The Myths of Ophelia (The Curse of Ophelia #4)

Chapter 59

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Malakai

Water cracked from every angle. Like somewhere, something had triggered a release of not only that dam, but from the walls above, too. Behind us, waves swept through the corridor, shooting over the ledge and swiping my feet right out from under me.

Mila’s shriek rang out as my stomach tumbled. I took a breath, and we plummeted into the rising spirit river. When my head plunged beneath the surface, all roars of rushing waves and shouts of the others faded.

The weight of my leathers and weapons dragged me down, and pressure pounded on my ears. The water was as cold as the frozen lakes of Mindshaper Territory, spearing right down to my bones.

It was all murky, gray-green down here. Not like a sandy wave crashing on the coasts, but like…

My lungs iced over. I didn’t want to think about the haze in the Hall of Wandering Souls. Couldn’t consider what lived in the source of magic responsible for guiding spirits to their afterlife.

Definitely not while I was submerged within it.

The water churned faster, faster . It flipped me head over heels. I whirled around, trying to find which way was up.

And poking through the noise-dulling pressure on my ears, for a brief moment, music trickled along the current. A much less vicious melody than the burst dam, and much more alluring. Suspended beneath the water, my head and lungs at the point of pain, that drifting song tried to turn me into a cypher in the breeze. It called me to follow the swirling tide wherever it might lead.

In my chest, right above my heart, a bead of an ache shot through, and out of the corner of my eye, a flash of pale hair drifted along the current. I whipped toward it.

And my stomach sank to the depths of the pit.

A plume of crimson clouded the water, and Mila limply floated through the gloom.

The air swept from my lungs—a damn foolish mistake with such precious supply down here—and I blocked out the tempting song, the luring waves.

She was my only focus.

Swimming toward her, I gently looped an arm around Mila’s waist and kicked toward the surface, high above and growing higher. Spouts of water poured from the sides, raising the tide all the way to the platform we’d been standing on.

Mystlights pierced the murky water, those mottled orbs growing larger until I was bursting through the surface. My lungs were tight, body aching. I gulped down air like a greedy fucker as I hauled Mila out of the water first. Lyria was there already, carefully gripping her beneath the shoulders and rolling her onto her back so I could pull myself out after her.

“What happened?” Lyria coughed, dripping head to toe. The dam had slowed, no longer an endless flood. “Mila?” she asked, gently turning Mila’s head toward her.

And behind Mila’s ear, a gleaming red gash looked back at me, shining gruesomely in the mystlight. Her silky platinum hair soaked up that blood like a parched plant desperate for life.

“Fuck.” With tired limbs, I dragged myself toward her and ripped off the layers of my leathers to get to my soft undershirt beneath; I hastily tore that off, too, and pressing it to the wound with tender care. It wasn’t as sopping wet as the rest of me, but it was better than nothing. “She must have hit her head when we went under.”

“On the marble?” Lyria gasped. When I nodded, her eyes flooded with worry.

“Hold this,” I told the commander.

Then, carefully—so fucking carefully because I didn’t want to jostle her head wound—I leaned down. Kept my hands from shaking out of sheer will and shoved away the terror ripping through my body. Mila didn’t have time for that.

Pressing my ear to her chest, I nearly cried when that steady beat greeted me. My panic unwound further when I held my hand below her nose and felt the small puffs of breath. I listened, counting each dull thud until my own heart rate slowed.

“She’s breathing.” I shifted to take Lyria’s position applying pressure to the wound. “Where’s Santorina?” I called out.

“Here.” Rina’s tired voice echoed from further down the ledge.

She cradled her wrist to her chest, and Vale stumbled after her. But no pack was strapped to Rina’s body. Spirits . All of her healing supplies were gone.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head when she saw the panic splitting my features. “The tide ripped it from me.”

“Damien’s balls.” Tolek exhaled from over my shoulder. I hadn’t heard him approach, but he was there, removing his undershirt, too, so we would have it to replace mine, which was quickly staining crimson. Both were too wet to help much, but he dropped it beside me.

Lyria scooted out of Santorina’s way so she could evaluate Mila, adjusting my hand with her good one to better apply pressure to her wound.

“Are you okay?” Tolek asked her, dragging a hand through his hair to slick it out of his face.

“Feels sprained,” Rina said through a tight jaw.

Over their voices, that melody drifted along the waves again. The bead of pain panged through my chest, more insistent and in time with the rise and swell and dip of both that music and the stirring river.

Shifting closer to Mila, I brushed her hair back from her face. It went against every instinct in my body not to pull her into my lap, but I had enough composure not to risk messing with a head injury. Her eyes were closed, lids paler than usual. Her lips were—dammit they were blue from the icy water.

The melody rose again, my chest aching like an arrow went through it.

“Fuck, what is that?” I snapped, glancing over my shoulder.

Tolek dropped beside me, warily asking, “What’s what?”

“That music,” I growled.

Everyone was silent. I kept counting the rising and falling of Mila’s chest, my own squeezing tight.

“What music?” Rina hedged.

My head snapped up. “You don’t hear it?”

Lyria, Santorina, and Tolek exchanged nervous glances that told me everything. I nearly laughed, the sound mingling with a sob in my chest as I looked back down to Mila. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Right as I’d thought the Angels couldn’t fuck me over again…

“What?” Tolek asked.

I held the fabric to Mila’s head, ignoring where blood seeped through to stain my hands. “The Angels can go fuck themselves. I’m not doing it.”

Not with Mila unconscious. We needed to clean and stitch this wound. To get some sort of tonic in her that would speed up the replenishing of her blood and strength.

To get her to open her eyes.

“Not doing what?” Lyria whispered.

I ground my jaw, refusing to acknowledge the truth.

But Vale, who had been silent since emerging from the water, said with the dazed eyes of a Starsearcher waking from a reading, “The Soulguider emblem is beneath the spirit river.”

“I won’t leave her.” How many times did I have to say it? A dozen didn’t seem to be enough for them.

“She’ll be okay with us,” Tolek promised.

“Her head is bleeding !”

“It’s staunching,” Rina assured, nodding to my hand. “Her body is healing itself. There’s magic in that water—even if it’s for different purposes, it comes from the land. It’s speeding up the process.” Sure enough, Tolek’s undershirt had barely absorbed anything after I’d switched to it minutes ago.

Still, I wouldn’t leave Mila while she was unconscious.

“The magic isn’t healing your wrist,” I argued.

Rina’s lips pulled into a line. “I’m human,” she reminded me, voice soft. “I heal slower.”

“Technically,” Lyria corrected, “you’re a Bounty.”

“Oh, for the sake of the Goddesses,” Rina grumbled.

I only looked back down at Mila, counting the rise and fall of her chest again. One…two…three… “I can’t.”

“You must,” Vale said, but it wasn’t her voice. This tone rang with an untoward authority.

“I don’t give a damn about those emblems.”

“We need you to,” Tolek said. “Ophelia needs it.”

That alluring song wafted through my head again, and I snapped. “You do it, then! You go get it for her! You’re the one she loves.” I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Not in a jealous rage.

I only—I didn’t understand.

Why was I the one required to do these things? To be the second piece of chasing these emblems? The one who wasn’t truly meant to lead our people, called in as the reserve for the chosen one.

There was an irony to it that I couldn’t quite find with the woman I loved bleeding before me. Spirits, I hadn’t even told her I loved her. And now…

I counted her breaths. She was breathing. Alive. She’d wake up.

Tolek knelt next to me, and in a low voice the others wouldn’t hear, he admitted, “Trust me, Malakai. If there was a way I could take this responsibility from you, I would. I would sacrifice anything to keep you from carrying more burdens for us.” He squeezed my shoulder and continued, “You’ve damn well done more than enough for seven lifetimes, brother. But there are certain things”—he swallowed, and when I looked up his eyes were on my Bind tattoo—“there are certain things I can’t be for Ophelia. At least not right now.” His gaze lifted, hardening. “So it has to be you. And not only for her, but for all of us. For every single warrior who will suffer at the hands of whatever this Angelcurse hides if we don’t succeed. Because I have a feeling we only know a fraction of the secrets hidden in the legends.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth, gaze falling back to Mila. Brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ll take care of her?”

“With my life,” Tolek swore.

Swallowing, I closed my eyes. Allowed that echoing melody to rise above the waves and wrap around me.

It was calling me, twisting and writhing beneath my skin. And I couldn’t shut it out.

Reluctantly, I brushed a kiss to Mila’s forehead. “Your tomorrows, Mila,” I whispered. “Every one of them. I’ll be back to collect, General.”

I carefully transferred the care of her wound to Tolek’s hands, ensuring he had the placement Rina had shown me.

Then, I rose and walked back to the edge of the water. It wasn’t churning as roughly as before, but the hum still flowed along the current. I removed my boots and weapons, hating the way it left me so bare but the extra weight would drag me down.

The music grew louder, and I counted the beats, taking deep breaths.

Then, I dove in.