Chapter 302
The Swarm rally one final time.
The remnants of the horde, hatchlings and adults alike, screech as they dive toward us, reckless and furious.
Wake’s expression darkens.
He moves with terrifying certainty, raising one hand, the silver light burning brighter along the etched lines of his body. The very stone around us responds—groaning, splitting, moving.
The trench walls convulse inward like lungs exhaling their last breath. Giant slabs of rock break free and slam down, crushing anything beneath them. Shards of ancient stone spiral through the water like spears, impaling the Swarm. The ceiling cracks with a deep, seismic crunch, and the ruins above begin to collapse.
The Swarm tries to retreat, but it’s too late. The Forgotten Keep comes down around them in a tidal wave of stone, coral, and crushed ancient metal, entombing them beneath centuries of ruin.
Silence falls, broken only by the groaning death-throes of the trench.
The dust settles.
I float, stunned, clutching the dim orb against my chest as Wake lowers his hand slowly, breathing hard.
He turns to face us—and his fury is immediate.
“What,” Wake growls, voice like grinding stone. “Were you thinking?”
Axel shrugs, still catching his breath. “I don’t know. Thought we’d go sightseeing in a cursed graveyard. Pick up some souvenirs.”
“Don’t joke.” Wake’s voice cracks like a whip. “You were supposed to protect her.” He points at me like I’m the fragile artifact that almost got destroyed.
Axel throws up his hands. “Protect her? You know damn well, brother—if there’s ever a damsel who doesn’t need saving, it’s Phoebe.”
Wake’s jaw clenches. His entire body vibrates with barely restrained anger.
“We weren’t supposed to fight anything,” Axel snaps. “The Swarm never hatched outside their migration. It’s not breeding season, it’s not spawning time, there was no reason to think—"
“They were never supposed to be here.” I cut in before Wake can bite back. My voice is hoarse, but steady. “Because they’re not just Swarm anymore.”
Wake’s eyes narrow. “Explain.”
I take a deep, shaky breath. “When we were trapped… I tried to sing the song Delphi taught us—the melody that breaks the hivemind.”
Axel looks at me sharply. “You what?”
“And it worked. For a moment. They froze. Like they were connected. Linked.”
Wake's gaze hardens, piecing it together faster than I can say it.
“I think…” I trail off, forcing myself to say it. “I think they’re Elder Kin. Or they were. Or… they’re an offshoot. Mutated. Corrupted. Something Leviathan left behind.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and uneasy.
Axel scrubs a hand through his hair. “What does that mean?”
Wake’s face is grim. “It means the Abyss was never safe from Leviathan’s reach. It means we've been naïve fools, pretending distance would protect us.”
He looks up at the crumbling ruins above, voice low and dangerous.
“If we keep listening to the Commander—if we keep pretending nothing’s wrong—we're all dead. It's only a matter of when.”
Axel blows out a breath. “Yeah. About that.”
Wake turns to him, tense. “What?”
Axel gives me a glance, and I nod, signaling him to tell it straight.
Axel crosses his arms. “Phoebe and I found something. In the caverns.”
Wake’s shoulders tighten further. “Found what?”
“The truth.” I step forward. “About Dagon. About the Darklite. About everything.”
Wake’s sharp gaze pins me in place. “Tell me.”
So I do.
I explain what we saw—the carvings, the betrayal of Leviathan, how Dagon infiltrated the Abyss and turned Leviathan’s own weapons against him. How the Abyss chose war over scholarship. How Shoal has twisted this forgotten history to suit his own ambitions.
I explain the celestial event—the eclipse, the meteor shower—the World’s End prophecy etched into the walls themselves.
And finally, I tell him about the true betrayal we witnessed: Leviathan didn’t give his power willingly. It was taken. Drained. And Shoal plans to do it again.
When I finish, Wake is silent for a long moment, jaw flexing. Then he speaks, voice low and rough.
“He doesn’t want to usurp the gods,” he says. “He wants to become one.”
I nod. “And he knows exactly when to make his move. During the World's End event. When the meteor shower and eclipse align.”
Wake rubs a hand down his face, clearly doing the math. “How long do we have?”
Axel shifts awkwardly. “About five days.”
Wake stares at him, incredulous. “Five days? How the abyss do you know that?”
Axel lifts a brow. “Shoal’s my brother too, remember? I actually paid attention when he rambled about astronomy. This isn’t the first time he’s talked about the eclipse. You just didn’t listen.”
Wake’s hands tighten into fists. Guilt flashes through his expression—sharp and ugly.
“You’re right. I didn’t pay attention to who he was as an individual. Instead I thought…” he trails off, shaking his head. “I thought if we found common ground that would be enough. Clearly, I was wrong.”
I lay a hand on his arm. “This isn’t your fault, Wake. Shoal wasn't hurt or abandoned, he was underappreciated, like billions of other people are every single day. People don’t plan wars just because they feel misunderstood. They don't plot to become gods.”
Axel grunts. “She’s right. Shoal’s a megalomaniac, not a victim.”
Wake sags slightly, the weight of it settling onto his broad shoulders.
“So,” Axel says grimly, “what do we do now? We’re out of time.”
Wake lifts his head. His silver-lit eyes are steady now.
“Our father refuses to listen. But it doesn’t matter.”
He spreads his arms, showing the glowing runes still burning across his skin.
“I’m Heir now. And the armies of the Abyss answer to me.”
Axel snorts. “And after that?”
I square my shoulders. “Then we call a Conclave of our own.”
Wake cocks his head. “Where?”
I think back to the murals in the Keep. To the vision of the pale spired city shining under the light of a false sun. A phrase floats to the surface of my mind—Look to the star of the sea; its essence holds the key.
Not a person, I realized back in that cave, or a thing. A place.
I lift my gaze to Wake and Axel, the certainty burning through my blood.
“The Eastern Twilight.”
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