Chapter 177
After Prince Kota leaves, the air in the room feels colder and heavier.
Cora and I exchange a glance, but neither of us speaks. Instead, we move to the bathing room, each of us eager to shake off the tension that lingers like an unwanted shadow.
When we move into the bathing chamber, I decide to focus on a less pressing concern. “The way he changed…I didn’t know it was possible to have legs underwater. Every time it’s happened to me, it’s cause I’m also drowning.”
Cora pauses mid-step, turning to face me with a thoughtful expression. “Your blood is strong enough for it,” she says. “You’re capable of the change. It’s only a matter of concentration. Come, I’ll show you.”
She gestures for me to stand in the center of the chamber, the warm water swirling around my waist. “Focus on the image of how you want your body to be,” she instructs, her tone calm but commanding. “Picture the blend of your Enkian physiology and human musculature. See it in your mind, and let your body follow.”
I close my eyes, the sound of the water lapping against the stone walls grounding me. It’s harder than I expected, my thoughts swirling with doubts. What if I get stuck between forms? What if I drown myself by accident? The immense pressure of the water at the bottom of the sea presses against my mind like a warning.
“Don’t fight it,” Cora says gently as if sensing my hesitation. “Trust your instincts. You are capable, Phoebe. Just let it happen.”
Taking a deep breath, I focus harder, picturing the image she described. The transition begins slowly, a tingling sensation spreading through my legs and tail. My fins shift, my scales ripple, and I feel the structure of my body rearranging itself. It’s strange and disorienting, and for a moment, I panic, my chest tightening with fear. But then the shift completes, and I feel the cool stone beneath my feet. I open my eyes cautiously, glancing down.
I’ve done it. My legs are as they always have been, but now, they’re smattered with shimmering scales. My ribbon-like fins trail delicately behind me, and my claws remain, sharp but dainty. The blend is seamless and natural. Relief floods through me.
Cora’s proud smile meets my gaze. “You did well,” she says, a rare softness in her voice.
By the time we’ve bathed and dressed, each in a simple gown made of pale silk, the Queen stirs from her moss-covered alcove. Her movements are sluggish at first, and she blinks as though trying to clear away a heavy fog. She looks at us groggily, her gaze unfocused. “When am I?” she murmurs, her voice soft but strained.
The oddness of her question makes me pause, but I push it aside. I step forward, crouching by her side to help her sit up. Her tail curls around herself like a protective cocoon, and I’m struck by how small and fragile she seems, so different from the image of a queen I’d imagined.
“We were worried about you,” I say gently, offering her a small smile. “I’m sorry for intruding on your space. My name’s Phoebe, and this is Cora.”
The woman blinks again, her gaze sharpening slightly as she studies me, then Cora. She takes a slow, deep breath before speaking. “Rhea,” she says finally. “My name is Rhea, Queen of Ao.”
The title feels heavy in the air, weighted with a mix of pride and sorrow.
“We’re friends of your son, Khale,” I tell her. The name draws a faint, sad smile from her lips.
“Then your presence here makes sense,” she replies softly, her voice tinged with a quiet melancholy.
Cora steps closer, her expression hard and skeptical. “Tell me,” she says sharply, “do you call yourself Queen because you earned your title during your first marriage or your current?”
I shoot Cora a warning glare, but Rhea doesn’t flinch. Instead, she straightens slightly, her tail uncoiling as she meets Cora’s gaze head-on. “Your skepticism is warranted,” she says calmly. “If you are friends of my eldest son, then I can only expect your scrutiny. In fact, I’m glad of it. It relieves me to know that Khale has found a family worthy of him.”
Cora’s jaw tightens. “It’s unfathomable that he had to.”
Rhea’s eyes go foggy and unfocused, her posture wilting slightly. I glare at Cora again and place a hand on Rhea’s arm, the contact meant to ground her. “Can you tell us what happened?” I ask gently. “How did you end up here?”
For a moment, Rhea doesn’t respond. Then she sighs, a sound so heavy it seems to echo in the room. “I was happy once,” she begins, her voice quiet but steady. “My marriage to Toa, Khale’s father, was one of both tradition and love—a perfect pairing. The kingdom was thriving, and Khale was growing into his role as a prince and leader. We were proud of him, so proud.” Her voice falters briefly, and she closes her eyes. “But fate had other plans.”
Her hands tighten in her lap as she continues. “Toa’s younger brother, Raif, always coveted his crown. Being born second—second to Tangaroa’s Heir, second to be Dawn King—it ate at him. Made him bitter and vengeful. His uprising came out of nowhere. The city was thrown into chaos when Toa was murdered, but the precedent was clear. Raif had won the throne through a show of might. The kingdom was his.”
Her gaze hardens slightly, though there’s a hint of guilt beneath the surface. “Now, the people are… content. Cared for, even. But I do not believe it will last, not while Raif and his sons are in power.”
Cora’s lips press into a thin line. “His sons,” she repeats, her voice sharp. “Whatever it is they do, it’s on your head, too.”
Rhea doesn’t shy away from the accusation. “Perhaps it is,” she says quietly. “I regret what had to be done, but Toa was a powerful Heir and a wonderful King.”
Cora’s eyes blaze with anger. “A wonderful King? You helped orchestrate his death to hide your infidelity from him, and you dare to speak of him like that?”
Rhea’s expression remains calm, though her shoulders sag slightly under the weight of Cora’s words. “I have done many things that I deeply regret,” she admits. “But I will not deny that Toa was a great man. What happened… everything happens for a reason.”
Cora lets out a derisive scoff, her disgust is evident. I step in quickly, placing a hand on her arm to calm her. “We need answers,” I murmur, meeting her gaze. Reluctantly, she nods, though her expression remains hard.
Turning back to Rhea, I shift the conversation. “There’s something else we would like to know,” I say. “The veins of that strange mineral… we’ve seen it everywhere throughout the region, not just here but beneath the village of Hale and beyond, as well. Do you know what it is?”
Rhea’s expression darkens. “Darklite,” she says, the word dripping with disdain. “It is not a natural mineral. It is born of Leviathan’s slumber, his dark energy seeping into the earth like poison. It is the embodiment of all that he is—disruption and chaos, a blight against the gods’ gifts.”
The weight of her words settles over me like a shroud. My mind races, thinking of what Enigma could be planning with a substance like that. “What would Enigma want with…” I murmur, my voice trailing off in dread.
Cora speaks up, her tone skeptical. “I’ve studied natural mineral formations for nearly fifty years,” she says. “I’ve never encountered anything that can affect the ether.”
Rhea meets her gaze steadily. “That is because it is not natural,” she replies. “It is Leviathan’s corruption, seeping into the earth for centuries. It is chaos incarnate.”
I exchange a glance with Cora, my stomach twisting with unease. The implications are horrifying, and I can’t help but wonder how deep Enigma’s plans go.
Rhea’s voice softens as she looks at me. “Please,” she says, her tone almost pleading. “If you are truly Khale’s friends, arrange for me to see him. Let me speak with my son.”
Cora’s expression hardens instantly. “No,” she says firmly. “You’ve done enough damage. He doesn’t need to see you.”
Rhea’s face falls, but she doesn’t argue. The silence is broken moments later by a knock at the door. A guard steps in, his posture rigid.
“It is time,” he announces. “The banquet awaits.”
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