Page 119 of Taken
Every word is true, yet none of it feels like an answer.
“Idris twists everything he touches, and if we cannot stop him soon, there may not be a Nightfall left to rule,” Thorne mutters.
He’s not wrong. But he’s also not helpful.
Typical fucking Thorne.
“The crown cannot stay here. The SoulTakers know,” I say what we’re all thinking.
“Yes, but where to next?” Alaric intones.
“Ashfell can hold the crown for a turn,” Thorne offers, and we all nod in agreement.
And then—a crash.
The sound shatters through stone and sea, sharp enough to split my skull. The bond burns like fire across my chest, searing from heart to bone.
Phoebe.
I am on my feet before the others even look up.
“Stay here!” I bark, already pulling power into my veins.
The tide answers with a roar.
I tear through the halls, each stride a vow.
Nothing will take her from me.
I reach the front hall, and the world narrows to nightmare.
Phoebe is on the floor, her hair fanned out like golden seaweed, eyes wide with fear but blazing defiance.
Above her looms a ragged woman, more wraith than flesh—skin like old kelp, hair dripping brine, eyes black with rot.
One hand grips a jagged fisherman’s knife, the other a wand carved of driftwood and bone.
“I have your mate now, Kael,” she croaks, her voice like the scrape of shells on stone. “And she will meet Maureen’s end.”
Rage explodes in me, tidal and absolute.
“Never!” I howl, and the sea rises with me.
The tide crashes through the keep, answering my fury. My skin shimmers, scales breaking free. Limbs lengthen. Power surges.
I shift in an instant, my Titan form bursting forth—tentacles lashing, trident sparking like lightning drawn from the abyss.
I throw myself between Phoebe and the Sea Witch, my body a shield, my magic a wall of water and storm.
The knife slams against a barrier of salt-crusted current, sparks flying.
She shrieks, flinging curses from her wand, but every spell is drowned beneath the weight of the ocean I command.
Tentacles whip forward, coiling around her limbs, wrenching the wand free.
My trident glows with storm light as I slam its prongs into the stones at her feet, calling the sea to bind her.
Ropes of kelp and chains of brine rise, snapping shut around her thrashing form.
