The stillness that followed the storm looked thick and unnatural, as though the sea were waiting for what was to come by breathing. Seraphine stood on the deck, her still-flushed face cools by sea breeze. Now faded, the mark on her ankle had saved them and acted as a continual reminder of the power she had just lately begun to understand.
She looked out over the water as a person floated into view. She first thought of it as either a shadow cast by the waves or a trick of the moonlight, but as it neared she saw it was obviously a woman. Her dark hair floated about her like kelp caught in the current, and her eyes gleamed an odd, otherworldly light. She moved across the lake with a startling beauty and awkwardness.
Rowan drew to her side and stiffened his face. His tail tensed, obviously ready to spring should be needed.
Stopped slightly short of the ship, the woman gave them an appreciative, almost bored look. She angled her head slightly and smiled at her mouth's corner. She said, "I am Amara," softly and smoothly, as though she were speaking straight into their thoughts. "I arrive bearing a bargain if you will, an offer."
Rowan's manner got worse. "Sea witches do not arrive to assist only. From us, what exactly do you want?
Amara began to grin and fixed Rowan as though she found his skepticism humorous. "Oh, believe me, merman. I am neither friend to your kind nor to humans. But I have a route to the Coral Crown that you could find useful. And you have something I would want in trade.
Seraphine sensed an inexplicable feeling they should pay attention to—a draw toward Amara. Something the old, primal energy coming from the witch spoke to the ancient energies Seraphine was only beginning to understand.
"What do you wish?," inquired. Seraphine asked, her voice strong. Though her mistrust was clear-cut, Rowan felt a fresh pull—a mild inclination urging her to consider the offer.
Amara had shining eyes, a little shadow of loss on her face. "I want liberty." Freedom from a curse cast by my own family, binding me to these oceans. I will not be leaving this planet until the magic cracks. I trade your direction for mine. I know where the Coral Crown lives; I can lead you there using the waters only I have survived.
Rowan's eyes narrowed and his expression mixed suspicion with interest. "Why ought we to believe you? Among sea witches, deals that go south for those who seek them are well known.
Amara's grin clouded and her face turned stern. Her voice softening, she turned directly at Seraphine. I could be a witch, yet even so I have honor. "Was cast on me because I refused to betray my coven," she said, pointing to the delicate, shimmering lines almost like scales on her skin. They loathed my might and bound me here. I simply want for the freedom of possibility.
Amara's remarks depressed Seraphine, and as they settled over her she became strangely sympathetic. Amara's voice exposed bitterness and agony evocative of loss and treachery. She felt the witch speaking the truth at least in part.
She murmured "Rowan," then turned to face him and continued, "I think we should hear her out. She knows these waters; if she could take us, She trailed off, sensing little alternative but also the doubt in her own words.
Rowan's face was invisible, but his jaw was firm and his eyes swung between Amara and Seraphine. You trust far too readily, he said quietly. "Sea witches... they give without asking something lovely in return."
Amara had controlled laughter in her eyes. She added, a mischievous smile returning to her lips: "He's not wrong." Still, Seraphine, I intend no harm to you. Your bond to the sea is really fascinating. I see promise in you; I would like not to waste it.
Looking at Amara, Seraphine felt a flicker of both fear and intrigue. The witch's appearance was enigmatic, an intelligence almost limitless and old. Though she knew nothing, Seraphine couldn't get rid of the sensation Amara was just what they needed.
"What would separation of your curse call for?" Seraphine asked, her voice cool even if she and Rowan simmerered disagreed.
Amara bent her head, enthralled. "A basic act of loyalty," she said, her voice like silk. "A pact entered in good faith—a commitment not to forsake me until my freedom is granted. I will walk you back to the Coral Crown. Together, we can negotiate the Abyssal Trench—the one place merman or mortal cannot travel alone.
Rowan's jaw closed firmly, obviously suspicious. And what guarantee exists that you won't turn on us once your curse is gone?
Amara laughed, a sound both beautiful and awful. "Merman, I have no cause for turning on you. Not to meddle in your business; I desire the freedom of the wide sea. My goal is really simple: freedom. Should you doubt my word, then walk here and try your luck for yourself. Her voice grew snarky, as if she were pushing them to turn her down.
Seraphine sensed a surge of will. Her voice gentle but strong, she turned to face Rowan. Rowan, we most definitely need her. Danger we are not aware of abound on the path to the Crown. She will empower us; without her, none of us could survive.
Rowan's expression was stormy, but he nodded at last—though his eyes stayed guarded. "If we agree to this, Amara," he said, his voice laced with caution, "know that I'll be watching. Should you try to damage Seraphine or mislead us, I would not hesitate to make you regret it.
Amara's smile came almost from pity. " Such fierce protection. You have my word, merman, hollow as it sounds to you. Her face softening, she turned to Seraphine. "Does our agreement exist, PowerShell?"
Seraphine nodded, drive of will coursed through her. Yes. I match your terms exactly.
Amara's smile returned, an odd, nearly thanksgiving gesture. She extended her hand, and Seraphine halted just momentarily before snatching it. Their agreement settled over Seraphine like a weight, linking her to Amara in a way that was both exciting and horrible. She felt a little shiver. The hand of the witch was chilly, her hold strong.
"Good," Amara replied, her voice little more than a whisper. She raised her free hand to show behind the scales a dim glow on her wrist. She twisted her arm, and lines and symbols whirled into the shimmering scales on her flesh, what looked to be a map.
"This is the map to the Coral Crown," Amara said with reverence. "Only I can read it; the language of the water is one only those connected to it will understand. Come with me across the Abyssal Trench to find the real dangers that exist.
Rowan looked over the map, his jaw tight and his eyes sharp. "I object to this," he remarked. But only because, Seraphine, I trust you. I shall rely on you.
Though she pushed it away, Seraphine felt a stab of guilt at his words. She knew this was the only option—the right one. Under Amara's supervision, they might be able to locate the Coral Crown and reveal the truth her father had sought, therefore enabling their chances of survival at the depths.
Amara pulled back her hand, her face unreadable. Her voice a gentle admonition, "Prepare yourselves." She went on. "The road to the Crown presents many difficulties; only those truly deserving will make it. Should you slip-off, the ocean will take claim.
Breath steadying herself, Seraphine looked at Rowan and a calm comfort flowed between them as her pulse raced. Taken all together, they would face whatever lay ahead.
As morning began to break, Seraphine, Rowan, and Amara prepared to slide down the Abyssal Trench and threw a feeble glimmer over the deck. Tension stretched the air, an unsaid wariness simmering between them. Her gaze far-off and enigmatic as though she already knew their destination, Amara glided with a simplicity that seemed to defy the depths of the ocean.
But Seraphine sensed a shift as they got ready—a slight unease implying that the obstacles ahead would test not just their strength but also their very mutual confidence. And as Amara led them more into the sea, a sensation the voyage would demand far more than any of them had anticipated, she sensed a peaceful forebiding come over her.