Page 284 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
Curiosity will not be my cause of death, thanks.
Still, I watch as it continues to hover. It vibrates and shudders with something like a sense of urgency before calming. When I don’t rise to its bait, it disappears.
I stare at the entrance, and after a few minutes, my lids grow heavy again.
Which is exactly when it reappears... holding something.
My eyes narrow on the large, round, disc-like–
Fucking gods, it’s a dinner plate.
The wisp releases it and backs away as though giving me room to retrieve it.
My eyes follow the plate’s descent–large black script decorates its porcelain surface.
I glare at the wisp.
Fine, but if you lead me to my death, Iwillhaunt you.
Unease and annoyance heighten the tension in the muscles of my tail as I swim to snatch up the plate. Thewill-o'-the-wispdrifts closer, illuminating the text written on the face of the plate. If something were wrong, I can’t imagine Lazarus, Azrael, or Levi would notify me via tableware.
Still, I find myself peeking around the corner of the cave mouth to study Sinsól in the distance. From here, all seems well. If it weren’t for the gaping tunnel cutting into the top of Sinsól’s dome, one might even think the god of the sea hadn’t been murdered by his own daughter.
I should be ecstatic.
Rejoicing.
Yet, here I am.
Feeding the sea with my tears.
Finally my gaze falls back to the plate.
A single Atratusian word is written boldly across it.
Navus.
Boat.
Craning my neck backwards, I tilt my gaze towards the surface. Sure enough, I can make out the dim outline of a ship-shaped shadow blocking out the lunar light cast by Bellorum’s three moons.
I canfeeltheir magic even from here—death magic, though it feels entirely different from Lazarus and Azrael’s, and another magic that reminds me of healing magic, butmore.
Shock slackens my features when I realize who it is that’s waiting for me.
What in the hellish fuck?
With a powerful flick of my tail, I launch myself towards the surface—slowing just before I breach it. I sharpen my hearing, listening to try and take in the muffled voices coming from above...
A male. “Why would she be here, out in the middle of the sea?—”
A female snaps her reply. “My magic is never wrong. She’s here, I can feel her.”
A beat of silence before the male’s reply.
“Speak to me in that tone again, and I’ll fuck you on this poop deck.”
If I weren’t so anxious to discover why they’ve sought me out, I might laugh. But fear has me closing the distance and emerging from the water, up to my shoulders. As if the sea can sense my volatile emotions, the previous calm turns choppy.
