Chapter 68
The sensation is disorienting—free-falling, the air whipping past us as we plummet from the cliff toward the ocean below. My mind screams, but I can’t move. My body is locked in this rigid state, unable to respond to the rush of fear that overtakes me.
I want to scream, to panic, but Wake’s mouth on mine keeps me grounded. His kiss—his breath—fills my lungs, and I realize with a jolt that he’s giving me oxygen, keeping me alive as we plunge toward the water.
The icy cold shock of the ocean slams into us, the force of it sending a ripple of pain through my already ravaged body. But Wake doesn’t let go. He’s already transformed, and he pulls me deeper, down into the dark depths, his powerful body cutting through the water with ease.
The pressure of the ocean bears down on me, but I can still feel him—still hear him, his voice resonating inside my mind, strong and sure.
I’ve got you, he says, his tone soft but commanding. You’re going to survive this, Phoebe. You’re too strong to give up now.
And despite the pain, despite the terror, I believe him.
The water is cold as it rushes around us, but it doesn’t feel like it. Wake’s mouth remains locked to mine as he propels us through the deep, his body surging with every stroke of his tail.
How…how are we moving so fast? I wonder.
Currents, he answers, our thoughts flowing effortlessly from one to the other.
The current is wild, pulling us along faster than I thought possible, but all I can feel is the steady exchange of air between us. Each time he exhales, it’s like fire filling my lungs, keeping me alive, but at a cost. I can’t move, I can barely think, and the world around me is just a blur of dark water and flashing sealife.
It's this way for what feels like a lifetime, until suddenly something…changes.
The pain in my body is still there, the searing, burning ache that has been with me ever since the procedure, but it’s dulling now, fading into the background. My lungs expand fully for the first time in what feels like hours, my skin and muscles stop screaming in agony, and a strange warmth fills me. I don’t know how long we’ve been moving, but I can feel it, a shift inside me, something new.
We’ve arrived.
Wake slows, coming to a halt at the bottom of a vast, deep basin, the seabed stretching endlessly in every direction. I can feel the difference instantly. This place—it’s not just any stretch of water. It’s familiar somehow, almost welcoming.
The pressure against my body, the weight of the ocean, feels different here. Lighter, less oppressive. I’m… stronger. The pain is gone.
We’ve reached the edge of your people’s territory. Wake’s voice cuts through my mind, the telepathic connection between us as clear as ever. This is your homesea, Phoebe. It will take care of you if you let it.
I blink through the water, staring at him in confusion. What does that mean? I think back at him, not entirely sure what he expects me to do.
You said that you trusted me. Now, you need to trust the ways of your ancestors, he says, his gaze intense, almost pleading.
My what? I ask, anxiety rising.
Be strong, Phoebe. You have to let go.
Before I can respond, before I can even fully process what he’s saying, he lets go of me. His arms slip away, and suddenly, I’m sinking. Panic hits me instantly. My body goes rigid as I clutch at my throat, instinctively trying to breathe, trying to hold on to something—anything. I gasp, and water floods into my lungs.
For a moment, terror blinds me. The cold rush of the ocean surges into my chest, and I feel like I’m drowning, like this is the end. But then… nothing. No suffocation. No pain.
Just air.
I blink, stunned. The water is moving through me, through something at my throat. I press my fingers against my neck, feeling the ridges of thin, imperceptible gills that weren’t there before.
I’m breathing underwater.
I whirl toward Wake, my heart pounding, a thrill of disbelief and excitement shooting through me. “I can breathe!” I shout, and am hit with yet another shock. Instead of thinking it, the words tumble from my lips in a soft whisper that floats in the water around me. “I can…I'm speaking underwater!”
I laugh, exhilarated, as I look down at my hands. Thin, gossamer webbing is beginning to form between my fingers, growing like delicate silk.
“This is incredible….,” I begin, but the itching beneath my skin intensifies. My breath catches in my throat as the itch spreads, burning now, all over my body, and suddenly the excitement is swallowed by something much darker.
The itch deepens, turns into something worse, something unbearable. My skin is pulling, stretching, but not in the way it had before when the pain was more…physical. No, this is happening inside me, literally an itch that can't be scratched.
I shouldn't have thought it, shouldn't have complained, because the pain does deepen and solidify. From the incessant itch comes gut-wrenching cracking sounds as my muscles and bones—they begin to shift, breaking apart and coming back together in ways that should never have been possible for my body.
I scream, but the sound is lost in the water.
The wrenching pain in my bones doubles, and I clutch at my arms, my legs, trying to hold myself together as my body fights to tear itself apart. “Wake!”
He looks at me, his expression hard, his eyes pained but distant. "Let the change take you," he says, his voice calm, controlled, as if he’s done this a thousand times. "You need to let go, Phoebe. Trust it."
I try. God, I try, but the pain is too much. It's worse than the needles, it's worse than the tainted blood that caused this, l because this pain isn't in my head—it’s actually happening to me.
My skin is splitting, my muscles tearing from my bones. My legs convulse, twisting beneath me, and I feel the very structure of my body changing, morphing into something else. My breath comes in shallow gasps, each one more difficult than the last, and I can’t fight the rising panic.
I don’t want this. I don’t want this at all.
"I can’t do this," I gasp. "It hurts. Wake, it hurts so much."
His face is stoic, almost impassive, but there’s something in his eyes—something that looks like regret, or maybe sorrow. "You have to let go," he repeats, but I can’t. I can’t make myself give in.
The pain sharpens, stabbing through me, and I double over, clutching my stomach as the muscles spasm violently. My legs—are they still legs?—feel wrong, distorted, and the bones in my spine crack and shift painfully.
I try to breathe, to calm myself, but each breath feels harder, more strained. My lungs aren’t working right. My heart is pounding too fast, too hard, and I feel the panic rising again, suffocating me.
"Phoebe!" Wake’s voice ripples through the water, sounding louder than I remember, even more commanding. "You have to do this. You’re stronger than you think. You’re built for this. Just let it happen."
But I can’t. I’m too scared. The pain, the change—it’s too much, too fast.
"I’m sorry," I whisper, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "I’m so sorry, Wake."
"You’re not going to die," he says, his voice softening. "I’m right here. You’re not going to die, Phoebe. But you have to let go. You have to trust your homesea. It’s where you belong."
The water swirls around me, pulling at my body, as if the sea itself is calling to me, trying to finish the transformation. But all I feel is the terror, the fear of what’s happening, of what I’m becoming. My hands curl into fists as I fight it, the burning in my bones reaching a fever pitch.
"Let go," Wake says again, but I can’t. I’m too afraid.
I look at him through the haze of my panic, my vision blurring as tears mix with the saltwater. "I’m so sorry, Wake. I lo—"
I don't get to finish my sentence. I don't get to say goodbye, because before I can—lightning strikes.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
