Pisces Rising's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

Pisces Rising sat on the seafloor beside the broken glass, unable to see the vortex behind her. She heard it churning, but her eyes caught only smeared light where sharp visions used to live. She pressed her palms to the sand and tried again to summon a pattern. Nothing came. Then she heard footsteps grinding through the shards, heavy and fast, and she knew the tread before he spoke. Aries Mars found her by the sound of her breathing. He crouched beside her, scepter across his knees, and his voice came out too loud for the deep water. "WHO DID THIS?" He gripped her shoulder. "Point. I'll open its throat. Say the word." A dark fish drifted past his horn and he swatted it aside without looking. She turned her face toward him. She could see the red blur of him, nothing more. "Aries. I can't see you." Her hand searched the sand and found his wrist. "The vortex behind me. I touched it. It took my sight." He stood. She felt the sand shift as he squared toward the churning water. Blue petals drifted past her cheek, carried on the pull of the whirlpool. "Then the vortex dies today," he said. He raised the scepter. "HAH. Watch me." Then, quieter, almost to himself: "I'll drag it out by its edges." She had the lie ready. She could tell him a beast lived inside the water, aim him at it, and keep the truth for herself. He would swing until he was empty and she would still be the oracle he believed in. Instead she tightened her grip on his wrist and pulled him back down to the sand. "Sit. Please." A pale jellyfish drifted between them, its light passing through her arm without refracting. She felt the difference and it hurt. "I chose to touch it. I followed a vision here to find where I came from. The vortex didn't steal anything. I traded." He was quiet a long time. She heard him set the scepter down. "You traded... your sight." His voice dropped to the halting register she knew. "For what." She said, "For knowing. I saw a thousand versions of myself before it went dark. I don't know which one I am now." A small pool of still water had gathered in a dip between them, and she felt its surface tremble when he exhaled. "I told you because you would have killed something that only did what I asked it to." He took her hand and pressed her palm flat against his own, the way she used to read him. Nothing came through. He felt it too. "Then I stay," he said. "Until you decide who you are. I'm no good at sitting. I'll learn." She leaned against his shoulder, blind, and let the petals settle around them.