Chapter 70 First King
The reefs below were alive. They weren't grey or covered in Scourge-mist. They were a riot of color—neon oranges, deep purples, and brilliant greens. Thousands of sirens were there, their scales shimmering like jewels. They weren't hiding. They were dancing, their bodies moving in a perfect, synchronized rhythm.
And they were singing.
It wasn't the suppressed, muffled drone I had used in the Citadel. It wasn't the scream of the emerald warrior. It was a harmony so pure it felt like a physical touch. It was the sound of the ocean breathing.
I saw a figure in the center of the reef.
He was massive, his skin the color of deep-sea pearls, his hair a mane of silver kelp. He wore no crown, only a necklace of shark teeth and ancient glass. The First King.
He looked at me. His eyes were the same sea-glass turquoise as mine. He didn't see a broken princess or a Sapphire Witch. He saw a daughter who had forgotten her own language.
He opened his mouth.
A single note erupted from him. It wasn't a sound. It was a pulse. It was the rhythm of the heart inside the Scribe’s ice block.
Thump-hummm. Thump-hummm.
I felt it in my chest. It was the note of the Salt-Kiss. But it wasn't about taking. It was about balance. The Siren didn't just sing to the water; she sang with it. She was the conductor of the world’s life force.
The memory began to shift.
The blue turned to grey. The golden light faded. I saw the first vampire ships arrive—monsters of wood and iron that bled oil into the clear water. I saw the first siren captured, her throat cut open so the Emperor could study the magic.
I saw the First King fall. I saw him reach for his heart—the crystalline stone—and tear it from his own chest, throwing it into the deep so the enemy couldn't use it to destroy the world.
"The Anchor is the weight," a voice whispered in the water, echoing the Scribe. "But the Siren is the wing. To break the stone, the wing must carry the weight."
I saw Klaus.
Not as the Admiral. Not as the stone statue. I saw him as a young man, centuries ago, before the fangs, before the Citadel. He was a sailor, his face tan, his eyes a brilliant, laughing blue. He was looking at the ocean with wonder, not tactical calculation.
He had been the first one to find the heart. He had touched it, and the Emperor had used that touch to bind him. Klaus hadn't chosen to be a butcher; he had been the first victim of the Empire's greed. He had spent three hundred years drowning so the Emperor didn't have to.
The memory flared with a sudden, blinding heat.
I saw our waltz in the ballroom. I saw him crushing the glass. I saw the black blood on his handkerchief.
"You are dangerous," he whispered in the water.
"I'm not dangerous," I replied, the words bubbles in the blue. "I'm the answer."
I reached for the note. I searched for the resonance of the First King. I opened my throat, but I didn't try to force the sound. I let the water sing through me.
Thump-hummm.
The sapphire light exploded.
I was thrown backward, out of the memory, out of the infinite blue.
I broke the surface of the pool in the Scribe’s sanctum, gasping and coughing. I hauled myself onto the ice, my charcoal silk dress clinging to my body, my skin glowing with a light so bright it made Rook shield his eyes.
I didn't feel cold. I felt like a furnace.
"I found it," I rasped, my voice sounding like a symphony.
I stood up. I didn't stagger. I didn't tremble. I walked to the ice block and placed my hands on it. The crystalline heart pulsed beneath my palms, matching the beat of my own heart perfectly.
"The song of the First King," I said, looking at the Scribe. "It’s not about breaking the stone. It’s about merging with it."
The Scribe smiled, his sightless eyes wet with tears. "You understand now, Nerissa. The Anchor and the Siren were never meant to be master and slave. They were meant to be two halves of the same song."
He pointed his staff toward the exit.
"Go. The Emperor’s fleet has reached the trench. They are preparing the siphons. If you do not reach the statue before the moon set, the resonance will be lost forever."
"How do I get back?" I asked. "The pod is destroyed. The Obsidian Star is gone."
The Scribe looked at the pool of the Memory of the Water.
"You are the Voice of the Empire, child. But you are the Queen of the Sea. You don't need a ship to travel through your own kingdom."
I looked at Rook. He was staring at me, his mouth open.
"Stay here, Rook," I said. "Keep the bag safe. If I don't come back, take the scrolls to the Northern clans. Tell them the truth."
"Mistress..."
I didn't wait.
I walked back to the edge of the pool. I didn't look at the ice. I didn't look at the grey smog of the Citadel.
I thought of Klaus—of his obsidian lips and his silent heart.