Page 5 of Wicked Depths

My wrists fall free, and I exhale, rolling them slowly, stretching out the stiffness.

She doesn’t step back.

She stays close, her emerald eyes boring into mine, her breath a slow, measured thing. She wants me to understand thatfreedomis not what she’s just given me. That I am still caged, even without the iron.

“Careful, little siren,” she growls, her voice like embers in the dark. “You’re inmydomain now, and I intend to keep you indefinitely.”

I meet her stare, unblinking. My pulse is steady, my smirk unwavering.

Let her think she holds the power here.

For now.

Nyxara holds my gaze for a lingering moment, her emerald eyes shadowed with something unreadable. Then, without another word, she turns on her heel, the black lace of her dress trailing behind her like a whisper of darkness. The soft click of her boots echoes in the chamber as she strides toward the door, every movement precise, controlled—calculated. She doesn’t glance back. She doesn’t need to.

When the heavy door groans shut behind her, the chains around my wrists pulse faintly, a cruel reminder of my confinement.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, summoning the rhythm of the ocean that still thrums in my veins. The humans might have dragged me from the sea, stripped me from my throne, but they can’t sever my connection to it.

Not entirely.

My fingers flex, reaching for the one thing still tethering me to my power.

The basin of water in the corner of my cell shimmers under the dim light, its surface smooth, undisturbed. Small, insignificant to an outsider. But to me? A lifeline.

As long as I have water, I am not powerless.

The wards may dampen my magic, suppress it, bury it beneath layers of Nyxara’s enchantments—but they cannot silence me completely. Water is my conduit, my anchor. It will always answer my call.

I dip my fingers into the cool liquid, sending a faint ripple across its surface. Magic stirs beneath my skin, faint but familiar, curling around me like a whisper of home.

"Come," I whisper, my voice soft but commanding.

The water responds instantly, the ripple deepening, darkening—and from the shadows of the chamber, a faint glow emerges.

Luma.

My jellyfish drifts forward, his translucent body pulsing with soft blue light, casting a faint luminescence against the cold stone walls. He hovers near me, his tendrils brushing gently against the chains as if testing their strength.

A moment later, another flicker of light sways through the dark, followed by the familiar hum of energy.

Neridia.

She floats beside Luma, their presence weaving a quiet reassurance through my bones.

I let out a slow breath, my fingers trailing idly through the basin’s water. The connection is weak, fragile beneath the weight of these wretched wards, but it’s there.

A piece of the ocean, even in this desolate place.

A reminder that I am not broken.

Not yet.

For a moment, the weight of the chains fades, and I’m back beneath the waves—my power unrestricted, my dominion absolute.

The humans fear me for good reason. They know I am more than a woman. I am the tide itself. The storm. The abyss. And no matter how far they drag me from the depths, the sea will always answer when I call.

Even when I am a prisoner in a castle of stone and flame.

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