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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I will make things right.

The words formed a rhythm in her head as she swam. One stroke, then the next. I will make things right. I will make things right . She cut through the water smoothly, her legs pounding behind her as one. For the first time in weeks, she missed her tail. Missed its shimmering ice-blue scales and delicate translucent fins. And, of course, she missed the speed. If only she had found a way to call the Sea Witch to her. How foolish she had been when striking that deal. How was she to ever to find the Sea Witch again? Swim back to the Wasting Waters? As a human? She’d never be able to swim that deep.

But she could only deal with one mistake at a time.

The sun rose over the water, washing the sky in gold as it made its way toward the full moon. She could still see the ship, a tiny speck just on the horizon. Come on ... she told herself as the day slipped by.

You have to swim faster.

There is no one else.

But her human body was sluggish, and she began to slow. Her breath came in heaving gasps. She would never reach the island first. She probably wouldn’t reach the island at all.

The water no longer felt like home. Its salty waves did not feel safe or welcoming. They pushed against her, fighting her every stroke. She dove yet again, scanning to see if there were any animals she could sing to her side. All that she found was an endless expanse of clear turquoise water.

She pressed on, but her body was fading quickly. Each stroke was a battle now. If she kept pushing, she would drown.

Celeste was out of options.

Even if there was nothing to hear her, she had to try.

Celeste slowed to a stop. With a deep breath, she filled her burning lungs. The voice that came out of her was ethereal, haunting. She sang the Song the Chorus had taught her: the Song for controlling the mind.

From deep within the ocean, we sisters rise in song.

Her voice slid from note to note, circling her in a wave of sound. But there was something wrong in the noise. Like a hand that reached out for someone and found only air. Celeste sang louder, turning slowly in a circle and beckoning with her arms.

Come closer. Hear us calling. In our arms you belong.

The Song came out strained as her frustration grew. Perhaps singing underwater would help? She continued, diving beneath the waves.

Come rest your weary bones, love. Come join us in the sea.

Let the gentle waves consume you, for your heart belongs to me.

Singing underwater felt uncomfortable, unnatural, in a way it never had before. The vibrations did not move through the water, but instead felt as though it stopped short mere inches from her face. The realization stung—another part of herself she sacrificed to the Sea Witch. She continued in vain, the breath in her lungs diminishing quickly.

I’ll fulfill your every longing.

I am everything you crave.

And still, she saw nothing. No creatures came to her. And when the need for air became too great, she surfaced with a gasp.

Let me kiss away your sorrows as I lay you in your grave.

She blinked the water from her eyes. The ship was no longer in sight.

No...

Celeste let out a cry of anger. No... no... no... no...

She thought of her family in Staria. Of her promise to her mother. Of Maeve. Of her grandmother, slain by King Leonidas. Of Kiyami, who risked her family’s well-being to set Celeste free. Angry tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She slammed her fist into the water, sending up a splash.

This can’t be it. It can’t be over.

Tears fell in waves down her cheeks. She let them fall. She did not turn the anger on herself, molding it once more into a weapon meant to punish. No, instead Celeste allowed herself this moment. For once she let herself release the fury and sadness and frustration that she kept bottled up within her. She embraced the fear, the brokenheartedness, the disappointment. Everything she had pressed back for so long. Everything that, despite her best efforts, she’d never been able to control like others seemed to do. She let herself feel. Everything. And the emotions rolled through her like a storm, rumbling, clapping, shifting into shaking sobs.

I’m not strong enough alone... but I’ve come so far.

With every tear that rolled down her face, she let go a little more. She mourned for herself. The death of the siren she had wanted to be. The soldier. The princess. The daughter. The pirate. As much as she had wished she didn’t feel this way, that she did not feel overwhelmed and helpless and afraid, these feelings were a part of her. No matter how hard she tried to ignore them, they were still there, shouting to be heard.

So, for the first time, she listened.

Listened to the feelings as they passed through her one after another. Listened to the betrayal and the sorrow and the shame. Listened until only a few remained, like stones in her throat.

Her mother’s voice: I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.

Madam Auralia: You’re overreacting, girl! Get up and do the exercise.

She was thirteen again, tears filling her eyes as she began to hyperventilate. It was just another drill. It shouldn’t have been hard. But for some reason, her body felt weak, and she wanted a break. And initiates did not get breaks. Celeste hadn’t known how to form the words to ask for what she needed. She didn’t believe she would have received it if she had tried. And so instead... she’d cried.

Why don’t you calm down a bit, dear?

This last one was a surprise. A memory eroded with time, like a portrait beneath the sea. Celeste was six and had been singing at the top of her lungs at their dining table. Not magic, just a melody she’d heard from a storyteller. Until her father told her she was too loud. Her song stopped in her throat, shame heating the back of her neck.

Celeste saw herself, small and shushed, and her heart broke. She was often chided for being too loud. Even in joy, there were limits to how sirens were allowed to celebrate.

But the song. The song she’d been singing. She hadn’t heard it in so long . Another memory floated to her mind: Her grandmother Celeste singing to Sephone and her. A simple melody. A lullaby. Otherworldly, yet familiar as the moon.

Celeste’s tears stopped.

She closed her eyes and began to sing along.

Once there was darkness

before there was light.

The world lay embraced by shadows.

The song moved through her as water, filling every part until it came spilling out, taking her feelings with it.

She who ruled darkness

would sing through the night.

Till one day another listened.

The melody was as old as time. It thrummed through her. Pulsing.

For him, she gifted

the moon in the sky,

so its pale face could reflect him.

The sea around her shook and rose, higher and higher. Celeste’s eyes blinked open in surprise, but she did not stop singing. Her insatiable curiosity felt too strong.

As one they counted

each bright star up high,

lighting their way to each other.

Something moved far beneath in the sea. Then a huge wave rose before her, higher and higher, until she was certain it would crash, pulling her under. And yet she continued the song. This fear, too, she poured into it, letting it wash from her.

Daughter above us,

protect those we love.

Welcome us into your shadows.

She who rules darkness,

we sing to you still.

In starlight, we find our way home.

With a roar, the wave split apart, and a great, dripping creature emerged. Deep blue scales on its sides glittered in the early light of dawn. It tossed its majestic head, crowned with one long fin extending down its neck. Its nostrils flared. With large, soft eyes, the midnight blue of the purest ocean, the creature blinked at her under long, thick lashes. Celeste gasped in awe as she recognized it. A creature of myth that she thought only existed in statues with the Goddess or carved into the walls of buildings.

Girl and beast stared at each other in silence. It was said the Hippokamp was as old as the sea itself, created by the Goddess to pull her starlit chariot. Towering above her, it was certainly big enough. The Hippokamp pawed at the water impatiently with one long, muscled leg that ended in a fin. Everything about the creature was breathtaking. Celeste marveled at how much it reminded her of the human horses she’d seen on land, with its long neck and two front legs. In place of back legs, it had a long, curling tail, like a siren. She reached out her hand to it, and the beast lowered its nose to her touch, nuzzling.

A smile pulled at the corners of her lips as she stroked along its muzzle. The scales along its face were surprisingly soft, still slick with water. It pulled back, pawing at the water again, as if chiding her.

“You’re right,” she said, already wishing she had more time to unravel this mysterious creature. “Let’s go.”

Celeste swam around to the side of the great sea creature and prepared to mount, like she’d seen the humans do. But the Hippokamp did not have a flat back. Its hips connected in one elegant line to its tail, leaving no easy spot for her to sit upon.

“You didn’t think to bring the chariot too?” she asked, only half joking.

The Hippokamp gave an annoyed snort.

“Sorry...” She sighed, throwing both legs over the creature’s back. She looped her arms around its neck and squeezed her legs together.

“Take me to the island,” she said.

With a booming neigh, the great beast took off across the water.

Celeste had used animals for transport before. Dolphins, whales, and even the occasional shark, when sung into submission, could help sirens traverse great distances. But nothing compared to this. The Hippokamp beat its tail through the water at an alarming pace. Wind whipped through her silver hair, drowning out all sound. She’d expected such a beautiful creature to have a smooth gait, like glass, but it wasn’t. It rode wildly. Untamed. But they joined into a rhythm together. And above them, the summer sun burned punishingly as it slid across the sky toward the rising moon.

Before long she saw the Red Revenge , a black mark on the horizon. She leaned forward, pressing her body against the Hippokamp’s neck so she could be heard over the howl of the winds.

“Don’t let them see us,” she warned.

The Hippokamp let out a sudden force of breath through its nose, as if in understanding. As they drew closer, it reared back and dove beneath the clear blue water. Celeste hardly had time to suck in a breath before they were submerged. Her eyes squeezed shut against the rush of water. She tightened her grip on the Hippokamp. After a somewhat excruciating minute, when she could hold her breath no longer, Celeste tapped on the side of the Hippokamp’s neck. At once the beast rose, but only enough for the siren to stick her head above water and gasp before they plunged again.

The journey continued like this. The sensation of racing through the water was so overwhelming she could think of little else. It was hard to gauge how long they swam, how far they’d gone, or even if they’d passed the ship.

At last the Hippokamp broke through the surface and did not submerge again. Celeste blinked open her eyes, disoriented. The Red Revenge was nowhere to be seen. Above, the moon slid forward, darkening the edge of the sun. On they swam, until for no discernible reason the Hippokamp slowed to a stop.

Arms loosening, Celeste looked around.

And found nothing.

No island or land broke the endless blue.

“Do you need a break?” Celeste asked, stroking the creature’s neck with her hand as she scanned the sea around them. But the Hippokamp did not seem tired or out of breath, despite the long ride. If anything, it looked annoyed. Celeste rubbed her hands against her hips. “I don’t think this is the place—unless?—”

She fell silent, listening. The sound of the Hippokamp’s breath, low and steady, came first. Then the gentle sound of the wind, sweeping along the water around her. But after—after there was something else. A third sound. A melody so quiet one could almost believe it was an invention of the mind. A trick of the sea.

Lunapesce . It was there, calling to her. And yet she saw nothing.

Of course , she thought, remembering. The island can only be accessed during a solar eclipse. When the sun and moon meet in the sky.

“Don’t suppose you know the way in?” Celeste asked the beast beneath her.

The Hippokamp turned its head to look at her with one withering eye.

“Right.” She sighed, watching the sun’s reflection in the water. With the moon covering half of it, it was crescent-shaped. And each moment brought the full eclipse closer. Time was running out.

Perhaps she should have listened better during lessons about the Goddess and her history. Maybe then she would know what to do. But after a moment, an idea came to her. Perhaps her grandmother’s song would work here as well? It was better than nothing. She took in a deep breath and let the music pour from her.

Once there was darkness

before there was light.

The world lay embraced by shadows.

She scanned the waters around her and saw no change. But something in her urged her to keep going, and without any better ideas, she continued.

She who ruled darkness

would sing through the night.

Till one day another listened.

The Hippokamp let out a snort of frustration. Celeste sighed and stopped singing.

“Well? I’m singing the song! Why isn’t it working?”

As expected, the great beast had no insight.

What was different last time? What did I do to call the Hippokamp? I was crying... I don’t think tears are going to help . But as she thought those words, she stopped. The tears had helped. They helped her feel better, even if only a little. But it wasn’t as though she could cry on command. Not to mention she found it highly unlikely the Goddess, creator of sea and night, would make crying a requirement to enter the sacred island. So if it wasn’t the crying, perhaps it was... the feeling? Right now all Celeste felt was afraid. She was wasting time. Her thoughts went to her kingdom. The sirens living there. What would happen to them if the king got ahold of the Goddess’s power?

So she tried once more, pouring emotion into it. The raw beating heart of herself.

Once there was darkness

before there was light.

The world lay embraced by shadows.

The song built within her, gathering up yellow fear swirling in her gut like poison. She filled with song and feeling until she overflowed.

Suddenly, the water grew frenzied, thrashing and churning. Beneath her, the Hippokamp remained strangely calm. The sun slid behind the moon, and the world plunged into darkness. A great swirling hole opened in front of her as she continued the song, using all the remaining power within her.

She who ruled darkness

would sing through the night.

Till one day another listened.

The music echoed around her as though the very ocean itself had joined her in song. The spinning water faltered, dropping several feet. Far below, the earth shook.

Then, up through the eye of the whirlpool, the sacred island of Lunapesce emerged.