Panicking, Rielle kicked to push herself away from them. Something sharp jabbed her leg from behind; she whirled around in the water.
They were surrounding her. Drifting closer, inexorably, as if attracted to her rising terror. One of them bumped against her arm; a piercing hot sting jolted her. Another found her temple, her bleeding hand. They swarmed, reaching. Knots of glowing tentacles blocked her view of the ship and the sea beyond it.
She forgot all her prayers and lessons and screamed.
The scream broke her shell of air; the water closed in around her, cruel and cold.
She realized the change too late and gasped, choking on the sea.
Desperation forced her to move. She swam, wild, clumsy, swiped the trident head through the jellyfish, felt the prongs pierce something thick and gelatinous. A tentacle wrapped around her ankle, her unhurt arm. She reached back with the trident and sliced through them, tugged herself free.
She pushed and clawed, the swarm’s angry lights cutting across her vision. She hoped her suit was offering her some protection, but already her vision was dimming.
Air. Air. Air.
She made it out of the boat, reaching desperately for the surface. Her feet were numb, clumsy. She couldn’t tell what her body was doing, just knew she had to get up, get up, get out—
She burst out of the water, coughing hard. A wave pushed her under. She flailed, flipped over, found a burst of strength, climbed back up. Sweet saints, the air was glorious, pure and cold in her aching lungs. The rain beat down on her. Another wave pushed her under, and another right after. She emerged again and looked around wildly. Where were the cliffs? Where were the sunspinner acolytes with their beams of light?
She saw blackness, shifting and growing all around her—no sky, no clouds.
The blackness, she realized with a burst of fear, was waves.
She dove, groped her pocket until she felt the hard gemstone, safely tucked away. She swam, searched the water, surfaced, and dove again. Were they watching her up above? Could they see her? She must have looked absurd—soaked and bleeding, suit torn, skin raised in angry welts.
You can do this, came Corien’s voice. His presence was calm and still. You can do so much more than this.
Can I? She wanted to sink to the seabed and cry. Unless you’re going to help me, leave me be.
His voice vanished; she was alone.
She couldn’t possibly find the focus to re-create her precious shell, so she resurfaced and dove, resurfaced and dove. Her eyes were on fire from the salt; she could see nothing in this churning black water.
And then—how long had it been? Minutes? Days? Her body was one massive, searing throb of pain—she saw it. It was chance, really: an overhead swing of one of the sunspinner’s light beams. Something long and thin glinted, then vanished.
Thrust into a rise in the seabed, closer to the surface than the other pieces had been, stood the trident’s shaft.
She dove for it, all her focus narrowing in on this one spot. A force rose up within her, something eager and hot and familiar. And as it raced up through her body, firing her blood alive, the ocean around her flashed gold once more.
She understood now; it was easy, with the empirium lighting the way. Move the water, create a path.
The next thing she knew, she was no longer swimming. She was running, her mind clear and blazing hot. Water shot up on either side of her; she was carving a path through it. She reached the trident’s shaft and stood panting on the ocean floor. Around her, the water was a narrow, roaring tunnel, spewing water into the air above like a geyser.
But here on the seabed, everything was quiet, softly floating, softly black and blue and gold. Rielle stood in the tranquility of it, assembled the trident with shaking hands. Attach the prongs to the shaft, the gemstone to the end. She grasped it and looked up.
A column of water led straight up into the air, a path she had carved in that last desperate swim without even realizing she was doing it.
A savage pleasure swelled within her.
I did this.
Me and no one else.
And how does it feel? Corien asked quietly. His presence hovered at the door to her mind.
I feel…
She couldn’t articulate it. Standing there, looking up at the chaos of the water gripped by her power, she could only gape and revel in it and exist.
I feel…
A small fear twisted in her breast, but she couldn’t listen to that now, when everything felt so…so…
She closed her eyes, shivering. The air around her vibrated with warmth. Beyond that, the sea churned, relentless and cold. Sprays of water kissed her cheeks.
Corien’s voice was as gentle as her father’s long-ago embrace: Tell me, Rielle.