Morella Fenwick's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

The green light still burned under the black water. Morella knelt at the pool's edge, her moss-covered hands flat on the surface. She knew where the throne lay now. But knowing was useless. The water would drown her the moment she dove. She needed a way to breathe the dark, or a trade with someone who already could. Selina crouched beside her, tail swishing over the wet stone. "You're going to stare a hole through that water," the werecat said. She flicked a pebble into the pool. "I know who breathes down there. You won't like her price." "Bring her," Morella said. Selina whistled low, a sound shaped like a song. Ripples spread. Then a woman rose from the black, sea-green hair clinging to her shoulders, fins catching the mushroom glow at the water's edge. Lyris Deepcaller. She had seen the drowned hall with her own eyes. She smiled with sharp teeth and would not say everything she knew. "The little witch who wants her throne," Lyris said. She rested her arms on the bank. "I swim your hall whenever I like. I could carry you down. I could pull one thing up for you." Her eyes moved over the moss on Morella's skin. "But sirens don't ferry for free." "Name it," Morella said. "A memory," Lyris said. "The first time you felt you belonged to this swamp. Give me that, and I bring you proof your hall is real." Selina's hand closed on Morella's wrist. "Don't. She eats the things she takes." Morella pulled free. The throne was closer than it had ever been, and only Lyris could reach it. "Done," she said. Lyris began to sing. The song curled into Morella's chest. She was small again, knee-deep in warm mud, feeling the swamp breathe against her like a mother. The memory brightened, then thinned, then drained out of her into the water. When it ended, Morella knew the moment had happened. She could no longer feel it. A cold empty space sat where the warmth had been. Lyris dove. The pool swallowed her. Morella waited, hands fisted, while the green light flickered far below. Then the siren surfaced. She set something on the stone. It was a cracked crescent gem, silver and worn, glowing green and purple through its seams. "This hung above your throne," Lyris said. "Now you know I don't lie." She smiled. "But I still can't bring you the chair itself. It's held down by more than water. You'll need to learn what. Ask me nicely next time." She sank and was gone. Morella lifted the moonstone. It was heavy and real. Proof the hall waited, proof she could reach it through Lyris. But the throne itself was chained by something she didn't understand. And she had paid in memory to learn it. She closed her fist on the gem. The price would only climb from here.