Chapter 29 Undertow
Chapter 29 Undertow
Cleo
The sea didn’t retreat after that.
It lingered, quiet, observant, like a predator that had learned patience. Even when the tide pulled back and the shoreline looked unchanged, I could feel it watching from beneath the surface. Waiting for something to slip.
For days, Aries and I moved around each other carefully, as if sudden movements might wake something dangerous between us. He helped around the house, fixed the loose hinge on the back door, cooked meals neither of us really tasted. I caught him standing at the window more than once, hand pressed to the glass, eyes unfocused.
Listening.
He wasn’t telling me everything.
I felt it the way you feel a shift in current before the water turns rough.
One evening, just before dusk, I followed him down to the beach.
He hadn’t told me where he was going. I’d watched from the porch as he walked with purpose, shoulders squared, like someone bracing for impact. The sky was bruised purple and gray, clouds stacked low over the horizon. Storm weather. The sea loved storms.
I stayed back at first, letting distance shield me as I watched him stop near the rocks where the tide pools formed. He knelt, pressing his palm flat against a stone slick with salt and algae.
The water responded instantly.
It curled toward him, unnatural in its precision, rising just enough to kiss his wrist before retreating again. Not violent. Reverent.
My stomach dropped.
He’d said he wouldn’t face it alone.
I stepped forward, boots crunching over shells.
“Aries.”
He flinched.
The water snapped back like it had been burned, splashing against the rocks as he turned to face me. Guilt flickered across his face too quickly to hide.
“You said you needed time,” he said carefully.
“I didn’t say you could lie to me,” I replied.
He stood slowly, wiping his wet hand against his jeans. “I wasn’t lying.”
“You were hiding.” I crossed my arms, trying to steady the tremor in my hands. “What did the sea tell you?”
His jaw tightened. “Not everything needs to be shared.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“Yes,” I said quietly, “it does.”
The air between us thickened. The sea surged, waves crashing harder against the rocks, punctuating the tension like a heartbeat gone wrong.
“She’s calling to me,” he admitted finally. “Not like before. Clearer. Stronger.”
My throat tightened. “And you didn’t think I should know that?”
“I didn’t want to burden you,” he said. “You’re already carrying too much.”
I laughed, sharp and humorless. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
A shadow flickered beneath the water’s surface.
I felt it before I saw it, a familiar pull, cold and coaxing. The Naiyra surfaced one by one near the rocks, pale forms gliding just beneath the waterline. Their eyes glowed faintly as they turned toward us, mouths curved in soft, unsettling smiles.
Aries swore under his breath. “They’re not supposed to be here.”
“What do they want?” I asked.
He hesitated.
“What do they want, Aries?”
“They’re watching,” he said finally. “Waiting to see what you’ll do.”
The Naiyra began to hum.
It wasn’t a song, not exactly, more like a vibration that settled into my bones, stirring something ancient and restless. Images rippled through my mind: moonlit water closing over my head, hands reaching up from the depths, coral halls sealing shut.
And beneath it all, the sea witch’s laughter, low and satisfied.
“Get out of my head,” I whispered.
The Naiyra’s smiles widened.
I stepped back instinctively, but the sand beneath my feet shifted, sucking me closer to the water. Panic flared, sharp and bright.
Aries grabbed my arm. “Cleo, look at me.”
I forced my gaze to his. His eyes had darkened, reflecting the storm clouds above.
“They’re amplifying her,” he said. “She’s using them to weaken you.”
“Then make them stop,” I snapped.
His grip tightened. “I can’t. Not without...”
“Without what?”
He faltered.
The Naiyra’s humming grew louder, the sound burrowing deeper. The tide surged, icy water rushing over my boots, stealing my balance. I gasped as the sea pulled harder, insistently.
Aries stepped in front of me, planting his feet in the sand. He raised his hands, palms out toward the water.
“Enough!” he shouted.
The sea hesitated.
For a breathless moment, everything stilled, the wind, the waves, even the Naiyra’s song.
Then the ocean bowed.
Not dramatically. Not visibly.
But I felt it.
The Naiyra sank back beneath the surface, their glow fading as the tide retreated, leaving behind churned sand and silence heavy as stone.
Aries staggered, breath ragged.
I caught him before he fell.
“What did you do?” I whispered.
He leaned into me for a moment, exhausted, then straightened too quickly. “I reminded it who I am.”
Fear curled cold in my stomach. “And what did it remind you of?”
He didn’t answer.
We walked back to the house in silence, the storm breaking overhead as we reached the porch. Rain began to fall in heavy sheets, blurring the shoreline behind us.
Inside, Aries went straight to the sink, bracing himself against the counter. His hands were shaking.
“You’re pushing yourself too far,” I said. “You’re letting it pull you under.”
He met my gaze, something raw and desperate breaking through his control. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“By cutting me out?”
“By standing between you and it.”
The words landed like a confession.
I shook my head slowly. “That’s not protection. That’s isolation.”
Thunder rolled overhead, rattling the windows.
“I can’t lose you,” he said, voice cracking. “Not to her. Not to the sea. Not to destiny.”
I stepped closer, placing my palm over his heart. It beat fast and uneven beneath my touch.
“Then stop deciding for both of us,” I said. “Because every time you do, the distance grows.”
Something flickered in his eyes, understanding, maybe. Or fear.
Outside, the storm intensified, waves crashing hard enough to shake the ground. I felt the sea witch’s presence coil tighter, pleased by the discord she’d sown.
This was her game.
And we were already moving exactly where she wanted us.
The undertow had us now.
Whether we realized it or not.