Chapter 3:
The Empress of the Blue
Scarlett began to run. As fast as she could, she jumped down the rock, past the barnacle-skeleton, and through the sand. And strangely, it truly was running. Despite being underwater, the effort required to move through it and the floatiness of her body itself were nearly negligible.
Same reason I can breathe, I guess — but no time to work that out! she thought, dashing in what she determined to be the opposite direction from the beast. She quickly glanced back.
It was gaining on her. She could now see the spines protruding from its face, practically built to spear poor, innocent fish and people like her. Scarlett had only just been born again, and she was already going to die. How ironic.
She whipped her head forward. A figure had appeared in the short time she had spent checking back at certain doom, a humanoid charging right towards her — the same one from earlier. Before Scarlett could choose which one she’d rather die to, it called out in a bright, masculine voice: “Get to a rock!”
She obeyed, dashing to the nearest mound of stone in sight. It was too large to get around, so she tucked into the furthest recess she could find. Even though her refuge still faced the monster, maybe its spikes wouldn't be able to reach her?
As she cowered in fear against her boulder wall, Scarlett wondered how it was possible to catch your breath when you were underwater.
The sound of rushing air — or, I guess it was water — told her that the man had launched himself off the rock above her. What could he do about that giant sea monster, though? She afforded herself a little peek between her fingers.
He held a long, thin sword in his hand, tilted out, poised for a leaping attack. Something about the guard on the handle looked off to Scarlett, though. Was that a fish head? She had trouble determining if she was simply going crazy from the shock of the news of her mother, the fire, and her own death, or if this was just something that was a part of the new world.
Just as she was about to settle on I’m crazy, the man landed a few meters in front of her, staring the sea monster down. It couldn’t have been more than 50 meters away by now. Scarlett was certain that he’d sacrificed himself in vain.
She got a good look at the monster’s appearance as it swam right for them. It would have been wrong to call it a shark, as the thing moved in a serpentine manner, waving up and down through the water. Sharp, thick spines protruded in pairs from around its eyes and mouth, which was the most terrifying of all. That mouth, an infinitely toothy, misshapen maw, split the monster’s face down the middle, from above its horned eye ridge down to its underbelly. It was like a dragon’s face torn in twain, the unearthly seal opened wide in preparation to make chum of the two intrepid humans.
That was when he raised his arm and thrust his sword towards the approaching creature. A glimmering, phantasmal image of — it was a fish, a swordfish! — materialized around his arm and shot out at blistering speed as he jabbed forward.
Like an arrow from a quiver, the spectral swordfish sailed right into the open mouth, lodging itself in what looked to be the fourth row of teeth, causing the sea monster to release a deep, bellowing wail. Twisting its head this way and that, it thrashed about with rage.
The man wasn’t done. He leapt forward, right into the heart of danger, and slashed his sword(...fish?) at one of the spines on its face. In a clean arc, he sliced an organic spike off, then turned his weapon around and jabbed furiously at the beast’s left flank.
He missed.
Not a single blow landed? Maybe we are toast, after all, Scarlett thought. Only then did an entire school of spectral swordfish appear where he had placed his jabs. Together, the school whizzed off into the water away from the two of them, perhaps ten magical fish in all. Still enraged, the monster, upon feeling the swordfish graze its side, turned its head and began chasing after them.
“That won’t buy us much time,” the young man urged as he swiped his cleanly cut prize from the sea floor. “Follow me.”
Scarlett jumped up. She trusted him now. Moreover, after witnessing him summon a series of magical swordfish with a blade, she decided that she wasn’t crazy, after all. Either that, or this was one hell of a carbon-monoxide-induced deathbed hallucination.
I can tell you, however, do not be fooled by her sardonic thoughts — it was most certainly real.
Her unknown savior dashed away, guiding her in the opposite direction from the monster. They ran for a minute or so, until finally reaching another large rock embedded in the sand. He looked over his shoulder.
“Looks like we’re good. Here.” He tapped the side of the rock. A small, human-sized cave opened up where the rock met the seabed. He ducked inside, and Scarlett followed suit. The passageway continued for a few meters before the walls expanded into an open area on the other side.
A shoddily constructed base camp greeted them. Under the roof of stone, a few rocks had been arranged in a circle around a fire — hold on.
A fire? They were still underwater, weren’t they? Scarlett was dumbfounded. Another part of her brain waved the thought aside, providing the simple explanation: You’re also breathing. Forget it for now.
Other than the impossible fire, there were a few rusty-looking tools here and there, as well as a small pile of neatly packaged bundles of seaweed. The feeling the refuge gave off was of a slightly closed-off gazebo made of natural stone, or perhaps a lean-to tent. Breaks in the wall revealed a view of a huge cliff of stone extending up towards the surface off in the distance. Pleasant.
The man set his prize down on an outcropping of rock shaped like a shelf in the wall, where similar monster parts of varying size were displayed. “The leviathans won’t be able to hear us in here.”
Scarlett leaned against the wall, slumped, then collapsed.
“Hey, are you-” the man began, before cutting himself off, seeing Scarlett wipe away a tear. She hung her head.
Exhausted, the past day crashed down upon her. The Institute application, her mother’s passing, the fire, the monster, the water — it was all too much.
As she cried, Scarlett’s train of thought ran on and on in a series of self-abusive beratings:
Even in a world of magic and swords, I’m useless. Dead weight, a burden. Just like this rusty dagger. I made this guy give away his secret hideout, he interrupted his whole day just to save me from a death that I would have caused myself. I would have deserved it.
Mom… She’s gone. What even was the last thing I said to her before I ran away? When was the last time I told her I loved her? Did she think I hated her? Does it even matter? She probably hated me for being such a mess, anyway. Her death might as well be my fault.
Of course, Scarlett’s mother’s death was not her fault. However, Scarlett, already in dire mental straits, had become overloaded with information in the final moments before her own death. She needed therapy, or at least someone to talk to.
Luckily for her, there was a bright and curious someone here with her now, ready to bombard her with questions after saving her life.
He knelt down next to her. With the power of a man not aware of his own strength, he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“You alright there?”
Obviously, Scarlett wasn’t. This man may have been a bit dense. Heart in the right place, though.
She shook her head, then wiped away her tears. “I’m sorry. For making you save me.”
He responded with a shake of his own. “No, it was nothing. Great practice for Leviathan slaying!” He paused, then sat down on one of the rock-seats next to the impossible fire. “So, what’s your name?”
Scarlett opened her mouth to reply with her name on impulse, then hesitated.
She hated her name. Despised it. And here she was, in what was clearly a new reality altogether. Unless it was a dream — she bit her tongue, hard. Okay, not a dream.
Then, in this new reality, she had a chance to decide her name for herself. She had a chance to change her fate. For the first time in months, she felt a spark inside of her.
Wiping away another tear, she looked up from her knees.
“You can call me… Camellia.”
Oh, now that’s a beautiful name. I had liked Scarlett, but Miss Camellia here has won me over. It’ll be hard to get used to, but it’s lovely, for certain.
Camellia smiled. “Yeah… Camellia. I’m Camellia.”
The man opposite her grinned. “I’m Damos.”
Then, suddenly, he stood.
“Now, what in Tethys’ good name were you doing out alone in the Crags?”
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