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Liam drifted. Perfect. He was perfect. Gina’s head turned his way, her auburn hair floating about her beautiful face as if gravity didn’t exist in paradise. Her grey-green eyes were glazed, her smile as blissful as he felt. Gina. She had come for him. His heart flooded with such emotion that he was liquid within, without, drowning in an ocean of bliss.
Liam watched her. There was nothing but her. This emotion, filling him like water, completing him; it was... His thoughts pushed through quicksand, seeking the word. It was relief. That was the word. Relief consumed him. The word lingered, like a weight in a weightless place. Relief from what? Gina’s eyes found him and he smiled. But her smile didn’t deepen. Her eyes didn’t linger on his. They passed easily over him and away. As if he wasn’t really there. A shadow crept into his perfect world.
He followed her gaze and felt as if he'd never seen this place before. There was a vaulted ceiling above, ornately carved walls, and tapestries that seemed to undulate in a breeze he couldn’t see or feel. Gravity was defied everywhere he looked, not just in Gina's wafting hair.
They weren’t alone. There were figures around them, hovering, drifting, soaring like angels; air and clothing rippled, shifting in the wind he couldn’t see. Like heaven. But...
He saw that Gina was looking at a young man sprawled on a throne on a dais. Something about the sprawling figure disturbed Liam, like a dark ripple marring his peace even more.
A shape loomed over him, and he looked up. Overhead an immense beast had entered a giant arched doorway beside him, and floated above him, its dorsal fin and undulating tail making primal fear flicker inside him, along with the thought, impossible. The creature passed slowly through the opulent, cavernous hall and out through crumbling, ruined walls. A half-ruin. What was this place?
His treacle-like thoughts strained harder, pulling drifting threads together, and Liam looked to Gina for guidance. As he watched her, watching the boy on the throne, the scrape of consciousness grew, creating images. Images of Gina. Gina missing. Then there before him. The overwhelming relief of finding her. Of not being insane. Gina in a wall of water. Gina walking from the waves, drawing him with her into the water. Her open arms and her icy embrace. He had immersed himself in her, in relief. In the sea.
He wasn’t in an ocean of bliss. He was in the ocean.
Terror seeped into Liam as his sluggish brain woke. Water washed around his hair, his face, his limbs, his body. It filled every pore and every part of him until he felt like he was nothing but water. He couldn't taste it or smell it. He couldn't even feel it, apart from a kind of pressing sensation. But it consumed him. Why wasn’t he drowning?
He was utterly helpless and too frightened to move. And as his consciousness grew, he realised with horror that darkness was creeping over the scene. There should be no light in the ocean. What if the light went completely out?
Frozen in place, his thoughts moved over himself and he registered something on his finger. He touched it, raising it to his eyes. It was a twisting ring of shell. A nebulous memory returned of Gina pushing it onto his finger ‘to keep you safe in our world, my love’, she had whispered through his mind. Gina wore a ring just like it. He looked cautiously around and saw that each person near him wore a similar ring. And a similar expression of bliss.
So, this ring preserved them. Either they were all already dead or this was the reason they weren’t. With a kind of evidence to focus on, some of his terror lessened. Presumably his fear meant he was still alive, and as long as he wore this shell ring he wouldn’t drown.
Around him, the mood of the crowd had changed, figures moving, pushing ahead of him. He registered that the name Jarrod had been echoing in his mind, as if carried on their thoughts. Along with the name was a face. The guy on the throne. The name and face sank in. Jarrod. Thea had tried to kill Jarrod. Liam had helped her try.
Between the people now in front of him, Liam saw the throne was empty. Someone moved this way through the crowd. It was Jarrod. As he came closer, Liam’s gut seethed with fear, but instinct kept him from drawing attention by fleeing. Instead, he slowly turned his head away.
The back of his neck crawled with warning. He turned his head and saw Jarrod lunge for him.
*
Jarrod pushed against the resisting crowd that stood between him and Liam. In his mind he could already feel Liam’s neck cracking under the pressure of his hands, see his doll-like body tossed to the tides. Or would it be more fitting for everyone to tear him to pieces when they knew? In his single-minded focus, for a moment, nothing had changed: he was lord of the Nemaro, guardian of his clan. He would do anything to protect or avenge them. As he forced his way through, he opened his mouth to denounce the murderer in their midst, but someone's fist landed in it.
