death (Twilight Lake #4)

Tor and I swam just below the surface. Nuada’s magic truly purged from my system as my gills and scales returned all too quickly.

Though the Dark Sea tasted like blood and pain, it felt nice to be in the water again—even if every shadow had me looking over my shoulder for the Kraken’s tentacles.

We didn’t speak. I wasn’t entirely sure if Tormalugh was spooked or simply focused on swimming.

We’d chosen the direction randomly and hoped it would lead to safety.

There was no sign of Cormac, Shay, or Rainn for miles.

I had taken care of the Thiggen closest to us, but beyond that, I didn’t know.

I couldn’t bring myself to stop swimming forward. Away from the Glittering Diamond and out of the open water. I had to trust that the others would be safe.

I wanted to shatter into a thousand pieces, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

I didn’t even know if we were swimming in the right direction beyond the vague images the stone pushed into my mind.

I wasn’t sure if it was hunger or sleep deprivation. Or perhaps both.

Just when I was ready to give up, Tor swam towards the glittering ceiling between land and sea, moving through the water easily. I followed on his heels, and we broke the surface together.

“Rainn is over there,” Tor said, shielding his eyes from the spray of the waves.

In the distance, a wall of mist extended from the sea to the sky, so thick I couldn’t see through it. It rolled over the waves, a dense, soupy black that stole the moonlight. Impenetrable, akin to the Reeds back in the Twilight Lake.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Rainn’s emotions are easier to track than most. I can pick up his trail from miles away.” Tor rubbed his hand over his mouth.

I sucked my lips between my teeth. “I didn’t know we were following a trail.”

Tor arched a brow. “Did you think I picked a random direction and pulled you along for the ride?”

“Something like that.”

“Your faith in me is inspiring.” He said in a low drawl, heavy on sarcasm.

“Now you sound like Cormac,” I pointed out.

Tormalugh chuffed a laugh and shook his head. “What do you feel when you look at the mists?”

I focused on the undulating fog, but nothing tugged my senses. “Purely aesthetic.”

“Cillian Lane called it the Mists of Murk,” Tor said thoughtfully. “Murk is a town if I recall.”

“We should get out of the water.” I hugged my shoulders.

Tor blinked, nonplussed. “I cannot sense Shay and Cormac. Can you?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my fingers flexing as I ached to reach for the stone. “Let’s swim to the shore.”

Growing up in Cruinn, I had mastered the art of delaying my emotions.

All too often, I had swallowed insults and ignored whispers, allowing the hurt to wash over me. Buried deep until it was safe to let out.

Unfortunately, those emotions always seemed to manifest later—even when I believed the wounds had long since healed.

So often, I had lashed out with petty actions, like upturning tables or stealing from the Undine that mocked me. Even freeing Tor’s sister from the Cruinn stables had been retaliation—a gesture to King Irvine that I wasn’t easily controlled.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t push my fear down this time.

I was on thin ice.

The stone was changing something inside me, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

I could have lost Tor, all because of my own stupidity.

I wanted to scream and rage, but the source of my anger was me .

Though Tormalugh sensed emotions the same way others heard words, he seemed content to pretend to be oblivious.

Unless I’d gotten better at hiding my emotions. Which I doubted.

The mists blinded us until we reached the shore. The sea shelf greeted us like the edge of a cliff. It was a stone beach with sharp rocks. When I pulled myself from the water, it wasn’t without pain.

I spotted him immediately.

Rainn’s laid on the rocks, staring at the night sky.

Cormac and Shay were nowhere to be found.

A weight sank down in my stomach, making my steps heavier.

I imagined Rainn’s life back at the Skala Beach. The beauty of the Selkie Queen’s castle and the buzz of his rambunctious family.

Rainn Shallows would be better off if he had never met me.

Tor broke into a jog, moving gracefully on two feet as if on four. “Where are the others?” He demanded as he skidded to a stop in front of Rainn.

Rainn closed his eyes, steeling himself. “I don’t know. There were so many Thiggen. I just—” he interrupted himself, shaking his head. “I saw them take you under. I thought...”

I sunk to my knees. “We’re okay,” I whispered numbly.

I wasn’t sure the words were accurate.

Tor wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and though I wanted more than anything to sink into his embrace, I couldn’t break. I knew what would happen if I did. If my rage could burst a hundred Thiggen like an overfilled pufferfish, what was to say my joy wouldn’t do the same thing.

Tor fussed over Rainn, placing his hand on the Selkie’s head. His silver hair formed a halo of wet spikes around his face. The Kelpie clucked as he urged Rainn to stand.

I clutched my wrist, forming a bracelet with my fingers. The wounds on my back throbbed, the same wounds formed by the High Throne’s teeth.

As my two males stood up, talking in low voices, their backs to me—whether it was on purpose or not, I wondered if they could hear the screaming inside of my mind.

The pain of my wounds and the desperate hunger told me to swallow the stone in my pocket, chew it until it broke my teeth, and absorb its magic.

I stepped back from my Shíorghrá, eying the jagged stones of the beach and the glow of candlelit windows along the shore.

The Mists of Murk. The town was aptly named, without color at all.

It wasn’t ostentatious like the castle on the Skala beach or the caverns of the Reeds.

The buildings didn’t make much sense, from large bulbous roofs to squat huts and tall stone towers that looked like a stout breeze could blow them over.

The beach was so small that I could have run from one length to the other in a few minutes. The town had sprung up in the way fungi at the bottom of a tree did, falling over each other to take up as much space as possible.

Though Cruinn was a city, I’d never visited the libraries, shops, or temples.

My stomach somersaulted.

Would I get a chance to explore?

Would they have stalls with fabric or beads I could weave into my braids?

Would they have delicacies that I’d never tasted before?

Rainn said Cormac’s name, bringing me back to reality like a bellyflop.

Cormac and Shay were still missing.

Shay might not have accepted me, but he was still my Shíorghrá.

And Cormac… well, it would be rude to let him die. Wouldn’t it?

Though the town was still, and the streets I could see were empty, a shadow grew from the corner of my eye.

A female figure drifted over the beach's jagged stones as if they were soft sand.

Brow furrowed, I watched warily as the shadowy figure approached.

Her long hair caught the moonlight, and my mind skipped like a stone across the water.

She looked so much like me that I hadn’t realized who I was seeing.

My mother drifted on the beach, her attention on the mists coating the water.

She didn’t greet me, not like before. She simply walked, in calm and measured steps, as she passed us. My hair ruffled as the wind caught the tangles, but my mother was unaffected as she drifted up to the buildings lining the beach.

I found myself following her before my mind caught up with my body.

Rainn and Tor called out to me as I raced up the beach as if chasing a ghost. I stopped, taking a breath as I waved over my shoulder for the men to follow me.

They didn’t question me, which was just as well.

My mother’s shadowy figure kept walking, focused on one building at the front and center of the shorefront.

A structure with a dome for a roof, like the moon had fallen from the sky and wedged itself on top, and they couldn’t find a way to free it.

There were no windows, only a single wooden door.

The building was rather dull, made up of plain white stone, but the ornate marble steps that led up to the door could have belonged to a palace.

My mother, Belisama , disappeared through the door, phasing directly through the wood as if it wasn’t there.

My mouth opened and closed.

Grief that I had long since buried came anew. I’d held my mother’s hand as she had died.

And now I had seen her twice ?

“Maeve!” Rainn shouted as he finally caught up.

I gestured to the door, pointing a single shaking finger. “I think Belisama wants me to go in there.”

Rainn’s eyes widened, and a dozen thoughts crossed his face in a single second. “Belisama? You saw her?”

Tor cleared his throat. “She was at Shay’s wedding ceremony.”

I hadn’t told them the truth. At least, not the whole truth. When I’d seen my mother at Shay’s wedding, she had given him a mark to match mine. I’d thought she was a spirit playing tricks.

Balor said Belisama was my mother, but I didn’t believe it then. I didn’t want to believe it. If Belisama was my mother, she had lied to me. She had betrayed me.

After all, how could a god die ? If Belisama had died and gone back to the Tuatha Dé Danann, the home of the gods, it had been by her choice. She had made the choice to leave me.

“She’s my mother.” My lips moved, and the words that came out were barely above a whisper. “Belisama is my mother.”

Tor blinked as if he’d been kicked in the head. “Belisama can appear in many forms.” He said carefully. “She may very well appear with your mother’s face if she wants you to trust her.”

“No.” I shook my head, staring up at the round building. “Balor told me. She told me that the Mad Queen, my mother, was Belisama. Balor killed her.” It took more strength to tell them the truth than it had to kill all those Thiggen.