Chapter 141
The jungle feels like a living, breathing thing, pressing in on all sides as we push through the dense undergrowth. The hum of insects grows louder with each step, a constant drone that mingles with the rustle of unseen animals moving through the trees.
Vines dangle overhead like ancient curtains, their tendrils brushing against my arms and catching on my clothes. I swat them away, the humid air thick in my lungs and clinging to my skin.
Ahead of me, Wake navigates the terrain with unnerving ease that apparently isn't standard for all sirens, because I certainly didn't get any. His steps are silent, precise, as though the jungle has laid itself bare just for him.
He moves with the kind of grace that makes me wonder if his siren instincts extend even to land. His dark shirt sticks to his back, soaked through with sweat, but he doesn’t seem to notice—or care. I, on the other hand, am painfully aware of every sticky bead of sweat rolling down my temple.
“Are we nearly there?” I call out, more to break the silence than out of genuine curiosity. My voice feels swallowed by the jungle, barely carrying past the dense foliage.
Khale, leading the group, glances back at me, his sharp green eyes glinting in the dappled light. “We have not yet begun the climb.”
I stifle a groan as Cora’s voice, calm and composed as ever, chimes in from behind me. “Patience, Phoebe. This journey is as much about your resolve as it is about reaching the temple.”
“I’m plenty resolved,” I mutter under my breath, earning a flicker of amusement from Wake, though he doesn’t turn around.
We come to a shallow stream, its clear water cutting through the jungle floor like a vein. The sunlight filters through the canopy above, catching on the rippling surface and making the stones beneath it glimmer.
Khale motions for us to cross, stepping into the water without hesitation. The coolness is a brief reprieve as I wade through, but it’s short-lived. On the other side, the ground slopes upward sharply, the base of the volcano rising before us in a wall of jagged black rock.
My heart sinks as I crane my neck to take in the sheer incline. The path Khale gestures to is narrow, winding upward with no discernible end. Moss clings to the rocks like a slick, treacherous skin, and I can already see the faint glimmer of moisture where the humidity has settled on the stone.
“This way,” Khale says, his voice calm but commanding. “The temple is at the summit.”
“Of course, it is,” I mutter, earning another rare smirk from Wake, though he doesn’t break stride as he begins the climb.
The ascent is brutal. Every handhold feels like a test, the sharp edges of the rock biting into my palms. My boots skid on the slick moss more than once, sending pebbles tumbling down behind me. The air grows thinner, the oppressive humidity replaced by a faint chill as we climb higher. My legs ache, muscles screaming with every step, but I force myself to keep going. Khale, of course, is unbothered, his movements as effortless as they were in the jungle.
By the time we reach the summit, my lungs are burning, and every inch of me feels like it’s on fire. I collapse against a boulder, gulping down air as I take in the view. The jungle sprawls below us, an endless sea of green that shimmers in the fading sunlight. Beyond it, the ocean stretches to the horizon, a vast expanse of silver and blue that glints like polished metal.
The temple looms before us, carved into the volcanic rock as though it had grown from the earth itself. Its walls are covered in intricate carvings—spirals, waves, and figures that seem to shift and move as the sunlight dances over them. The air here is heavy, charged with an energy that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Khale steps forward, his hand brushing the carvings with a reverence that’s almost palpable. “These walls tell the story of my people,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “The Euclidean Cove… and our bond with the Abyss.”
I blink, caught off guard. “Your tribes were connected?”
Khale nods, his gaze fixed on the carvings as though he’s reading their secrets. “We were siblings once. The Abyssians were our protectors, masters of war. We, the Cove, were the keepers of knowledge and invention, dedicated to preserving the treasures of our people. One protected the other.”
Wake steps forward, his expression unreadable as he studies the carvings. “What happened?” he asks, his voice low and steady.
Khale’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. When he speaks, his voice carries the weight of centuries. “The Great War reached us. The Abyss wanted to fight, to defend what was left of our world. But we believed survival lay in preservation. We wanted to retreat, to rebuild. The disagreement tore us apart.”
The silence that follows is heavy, the air around us thick with the echoes of a history none of us can truly grasp. I look back at the carvings, tracing the figures with my eyes and imagining the rift that tore these tribes apart.
“That was a long time ago,” Wake says, his voice steady. “We are not the same people our ancestors were. We have the chance to be better.”
Khale turns to him, his green eyes sharp but not unkind. “We are not afraid to fight. The Cove knows war now.”
Wake’s jaw tightens, his gaze unwavering. “Since meeting my mate, I’ve learned the value of preserving our history. Learning from it is the only path forward to a stronger future. We are more than we were and have the potential to be so much more.”
For a moment, the two men simply stare at each other, the tension between them palpable. Then, Khale extends his forearm, his voice firm and resolute. “I am no god’s heir, but I do command legions. My army is yours, Abyssinian.”
Wake clasps Khale’s forearm with equal sincerity. “I am not yet my god’s heir either. But I swear it, I will be. And when I am, I will see to it that the Euclidean Cove is restored to its rightful station.”
Their words hang in the air like a vow etched into stone, unbreakable and eternal. A lump rises in my throat, a mix of pride and hope swelling in my chest. This moment feels like a turning point, a promise of unity in a world that desperately needs it.
Khale steps back, his expression softening slightly. “Come. The temple awaits. There is much to prepare before twilight.”
“Twilight?” I ask.
Cora rests a hand on my arm, “When Electra is at her apex, you will be at your strongest, too.”
I glance at Wake, who nods at me, his blue eyes filled with determination. Together, we follow Khale and Cora into the heart of the temple, uncertain if both of us will return.
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