Bodies were pebbling down into the ocean, the hull was viced by the crushing Charybdis, denting the structure, with planks trudging down to the bottom. The Charybdis was like a chameleon, blending in with the dark current, its web coiling around—the only tell of its presence. Its scale had a shimmering attribute, salvaging it from the almost complete darkness.

The current, thrumming around her, wasn’t completely swallowed by darkness, as there was a faint iridescent moon breaching the water’s surface, giving enough vision to see the silhouette of the floating ship above and the fishes swimming close by. So, she summoned an orb, giving her a better vision of the bodies snaking underwater.

Witches and wizards were plummeting in, like her, ready, protected by a gulf of draft, wriggling away from the ship akin to fish in no need of air. However, the werewolves and humans were weaving in and out of the surface, as they scattered away with the speed their natural abilities provided. Until the humans reemerged, their heads tucked in glass cubes.

These little creatures.

After inhaling a fair amount of air, a werewolf dunked in, letting his arrow fly. A futile effort, as the pressure of the water veered it off toward the pitch-black bottom. Hence, he meandered to the bottom of the hull, flanked by other werewolves, as they wedged their daggers into the coiled...water. The monster didn’t budge from the incessant intrusion. There was no blood gushing out as they kept on poking at the scaled liquid.

The arcane group was hovering like a seahorse from a safe distance, bombarding the monster with fire enveloped by air so as not to be doused by the current. But instead of scorching the Charybdis, it passed through, ambushing the hull. And some of the werewolves were caught in the crossfire, earning angry snarls towards Clythia and her companions.

However, it wasn’t the perfect time to start a fight within a huge fight, so they retreated, slithering out to the surface for another gulp of fresh air. The humans were dragging out those that were passing out before they reached the surface.

Clythia was getting annoyed, what kind of monster didn’t get affected by fire? What could they possibly use against a water monster that could devour them but they couldn’t scathe? Once the monster discovered there was nothing to devour on the ship, it would change its attention the surface below. To them.

“Use thunderbolts.” A muffled male voice came, she whipped her head.

Kay was beside her, face encased in a cube, his exhales smudging his features of the glass. “There is salt in the water, probably in the Charybdis body too,” he pointed at the vicing web. “There are elements in salt and water, with the presence of a thunderbolt it could transform its essence it to be acidic.”

“Why should I trust you? I just killed one of you yesterday, and you have threatened me for it,” Clythia narrowed her eyes at him, not entirely sure he could hear her.

The human king shrugged, rather a slow motion under the influence of the liquid. “Because we are all going to die if you sorceresses can’t do something about it.”

Clythia studied his face; there seemed to be no ulterior motive, no coy to lure her to death—only a shared sentiment of survival above all.

Clythia stretched out to her Inner Sense, which was vibrating with her continuous use of magic; thrumming more as thunderbolts began lacing her free palm. She approached one of the scholars who was darting a ball of fire, with a frustrated, scrunched face. She told her to use thunderbolt instead and to relay the message to others, warning her to release it with air, lest they all get shocked and became underwater toast.

Soon enough, a beam was dancing around her companions’ hands. In unison, the vines of bolts licked through the water, viced around a draft, pinning the Charybdis with aggressive bolts from all sides.

It was Afia and she who were using only one hand. The former’s arm was occupied with a frantic dog, its palm digging into Afia’s chest, staring up at her with sorry eyes, mouth yapping.

Finally, they got the attention of the viscous beast.

Its tail loosened its grip on the hull with a violent jerk, ricocheting away in a wide arc, scattering them all to dive low. Those who got in the way were violently tossed away to the darker corner, no incandescence of thunder could reveal. Two of her companions, a guard and a scholar, were plummeting down, plunging her heart into her stomach before the guard managed to repivot her position and shot down to save the scholar.

The werewolves weren’t so lucky; most hadn’t reemerged to the fight, but some that did had resumed their poking, unaware of their futile effort. Unfortunately for them, they were heading to the pit with no chance of survival.

The Charybdis zoomed underwater, its pit twice as wide as when they were on the ship. The liquid before it began gyrating towards the gigantic mouth, with small fishes twirling into the imminent doom.

Some witches and wizards were dangerously close; Clythia could make out the black leather of the guards and the yellow garments of her servants. The whirlpool claimed them as she feared, tossing them toward the grinding void like spinning coins. Limbs flailed within the tunnel, their concentration breaking as water flooded through their draft wall and choked them.

They arrived at the jagged cave with spiked teeth. She averted her eyes. But her ears caught the muffled grinding of bones—the only sound that emanated from the muted, terrifying monster. The agonizing death of her servants drenched her gut with sorrow. Clythia’s gaze whipped back; blood was diluting the current, and everyone was zigzagging away as far as they could, clinging to dear life. She shot far away, still facing the Charybdis.

The monster charged forth with blinding speed. Nothing could come out of this fight except a full belly for the monster, which was hunting the lambs. They were alone, the witches and wizards now scattering in the dark current. Kay wasn’t there, his companions weren’t there, the werewolves weren’t there, and there was no sign of Morven. That cunt! Hiding in his holes when he had risked their lives.

But Clythia wasn’t ready to die without pouring every last bit of power within her. So, with all the might she could muster, she sent a wave of thunderbolts towards the Charybdis’ mouth. That broke the whirlpool, and from afar, a blinding beam was charging towards the monster, then another, and then another—stronger and brighter. Its mouth brimmed with light, beams dancing on its yellow teeth, giving it no space to form a whirlpool.

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The Charybdis’ teeth began to shatter like glass met with an axe, scattered in the dark current until nothing but toasted flesh remained, its greenish web melting away, leaving the beast formless—indiscernible from the ocean’s current.

But Clythia was feeling feeble in her joints; her magic faltered, and water spurted in through the wall. This never happened when she used the Sovereign’s magic—that power knew no limits, harbored no ill-fitted consequences. But now, the Shadow’s magic, with its undesirable consequences, seemed to have its curbs, and if it happened to her, it definitely could happen to the others. The slack would lead to charging the water when one couldn’t hold the draft, and that could kill them.

She had to leave now; they all had to leave now. The monster was still weathering, dwindling to a shapeless glob. But as someone who practiced necromancy, part of her believed that as long as there was water—the main part of its essence—it could revive.

Clythia Eventuated before Vina, startling the Lady of Hypercas before she masked her expression with the coolness that matched the encased gust around the bone chilling current.

"We need to get out now." Clythia began, as if helping her case, the beam escaping Vina's palms tremored. She gave Vina an emphasizing gesture at the weakling rays.

Clythia willed the wall of draft around her to whirl her out of the blue, growing its restlessness into a tornado. Its force shot her out of the depthless water mass; she kept on soaring until her eyes met the moon unveiled, until there was nothing but air around her. Then she let go of the summoned squall of air, until she could see the ship below—a big chunk of planks missing here and there—and landed with catlike reflexes.

Thuds clanged around her; her companions were landing gracefully like their queen, huffing and puffing. Some of them sprawled on the deck as soon as their feet touched the floor.

The masts were bent forward, akin to a weak stem. The sails, for the most part, were torn, littering the cabins and deck. Planks were missing from the cabin roofs and the railings.

Shivering werewolves and humans were clad in cloaks, their clothes torn, hair tattered together—

Speaking of hair, Clythia whirled, searching for the Lady of Hypercas. Her gaze found Vina, crossing her arms and taking in the ship with the familiar scrutiny that ennobled her face.

Clythia let out a hollow chuckle that grew into hysterical laughter, earning confused looks. Nothing was alright—the deaths would soon be crushing them all into despair, but until then, her eyes had found something to ease its edges. Vina raised her eyebrows, uncertain why the queen found her particularly amusing.

“If a Charybdis’ mouth or its whirlpool or a tornado can’t pluck a teeny tiny strand of your hair, I don’t think any force from the skies or on Zyvern will,” Clythia said, gurgling with a chuckle.

Vina ran her slender fingers over her tight hair self-consciously as laughter rung the hollow deck, cutting through the aftermath of shock.

“Maybe, when we get back, my queen, there should be a contest named ‘Plucking the Hair of Hypercas,’ with a fat prize,” Casarda offered, earning more laughter from Clythia and her companions. Vina’s cheeks were turning a deep shade of red.

“Not a bad idea,” Clythia nodded at Casarda, her hair now a golden fleece, seemingly overblown by the gust.

“With that you could send The Lady of Melop out to the skies, perhaps Morven could oblige for that journey, and let us see where on Zyvern and beyond she could actually wear A. Descent. Cloth.” Vina cooed, gaze flicking from Casarda—who wasn’t the least embarrassed by the tint of mockery—to Clythia.

“I never knew I was distracting you,” Casarda chimed, fluttering her eyebrows at Vina.

Vina’s jaw slacked, taken aback and fuming from Casarda’s audacious flirting, she opened her mouth to retort. But Morven beat her to it.

“Did someone call my name?” he raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking around until it stayed on Clythia’s.

The vampire’s clothes were tattered. There were slashes on his long coat and pants, his hair was disheveled, and something had nicked his neck. He had no blood to shed, but if he were anything but what he was, a thin red line would have appeared.

Good.

At least there was some struggle; he didn’t evade the fight completely. However, that didn’t explain why they were fighting for their dear lives underwater because of his stupid suggestions when he was perched on his ship.

“So this is how you wanted to get rid of us?” Clythia’s hands landed on her hips. “By volunteering us to be a shark’s dinner if the Charybdis didn’t get us first?”

“If it wasn’t for me distracting the Charybdis, you wouldn’t have had the opening to attack him from down there,” Morven indicated the ocean with his chin.

“And it would have been too late for me to tell you how to defeat the Charybdis,” Kay swaggered forward. “We thank you for saving all our lives.”

Kay was the most composed of all of them. Or the one that being soaked in water well suited. He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, revealing his jaw—once chubby, now sharp as a two-edged sword. His folded sleeves were glinting off protruding veins beneath his honeyed skin, shimmering with droplets.

Morven was handsome, yes. So were Glythia and Kay in his hefty form. But the Kay before her was devastating. She had never noticed his features very well before. But now, his nose looked sharper, his brows looked thicker, his eyes looked brighter, his chest broader, his shoulders—

Afia approached Morven, dragging Clythia out of her ogling. The puppy, tucked safely in the servant’s arm, was quiet, eyes closed, shivering uncontrollably, as she placed it carefully in Morven’s arms.

The vampire gave her a wide grin, and Afia returned the gesture with a warm smile and a nod.

“Well, look who it is,” Glythia said, peering out of a cabin. “The savior of the day.” His words were caked with disapproving mockery.

Clythia frowned. “You are sad you are alive?”

Glythia shook his head. “I am alive because I fought for it. I was distracting the Charybdis as a wolf up here,” he drawled his 'I's for emphasis. “Why? Because you all could work a way to defeat the Charybdis from below.” He was shaking, and it was not because of the chill but rather a seething rage; his nostrils flared. “You know, I was about to dive down, but I wouldn’t be any good there. I was giving the werewolves, the humans, and you a chance at survival while Morven and I were doing the distraction as hell broke loose here. For you!” He yelled the last two words, making some of them jump.

The werewolves were now flanking the Prime, gazes drilling her with hatred. Well, within two days she seemed to have earned the hatred of two races. But she wasn't quite sure what she did this time round.

"Oh stop whining. Shit was going down there too, you have no idea what it took from me." her arms splayed wide to indicate her companions. "From them to escape with our lives!"

“Yes, only your lives,” Glythia gained a step towards her, pointing a convulsing, thick index finger. “The lives that only matter to you. We are fighting a water monster that hasn’t existed in two hundred thousand years, for fuck’s sake, but you sorcerers found a way to still think about race? To not show an inclination to save the werewolves that were fighting beside you down there? When you could have protected them with all that power at your disposal?” He crossed his fingers, heaving a sigh. “You can summon fire, shoot ice, dip vines in poison, call on a tornado, rain down a thunderbolt, and yet you let my werewolves die when you could have saved them. ”

“We saved one of the dogs.” Clythia’s head jerked towards the puppy.

One second, Glythia was steaming with fury; the next, he was letting it out on her. Calloused fingers viced around her neck.

She heard the swoosh of swords and the cackling of flames as dots swam at the edge of her vision. But Clythia raised a hand to hinder her guards from surging forth; they remained in place. Nor did the rest hurl their summoned fires. She was going to handle this herself.

“Your subjects aren’t my responsibility, wolf,” she gritted out, piercing his blue eyes with newborn loathing. “It is not my fault if I’m overpowered for your taste. My responsibility solely belongs to my people. This trip was not meant to bring us together and break the tradition that has kept Zyvern safe. I am not here to form friendships or whatnot.” His grip loosened as hurt flashed through his blue eyes. “And you will fucking pay for the hand you just raised.”

Clythia sprinted forth, but strong arms coiled around her stomach. It was Kay, restraining her with surprising strength as her hands flailed, trying to escape his grip.

Morven was doing the same on the other end, pinning the werewolf to the cabin door, as growls reverberated from his throat.