Page 72 of The Blood Rites

“We’re almost there!” I shout, but my voice is lost in the noise.

The three of us dive just as the wave closes in, crashing mere steps from where we land sprawled on the ground. The thundering crest rolls past while the tail of the wave splashes against an unseen barrier, as if the ocean itself were trapped behind a sheet of glass.

I turn to Marissa. Her eyes are huge, bewildered, and terrified, but she’s alive.

Callen walks to the edge of the water’s boundary, staring in awe at the wave churning within.

I sit there, numb, watching.

Eventually the wave subsides and whatever held it in place fades. The last of the receding water spills over the ground, soaking Callen to his ankles and drenching Marissa and me as we sit.

We stay seated, sodden and salt-stung as the water invades our fresh scrapes.

No one speaks. There is nothing left to say.

Marissa looks at me, fresh tears rising as the saltwater soaks into the rock. She mouths a single word: sorry.

Callen gets up and walks away. He doesn't look back.

I pick myself up before helping Marissa to her feet.

I stare at the Mother Shard.

At the golden one burning against her surface.

The wave didn’t claim us.

“What do we do now?” Marissa asks, sniffling softly.

“We survive.”

Eleven

I spend a few moments perched on a razor of black rock while the salty wind picks at my tattered skin. The deeper cuts still leak red down my arms and legs, but the sun bakes the blood dry almost immediately.

Marissa is a small lump curled against a boulder nearby, her head pressed into the crook of her arm, shielding her eyes from the glare. She looks dead, save for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. The wave seems to have ripped the life out of her.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired, not even after a day of drills. The adrenaline from outrunning the wave has faded, and now tremors work their way through me, starting in my feet and climbing into my stomach.

I try not to think about Callen leaving. It’s pointless. Survival makes cowards of us all. Perhaps he just needed a reason to break the bond between us. Still, the space he occupied feels barren.

My eyes hurt but I daren’t close them. I want to see when the next wave will come and if it will pass through here. If it does, we should be able to move to the other side of the barrier and get some rest. But if I fall asleep now, I might never wake, drowned in my sleep.

In the distance, the Mother Shard looms—a beacon, alive and counting our doom. The horizon is filled with rows of jagged rocks, the ocean sighing endlessly between them.

We must be halfway to the Mother Shard by now. Maybe less. Distance feels wrong here. The wave came too fast. Too precisely. And that crashing sound—it wasn’t thunder. It had to be another wave.

The wave shouldn’t even be possible, and yet something about it feels controlled. Like the Mother Shard is steering us towards something.

Marissa stirs in her sleep, moaning softly. I want to shake her awake, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I know from her huddled form that she’s as raw and sore as I am. The wind howls over the rocks, tugging at her clothes, and I find myself wishing, absurdly, that the world would just stop for a moment. This place is too much.

I take a deep breath and force myself to think. I barely notice when the breeze calms to a low, restless whisper between the stones.

My head snaps up as small rocks skitter down the ridge.

My body tenses, and I scan the ridgeline, half expecting Callen to return for round two. Instead, I see a flash of dark green uniform and dark hair streaked with grey.

Rask, and just behind him, the stocky female Earthborn—Orla, I think.