Chapter 71
Wake and I swim in silence for a while, the only sound the gentle current rushing past us. His presence beside me is steady, grounding, but my mind is still reeling from how different my life looks now than it did this morning. Every way I've changed irrevocably.
The ocean feels different now than it ever did when I was a simple marine biologist—alive in a way that can't be replicated from the surface or captured on a screen. It calls to me, hums in my blood, thrums in my chest. I can feel it. I can feel everything.
The water is like silk, warm and wrapping around me in a comforting embrace as I follow Wake deeper into the reef. The glow from the coral is ethereal, casting dancing shadows across the seabed. The colors of the reef pulse with life—vibrant reds, pinks, and blues that seem to shimmer in the moonlit water, each movement of the sea creating a kaleidoscope of hues. I reach out and run my hand across a patch of soft coral, feeling the delicate branches brush my fingertips like the feathers of a bird. Everything feels alive here, like the ocean itself is breathing.
Fish dart around us, tiny flickers of silver and gold moving in and out of the coral as though they have a million errands to run. I can feel their thoughts—a strange, fluttering sensation at the edge of my mind. It’s not like human thoughts, not complex or layered with emotion. It’s simple, direct. A kind of pure joy that I can’t help but envy.
A small school of fish swims by, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization, like dancers in a choreographed routine. Their collective thoughts brush against my mind, a burst of contentment, a shared purpose that feels almost musical. It’s like they’re singing to each other, but not with voices. It’s all sensation—rhythm, motion, joy.
I laugh out loud, the sound muffled by the water, bubbles escaping from my mouth and floating lazily to the surface. "I never imagined fish would have such *active* social lives," I say, turning to Wake with wide, astonished eyes.
He watches me with that quiet intensity of his, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Life down here has its perils all the same," he says, his voice a deep rumble that seems to resonate through the water. "But here, in the reefs, life is fast and fleeting. There isn’t much time to mourn. It’s all about survival and connection."
I catch a glimpse of a starfish clinging to a rock and feel an odd pull toward it. I swim over and gently pry it off, cradling it in my hand. The creature moves slowly across my palm, its tiny limbs inching their way forward with a kind of lazy determination. It’s such a small thing, but its life feels as important as any other in this vast ocean. The simplicity of its thoughts touches something deep inside me—its existence is peaceful, purposeful. No worries, no fears, just the constant motion of living.
"When was the last period of peace for your people?" I ask quietly, my eyes still fixed on the starfish. The question feels heavier than the water around us, sinking into the stillness of the reef.
Wake’s expression changes, a shadow passing over his face. He reaches out and gently takes the starfish from my hand, placing it back on the rock where I found it. His fingers linger on the coral for a moment before he pulls away, his gaze distant. "It’s been too long," he says softly, his voice carrying the weight of ages. "And it is going to get far worse before it gets better."
There’s a cold edge to his words that sends a shiver down my spine despite the warmth of the water. The thought of what’s to come—the battles, the war, the ancient enemies lurking beneath the ocean’s surface—feels overwhelming. I chew on my bottom lip, suddenly feeling small and insignificant in the face of it all. "And now that I’m like you," I say, my voice barely more than a whisper, "now that I have Electra’s power, whatever that means, I’m supposed to be able to help? I’m supposed to make a difference?"
Wake’s gaze softens, and he turns toward me, his hand coming up to cup the back of my head. His fingers tangle in my hair, anchoring me in place as his eyes bore into mine with a fierce, unwavering intensity. "The fact that you are my mate," he says, his voice low and rough, "will be enough to turn the tides in our favor. Power or no power, you are worthy to me. That is all that matters."
I swallow hard, my heart hammering in my chest. His words cut through the doubt, the fear, leaving only the raw truth of the bond between us. There’s something in his gaze, something that tells me he believes in me—even when I don’t believe in myself.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I lean forward, closing the distance between us, and our lips meet in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s like the ocean fades away, the current stilling, the reef quieting around us as we sink into the moment. His lips are warm, gentle at first, but the kiss deepens, and suddenly, it feels like the water around us is pulsing with electricity.
His hand tightens in my hair, pulling me closer, and I lose myself in the feel of him—the warmth of his mouth, the strength of his body against mine. The world outside us doesn’t exist. It’s just the two of us, suspended in the vastness of the ocean, connected by something deeper than words. I can feel the rhythm of his heart beating in time with mine, and it’s as though the ocean itself is holding its breath.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing hard, our foreheads resting against each other. I feel a strange sense of calm wash over me, like everything that’s been weighing me down has been lifted, if only for a moment.
"I love you," I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Wake stills, his breath catching in his throat. He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and I see the emotion swirling there, raw and unguarded. His arms tighten around me, pulling me against his chest, and he presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “And I love you.”
Suddenly, the space between us feels too wide. We meet in a flurry, our tongues battling for the upper hand. The kiss quickly deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. The worries, the fears, the pressure—they all dissolve into the water, leaving only the two of us. His hand tightens in my hair, pulling me closer, and I lose myself in the feel of him, the warmth of his mouth, the steady strength of his body pressed against mine.
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