Page 15 of Vasmora

For millennia, they had been hunted for food, entertainment, and cruelty. It’d only been in the last thousand years that they’d turned violent and vengeful. Rightly so. Dolion had once stumbled upon a painting in the market that depicted a Syrenian half-consumed on a long dining table, her body like the carcass of a fish spread out for the men who feasted on her. The most haunting piece he’d ever seen.

The matriarch looked back at Rykaia, her eyes more sympathetic than before. As she leaned toward her, Rykaia jerked backward but seemed unable to avoid the gentle kiss pressed to her forehead. When the matriarch pulled away, she held the ring in her open palm and curled her fingers around it, clutching it.

She twisted away and let out a high-pitched call. The other Syrenians slipped beneath the water, and with one more glance toward Rykaia, she followed after them.

“What is this?” Rykaia turned toward Dolion, her head slipping closer to the surface as she seemed to grow even more exhausted. “What just happened?”

“She changed her mind, it seems.”

“No. No she seemed awfully concerned with Torryn. Why?”

“I’d like to know myself.” Torryn flailed his arms in what must’ve been a poor attempt to help stay afloat.

Before Dolion could answer, an orange glow flickered from below, growing brighter in the passing seconds that Dolion was left to wonder if the matriarch might still order a feeding frenzy. Despite being apex predators, the Syrenians tended to be picky, selective about their food. He’d never heard of them shunning mancers, though. Or Elvynirans, for that matter.

Silt drifted upward around a dark shadow that ascended toward their feet. Roughly six meters in diameter, it could’ve been a small island emerging from the depths, but a domed black shell, only visible by the orange fissures of magma that veined it, confirmed his suspicions.

Molozueli the Syrenians had called them. Giant beasts, rarely seen at sea, though Dolion had read about them while studying ancient biology. Birthed in the ocean’s deep, volcanic trenches, they were an ancestor of the sea turtles, but grew exceptionally bigger and far more threatening with their glowing orange eyes and razor-sharp teeth. Even at its depth, Dolion could feel the heat rise from its massive body, the warmth damn near hissing through his muscles and bones.

“What is that thing!” Rykaia called out, swimming away from the group as the beast inched closer.

“I believe the matriarch summoned it.”

“Should we be swimming away?” Allura asked, also fighting to stay above the surface as she tipped her head back, the water rising to the level of her mouth.

“Strange as it may sound, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Rykaia twisted around, seeming to search for a way around it.

“What are the options?” Dolion spoke stiffly, his jaw rigid from the icy air. “Sitting on the warm shell of an apex predator, or taking our chances with the sharks and hypothermia? Torryn can hardly keep his head above water.”

“I told you long ago … to let me go,” Torryn argued.

“And I told you to shut up with that,” Rykaia snapped. “What if this thing gets a wild hair up its ass and decides to dive back down to its little lava pit beneath the sea?”

“We’ll be in the same position we are right now.” Overwhelming heat pressed against the soles of Dolion’s feet as the shell’s dome pushed upward. Rough scutes kept him from sliding around, the thick bony plates dulling the scorching layer of magma just below them. He glanced around to find Rykaia, Allura and Torryn gathering around each other, and despite the unsteady shift of the surface, he crawled toward them.

“Merciful gods, it’s warm!” Allura smiled, pressing her palms against the shell.

The sound of splashing drew Dolion’s attention toward the water, a good two meters below them, where shark fins darted off into the darkness.

“Seems we’re safe for now, as well.” He sighed and sat back, pulling his knees up as he took a moment to catch his breath.

Rykaia settled in beside him, not bothering to look at him when she asked, “Dolion … why did the Syrenian change her mind?”

“She didn’t say why.”

“You’re lying. That kiss wasn’t sweet. It was pity.”

Dolion sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “She thought Torryn may have harmed you. I assured her he hadn’t.”

Placing a hand against her stomach, she frowned. “And she sensed this harm in my womb. When she touched me.”

“Rykaia, the Syrenians are an incredibly mysterious race. Not much is known about their ability to–”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Dolion. I’ve long suspected there was something …” She swallowed a gulp, eyes shimmering with tears. “I just never dared to confirm, is all. Perhaps it’s for the best that I gave my mother's ring away. We were spared, so something good came out of it.”

Eyes brimming with remorse, Allura reached out for her hand. “What I said … about you being selfish. I didn’t mean it.”