Chapter 270
The hall outside the lab is quieter than it should be—too quiet after the chaos that just unfolded. Somewhere deeper in the facility, I can still hear alarms whining faintly, but they’ve faded beneath the thrum of recycled air and the faint, oceanic rumble of the Marble above. The floor feels solid beneath my boots, but I can’t shake the residual tremble running under my skin. Like the Earth itself is warning me. This is just the beginning.
Shoal falls into step beside me, his presence like a shadow that knows it doesn’t belong in the light but lingers anyway. We don’t speak at first. There’s a kind of truce in the silence—a tenuous thread neither of us pulls.
I don't know what I'm doing, bringing this to him. Maybe it’s because I know Wake would never entertain this kind of conversation. Maybe it’s because I need to understand what Shoal is really after. Maybe… because I want to believe there’s a piece of him that can still be reasoned with.
We end up alone in one of the upper alcoves of the Marble’s research wing, where the lights are low and blue from the filtered tank above. The glow reflects off Shoal’s skin, making him look otherworldly—like he’s already halfway to being something else entirely.
“I had a dream,” I say, and my voice sounds small in the space. “Last night. Right before the breach.”
Shoal turns to me slowly, his brows lifted with intrigue. “Oh? Was it prophetic?”
I shrug. “Maybe. It felt… more like a memory. But not mine. Like I was watching it through someone else’s eyes.”
He doesn’t mock me for it. That surprises me more than anything.
“Whose eyes?”
I hesitate. “A goddess. I think. Electra.”
Shoal’s lips part slightly, not with surprise, but something sharper. Hunger. Interest.
“She showed me the final battle,” I say. “Between the gods and Leviathan. There was a weapon. A tool. A kind of orb used to power the warships—”
I stop there, keeping Lily’s mirror-self to myself. That’s a secret I’m not ready to give away.
Shoal nods slowly. “You’ve been touched by the Ether. That much is certain.”
I take a breath and take the plunge. “It’s not just that. I think… I think she chose me.”
There’s a long pause. Shoal’s expression doesn’t change, but his stillness sharpens. Like a predator who’s finally scented something worth chasing.
“You’re telling me,” he says carefully, “that you have a direct connection to Electra. That she speaks to you in visions. Dreams.”
I nod. “I’ve spoken with her before. But last night was… different. Stronger.”
Shoal’s eyes glitter like obsidian in the tank-light. “Fascinating.”
And I know—without needing to hear it—that he’s not fascinated by me. Not really. He’s fascinated by the power I represent. By the potential I embody.
I lean against the railing and try to look casual. “I thought you’d have more to say. I figured you’d already figured it out.”
He chuckles. “I suspected. But hearing it from you confirms what I’ve long theorized.”
“Which is?”
He steps closer. Not threatening, but not entirely welcome either.
“That the time is right.”
“For what?”
Shoal tilts his head. “For Leviathan’s return.”
I swallow, throat tight. “You’re really going to do it, then.”
“Yes.” He doesn’t flinch. “During the twin celestial event—a hybrid eclipse and a meteor shower. It happens only once every few millennia. The last time? The day Leviathan was sealed away. This time, we undo what was done.”
He looks out the window, as if he can see the stars already.
“The old line—‘Look to the star of the sea; its essence holds the key’—it speaks to this moment. This time. And to you, perhaps.”
I freeze. But I don’t speak.
He doesn’t press. He only smiles, as if my silence is all the answer he needs.
“It makes sense,” Shoal continues, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “Each god’s power mirrors their domain. Tangaroa’s magma, Aegir’s ice, Nu’s water… All elemental. Physical. Their gifts are extensions of the lands they rule. Enkian lands. Enkian truths. But you? You’re not from Enkia. Not really.”
He looks at me again, and I feel stripped bare.
“Humans have always dreamt of something more. You built entire religions around the stars, around the unknown. That curiosity, that yearning… It draws power from the Ether. It is the Ether. That force of connection. Of belief.”
I narrow my eyes. “So you think Electra’s power isn’t elemental?”
He nods. “Not elemental. Cosmic. She doesn’t use the Ether. She is a conduit for it. A divine lens.”
I don’t say anything, but the words hit hard. A lens. A conduit. A… pawn.
To Shoal, that’s all I am.
And it terrifies me.
Because I can see it in his face—he believes every word. He believes I’m the key to unlocking the power he needs. The tool to raise Leviathan and whatever comes next. His face is alight not with malice, but devotion.
The worst kind of belief.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” I say carefully.
He nods, still watching me with unsettling intensity. “Good. I hoped I would.”
I force myself to smile. “Thank you. For being honest.”
“I always am,” he says. “Eventually.”
I turn to leave, every nerve in my body screaming.
Don’t run, I tell myself. Don’t let him see fear. Don’t let him know.
But as I walk away, I know something’s changed. There’s no question anymore. Shoal doesn’t just want to wake Leviathan.
He wants to use me to do it.
And if I let him… he might just succeed.
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