The moment after the speech felt wrong.
Not quiet. Not calm.
Just… stretched. Like the sea itself was holding its breath.
Merfolk were still shifting, murmuring to one another, some hopeful, some terrified. My pulse hadn't slowed yet. I could still feel the echo of the words in the chamber—chosen, worthy, fight back—like they'd sunk into the stone.
Then the water twisted.
Not naturally.
Forced.
Symbols along the far arch flared—sharp, ugly runes that didn't belong here. Someone shouted, "Shield the elders—"
Too late.
The first of the king's men tore through the current like a blade through silk.
Then another.
Then many.
They poured in from hidden gateways carved into the walls—old passages, forgotten ones, activated all at once. The chamber exploded into motion.
No warning. No announcement.
Just war.
I barely had time to draw my sword before a guard lunged at me. Metal clashed, the impact jolting up my arm. Around me, everything blurred—shouts, flashes of magic, bodies colliding, water churning so violently it burned my lungs.
This wasn't organized.
This was panic colliding with training.
I ducked as a spell shot overhead, spun, slashed, blocked again. Someone screamed behind me—cut off too fast.
"HOPE!"
I turned and nearly ran straight into Xylan as he deflected an attack meant for my back.
"Wow," he said breathlessly, "great timing. Ten out of ten dramatic entrance."
"Focus!" I snapped, then added, "Also—thank you."
"Anytime. Preferably not during life-threatening chaos, but I adapt."
Another guard rushed us. Xylan kicked off the chamber floor, flipped over him, and knocked the weapon clean out of his hand.
"Show-off," I muttered.
He grinned. "I took karate classes. What do you expect?"
That's when the water shifted again.
Not violent. Controlled.
Everything near the center of the chamber slowed, like the sea itself was being pressed flat.
Elowen emerged.
She didn't rush. Didn't fight through anyone. The king's soldiers parted instinctively, like they'd been trained to make space for her.
Her eyes locked on me instantly.
"Well," she said calmly, drawing her blade, "this saves time."
Anger sparked—but I didn't let it take control.
We met in the water with steel.
Her strikes were precise, sharp, and relentless. Every movement carried magic—pressure, weight, resistance—trying to throw me off balance.
"You're strong," she said between blows. "Untrained. But strong."
"I get that a lot," I said, parrying hard.
She lunged. I blocked—but something answered inside me.
Not thought.
Not intention.
Power surged.
The water around us pulsed outward, bright and sudden, reacting to my emotion like it had been waiting.
Elowen froze.
Her magic shattered mid-cast. The pressure vanished. Her blade slipped from her fingers as the current twisted sharply—wrongly—around her.
I hadn't meant to do anything.
I hadn't decided.
The sea decided for me.
Elowen's eyes widened—not in fear, but disbelief—as the force hurled her backward. She struck the stone pillar behind her and slid down, unmoving.
The water stilled around her.
Dead.
Silence slammed into my chest for half a second.
Then the fight rushed back in.
Someone screamed. A spell detonated near the ceiling. The chamber roared with motion again.
Xylan stared at Elowen's body, then at me.
"…Did you mean to do that?"
I looked at my hands.
The power faded like it had never been there.
"No," I said honestly.
"How do you feel?"
I searched for regret.
Guilt.
Anything.
There was nothing.
"She chose her side," I said simply. "So did I."
Xylan swallowed, nodded once. "Okay. Just checking."
A blade flew past his head.
He yelped. "CAN WE PROCESS THIS LATER?"
I almost smiled.
The war didn't end.
But it changed.
And somewhere far beyond the chamber, I knew the king had felt it.
Elowen was gone.
And nothing—absolutely nothing—was going back to the way it was.