Chapter 165
The journey to back to the Euclidean village feels fast than it had the first time we made our way there. Then again, the narrow, winding passageways were a cakewalk to swim through now that I knew what it was like to traverse them on foot.
Still, the trip isn’t without its own troubles. The narrow, dark tunnel forces us to travel single file, and every shift in the surrounding water makes me hyper-aware of just how fragile this pathway is.
Wake leads, his movements deliberate and precise, his figure a steady shadow ahead of me. I follow, keeping my breathing as even as possible, the distant light of Hale growing brighter with every step. The closer we get, the heavier the atmosphere becomes, as though the water itself is bracing for what awaits us.
When we surface in Hale, we’re greeted not by relief or welcome but by hostility. A group of guards stands at the mouth of the cavern, their tridents held high, their postures tense. Their leader—a tall, broad-shouldered woman with sharp eyes and a scowl to match—steps forward. Her presence is commanding, and the other guards move in unison as if anticipating trouble.
“Halt! Not another step! Comply or die,” she demands, her voice cold and cutting. Her gaze flickers briefly to Wake, narrowing slightly as though she recognizes the threat he poses.
Cora, who’s just emerged from the water behind us, stiffens. “What’s the meaning of this? We’re allies—”
“Not anymore,” the guard interrupts. “Drop your weapons. Now.”
Wake bristles, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. I quickly step forward, raising my hands in a placating gesture. “Wait. We’re here to help—”
“I said, drop your weapons!” the guard barks. Behind her, the other guards shift, their grips tightening on their tridents. The tension in the air is palpable, and for a moment, I’m certain this is going to end in violence. Wake’s muscles twitch beside me, his instincts screaming to fight, but Cora steps forward, her expression carefully controlled.
“We’ll comply,” she says, her voice steady. “But you’re making a mistake.”
Reluctantly, we hand over our weapons and take the rough hewn pants and sack dresses that are thrown at us. Then, we are forcefully escorted to the upper land-based village. As we climb, I can’t help but notice how much more extensive the damage is up here. Buildings lie in ruins, their structures splintered and scorched. Smoke lingers in the air, a bitter reminder of the eruption’s aftermath.
Villagers move about with somber expressions, their eyes darting toward us with a mix of suspicion and fear. Some of them stop to watch, whispering to one another as we pass. The weight of their stares is almost as heavy as the devastation around us.
When we reach the half-destroyed throne room, my heart sinks further. The once-majestic space is now a shell of its former self, its walls cracked and blackened. Standing at the center is a tall reedy looking man in ceremonial armor that looks as if it’s swallowing him. He’s got sandy blond hair that falls to his shoulders, and flat grey eyes that—I nearly jump when a secondary membrane underneath his eyelids close sideways like a crocodile’s.
Senechal Emil.
The figure he cuts is more menacing than imposing, even framed as he is by the wreckage of his home. The disaster may not have been his fault, but it’s clear that he’s revelling in lording over the ashes all the same. He turns as we’re marched in, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
“Ah, the Nereid delegation,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’re just in time.”
At his signal, two guards haul out the rest of our team—Tai, Tyler, and Malu. Arista and Silo. They’re shackled and gagged, their faces pale but resolute. My stomach twists at the sight, anger bubbling up despite my attempts to keep calm. The sight of their chains feels like a betrayal in itself.
“What is the meaning of this?” Cora demands, her voice sharp with disbelief. “Release them immediately!”
Emil’s smile doesn’t falter. “You have no authority here anymore, Cora. Your presence in Hale is no longer welcome. In fact, it’s grounds for death.”
Cora’s composure wavers for the first time, her eyes widening in shock. “What are you talking about? We’ve done nothing—”
“You’ve done everything,” Emil snaps. “Leader Tama is dead. Many of our defenders perished in the eruption. And who do we have to thank for this devastation? Nereid!”
“That’s not true!” I say, stepping forward despite the guards’ warning glares. “We had nothing to do with the eruption. We’ve been investigating—”
“Silence,” Emil says, his voice a whip crack. “Your lies won’t save you.”
“They’re not lies,” I insist. “We found evidence—proof of who’s responsible. It’s not us. It’s Enigma.”
Emil’s brow furrows slightly, but his sneer doesn’t waver. “And who or what is this ‘Enigma’?”
“A corporation,” Cora interjects. “They’re obsessed with experimenting on Enkian. They’ve been orchestrating a subterranean mining operation that’s causing the earthquakes—earthquakes like the one that triggered the eruption.”
Emil lets out a harsh laugh. “And why, pray tell, would this Enigma do such a thing?”
“To wake Leviathan and its kin,” Cora says, her voice grim. “That’s their goal.”
Emil’s laughter grows louder, more derisive. “Do you think me a fool? You expect me to believe that you’re here to save us from mythical sea monsters? Please. You’re lying to suit your own agenda.”
“I have no agenda that I haven’t been forthcoming about,” Cora says, her voice tight with restrained fury. Her calm demeanor is starting to crack, the weight of Emil’s accusations clearly wearing on her.
Emil narrows his eyes. “It would be foolish to trust a liar’s honesty.”
Unimpressed, Wake steps forward, his presence commanding as he speaks. “Then tell me this, Emil. If you don’t trust the earth scientist, what do you think is causing the earthquakes?”
Khale speaks before Emil can answer, his voice low and bitter. “They blame me.”
I stare at him, astounded. “You? How?”
Emil’s expression darkens. “Khale is a bad omen. He was cast out for a reason. Tama was a fool to shelter him for so long.”
Wake’s gaze snaps to Khale, his voice a tense growl. “Cast out from where?”
Khale’s expression goes stony, but before he can answer, Emil sneers, “The Eternal Sunrise. You are Enkian.”
Wake inhales sharply, and I can feel the anger radiating from him. “The Eternal Sunrise,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re Enkian.”
Khale doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t look ashamed, either.
Emil laughs nastily. “Did he tell you otherwise? That he was one of us? I told you—liars, each and every one of those disgusting leg lovers.”
I bristle at the insult, my fists clenching. “Whatever your problem with Khale is, he’s not the main issue here.”
Emil cuts me off with a sharp gesture. “I know exactly where the problem lies. It’s with the army gathering just outside our territory.”
Khale’s eyes narrow. “What army? We took oaths—”
“To a dead woman,” Emil snarls. “Your promises mean nothing. The Sunrise is preparing to attack Hale, and it’s the forsaken Heir that they want. As this Clan’s new leader, I will not allow my people to suffer further for the sake of one short-sighted man. Tama was weak, and she paid the ultimate price for her naivete. I will not make the same mistake.”
He gestures sharply to the guards. “Release the prisoners. Let them go.” His gaze locks onto us, cold and unforgiving. “Go. Now. Or die here.”
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