Page 47 of Beneath the Veil of Tides
Across the seas, the goddess’s name was exalted in prayer, and her demand for child sacrifices was accepted as purely sacred; however, the people in Iskavaane could no longer bear the cost of devotion. Couldn’t handle the endless loss of their children, claimed one by one to sate a hunger they could neither understand nor forgive. While most of the depths remained loyal, offering blood and prayer, the rebels turned their backs on the altar, choosing survival over submission. Though the Ocean Mother’s dominion stretched the depths, the merfolk of Iskavaane chose no altar, worshipped no divinities, sang no hymns. Not out of ignorance, but defiance. In doing so, theybranded themselves her enemies, outcasts defying a goddess who still ruled most of the ocean with fear and fire.
“Who did they take from you?” I whispered. Fear curled tight at the thought of his response, the weight of the answer pressing deep into my stomach.
Laziel must have sensed the hesitation in my voice or the way I swallowed hard once the words escaped my lips. Tilting his head, he silently searched my eyes for a moment. He stood tall, towering over me as he declared his loss. His lips drew downward, eyebrows crinkling.
“My older brother.”
A noticeable weight pressed deep in my heart, understanding the feeling of losing a sibling, even if I did not know the state of my own.
Evelyn was alive,I kept reminding myself, but I’d never believe it until I had her back.
My legs shook as I approached Laziel, unsheathing the dagger the crew had returned after the poison waned. He lifted his chin to expose his throat, the bravery slicing through the air far more than the blade. His calm, brown-eyed gaze trailed the weapon as I stepped closer.
The dagger stayed visible as I walked closer, because I didn’t bother to conceal it. That alone made him flinch. I let him.
I crouched low, and his whole body went rigid. No reassurance. Words would only cast more trepidation. The rope gave way under four quick jerks, falling to the deck with a thud. Noctis’s disapproving stare seared through my back, but I ignored it.
He needed help. And I needed him.
“Will you teach me to yield my magic?” I asked as he massaged the crimson marks around his wrists.
Laziel gave a curt nod, but I didn’t miss the flash of hesitation that crossed his features. The way his eyes darted to the glaring god over my shoulder.
“We can start now, if you’d prefer,” he offered, but I refused.
“Tomorrow. Tonight, you rest before we get to Corvenwald. Don’t make us regret this decision, Laziel.”
I stormed off, dragging Noctis behind me by the sleeve.
“Keep pulling me like this, and I won’t be responsible for what happens next,” the god warned, a bit of mischief lighting his voice.
I whirled on him, a finger digging into his chest.
“How do you know I have power? Why is it that you can hear only my prayers?”
Noctis’s eyes grew wild like a child who realized too late that he said the wrong thing. I shoved harder into his chest, and the scars along his face cracked audibly as if his cheeks were glass breaking against stone. They cleaved further past his jaw, rupturing and expelling a faint glow of yellow-hued light down his neck.
And for some reason, Noctis showed no indicator that it bothered him.
“Wha–” The words choked out, shock overpowering my ability to speak watching his flesh splinter.
He trailed his fingers along the fault in his cheek and closed his eyes as if collecting himself as best he could.
“Is this your curse? You said you were dying. Is this it?”
Fear settled in my gut, like an innate part of me scratching to save him. To protect him at all costs.
“Yes,” Noctis replied as he shifted his eyes to the ground. “I am cursed and dying, and this is it.”
“How?”
“Last time I told you I was dying, you said it would be a service to the realms.” His light chuckle did not hide the pain behind the words.
“I was wrong,” I admitted. My teeth found the inside of my cheek, as if I could bite back regrettable words that I already yielded.
Noctis studied me with eyes that held a silent hunger, hesitating at my lips. There was a softness there too, like he was afraid to break the fragile connection between us as he worked to rebuild it. In that lingering gaze, I felt both seen and treasured, as if he’d been waiting lifetimes just to study me that way.
“I cursed myself.”
