Page 67 of Wicked Beasts (Lament Princess #1)

Sixty-Six

I step forward, each foot sinking deeper into the wet sand, the cool water lapping at my ankles.

My breath quickens, but I don’t stop. The waves are gentle at first, almost soothing, as they rise and fall around my legs, urging me deeper.

The night air chills my skin as the saltwater clings to me, seeping into the fabric of my clothes.

I push on, the water now swirling around my knees, then my thighs.

It feels heavier now, as if the ocean is drawing me in as it adds weight to my clothes and pulls me further from the shore.

My boots are long forgotten, left behind in the sand, and the sensation of the cold sea against my bare skin feels. ..comforting, in a strange way.

Almost like I belong here, like the abyss is calling me home.

It’s a relief after so much fear.

A melody drifts from the trees, the same song I’ve heard many times before.

It’s comforting. A lullaby.

Maybe I can finally forget .

With each step, the water climbs higher, brushing against my waist, my chest, the waves tugging at me as I walk further, deeper. The world feels quieter here, as though the crashing sound of the waves has muted, leaving only the gentle thrum of my heartbeat in my ears.

A little further.

I take another step, the water now just beneath my chin. My movements slow as the waves start to push against me, stronger, as though they’ve sensed my resolve.

And then, suddenly, the water shifts.

I don’t know when it happens—whether it’s a gust of wind, or something more—but before I can draw another breath, something grabs me from behind. A sharp pressure forces my head down, submerging me under the water. Cold rushes in, filling my lungs, choking me.

I gasp, thrashing, fighting against the invisible force holding me beneath the surface.

The water is all around me, heavy and suffocating, as I struggle to find the surface.

It’s like I’m drowning in something more than just the ocean—there’s a weight, a presence pressing against me, not of the sea, but something else, something darker.

I think someone is holding me under. Fingers wrap around my neck.

My limbs flail, but it’s no use. I can’t break free.

The world above the water feels miles away, the last gasps of air slipping from me as I’m held down.

My chest tightens, panic surging through my veins, but no matter how hard I fight, the pressure keeps me there.

Salt and a lack of oxygen burn my lungs.

The water floods my vision, blurring the edges of reality, until all that remains is the cold, suffocating grip that refuses to let go.

I see threads of dull gold floating in the dark abyss, strands of golden hair drifting through the water like lifeless strands of seaweed.

For a brief, fleeting moment, my mind latches onto a thought— Cordelia .

She must be here, her golden hair swaying in the current, pulling me deeper into the ocean's grip.

But something is not right.

The hands gripping the back of my neck are too large, too strong to belong to a woman.

They're rough, calloused, fingers like iron bands, tightening around my throat with each passing second. Panic floods my chest, the sensation of being suffocated turning my world to black. I can’t seem to look away from the hair floating before me, like a trap woven from the very threads of my mind’s confusion.

I struggle to pry the hands from my throat, clawing at them, but they remain, unyielding, forcing me deeper. My arms feel weak and the cold of the water is all-consuming. I twist, trying to pull my face to the surface, but the strength holding me down is relentless.

The weight of the hands, their grip becoming more suffocating, forces a memory into my mind—Cordelia. She was always there in the forest, watching, waiting. The thought of her drowning me should feel familiar, but these can’t be her hands. They’re too solid, too forceful, for them to belong to her.

As my fingers scrabble at the hand holding me down, something sparks in my brain.

A cold familiarity.

Just as I feel the sharp edges of panic begin to close in, a man comes into view beneath a top hat under the moonlight—Dr. Shadow.

The thought is like an electric shock. The hands that cling to me, the grip so firm, so much like a vice, aren’t hers. They’re his.

“Cordelia…” he growls under his breath, his tone filled with venomous disgust. The name is slurred and sounds muted from beneath the ocean surface.

I thrash, but the presence holding me doesn’t loosen. The murky depths twist around me, the sound of the waves no longer calming but deafening as my lungs burn for air. And still, he holds me under, his fingers like iron, and I can’t escape.

“I’m going to kill you once and for all.”

A shout cuts through the fog of my mind, distant and garbled from the shoreline, the words foreign and lost to the rushing of blood in my ears.

My eyes feel like they’re being burned by the saltwater, each blink heavy.

I struggle to keep my lids open as they begin to weigh down.

My vision blurs, and the world around me twists, slipping further away.

I try to focus, try to make sense of the sound, to make sense of the shouting, but everything is becoming darker, more distant.

Until there is nothing at all.