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THE WHALE IS SCARRED. Older, the leader of her pod. Yet the sweeping length of her body suggests speed along with brute strength. Those huge, all-knowing eyes gaze deep into my soul.
Reaching out with mind-speak, I jolt when the entirety of her mind unfurls. “Thank you.”
I grab her fin, grasping until my hold stops in the crater of a rough scar, and clench my teeth. She bursts into motion, leading her pod after the ship with a swift swing of her tail.
Desma’s whale groans. Show-off, he says, pulling alongside us.
Water rushes by, pulling at my face. I glance back. My cousins and aunts hold on to whales of their own. Even Aunt hangs on to one alongside Iris and Meda, all three with identical grins.
I look ahead. The ship is closer now. Close enough for the vibration of oars splashing into the water to reach us. We’re catching up!
Yet as the pod gains speed, so does the ship. It remains ahead of us.
Whale pods are wise, wiser than any other creature in the ocean. They can do this. We can do this.
The whales put on a sudden burst of speed. We breach the surface. Clean air whips across my skin. The waves created from other whales splashing down jostles the boat. It slows.
My whale, the leader, stays above longer than the rest. Her sinuous body flies through the cool spring air, resplendent in freedom. Just long enough for me to imagine I can fly, too.
Then we’re arching down. The surface rushes to meet us. I glance up, up, up before the water claims us again. Sails unfurl from the ship’s mast in a resounding snap. The wind shifts, buffeting the ship. The sails fill. The ship glides ahead, farther and farther still, until it’s on the horizon.
“Faster!” I shout in mind-speak.
The pod swings their tails harder. As one, we glide forward until we match the ship, stern at level with the pod leader’s left eye. The moment is short-lived; the wind strengthens. The ship sails ahead.
A rushing sound fills my ears. At first, I think it’s my ears. Think the damage done to them is playing tricks on my senses. Then think it’s the sea whooshing past.
The edge approaches, the leader says in a strained voice. She begins to slow.
The edge of the world shimmers on the horizon. Massive rushes of water tumble over jagged cliffs. Waterfalls stretching into nothing.
“It’s gaining!” Desma shouts. “Any ideas?”
I grit my teeth, eyeing the hull from beneath the surface. Sleek sides, impossible to grip. Could the pod damage the thick wood? Somehow I doubt it, even with their massive bodies and powerful tails. Even throwing themselves out of the water on top of it—
Wait! Throwing themselves at it might not cause damage but they can do something better. They can breach in front of the ship, slowing it to a crawl. Poseidon may be tempestuous as a storm but even he won’t damage the greatest creatures in his domain.
Hopefully.
This will work. This has to work.
I tell my plan to everyone. They listen, sirens silent as the whales. When I’m done, the younger whales groan.
Too dangerous, one says.
The others echo her words.
Yet Desma and Aunt’s whales maneuver into wide loops at the very idea. Excitement fills their young voices. We can try!
Wait, the leader says.
I grimace. She’ll say no. Surely she’ll say no.
Your courage is admirable. Be careful.
I breathe a sigh of relief, bubbles streaming from my lips. “Thank you.”
She chuckles. They’ll do it regardless of if I agree, you see. They’re young. Reckless. But at least this way they’ll take my commands into account.
Desma’s whale jerks forward, followed by Aunt’s. They put on short-lived speed until they’re at the stern of the ship. They race ahead until their stamina gives out. Then breach, twisting midair, and splash into the ship’s path.
The ship slows before it hits either of them. Tries to twist one way, then the other. It’s stopped each time by one of the two whales. Progress slows before stopping altogether. The oars rest silent against the hull. The sails quiver with uncertainty.
The rest of us race ahead. The rapid current this close to the edge speeds us along with a steady pull. The cliffs are a whale-span away when the pod stops.
“Come on! We’re almost there,” I shout.
No farther, she says. Remember: we go this far. No farther.
Gods, I’ll have to swim the rest of the way.
“I understand,” I say. Then, to Desma. “Just in case something happens, tell Charon I love him.”
“Nothing will happen,” she says. A pause. “Wait for me.”
I swallow, letting go of the leader’s fin, and take the first trembling movement forward.
The leader’s groan is frantic. Wait, young one!
The current pulls, insistent, and forces me forward at a relentless pace. Without the bulk of a whale, I’m lost. I tumble tail over head toward the jagged cliffs. So fast there’s only a haze of blue seawater and dizziness twisting in my mind.
“Agathe!” Desma shouts.
She’s close. Too close. She’ll be lost too.
“Stay away!” I yell. “The current is too strong.”
The cliff is a hair’s breadth away. I stare down, down, down over jagged peaks into empty darkness.
Not a night sky. There are no twinkling stars. Pure, endless darkness. Undulating like fabric stretched too loose over a loom.
Chaos, the beginning of us all.
I’m frozen, waiting for savage rock to tear me apart. Waiting for death. Waiting for Chaos to swallow me whole.
A hand grabs me beneath my arm, wrenching me to a stop. My tail brushes against rock. Scales tear free, floating over the edge. They wink once, catching sunlight from above, before disintegrating into dust in the Chaos.
I’m not dead! How?
I look back. Desma, stretched forward, holds my arm with one hand. Her teeth are clenched tight, bared in a pained grimace. Her other hands hold on to her young whale. He swims against the current with lagging movements. He’s tiring fast.
“Come on!” she says. “Grab on.”
One hand over the other, I climb her arm. She grimaces at the pull against her shoulder joint but says nothing. Then I climb across her trembling shoulders. When I’m holding onto her whale, my grip secure in a network of scars, she breathes a sigh of relief.
The ship sits at a standstill, no longer blocked. Whatever magic powering it fades away in the face of my victory. Our victory.
Desma’s whale groans, a wordless cry, then swims back toward the rest of the pod. Away from the current, away from Chaos, and away from my death.
* * *
I THROW DESMA A JAUNTY wave the split second before Zeus and I vanish from the dock. My family frolics with the pod on the horizon, their joined songs filling my head.
Desma waves back, grin smaller but no less joyous.
The turning in my stomach is less this time. Whether because I haven’t eaten or I’m becoming used to this, I can’t be sure. Either way, not wanting to vomit on the dirt ground when we land is yet another victory.
A town waits in the distance, lit by torches and lanterns in the meager dusk light. People move in the narrow roads between homes. A tall building looms past all of the rest, lit by enormous poles with swinging lanterns.
Salt air weaves between strands of my hair. The big building’s white facade, the sea at my back—familiar. On the moonlit sea, three islands dot the horizon in a close cluster.
We’re in Kyma, Cosmas’ village.
“Siren,” Zeus says, moving to stand in front of me. His elbow brushes mine.
I shiver, clutching at my damp dress.
“My trial is as follows,” he says, strangely quiet. The town bustles in the distance past him, unknowing their god-king stands near. “You must defeat a creature of my choice without leaving this town.”
Defeat a creature? Stories flash through my head; the many-headed hydra, Stymphalian birds with feathers of lethal metal, a man born half-bull.
I look to each side. No creature appears.
He snorts, both amusement and derision. “You’ll find my creature in the center square of this town. I’d wish you luck but you have no need.” He smirks. “Luck won’t stop my creation from eating you.”
I bare my teeth in a mocking smile.
He chuckles once, vanishing in a haze of clouds. They pass over me, sending a violent shudder down my spine, and speed lightning-fast toward the Akri Sea.
I’m left alone, only the town for company. My heart beats a rough rhythm until my ears are filled with thump, thump, thump, and nothing else.
I hear my heart. Yet the bustle of Kyma is lost to my ears. Even Zeus’ voice I strained to hear.
My palms sweat. The creature awaits in Kyma’s center square. Has it already killed someone? But no, surely I’d hear screams echoing through the night.
One helper left. I need someone strong, quick, and immortal. I need Charon.
I call him with my croaking voice. He appears in an instant, forcing himself not to stumble, yet his face pales from the sudden travel.
“Agathe,” he says.
Then he does stumble. Forward, right into my open arms. I lose myself in his warmth, in his distinct river-water scent, for minutes or hours or an eternity. He strokes a hand over my hair. My heartbeat slows.
A roar rips through the night air. Screams fill the silence left behind. Fire streams above the buildings in the center of the town.
“The creature,” I breathe.