Page 60 of From the Mouths of Sirens

“Saoirse,” the voice called again, like rays of sunshine breaking through storm clouds. She followed the sound of the voice, grasping it like a chain in the darkness. It pulled her up out of the Sea Witch’s mire, wrapping around her with golden strength.

Gradually, sensation returned to her fingertips, moving up the lengths of her arms and spreading through her body. The light returned slowly, harsh at first. Saoirse blinked in the sun, looking up at the voice that called her name. Princess Hasana Yerimya peered down at her, sunlight pouring in around her.

“Saoirse,” Hasana whispered, “are you alright?”

Saoirse forced herself to sit up with a groan. Hasana helped her up, putting a strong hand on her back. She was still lying on the floor of her tent, her things undisturbed. She placed a hand to her head as memories of Selussa rushed back to her in waves. It hadn’t been a dream.

“I apologize for the rush, but we need to leave as soon as possible,” Hasana was saying, helping her stand. Saoirse noticed that the Tellusun princess was wearing full warrior’s garb, a shining gold breastplate strapped across her chest and a sword on her back. Around her neck, a shining ruby amulet hung between her collar bones. She wore a bulky leather satchel around one shoulder, tucked close to her hip.

“Where is Rook?” Saoirse demanded. “We need to stop her!” She grew frantic, throwing open the tent and storming out. She gaped at what she saw outside, her jaw falling open.

Dozens of winged horses were clustered through the tribute campsite, some pulling raeda carriages and others only carrying single riders. The crowd of warriors was composed of Tellusun and Terradrin alike, all armed to the teeth as though they were on the brink of war. Saoirse took a slow step forward, bringing a hand to her mouth.

Revolutionaries. So the reports of a resistance made of Terradrin and Tellusun rebels were true. She turned back toward Hasana, her eyes wide. The Tellusun princess gave her a grim nod, confirming her wordless suspicions. Saoirse looked toward the sky, catching a glimpse of smoke trailing through the air. She followed the line of smoke and soot, inhaling sharply as she saw where it originated. Even from far away, she could tell that the smoke billowed out from somewhere within Coarinth, indicating that the city was burning. Saoirse’s eyes trailed down to the satchel that Hasana clutched protectively, somehow knowing what was inside.

“What happened?” she breathed, trying to wrap her mind around it all. “Are you responsible for that?” She gestured to the smoke that emanated from the mountain. “What did you do?”

A monstrous roar ripped through the air, interrupting anything Hasana was going to say. Saoirse instinctively looked to the arena, where streams of panicked Revelorians were pouring out from the Stone Circle.

“Hel’s teeth,” Saoirse breathed. “What was that?” Another hideous roar echoed from the arena, the sound of it like the grinding of a thousand daggers against stone.

“It’s time to go,” Hasana told her, striding forward to a winged horse. She leaped deftly into the saddle, gesturing at the band of revolutionaries around her with a wordness command. Their horses extended their wings and began to lift into the sky, soaring toward the Stone Circle. Hasana held out her hand, offering Saoirse a seat on her pegasus.

“You can join us or remain here,” Hasana told her. “The choice is yours. I cannot explain everything now, but you should trust me when I say that you’re in danger here.”

“Just trust her, Saoirse,” a voice called from the crowd of revolutionaries. Much to her surprise, Sune sat on the back of a great pegasus, still bandaged from his injuries.

“It is a cause worth fighting for,” another voice offered. Her eyes found the form of Neia Landum, her white hair shining brilliantly in the sun. Just as the other warriors, the Terradrin captain was seated on the back of a winged horse.

“Show me what is in the satchel,” Saoirse demanded, her heart pounding. Hasana’s eyes darkened, and her arm went around the leather bag protectively. But the princess seemed to understand that Saoirse wouldn’t be joining her if she refused to show her what was hidden inside. Hasana relented after a moment of consideration, carefully unhooking the gold clasp at the front of the bag. Saoirse held her breath as Hasana gingerly reached inside, preparing to lay eyes upon what she knew would already be in there.

The Crown of Revelore rose from the satchel, glinting with otherworldly light as Hasana held it out for her to see. Four gems were embedded in the metal arches, each one representing a nation of Revelore. It looked just like every illustration she had ever seen in her history books, more beautiful than she could’ve ever imagined.

“What are you going to do with it?” Saoirse breathed.

“I’m going to destroy it,” Hasana replied swiftly, tucking it back into the satchel and clasping it closed. “Are you coming or not?”

“Let’s go,” Saoirse said, grabbing her outstretched hand. She didn’t know why she allowed Hasana to pull her up on the horse, or why she somehow trusted the princess with her life. All she knew was that if she remained here in the camp she’d never be able to stop Selussa or prevent the coming storm that was sure to erupt once the witch collected all four Relics.

Saoirse settled behind Hasana, wrapping her arms around the princess tightly as the pegasus began galloping through the campsite, its wings outstretched. The horse began pumping its wings, its feathers catching the wind and slowly rising. Hasana guided the horse expertly through the sky, urging it to the arena.

Fear churned through Saoirse’s stomach, tearing through her insides like a ravenous beast. She could be too late. If the trial had already begun and Selussa had made good on her promise to take her place, Rook could be lying dead in the sand. Revelorian onlookers raced from the arena, screaming in terror. Saoirse braced herself for the worst as they flew over the side of the ampitheatre, diving toward the arena itself.

A monster unlike anything she had ever seen was tearing through the sand, six heads writhing with rage and dripping with venom. Her heart dropped at the sight of Aurelia slashing at the dragon’s leg, blood flowing down the side of her face. Several rebels on horseback were weaving between the hydra’s serpentine necks, narrowly dodging its dagger-like teeth. Neia swooped down to Adresin Vasalor, hauling him up on her horse just as the hydra’s spiked tail nearly impaled him in the chest. Other riders dove for the rest of the tributes, plucking them up from the sand with expert efficiency. Hasana signaled to a diving rider, pointing to where Aurelia fought one of the hydra’s heads. The rider scooped her up from behind, throwing her over the saddle. Saoirse scanned the arena, fearing for the worst.

She caught sight of his gray wings first, crumpled in the sand. To her horror, Selussa was leaning over Rook, still wearing her skin. The dagger she clutched was dripping with dark blood. Hasana saw her too, and she urged her pegasus toward Selussa with haste. The horse dropped lower to the ground, flying only about a foot from the sand floor. The horse barreled into Selussa on Hasana’s command, its powerful hooves sending the Witch flying from Rook’s body. Selussa flew several feet away, thrown against the earth in a spray of sand.

Saoirse leaped from the horse’s back and sprinted to Rook, falling to her knees. Tears sprang to her eyes as she cupped his face in her palms. His head lolled to the side, his eyes rolling back into his head. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth, leaking to the sand in a stream. A dark bloodstain bloomed on his tunic and flowed freely down his stomach. She pulled him up, shoving her shoulder under his arm as best she could. She waved frantically for help, praying that one of the rebels could save him.

Sune galloped over to them, and together they pulled Rook onto the saddle. Sune positioned himself behind Rook, wrapping his arms around him to stabilize his unconscious body. Blood poured everywhere, staining the white sand. So much blood.

“Go,” Saoirse told Sune. “Take care of him.”

Sune gave her a grave nod, kicking his heels against the horse’s side. The pegasus galloped away and launched into the sky. Rook was lethally injured, but at least he was now safe.

Slowly, Saoirse turned around to face the Sea Witch. From where she had been thrown to the ground, Selussa pulled herself up with a groan. Gone was Saoirse’s familiar hair and shimmering blue scales. The monster that rose from the sand was both hideous and beautiful, her black eyes shining with murderous rage. Selussa looked just as she had in the Fretum, her raven-black hair hanging to her waist and her claw-like fingernails twitching at her sides. She stared right at Saoirse, her all-consuming eyes glittering with malice. She smiled, revealing her sharped white teeth.

Selussa held Rook’s dagger.

---