Chapter 312
The world is cracking.
Not metaphorically—literally splitting at the seams. I can feel it. Hear it. See it. Deep, bone-chilling tremors ripple through the molten mantle of the earth. It’s not just tectonic. It’s something older. Hungrier.
Leviathan is awake.
I don’t see him, not at first. Just shadows, deeper than anything that should exist, stretching beneath the ocean trenches like an impossible abyss. Mountains crumble beneath the pressure of his movements. Trenches collapse. Oceans roar as they’re displaced, water churning upward in spirals so high they kiss the stars. And still, he rises.
The sky above—if it is sky—is blackened by the eclipse. That same eclipse. I recognize it now, the shape of it seared into the inside of my skull: the sun swallowed whole, the corona like a crown of burning teeth.
Then the stars fall. Meteorites scream through the heavens, tearing through cloud and current alike. They streak downward, dozens of them, hundreds. Each one an omen. Each one a nail in the coffin of our world.
And Leviathan rampages.
His body is a warpath. Towering, sinuous, terrifying. His scales gleam like obsidian, but it’s his eyes that freeze me—two massive, glowing orbs the color of a dying star. Every thrash of his tail reshapes the ocean floor. Cities collapse like castles in the tide. Coral forests burn in blue flame.
I see Estellis again. I see Atlas. I see the Flounder, shattered like driftwood. I see faces—Delphi, Peter, Miore, Axel, Cora, Wake—
Gone.
Then the world fractures. Like glass under too much pressure, the surface of the earth splits and peels away, tectonic plates spinning like broken teeth. The core is exposed—and at its center, where molten metal should be, there’s a sphere.
Not fire. Not stone.
Darklite.
Perfect. Untouched. Suspended in silence.
The only thing that survived.
I reach for it, and the moment my fingers graze that glowing surface—
CHIME.
The noise splits through the dream like a blade.
Another chime. Then a series of them. Metallic, harmonious, too bright for sleep.
My eyes snap open.
I’m still in the sea.
The chamber around me glows dimly, its soft light shifting with the currents. The warmth of the salt spring clings to my skin, but I’m alone now—Wake’s side of the bed is empty, and the dream’s dread is still strangling me, pressing into my ribs like a vice.
I bolt upright.
CHIME. CHIME. CHIME.
The sound again—deeper now. Not alarm bells. Not danger.
Something ceremonial. Call-and-response tones echoing through the crystalline palace, bouncing off etched glass and polished stone.
Wake bursts through the carved archway a breath later, blades half-drawn, eyes wild.
I scramble to my feet, pulse hammering. “What is it?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His gills flare and his chest heaves once before he takes off toward the window. I follow, wrapping the silk robe around me as I move.
He sheathes his weapons with a long breath. His shoulders lower.
“There really is nothing else like an Estellis welcome,” he mutters.
My brows knit as I come to his side, heart still pounding from the nightmare. “What are you talking about?”
He gestures toward the streets beyond the glass. “See for yourself.”
I lean forward—and nearly gasp.
Below us, the city has come alive.
Ribbons of silk and seashell garlands hang from arched coral bridges. Lanterns shaped like jellyfish float in long strings, casting multicolored glows across the alabaster streets. And pouring through the streets, flanked by guards and flanked again by throngs of celebrants, are two figures I know as well as my own heartbeat.
Cora and Delphi.
Cora’s head is high, chin sharp, expression unreadable. Regal. Unshakable. Her armor gleams white and gold, polished until it blinds. Delphi is beside her, loose hair flowing like a cape of ink and starlight. The twin braids that once crowned her head are gone, and so is the girl who used to hide behind them. She walks with purpose now. With power.
The crowd roars like a tide breaking against cliffs. Cheers echo, songs rise up, and children throw flower-petals made of opal scales. The entire city is rejoicing.
“The lost princesses,” I murmur, stunned. “They’re celebrating them like… like they’re…”
“Home,” Wake finishes for me, his voice low.
My fingers curl against the windowsill.
Estellis may be elegant. Beautiful. A place of impossible grace and grandeur.
But that beauty hides darkness.
But now, with my real family here, I’m prepared to face it.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
