Chapter 93 THE WEIGHT OF THE SEA

Chapter 93 THE WEIGHT OF THE SEA
The black water hit us like a falling mountain.

BOOM.

The freezing ocean smashed through the bone ceiling, instantly tearing the broken iron warship into pieces. The heavy red cables of the iron mother held me tight against her rusted steel chest, shielding my body from the crushing force of the wave. We rolled together down the mountain of bones, the dark water filling my mouth and nose with the bitter taste of salt and grease.

I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned, and the cutlass wound in my side felt like a frozen knife twisting deeper into my flesh.

Through the spinning dark water, I saw the clone. Her split waist was sparking, throwing gray oil into the foam. Her silver needle-fingers were still locked like iron handcuffs around Seraphina’s ankle, dragging my little sister down into the black mouth of the trench.

No! I won't let you have her! the thought screamed inside my brain, hot and loud enough to burn through the freezing sea.

The hate in my stomach flared to life, feeding the purple core behind my ribs. They had stolen my sister’s sight, used her dead body like a speaker, and now this broken fake thing was dragging her into the dark forever. My family was not their property. They were not fuel for the master loom. I wanted to smash the clone's silver eyes until they were nothing but dust.

I broke free from my mother’s wire arms. My single black wing flapped wildly against the heavy current, driving my body forward through the rushing foam.

I reached out with my right arm, the sharp purple bone claw. I didn't grab Seraphina. I lunged straight at the clone, driving my skeletal fingers into her split, mechanical waist.

CRUNCH.

I opened the black hole in my belly all the way, letting the purple fire of the World-Eater explode directly inside her gears. The clone’s silver eyes widened in a final, robotic shock as the dark fire melted her internal spools. Her iron grip on Seraphina’s ankle finally snapped, her broken body drifting away into the dark water like a piece of burnt trash.

I grabbed Seraphina by the collar of her shirt with my human hand, pulling her cold, light body against my chest.

Suddenly, a massive iron hand wrapped around my neck from behind.

CHOKE.

The pressure was brutal, cutting off what little air I had left. I was yanked backward through the water, my boots scraping against the sinking bone plates. I thrashed wildly, my single black wing beating the current, but the grip was too strong.

I looked up through the dark bubbles.

It was the Emperor. His gold armor was gone, stripped away by the crashing waves, leaving him in a torn white tunic. His blond hair floated around his face like a halo, and his blue eyes were wide, bloodshot, and completely mad with greed. In his free hand, he clutched a broken piece of his white needle, the sharp tip pointing right at my face.

"Give me the core, Aria!" the Emperor’s voice didn't come through the water, but his mouth moved, his desperate face telling me everything.

He drove the sharp white needle down toward my chest, aiming for the pulsing purple light under my ribs.

Before the tip could pierce my skin, a massive mass of red iron cables slammed into the Emperor’s side. The iron mother had returned. Her rusted steel face was pitted and scraped, but her red wire muscles were stronger than his human arms. She yanked the Emperor away from me, her heavy hands pinning his shoulders as they rolled together into the deep trench below.

I gasped as the pressure left my throat, a giant bubble of air escaping my lips.

I clutched Seraphina tight, my good boot kicking off a sinking wooden beam as I tried to swim upward toward the far-away blue light of the surface. My body was giving out. The hole in my side was leaking a dark cloud of red blood into the sea, and the purple fire in my bones was fading into a weak, cold twitch.

Just a little farther, I told myself, my eyes fixed on the light above. I have to get her out.

My head finally broke the surface of the water.

I choked, drawing a massive, burning lungful of air. The gray glass crater was gone, completely drowned by the rising ocean. The white trees of the island were nothing but broken sticks floating in the foam. I kicked my legs weakly, keeping Seraphina’s head above the water, my fingers dug into her wet shirt.

"Seraphina... please," I wheezed, my voice a broken rasp against the wind.

Her head rolled to the side. The massive golden gears were gone from her face, leaving her eye sockets empty and dark. But as the salt water washed over her pale cheeks, her chest suddenly gave a violent, jerking twitch.

COUGH.

A thick stream of gray grease and black water poured out of her mouth. Her small hands shook, her fingers curling into tight fists as her chest began to rise and fall in short, gasping breaths.

She was alive. The clock had stopped, but the child was still there.

"Aria?" a tiny, trembling whisper came from her lips. It wasn't the triple-whisper of the queens. It was her voice. The sweet, small voice from the kitchen.

"I'm here, little bird," I sobbed, tears mixing with the salt water on my face. "I've got you."

Before I could pull her closer, a massive, heavy iron net shot out from the dark water right beneath us, lifting our bodies three feet into the air.

I fell onto a hard, metal grating, my side screaming in pure pain. I scrambled to my knees, throwing my purple bone claw over Seraphina’s shaking body as the net was reeled upward.

We weren't on the beach, and we weren't on the rebel ship.

We were standing on the wide, iron deck of a massive black submarine that had just surfaced from the deep trench. Standing in a perfect circle around the deck were twelve old men and women wearing long, silver-threaded robes. Their faces were completely hidden behind heavy iron masks shaped like spinning clock gears.

The person in the center, a tall woman with a long silver staff, stepped forward, the tip of her staff clicking against the metal floor.

"The kitchen maid has delivered the battery," the woman’s voice echoed through the iron mask, cold, hollow, and powerful. "Welcome to the High Council, Aria. Your execution is scheduled for dawn."