Neovina Lantis's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

Neovina held the black shell to her chest and swam for home. Serpin trailed her, silent, his tattoos pulsing in the dark. The heat inside the shell grew with every stroke. Halfway to her grotto, the pulse turned violent. The shell cracked open in her hands. Fire spilled out but did not burn. It gathered into a shape. A man formed in the water, his skin like black coal split by veins of flame. His hair burned at the tips. His eyes were pale blue and cold. He looked at Neovina and did not blink. "You woke me," he said. "Now I can't stop looking at you." Neovina froze. The pull she had felt since the trench came from him. Whatever lived inside the shell had eyes now, and they fixed on her. "What do you want?" she asked. "That's the wrong question." He drifted closer. "I don't know what I want. I don't know how long I burned in there. I want to know that." He glanced at his cracked hands. "A shell is a small place to forget yourself." "He is Cinder," Serpin said behind her. "I guarded him. I never named him. Now you carry him instead of me." Neovina understood. The thing awakened wanted answers, and it would not release her until she helped it find them. She could not swim free while it stared. So she chose to move first. "Then we look together," she said. "You want your past. I want my family's stolen heirloom. Both are ink and memory. Maybe one leads to the other." Cinder tilted his head. The fire in his skin settled. His stare loosened its grip on her, just enough that her tail unlocked. "Deal," he said. "I'll follow the water. I'm good at going where I'm poured." Before she could answer, red ink bled through the current. It curled toward them like smoke. From the dark rose an old man with smoky hair and glowing yellow eyes. Octopus tentacles hung from him, dripping red. His teeth were sharp. "A shell," the old man said. "An empty shell. And a fire with no name." He smiled at Cinder. "No name. My favorite kind." Neovina pulled Cinder back. "Who are you?" "Malachi." The tentacles reached toward Cinder. "I burn names. I write over them. His is blank. Perfect. Perfect." Cinder's flame flared. "He wants to fill me in himself." "I do," Malachi said. "I do." Neovina saw it clear now. Cinder's lost memory was not just his burden. It made him a blank page, and Malachi meant to claim it. If Malachi wrote over Cinder, she would lose her only guide to her heirloom. She seized Cinder's arm and turned toward the cold current. "Stay close," she told him. To Serpin: "Both of you." They fled into the dark. Behind them, red ink spread through the water. The awakened thing no longer stared at her from a shell. It swam at her side now, hunted, and so was she.