POV: Beth
The ocean changed as soon as we left the safety of port—like crossing an invisible border where sunlight ceased to matter. The waves no longer sparkled; they watched. Sky bled slowly into charcoal grey, gulls vanished entirely, and even wind moved differently—cautious, like it feared waking something beneath the hull.
We were headed back to the Maelstrom—the trench where Leviathan bones slept and where we’d almost died. Where the sword called to me like a pulse.
Where destiny waited with teeth.
I stood beside Alaric on deck, map open between us. The breeze whipped my hair across my face and I let it. The salt tasted metallic today—as though storm and blood brewed on the horizon.
Kaine approached first, tossing a rope over his shoulder.
“You’re sure this is wise?” he asked Alaric, voice low but not fearful. “Returning there so soon?”
“We don’t have a choice,” Alaric replied. “We need the sword before Silas reaches it—or before the Navy burns every pirate alive.”
Clove popped up behind him like a nervous rabbit. “Just saying—if we die, I'm haunting all of you.”
Karn slapped the back of his head. “You already haunt us alive with that voice.”
The crew chuckled—thin and strained—but laughter was better than the silence we carried since Mira’s disappearance. Every man aboard felt it missing like a missing tooth—tongue touching the absent place, tongue remembering the pain.
Especially me.
“So,” Alaric said to me quietly, tone too soft for the others to hear, “when we reach the trench… we go slow. We don’t touch anything until we’re certain.”
I raised a brow. “You mean until you are certain.”
His jaw flexed. Guilt flickered in his eyes only for a heartbeat. “I mean until I know you won’t get yourself killed.”
Warm. Irritating. Infuriating.
“You think I need your permission to breathe underwater now?” I snapped. “To walk into temples? To listen to magic calling me?”
He met my glare with one of his own—stubborn colliding with stubborn.
“No,” he said low. “I think if you died, I’d burn every ocean down to drag you back.”
That shut me up.
I had no answer for that—my tongue pushed against truth like a bruise. Instead, I turned sharply and descended below deck before he could see me soften.
---
Three days of sailing.
Three days of fog swallowing horizon. Three days of lightning that flashed without thunder. Three days where even sea monsters avoided us.
At night, the crew slept in uneasy shifts. Men who had once mocked death now touched talismans under shirts. Some whispered prayers. Others sharpened blades that wouldn’t matter to ghosts.
And I dreamed.
Dreams of Morwenna—crowned in barnacle jewels, dress flowing like oil over the sea. Her eyes drowned stars. Every night she whispered:
Come. Daughter of Drowned King.
Bone sword waits.
Saltborn must bleed to claim.
I woke gasping every time—palms wet with salt that was not mine.
***
On the fourth dawn, fog split open like torn curtains.
Black water ahead—slick, bottomless, reflecting no sky.
The Maelstrom.
Silence fell over the ship like a shroud. Even wind held breath. The sea below swirled like a pupil—center of the world staring up at us.
Alaric called out, voice controlled but tight.
“Prepare the dive.”
Kaine lowered diving gear. Lanterns were strapped in waterproof casings. Ropes tied around waists. I checked my blades even though steel meant nothing underwater.
Clove handed me a breathing charm—small pearl swallowed in glass.
“Don’t lose it,” he muttered. “Or don’t drown. Either way.”
I smirked tiredly, squeezing his shoulder. Karn saluted with two fingers before jumping first, body slicing into black like swallowed whole. Kaine next. Clove last after five minutes of swearing.
Alaric and I stood alone for a breath.
“You remember what the witch said,” he murmured. “Morwenna demands death-price for the sword. Blood. Or life.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.”
His voice cracked at the edge like wood under stress. He wanted to stop me. He couldn’t. Pride wouldn’t let him—nor destiny.
I leaned forward and whispered without thinking, “You’ll catch me if I fall.”
His inhale was sharp, like hope hurt.
Then I jumped.
---
Water hit like ice knives—shocking, electric. Cold swallowed every thought until breathing charm warmed my lungs and world sharpened to dark blue clarity. Alaric splashed in beside me, teeth gritted.
Down we went. Down past coral spines like fingers. Down past silent skull-fish with hollow eyes. Down where light died and runes began to glow green beneath silt.
The ruins spread beneath us like the bones of a dead kingdom.
Pillars covered in barnacle gold. Cracked statues of forgotten queens. Whispering currents pulling at my hair like hands.
We swam deeper into an archway of whale ribs—Morwenna’s gate. Lantern-light rippled across carvings of battles, storms, lovers drowning in embrace.
Kaine’s muffled voice drifted through water, “If ghosts show up I’m leaving you all behind—”
Clove elbowed him, bubbles of laughter escaping his mouthpiece. Karn led the front, blade drawn though it was pointless. Alaric swam beside me, always half a body nearer than he needed.
He didn’t look away from me—not from magic tingling at my fingertips. Not from runes glowing brighter near my skin. Fear and wonder warred in his gaze.
We surfaced inside an air cavern—water dripping like heartbeat wood. Absurdly huge—pillars cracking upward forever, vines glowing faint blue. Runes pulsed along the walls like veins.
I exhaled. “It’s like the ocean built a cathedral.”
“No,” Alaric corrected, voice reverent and shaken. “Like the ocean buried one.”
We stepped forward in ankle-deep water. Bones littered the ground—whale vertebrae, human skulls with crowns rusted into bone. Rotted banners hung on stone like drowned flags.
I pressed my palm to a rune—it warmed instantly.
Morwenna’s voice thundered behind my eyes:
Saltborn child.
You return to the womb of empire.
Claim what blood owes.
My knees trembled.
Alaric grabbed my wrist gently—too gentle. “Beth.”
His face was softer than I’d seen in months. Fear for me, not of me.
“You don’t have to rush. You don’t owe destiny anything.”
I met his gaze, voice shaking.
“My father is alive. Rowan dies in weeks. Silas raises fleets. The Navy marches with fire. If I wait—everyone burns.”
He swallowed. “I know.”
Kaine knelt near carvings, tracing them. “Look—depictions of Kraken. Of a woman riding it like a steed.”
Morwenna, hair like storm foam.
My chest tightened painfully.
“That will be me,” I whispered without meaning to.
Alaric flinched.
We moved deeper. Through echoing halls that smelled of rust and salt. Water trickled like whispers. Runes glowed brighter with each step—reacting to me, following me like hungry stars.
The final chamber towered before us—a gate of Leviathan ribs twisted like a ribcage around an unseen heart. Beyond it, only darkness.
The sword’s aura pulsed like fever behind bone.
Kaine’s breath hitched. “We really doing this?”
“Not yet,” Alaric said quickly. Too quickly. “We rest. Regroup. No mistakes today.”
Translation—he feared this place would take me from him.
I looked back at the ribs. At destiny breathing behind them. At ocean waiting to crown or kill me.
Soon, I promised silently.
Soon I would enter. Soon the Bone Sword would answer. Soon blood would decide fate.
As we swam back toward surface, runes dimmed behind us like disappointed eyes. I surfaced under starlight—sky ink-black, sea still. Calm in a way that tasted wrong.
When I climbed onto deck, water dripping from hair and suit, I felt different. Marked. Chosen. Claimed.
The crew watched me with awe and fear. Even Kaine kept distance. Karn looked at me like thunder waiting to strike. Clove bowed jokingly then realized no one laughed.
Only Alaric walked toward me without hesitation.
He lifted my chin gently.
“This war will eat us alive.”
“Then we bite back harder.”
A slow, dangerous smile tugged his lips. “That’s my girl.”
My heart kicked violently. I stepped back before it could show.
Far behind us, in the black where tomb-light faded, waves shivered like beasts.
Somewhere out there, Mira sailed toward betrayal. Somewhere deeper, Leviathan Sword waited with hunger. Somewhere beyond horizon, my real father breathed storm.
And every tide pulled me closer.