CHAPTER 66: THE POWER OF NAMES

The glow of teal light slowly faded as the currents stilled, leaving only the pulse of strange runes carved into coral and basalt.

Caedrion’s mind had steadied after the initial shock, though every breath that filled his chest reminded him that his life balanced entirely on her.

Thalassaria.

She drifted near him, half goddess, half serpent, eyes glowing with abyssal fire.

In her hands she held the artifact, the same small, rune-etched relic he had seen perched innocuously on the marble ledge of his bath, the thing that had torn him from Dawnhaven and dragged him into this nightmare beneath the sea.

He watched carefully as she whispered a string of words in a tongue older than human memory.

The artifact flared once, then dimmed, before she slid it into a casket wrought of pearl and obsidian.

The casket sealed itself with a hiss, sinking into the coral walls of her throne room until it was gone.

"You won’t be needing that," she said, voice dripping with honeyed certainty. "An old thing, a plaything of the ancients long gone. It has no more use to us now."

But Caedrion noticed. She hadn’t destroyed it.

She hadn’t tossed it into the void or ground it to dust. She had secured it, deliberately.

A weapon she didn’t intend to wield, but would never allow him to touch.

His thoughts tightened.

That was my way home. My only way. If she keeps it, I need to keep her... believing. If she doubts, if she turns, I’ll never breathe air again.

He forced his face to smooth, his tone measured.

"Strange to cast aside something so powerful," he said softly, careful not to sound accusing.

"But then, perhaps you have no need of such tools."

She brightened instantly, her laughter bubbling like a siren’s song.

"Exactly, my little guppy! You see already. The sea bends for me. Why would I need relics when I have you?"

And then she was against him again, arms coiling around his shoulders, lips grazing his ear.

Her tail curled, drawing him flush against her scales, and he felt the unmistakable hunger in her voice.

"At last you are here," she murmured, pressing closer,

"and I will not waste another breath. We could begin now, entwine ourselves as tide and shore, make this bond eternal. Say the word, and I will show you what it means to be cherished by a queen of the abyss."

Caedrion’s pulse hammered.

He could smell her... salt, ozone, something alien but intoxicating.

Her power pressed around him like the weight of the entire sea.

If he pushed back, if he spurned her, she might crush him in an instant.

Think. Survive.

He let his hands brush lightly against her shoulders, not rejecting, not accepting. His voice was low, hesitant but deliberate.

"If... if that is to happen, I would first wish to know you. Not your power, not your throne, not even the sea itself... but you. Who you are. What you dream."

He let his eyes meet hers, steady despite the fear gnawing in his gut. "A bond like that should not be rushed. Not if it is to last."

For the first time, she paused. Her eyes flickered, her hunger tempered by something else, delight, surprise, the giddy joy of being desired.

"Oh... you would know me?"

she whispered, clutching him tighter, as though the idea itself was more intimate than any caress.

"Then you are wiser than all the rest. They begged for my favor, begged for my body, but never my soul. Never me."

She nuzzled against his neck, sighing as if drunk on the words.

"Very well, little land dweller. You will have what you ask. You will learn every secret of me. And when you do... you will never wish to leave."

Her grip softened, but only slightly.

The fever in her eyes had not dimmed; it had only been redirected, reshaped.

Caedrion swallowed hard, forcing himself not to shudder.

Good. She believes me. That buys me time. Time to learn, time to plan. If I play the part of suitor, she may let me breathe long enough to find a way out.

Yet deep within, the fear lingered.

Because even as he told himself this was a game of survival, a war of patience, he could feel the abyss pressing closer.

And Thalassaria’s gaze, obsessive, burning, absolute, told him she would never willingly let him go.

Caedrion shifted in her embrace, every nerve taut.

He forced his voice calm, though inside it trembled like a bowstring.

"If I am to... know you, as you say, might I at least ask your name? Who it is that holds me now?"

The words tasted dangerous on his tongue.

Too forward, perhaps. Too presumptuous. For all he knew, such a question might be insult to a being who clearly saw herself as divine.

But instead of anger, the abyss itself seemed to brighten.

Her eyes widened, glowing with a joy so fierce it was almost frightening.

And before he could retreat, her arms crushed him to her chest, pressing his face into soft curves that smothered and drowned more thoroughly than the sea.

"My little guppy!" she gasped, her voice trembling with delight. "You asked... you truly asked! Oh, you are mine, yes, you are mine."

Her fingers tangled in his hair, stroking it as though he were both lover and child, her cheek pressed to the top of his head.

He could barely breathe, whether from her embrace or from the tide of madness in her affection, he could not say.

Then she bent, lips grazing his ear, whispering as though confiding the holiest of secrets.

"Thalassaria Virelleth," she breathed. "Queen of Submareth. Queen of the Shivering Sea. Sovereign of all currents, mistress of every drowned grave, heir to the Abyssal. My name is yours to speak, my titles yours to command. For you alone."

Her voice rolled through the water like a song sung by the sea itself, wrapping around him, coiling as tightly as her tail.

She pulled back just enough to stare into his eyes, her own vast and luminous, fever-bright with obsession.

"Say it," she begged softly, her scales shivering with anticipation. "Say my name, my Caedrion, and I will show you wonders the land could never dream."

Her grip only tightened, and though fear curdled in his gut, Caedrion forced his expression steady, his mind racing.

Caedrion held her gaze, though inwardly his mind was turning like a storm.

Names have power. If she is as ancient and dangerous as she seems, then speaking it could bind me to her in ways I do not yet understand.

But she craves it. Desires it. If this madness can be bent to my survival, then I will have to play her game... carefully.

The Queen of the Shivering Sea coiled tighter, waiting, trembling in anticipation.

Caedrion’s lips pressed thin, his heart hammering as one thought gnawed at him above all others:

To live, I must tread this abyss as though it were solid ground... and never let her see me stumble.