Chapter 19 Krakra Crab
Ravial stared at her, no, devoured her with his eyes.
His thumb still rested on her lips, the warmth of his mouth lingering on her skin.
Leitana could barely breathe.
Her whole mind had gone empty the moment his lips touched her like he’d snatched every thought right out of her head.
His voice dropped, rough, teasing.
“What’s wrong, little lamb? You look like you’re about to fall.”
She blinked once.
Twice.
Then her mouth opened… and the absolute worst possible sentence tumbled out:
“I… I want to piss.”
Ravial froze.
Silence.
Then his brows lifted, slowly like he wasn’t sure he heard her right.
“You… what?”
Her cheeks burned. “Piss. I.. I want to go toilet quick-quick.”
A beat.
Then he huffed a laugh through his nose, like her innocence had punched the air out of him.
“Of all the things you could say to me,” he murmured, “that’s the one you choose.”
She nodded helplessly.
He took her wrist not roughly, not gently, but like he owned the moment and guided her toward the private elevators.
“Come,” he said. “I’ll take you.”
The doors slid open with a soft ding.
Leitana jumped back, eyes wide.
“Wha….what is that? Why the wall open like dat?”
Ravial stared at her.
Then at the elevator.
Then back at her.
“You’ve never seen a lift?”
“A what?” She squinted suspiciously. “You sure e no swallow people?”
He almost smiled. Almost.
“You’ll be fine. Step inside.”
She edged in like she was entering a demon’s mouth.
The doors closed.
She grabbed his arm immediately.
“Why the wall close again?! It trap us?”
“It’s supposed to,” he said calmly.
“That’s not calming me!” she squeaked.
The elevator began to move.
Her eyes went huge.
“Ravial…Ravial…Ravial, why the ground dey carry us go up?! Are we flying?! Is this magic?!”
“Technology,” he corrected, fighting another smile.
She clutched his sleeve tighter.
“So we dey inside metal cage that dey fly? With no wings?!”
“Yes.”
Her mouth dropped open in betrayal.
“I no trust your world.”
AND THEN…
A loud clunk.
The elevator jerked.
Stopped.
The lights flickered once… then died.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Leitana’s scream ripped out instantly.
“RAVIAL!”
Her hands flew everywhere until she collided with his chest.
He caught her easily, arms circling her waist.
“It’s fine,” he said, calm as ever.
“No it’s NOT fine!” she gasped. “We inside flying metal coffin, IN DARK! It wan fall! Ravial, I no ready to die….”
His hand slid up the back of her head, holding her still.
“Leitana,” he murmured, voice low and cold and steady,
“Breathe.”
Her breath trembled.
His fingers brushed her cheek in the dark, slow, firm, grounding.
“I’m here,” he added quietly. “Nothing will touch you.”
She swallowed, whispering,
“I’m scared.”
Ravial brushed his thumb over her cheek again.
“Relax,” he murmured. “It’s nothing to be scared of. Just a small power cut. It’ll come back.”
But suddenly, her body vanished from his touch.
He reached into the dark, expecting her hand…
But she had already stumbled away, backing blindly toward the wall.
“Leitana?” he called.
No answer.
He heard her soft feet hit the far panel, then the faint tap tap tap as she pressed her palms against it.
She was searching for space, for air, for an escape.
He didn’t fully notice at first.
He was already at the elevator console, pressing the emergency intercom button.
A dead click.
Another click.
Nothing.
“Tsk. Useless machine,” he muttered under his breath, trying another switch.
And that was when he heard it.
The soft, shaking sound.
A tiny whimper.
Then a whisper…
no, a song.
At first it was mumbled under her breath like a frantic prayer.
Her voice trembled, cracking.
“Krakra crab… no bite mi… no drag mi long solwota…”
He turned sharply.
Her silhouette hugged the wall, fingers digging into the corner, trembling so hard her shoulders shook.
He stepped closer, one hand brushing her shoulder. “Leitana… little lamb… what are you saying?”
She didn’t answer, only repeated her chant, voice growing softer but faster, like a mantra to keep the panic at bay:
“Krakra crab… letem mi go… letem mi go… Dieu, mi fraid, mi fraid…”
(“Crack-crack crab… don’t bite me… don’t drag me into the sea… God, I’m scared…”)
A mix of Bislama…
A child-song rhythm…
and French whispers of fear.
His eyes narrowed he could see perfectly, even in pitch black.
Her chest rose too quick.
Her nails scraped the wall.
Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears falling in fast drops.
She wasn’t just scared.
She was breaking.
He stepped closer, careful.
“Leitana.”
No reaction.
She kept singing, voice small, breathless, panicking:
“Krakra crab… no kam insaed… mi no gat wind… mi no gat ples… letem mi go, letem mi go…”
She didn’t even feel him touch her shoulder.
He placed one hand gently on her.
Still nothing.
Then he set his other hand on her other shoulder and turned her around.
Her face hit the faint glow from the elevator panel.
Tears stained her cheeks.
She looked like she couldn’t even see him through the fear.
“Leitana,” he whispered quieter, softer than he had ever spoken in his life.
She stared past him, still singing through broken sobs.
The realization struck him like a blow:
She was claustrophobic.
Terrified to the bone.
And he hadn’t seen it.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, actual regret threading his voice.
“You’re scared of small spaces.”
He cupped her face, thumbs brushing warm tears.
She didn’t stop.
“Leitana,” he murmured, voice tight, “look at me. It’s okay. You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you.”
The chant continued, but slowed slightly, her small lips forming the words like a shield.
He sighed, almost bitterly at himself for letting her panic, then drew her into his arms. His chest was warm, solid. One hand slid over her back in slow, soothing circles, the other rested lightly on her hair.
Her crying escalated, small whimpers lost in the darkness, the strange rhythm of her song rising and falling like waves:
“Krakra crab… mi no wan go daon… mi no wan dae…”
He realized then what she was doing. She was comforting, grounding herself with the song . And… he couldn’t leave her in it.
So he did the only thing he could. He began softly, unsure of the words, but willing to follow her lead:
Without thinking, without even knowing the tune, he murmured the first two words back to her:
“Krakra crab…”
Her eyes snapped open, wide and wet, staring at him in shock.
He gave the smallest nod.
“Go on.”
She hesitated, voice shaking.
“…no bite mi…”
He followed, matching her rhythm:
“No bite mi…”
“…no drag mi long solwota…” she whispered.
“No drag mi long solwota…” he repeated, softer.
Her breathing eased.
A tiny smile, broken but real pulled at her lips.
They sang together, his deep voice wrapping around her trembling one:
“Krakra crab… letem mi go… letem mi go…”
Her voice steadied.
His grew more confident, flowing with hers, following her… perfectly.
And little by little, her body relaxed.
Her shaking slowed.
Her breath evened.
By the time the last line left their mouths together, she was looking up at him with wide, glistening eyes…calme
r…
safe…
held.
And Ravial, The Devil himself, ruthless king of boardrooms, felt something unfamiliar grip his chest.
Something sharp.
Something dangerous.
Something that told him
he would burn the whole world before letting anything scare his little lamb like this again.