Chapter 267
I dream in color tonight.
Not just any color—lavender and ivory, opalescent gold, deep-sea blue that glows like firelight under water. It starts quietly, almost soothing. The pulse of a current pulling me along. My eyes open slowly to a place I’ve never been, yet know like a memory I never made.
The city sprawls beneath me, vast and ancient, carved into the seabed like it was born from the bones of the earth itself. The buildings are made of bone-white stone, soft at the edges from centuries of current and time, and crowned with glowing crystals that pulse with lavender light.
A wide, slow river bisects the city, running dark and still like ink across paper, cutting a silver vein through the heart of the metropolis. Bioluminescent flora curl up the sides of buildings, hang from arches, and bloom in gutters. Strange creatures—jellyfish the size of barrels, fish with wings like silk—drift lazily past. The city sparkles, the light soft and steady like starlight caught underwater.
I float, suspended above it, like the dream gave up on gravity altogether. My body doesn’t feel like my own. It’s too fluid, too graceful. I look down, expecting to see legs, but instead find a long, powerful tail tapering into gleaming purple scales and trailing ribbon-like fins. My hands are webbed at the joints, my skin iridescent. My hair drifts around me in a cloud of deep indigo curls that reach my hips.
I blink—and she’s there.
Me.
But not me.
She swims down the grand avenue of the city, flanked on either side by coral-studded columns and statues so massive they look like they were carved from underwater mountains. Her eyes are mine, but sharper and more certain. Her movements are purposeful and royal. She wears an elegant wrap made of sea silk that glitters like moonlight and is trimmed with tiny crystals. It leaves the long sweep of her tail uncovered, her body gleaming with magic.
She—I?—comes to a stop before the largest structure in the city: a crystalline palace of sharp lines and curved domes, all lit from within. The city gathers before her. Enkians, hundreds of them, crowding the street and hanging from terraces and balconies carved from stone. They all watch her-me-with expressions I don’t fully understand.
Then I see him.
Wake. Or someone who looks just like him.
Same sharp jaw, same cutting eyes, same eternal calm. But his hair is long, braided down his back in a thick twist of dark ink and sea-glass beads. Glowing tattoos run down his arms and across his collarbones, ancient symbols that pulse with violet light. He holds a massive trident that hums with power. And he’s not alone.
On either side of him are two others—identical in form, but not in color. One with forest-green scales so dark they almost look black, the other with brilliant cerulean. All three of them bear the same tattoos, the same tridents, the same storm in their eyes.
Behind them, I spot more familiar shapes—Delphi with braided pearl-colored strands that float around her like a halo, Silo with a curved sword strapped to his back, Arista rising tall beside him. I even see Cora, Miore, Lile, and Elanora—all with forms slightly altered, features a little different, like they’ve been rendered through another lens. More powerful. More themselves.
This is the past, or the future, or maybe something else entirely. It is a possibility, a prophecy, a warning.
The crowd parts suddenly.
A final figure approaches.
I see only her back at first—long hair so pale it almost glows silver in the lavender light, trailing behind her like a comet. Her scales shimmer like baby’s breath petals, pale and beautiful. Her hands hold something cradled between them.
A crown. Carved from whale bone, spiked and ancient, studded with diamonds and amethyst.
She bows before Other-Me. Holds it up.
And then Cora steps forward, takes the crown, and places it carefully on my other self’s head.
The crowd erupts.
There’s cheering. Singing. Chants that I can’t make out, but they send a tremor down my spine. Joy bubbles through the city like champagne—pure and electric. My other self lifts something over her head.
The orb.
The same glowing orb I brought back from Ao. Or one just like it.
As it rises, the light hits it and explodes into color. A rainbow refracts outward, waves of light cascading through the city. The crystals blaze, the buildings hum, the machines—small war machines—lift from their resting places and hover into motion. It’s like watching an entire civilization wake up.
Magic. Raw, unfiltered, breathtaking.
And then—
Chaos.
It happens fast.
The silver-haired woman lunges, too quickly to stop. A hidden blade flashes, sinking deep into Other-Phoebe’s side. The orb drops. Blood swirls in the water, painting the rainbow in violent red.
Other-Wake reacts instantly, roaring like I’ve never heard him, but he’s blocked. His brothers—his allies—draw their tridents and turn them on him. The betrayal is coordinated, sharp, and planned.
Hidden assassins burst from the crowd, grabbing at Delphi, Cora, Lile, and everyone. Shouts turn to screams. The city dims, colors flickering like dying lights.
And through it all, the silver-haired woman scoops up the fallen crown and places it on her own head. She lifts the orb high and turns to the panicked city, her smile wicked and triumphant.
That’s when I see her face.
Lily.
Lily St. Cloud, smiling like she’s won.
My scream is silent, swallowed by the dream. By the sea. By the betrayal.
The crown gleams. The orb pulses, then turns a sickly shade of plum. And the city—this beautiful, impossible city—begins to follow, darkening as inky veins spread across every surface. Then the tallest tower on the formerly pristine palace… cracks.
And I wake, gasping, soaked in sweat, heart pounding like I just watched the world end.
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