Page 143 of The Wicked Sea

A castle impales the earth like a jagged obsidian knife. Bioluminescent coral and seashells adorn the outside. My stomach flips, uneasy, and I cling to the ground longer in case the world shifts again. An amber light flicks on in the highest tower’s window. “Hello?” I call. “Is—is anyone there?”

I can’t remember my name, but I remember this place.

I rememberagony.

“If anyone sneaks up on me, I’ll kill them! Again!” I shout, rising to my feet and defending myself with fists alone. I turn around toavoid the castle, but—the landscape whirls as if I’m on a revolving platform. The castle appears before me once more. I snarl. Whirl. Pivot. Duck. It doesn’t matter how I move; the castle doesn’t leave my sight line. It remains firmly in front of me. “Is this the gate to the afterlife? Because I have some suggestions for decor.”

My lungs seize as I walk toward it, and my chest aches. I leverage my fists, ready to fight, even though there isn’t a single sign of… of anyone. No voices, no silhouettes, no shadows.

I am dead, and I am alone.

Yet, I can’t shake the instinct thatsomethingis out here. Or in there.

“If you’re accepting requests, I’d love somewhere happier. Have you ever been to a confectionary? Taffy and candies and cakes?” I ask, talking more to comfort myself than anything else. Apparently, whoever I am loves to talk. A lot. “That would be lovely right now.”

The Fathoms answer with the opening of the castle’s door.

I glare up at the dark sky. “You are out of your mind. No fucking way am I going in there.”

The pathway ripples like a snake in response, coiling in on itself to carry me up and out andthrough. I roll onto my stomach. Claw with aquamarine nails at obsidian granite, struggling against the pathway’s brisk pace as it delivers me exactly where I don’t want to go. But it’s no use.

The path spits me inside the castle within seconds, and then vanishes altogether. Right as the doors slam shut.

This gnaws at me, festering with some kind of memory that I just can’t grasp. I shut my eyes. Clench my fists. Try to focus on the echo of that sound—the slamming of castle doors—but it vanishes within a single breath. And I am forced to open my eyes. Forced to look out into the entrance of the castle.

Whatever I expected, it wasn’t this.

A charcoal throne room. A whalebone throne.

And now—I am no longer alone.

There is a man on the throne. He watches me with vicious focus. He watches me as if he plans to consume me.

If I had any pulse left, it would be thundering right now. Instinctbegs me to run. I know, more than I know anything else in this moment, that this man is bad. This man is my doom.

And—

I think I know him.

“Zephyra,” he murmurs.

He… he sounds exactly as I imagined. Exactly as Iremembered. All those years. All those moments where I could only cling to the faint memory of him, could only dream of him even when he was steps away from me, pummel me in the chest. In theheart.

I collapse at his feet.

He stares down at me, cocking his head. His green eyes narrow. “I’ve been waiting for you, Zephyra.”

He stands then. Tall and strong and more muscular than he’d been the last time I really saw him. He was a boy then. He is a man now. White hair gleams in a halo on his head, short and askew, as if he fell asleep with it messy. As if it’s intentionally careless. But he has never been careless. Not really. He smirks, one side of his lips hitching slightly higher than the other, and I stop breathing.

It can’t be real. He can’t be here.

“Welcome home,” he says.

And his name rises in me, rises on a wave of regret, on the sharp, brutal memory of my bloodstained hands holding his heart. I gaze at him. My knees buckle in fear. In guilt. Inshame. And I would faint if he weren’t still watching me, assessing me, with hatred burning in his beautiful gaze.

One word passes my lips. One word that damns us both.

“Jacin.”