Page 26 of Taken By the Leviathan King

Krak’zol moves to intercept her, but I hold up a hand to stop him. This isn’t Bethra speaking—it’s the corruption using her voice.

“Nira sent us,” I say calmly. “Your sister needs you.”

Something flickers in those poisoned eyes—a moment of recognition quickly swallowed by rage. She launches herself at me again, but this time I’m ready. Using my new strength, I catch her wrists, holding her at bay.

“She’s too far gone,” Krak’zol growls. “We need to subdue her and leave before—”

“No,” I interrupt. “I can reach her.” An idea forms in my mind—dangerous, possibly foolish, but our only option. “The bond with the Heart gave me abilities. I can try to connect with her mind, break through the corruption.”

Krak’zol’s alarm pulses through our bond.The risk is too great. You could be infected.

“We didn’t come this far to leave her behind.” I meet his gaze steadily. “Trust me.”

His silver eyes flicker, a storm raging beneath the surface. I feel the conflict through our bond – a clash of protectiveness and strategic calculation, a war between his heart and his duty as king. It’s a fleeting tremor, gone in a heartbeat, but it leaves a raw, vulnerable energy in its wake. Finally, he moves behind me, his massive arms encircling both Bethra and me, creating a physical anchor.

“I will hold you both,” he says, his voice low and fierce. “If you start to turn, I’ll break the connection immediately.”

I nod, then press my forehead against Bethra’s, closing my eyes to focus. The mental connection forms more easily than expected—a side effect of my transformation, perhaps. I push past her outer defenses, encountering waves of corrupted thoughts that burn like acid.

Rynor’s influence is everywhere, a tangled web of lies and compulsions. I search for Bethra’s true self beneath the corruption, following threads of memory—Nira and Bethra as children, swimming through sunlit shallows; Bethra studying ancient texts, her healer’s hands gentle and sure.

“Bethra,” I call to these memories. “Your sister is waiting. Come back.”

The corruption fights back, sending jolts of pain through my mind. Distorted images flash before me—Rynor standing before the Heart, draining its power; the oceans boiling with toxic energy; Krak’zol defeated, his people enslaved.

With horror, I realize these aren’t just nightmares—they’re Rynor’s plans. And at their center is a specific time: the celestial alignment three days from now, when the three moons of Sanos will form a perfect triangle above the Abyss.

“The Heart will be vulnerable then,” Bethra’s true voice whispers through the chaos. “That’s when he’ll strike.”

I grab onto this thread of her consciousness, pulling with all my strength.Help me fight him, Bethra. Show me how to break his hold.

Together, we push back against the corruption. It’s like swimming against a riptide, exhausting and seemingly futile, until suddenly we break through. Bethra gasps, her eyes clearing momentarily.

“Tell Nira... eastern sanctum... the text she seeks...” she manages before the corruption surges back.

I withdraw from her mind before it can trap me, but not before tendrils of the toxic influence seep into my consciousness. The world tilts sickeningly as I return to my body. Green-tinged visions cloud my sight—Rynor’s face, leering; the Heart shattering; Earth’s oceans turning to poison.

“Imoogeen.” Krak’zol’s voice cuts through the hallucinations, the particular way he says my name acting as an anchor. “Come back to me.”

I blink, reality reasserting itself. Krak’zol holds both me and the now-unconscious Bethra, his expression taut with concern.

“We have her,” I say, my voice raspy. “And we have Rynor’s plans. The alignment—three days from now. That’s when he’ll attack the Heart.”

Alarms blare through the fortress. Our time is up.

“Can you swim?” Krak’zol asks, already shifting Bethra’s limp form onto his back.

I nod, though my limbs feel heavy and my mind foggy. The corruption I absorbed from Bethra lingers at the edges of my consciousness, whispering temptations and fears that aren’t my own.

“Stay close,” he commands, leading us toward an emergency exit Zorath had identified.

We fight our way out—Krak’zol bearing the brunt of the combat while I guard his flank, the heartstone blade moving almost of its own accord in my hand. When we’re separated briefly by a surge of guards, panic flares through our bond from his side. I send back a wave of calm confidence that steadies him, allowing him to clear a path for our escape.

Once outside the fortress, we swim hard for friendly territory, Bethra secured between us. The corruption I absorbed makes each movement an effort, but determination drives me forward. We have the intelligence we need. We know when Rynor will strike.

And when he does, we’ll be ready.

Chapter twelve

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