Chapter 274
The Ether bends around us, silver currents pulsing like veins through the dark-blue void. Still water mirrors a starless sky, and in the center of it all, Miore stands slack-jawed, his wide gray eyes catching the light from every ripple. The orb rests in my hand, faintly glowing, as if it too is listening—watching.
They’re already waiting for us.
Nu rises first, emerging like a tidal surge from beneath the reflective surface. Not a monstrous god, not a storm of wrath or legend—just a man. Calm. Towering. His presence is all pressure and grace, the gentle weight of the ocean’s depths bearing down without crushing. His dark skin is lined with glowing sigils, and his eyes, impossibly deep, shimmer like moonlight on water.
Next to him, Electra manifests in a cascade of lightning, shifting and surging through forms until she settles on one. She’s beautiful in a way that makes my breath catch—otherworldly, terrible and resplendent. But her expression isn’t welcoming. Her eyes are storm-cloud dark.
“You’ve been distant,” Electra says.
Her voice reverberates in the Ether itself. Not loud. Just final.
I step forward slowly. “I’ve had reasons.”
“You’ve had excuses,” she counters, arms crossing. “You’ve silenced yourself. Closed me off. I can barely send you a flicker of warning in your sleep, and you let that flicker die.”
I feel Miore’s gaze shift to me, but I don’t flinch. I can’t. “We’ve been watched. Surrounded. Shoal’s been guiding everything. I couldn’t risk it.”
“Risk what?” Electra steps forward. “Telling the truth? Reaching out for help? Phoebe, I’m not your jailor. I’m your ancestor. I’ve been trying to guide you.”
“I didn’t know who to trust,” I say, voice low. “Everything they’re saying about you… about Leviathan… it doesn’t add up.”
Nu tilts his head, watching us carefully. His eyes flick to Miore, then back to me. “Then ask. That’s why we brought you here.”
Miore, to his credit, steps forward. His voice is steadier than I expect. “Shoal said you betrayed Leviathan. That you were afraid of him. That the gods turned on him because he empowered our people.”
Electra exhales. “There’s truth in it. But not the whole truth.”
Nu raises a hand, fingers spreading. Around us, the Ether ripples—and memories bloom. Visions. Scenes. Leviathan, massive and glorious, his scales glinting like constellations beneath dark waters. He swims through trenches, trailing bioluminescent spirals in his wake. And behind him, Darklite—pure, glowing stones forming in the currents.
“He was the first,” Nu says. “He touched the Ether before any of us, before even the gods knew what it truly was. He created Darklite by drawing the light out of himself. But with every stone, he gave away a piece of his soul.”
Electra nods. “He thought he was helping. Building tools. Fuel. Power. But the more he created, the less of himself remained.”
“His mind unraveled,” Nu says. “He grew cruel. Paranoid. Delusional. He began to see all life as fuel for the Ether. He believed he had to feed it… or it would turn on him.”
I watch the visions change—cities swallowed by waves, clans screaming, towers cracking beneath the weight of the sea. Leviathan roaring, void-eyed and monstrous.
“We did what we had to,” Electra says softly. “We bound him. With his own power. With our own. And we locked away the knowledge of the Ether so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“But the damage was already done,” Nu continues. “What Darklite remained was hoarded. Wars were fought. You know this part.”
Miore looks pale. “They said you hoarded it. That the gods kept it for themselves.”
Electra shakes her head. “We cut it off. It was poisoning the world. We didn’t know how much the world needed it, not until it was gone.”
A cold weight sinks into my stomach. “And the Heirs?”
“You weren’t meant to only inherit our power,” Nu says, voice growing solemn. “You were born to finish what we couldn’t. You are not our children. You are our end.”
I freeze. “You made us to kill him.”
Electra meets my gaze. “Yes. But we didn’t expect Shoal to wake him early. You’re not ready.”
“Then help us,” Miore says. “We can be ready. We have to be.”
Electra steps closer to me, her hand hovering near mine. “You’ve been gathering the chain, Phoebe. One link at a time. Your family. Your mate. Your people. But you still doubt yourself. You doubt me.”
“I don’t know if I’m a weapon,” I whisper. “Or a lens. Or just a pawn.”
“Maybe you’re all three,” Electra says. “But don’t mistake that for weakness. You have more control than any of us ever did.”
Nu kneels beside Miore. “You’ve never spoken to me because no one ever taught you how. That’s not your fault. But now you know. When you reach for the Ether, I will reach back.”
Miore swallows hard, then nods.
I turn to Electra, my heart pounding. “What do we do now? If he wakes before we’re ready—”
“He will wake,” she says. “That is inevitable. But if you gather the Heirs, if you prepare yourselves, you can still end this.”
“But how do I convince them?” I ask.
Electra gives me the faintest smile. “You already are. Keep going.”
The Ether pulses again. The orb vibrates in my hand. Miore looks down, startled.
“We’re being called back,” Nu says. “You’ve stayed too long.”
Electra places a hand over mine. Her touch is cool, tingling like lightning in my skin. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
I want to ask how she can be so sure.
But we’re already falling.
The Ether dissolves around us like smoke in water, and the world of flesh and gravity rushes up to meet us.
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