by Alex Aster
He tried the foam, and his eyes bulged in approval. “It’s like spun sugar mixed with shaved glacier ice!” He took more and offered it to Melda. “Here, try it!”
Melda regarded him with coldness. “No, thanks,” she said. And whether it was because she was still upset at Engle from last night or because she didn’t want to accept anything from Vesper, Tor didn’t know.
“Did you go for a swim?” Tor asked.
Vesper nodded and glared up at the sky. “Wanted to find some seaweed to help with the burns.”
Engle raised an eyebrow, taking a break from devouring the entirety of Vesper’s sea foam. “Burns?”
“My skin isn’t accustomed to the sun,” she explained, motioning toward her pale complexion. “It’ll burn easily. I’ll have to take precautions.” She tilted her head at Tor. “You haven’t used it yet, have you?”
Tor knew what she meant. The emblem on his wrist, the one he had wanted for years. The ability to breathe underwater.
She was right. He hadn’t. After returning from his journey, he’d had no desire to. In a way, he hated it, the same way he hated the witch who had given it to him. It was a reminder that he was changed.
He simply shook his head no.
Vesper frowned at him. “You should come with me next time.”
Tor offered a noncommittal smile back.
Engle let out a low whistle. Empty shell bowl in his hand, he stared out past the ship’s bow. “That doesn’t look like the stuff of nightmares, does it?”
In the distance, the coast became rocky and jagged, stone so crooked even the sea had failed to smooth it. Barnacles scaled up the black stone in swells, sharp as knives. A purple halo of light escaped from the lip of the cave, simultaneously wicked and beautiful—a warning to keep away, as well as a beckoning forward.
The perfect lair for a blood queen.
Tor felt a surge in his bones as the ship creaked to a halt, its sails deflating. The anchor plunged into the water.
“Do we swim the rest of the way?” Melda asked quietly, surveying the dozen yards to the cave, the water too shallow for the ship to pass.
Before she finished her sentence, a bridge of crushed seashells surfaced from the depths of the ocean, extending all the way to the ship’s hull.
“I guess she’s expecting us,” Engle said nervously. And, as if to prove himself after the last night’s events, he was the first off the ship, head held high. Melda rolled her eyes and followed.
Then Tor, then Vesper, who treaded more carefully. She looked afraid, Tor realized. Terrified.
After reading the blood queen’s story, he was, too, he supposed. But not really, not as much as he should be. Another day, another monster to face—a piece of him still felt numb, left frozen.
Left broken.
He gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ve faced worse,” he said, the lie filling his mouth. The tale had claimed the blood queen was the deadliest of the sea’s creatures.
“Have you now?” a voice boomed, solid as a rogue wave, filling the cave. It came from a pool of water the size of a large well. Silver as the moon. The water rippled as her voice came through it.
Then, something pierced its center. The crown of a head. Slowly, bit by bit, the blood queen emerged from the water, water dripping unusually thick from her skin, opaque as liquid silver.
The blood queen looked like royalty who had spent too much time in the sea. Her hair was as stunning as smeared moonlight, her cheekbones sharp, her features delicate. Her skin was the light blue of shallow water, and she wore a dress made completely of pearls.
She walked on the water as if it were solid ground, then stood before them, immediately turning to Tor. “My friend is dead, then?”
A tiny part of Tor lurched, sadness tucked within the part of his soul that did not completely belong to him. “The Night Witch?”
Mora’s eyes narrowed, and she bared teeth that did not match her beauty at all—sharp as a shark’s, crowding her mouth. “She is as much a Night Witch as I am the great, feared blood queen.”
Engle swallowed. “So…you haven’t killed all of those people?”
She turned to him. “Of course I have. But who’s to say they didn’t deserve it?”
Engle blinked at her.
“You aren’t going to kill us and drink the blood from our hearts, then?” Vesper said from her place right near the exit of the cave. Prepared to bolt.
Mora shot a look at her identical hair and raised an eyebrow. “Swordscale legends, I presume?” She tilted her silver head. “Though I’m not above feasting on a wicked heart, yours are all…” She looked surprised for a moment. “Mostly good. Pure of intentions, at least.” She scrunched her face in disgust. “I have no use for that in my elixirs.”
Tor realized the pool the blood queen had risen from was a giant cauldron. A bone floated up from its surfaces, then another, and Mora grinned. “Who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind…supplies are a bit scarce lately…”
Vesper took a step toward the exit of the cave, and Mora’s head fell back in a howl of laughter.
Melda stepped forward. “We’re in search of the Pirate’s Pearl. Do you know of it?”
The blood queen’s head snapped to the side with otherworldly speed. She smiled, shark’s teeth emerging once more. “The Pirate’s Pearl? Now why on Emblem would you lot want something like that?”
“We want to find it before someone else does.”
“Who?”
“The Calavera.”
The blood queen hissed. She turned in her massive cauldron. “Of course. They’ve been freed now.” She faced Tor. “I feel the power running through you, like high tide rushing in. She gave you so, so much.” Mora took Tor’s hand in her own. Her skin was slimed over, too soft, like it had permanently pruned underwater. He resisted the urge to recoil. “I’ll need your blood,” she said. Then, before waiting for a reply, she swiped a sword-sharp nail across his lifeline.
Tor cried out, not just because of the pain, but because of the memory of another person who had done the exact same thing. The wound reopened, and blood came spilling out. She turned his hand over, and Tor watched the pool turn crimson.
Melda lunged forward, as if she was going to push the blood queen away. Before she could, Mora dropped Tor’s hand. He winced, watching the cut stitch itself back together. Melda gripped his arm protectively. “What did you need the blood for?” she asked, livid.
The blood queen shrugged. “Another potion. Something I’ve been working on…”
Anger flared in Melda’s eyes.
“Simmer down, little leader, an exchange is an exchange… I’ll help you find the pearl.” She waved a hand across the pool, and the blood disappeared, replaced by an image. “There is a compass, enchanted to help one find what they have lost.”
“But we never had the pearl. How will it help us find something we never lost?” Melda asked.
Mora turned to Vesper. The waterbreather seemed to pale even more beneath the blood queen’s gaze. “The pearl used to be guarded by those in the forgotten city of Swordscale, before it was stolen from them and hidden well. She must hold the compass. And it will lead her to the pearl her people lost.”
She stroked the waters again, and the image changed. “The compass was buried on Indigo Isle. And the only way to it is through the Devil’s Mouth, a cluster of pointed rocks nearly impossible to navigate through.”
Melda gritted her teeth at the image in the cauldron. The rocks formed an impenetrable maze. One wrong turn and their ship would be ripped to shreds. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”
Tor didn’t dare breathe as the blood queen turned slowly toward Melda.
Engle swallowed.
But Mora simply bowed her head. “Immortals are cursed in many ways. One of them is that we must always tell the truth.
It makes tricking and scheming all the more difficult.”
Tor stiffened. The Night Witch was immortal. Which meant…
“You can’t escape your fate, boy, as much as you wish to,” the blood queen said. “None of us can.”
When they left the cave, their ship bobbed before them, not having moved an inch. Mora joined them on the shell path, more barnacle-crusted land appearing beneath her feet as she made her way around the ship, to its very tip. The trail formed a small hill and she climbed it, to the mermaid carved into the ship’s bow. Tor watched her place a piece of sea glass on each of the siren’s eyes.
“She’ll help you in the Devil’s Mouth,” Mora said.
Then, without looking back, she followed the trail back to her cave, water erasing the bridge at her heels.
* * *
Vesper opened her shell charm once more, revealing a path to the next location she gave it—the Devil’s Mouth. From a bird’s-eye view, the labyrinth of rocks looked treacherous. Tor couldn’t imagine what it would look like right in front of him.
“We’ll be there in a day,” Vesper said.
Engle sighed, disappointed. “What are we supposed to do until then?”
Melda stared at him. “Possibly try not to get killed by a number of creatures from that book,” she said, arms across her chest.
“Well, I’m starving,” Engle said, to the surprise of no one. “We need to stop for food.”
“I’m hungry, too,” Tor admitted. “Tonight was supposed to be stuffed purple peppers…”
“Purple peppers?” Engle gasped. “I love those.”
“Me too. I would duel a pirate for a few right about now, with toppings—” Before he could finish his sentence, something appeared on the deck. A plate of stuffed peppers, complete with shredded cheese and sprinkled paprika.
Engle stood frozen, mouth in a perfect circle.
Tor blinked. Melda and Vesper didn’t say a word.
“Do it again,” his friend said quietly, not moving an inch toward the plate.
Tor remembered Vesper’s words. The ship belonged to him now. He closed his eyes, then let his imagination wander, thoughts forming like fireworks. He imagined a slew of his favorite breakfast foods, each more delicious than the last, and heard Engle gasp.
Tor opened his eyes to see that a table had appeared, covered in platters holding various steaming foods—flower-stuffed empanadas, scrambled eggs with cheese and spices, maple bacon, toast with chestnut spread, emerald cream puffs, diamond-dusted croissants, fruit plates, canela tea, pink salt hot chocolate, sapphire berry smoothies, bright red cherry juice.
Engle grinned at him. “I take it all back. I’m thrilled you’re the new Night Witch.” He promptly dug in.
Melda reached for a blue smoothie. “Do you think you can make anything we need appear?”
Tor went through a list of things he could want, and felt, somewhere inside himself, that the ship had a limited inventory. “No. But I think the ship has the same types of things we would find at an inn. And necessities for sailing.”
Engle licked his fingers clean of emerald cream. “No day-old bread this time, eh?”
Melda smiled a bit, remembering.
Vesper raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, reaching for the plate of sliced fruit and fried meat. She put a piece of pineapple in her mouth, then made a strange face as she chewed it, as if not expecting it to be tart.
Tor realized it had been almost a full day since he’d had something to eat. He hadn’t even had a single pang of hunger until then. Had he gotten used to an empty stomach after so many hours without food during their last journey?
Or was it something else? Time on the sea seemed to flow differently. Every hour seemed to have the potential of passing as quickly as a sputtering ocean breeze or as endlessly as the horizon.
He ate quietly, teeth sinking into ripe, rich, tangy mango. The eggs were soft and well-seasoned, pepper and cayenne bright on the tip of his tongue, and he smiled at the sweetness of diamonds from a stuffed pastry.
It made him think of his father, a cook. What had his mother told him about Tor’s absence? And Rosa—his little sister, who always kept the house full of music, thanks to her singing emblem. Did she wonder where he was?
He had left them, again. On a quest that even with a banquet spread before him, couldn’t help but seem fruitless.
Tor’s breath hitched as the ship suddenly shuddered—there was a sudden crack of wood so loud, it seemed to splinter the air.
The deck flipped violently to the side, sending all the food and metal plates clattering away.
He stood from where he had fallen, arms outstretched for balance, the ship still dangerously tilted to one side.
“We hit something,” Engle said, seeing through the front of the ship for a split second. On good days, his sightseeing emblem allowed him to see through objects.
They walked cautiously to the bow of the ship, where the mermaid was whole, the spot next to her in splinters. As if she had narrowly avoided the hit.
Before them, something jutted from the sea, made of perfectly white marble.
Gates.
The Forgotten City of Swordscale
A sailor who nearly drowned surfaced only to claim he had seen a city beneath the water. When his captain went to investigate, it was gone. Nothing to discover.
Hundreds of years ago, waterbreathers took to the sea, fleeing the great Osteria War. Their emblems were useless in the land-based battle, so instead of choosing a side, they left to build their own settlement beneath the sea, with one goal: forever-lasting peace.
And so, the underwater city of Swordscale was created.
Record of any past wars were burned and forbidden to be put to paper—the idea of battle erased altogether. The waterbreathers sought to raise children who did not know anything but peace, convinced it would mean they would never have conflict. Inhabitants were not allowed to leave, for fear that they would see the rest of the world, where war raged on.
And to keep any potential threat out, Swordscales made a deal with the blood queen, who spun a spell that allowed the city to move in an instant. Its location is constantly changing, as it sweeps across the seafloor.
A mysterious moving city of peace, born from war.
5
The City of Sandstone
Vesper reached dangerously far off the ship to touch a finger against the marble gates. “I can’t believe it,” she said.
Engle scoffed. “Yeah, I can’t believe no one’s knocked down these gates yet, either. I mean, they’re just sitting in the middle of the sea, waiting to sink the next ship that sails by?”
Vesper turned to him. “These gates are typically hidden far below and don’t rise for just anyone. They’re an invitation.”
“To what?” Tor asked.
She grinned. “The hidden city of Sandstone.”
There was a moment of quiet.
Engle scratched the side of his head. “The what?”
Vesper blinked. “You all haven’t finished the book, have you?” She scoffed. “Surely Sandstone is in that book of legends.”
Melda crossed her arms across her chest. “I finished it last night.” Of course she had. Tor found himself once again grateful for the existence of Grimelda Alexander. “And it is. Both of the two forgotten cities are mentioned.” Of course she had. Tor found himself once again grateful for the existence of Grimelda Alexander.
“So what is it?” Tor asked, glancing warily at the gates. An arch curved like a crown sat at its top. Its doors were just barely open.
“An underwater city, like Swordscale,” Vesper said, a gleam in her eye. “One that fell centuries ago. Its ruins are said to contain many lost wonders.” She touched the gates once more. “Only those invited may enter. It’s hidden to everyone else.”
Engle rais
ed an eyebrow. “If it’s so hidden and secret, how did it fall anyway?”
Melda frowned at the mess below, their breakfast smeared across the deck. “You’ll have plenty of time to guess, while they explore. I’ll be in my room.” She turned to go, then she said over her shoulder, “Don’t take long. We can’t afford to lose too much time.” She held the arenahora above her head for good measure.
Engle’s face fell, suddenly realizing he wouldn’t be able to see the city. “Fine. Bring me something nice, will you?” He trailed Melda downstairs, grumbling about their interrupted meal.
Tor was left with Vesper by his side. Her shoulders were pink, the sun already having left its mark on her. The bridge of her nose was now golden, freckles quickly forming. She looked wistfully at the gates. “I’ve always dreamt of visiting Sandstone,” she said. “Never, in a thousand years, did I believe I would.” She offered Tor her hand.
For a moment, he considered not taking it. He had loved the sea for as long as he could remember, taking early-morning swims in the ocean before school, memorizing every bit of the seafloor off Estrelle’s coast. Swimming was his passion—that was why he had risked everything by making his Eve wish.
But he hadn’t swam since he had been made a wicked. He hadn’t wanted to…not once.
Which meant he hadn’t known what it was like to explore the ocean as a waterbreather.
Vesper looked at him knowingly. “I’ve spent my entire life in the seas,” she said. “Now, I’m above it, air chapping my lips, sun burning my skin.” She looked past him, mind somewhere else. “Change is only bad if you let it be.”
Tor swallowed. The sea lapped below, reaching for him. Calling him forward with its siren call. His stomach swirled with guilt. Not only for the sacrifices that were needed for him to have gotten the emblem he had always wanted, but also for taking precious minutes out of their time-sensitive journey for something as trivial as a swim. But this wasn’t just for his benefit, he reasoned—maybe they would find something useful in the underwater city. Vesper had said it was rumored to contain lost wonders. Perhaps one of them would help in their search for the pearl.
