Smoke effuses from the air, only this time it’s my magic that drives it. I wrap the wind in on itself until it grows into a cyclone that spills to the height of the sun. And then another. A third and a fourth, and all the while the water rages and my mother watches with a cold, empty expression.
The fire blots out and the smoke clears, and in the abyss of charred snow and melted gravel, two armies stare back at us. Human and siren, side by side. Waiting for their prince and their princess to deliver the promised end.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” I tell my mother.
Even if I hate her, there’s something woeful pressing onto my chest, alleviated only by the gentle tug of Elian’s hand as he remains by my side. Tethering me to this precious residue of humanity.
The Sea Queen’s expression remains vacant. “You’re weak, then,” she says, no hint of regret. “For both of us to survive would show true ineptitude.” She runs a forked tongue over her lips, an unrelenting darkness in her eyes. “I could never let you live.”
“I know,” I tell her. The wind gathers faster. “I can’t let you live either.”
I throw my hands forward and the cyclones explode against her. She thrashes and snarls, wild tentacles whipping against the unstoppable gusts. Her trident is alight, but she doesn’t use it. Even when she’s carried from the water and thrown through the air like a rag.
I realize then that she can’t. My body pulses with power, but it takes every ounce of focus I have to keep the cyclones going. Such things require as much concentration as ferocity. One slip of my mind and my mother could drop back into the ocean and take that split second to regain her ground.
I syphon more magic from my fingertips, ignoring the Sea Queen’s nefarious howls. The cyclones gather like spun sugar, merging as they devour her.
Something splinters. A heavy rumble that shakes the mountain. And then there is the distinct feeling of the world turning on its hilt.
Elian calls my name and I drop my hands, letting the cyclones falter. I don’t see where my mother’s body lands, but there’s a crack like no other and the trident hurtles to the ground by Kahlia’s fin.
“Lira!” she screams.
A shadow descends.
I glance up and see a summit hurtle toward us.
Slabs of rock roll from the waterfalls with frightening speed, molding with the blizzard air to form giant bursts of white smoke. Quickly, I clinch my arms around Elian’s waist and use all of my might to throw a blanket of energy over us.
The glacier rubble pounds against the magical shield. I don’t look, my eyes closed as I cling desperately to Elian, praying the defense holds. Grateful that the others are safe on the far side of the water.
Snow chokes the air and I cough against Elian’s chest as the ice crystals slip into my gills. He squeezes me closer to him, so tight, it should hurt. But my bones feel like dust already, and with every rock that hammers away at our shield, my skull bursts.
A lifetime spins around us before the crumbling finally stops and a weight lifts from my battered body. I search to make sure the others are unscathed, but the air is an expanse of white. Elian runs his hands over my shoulders and then down my arms. For a moment I’m not sure why, and then I realize that he’s checking for injuries. Making sure I’m okay until he can see it for himself.
His hand slides into my hair, and I want nothing more than for this feeling of total contentment to stay like a shelter over my heart. But as with all things, it seizes, wiped clean as soon as the world comes back into focus.
When the fog clears, my mother’s body lies broken on the snow.
I swim to her, Elian following behind. His crew heaves us both up from the water. Madrid stares at my fin, but her hand firmly grips mine. I want to explain things to her – to them all – but the words don’t come to mind.
Elian settles beside me, gathering me in his arms. When he lifts me, my hands curl around his neck as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t think about how it feels to have him hold me – to truly see every inch of me. I can’t focus on how much my heart knocks against my chest, because whenever I catch sight of the crippled tentacle before us, it stops dead once more.
The sirens gather around my mother, slithering away as Elian approaches with me in his arms. He places me onto the ground beside her and takes a step back to give me the space I need but don’t want.
The Sea Queen is a dent in the snow.
Her great piceous tentacles cross together like the silk of a spiderweb, creating a pattern of broken limbs. There’s no blood, and for a moment I think she can’t possibly be dead. It doesn’t seem right that she can look so pristine, like the sharply carved statue of a slain beast.