Gwen, on the other hand, is a strong and fast swimmer. Her scales are white with splotches of black. Her hair is like a white cloud melting into water. Where Kai is delicate, graceful, Gwen swims with a confidence I recognize in myself. She even sings a wordless melody that fills the whole sea.
Kai stops and swims circles around us. She points to a dull, rippling current that cuts through the ocean like a pipe. She dives in, and the next moment, she’s zooming away. The suction pulls me down, so fast I have to shut my eyes. My mouth pulls back, and I have to spit out tiny fish that are getting stuck in my teeth. I lose count of the minutes, enjoying the numbness of the current until Kai yells “Here!” and makes a sharp right out of the current.
Unlike the pair of them, my exit isn’t graceful. It’s like trying to stand up on the anti-gravity ride at Luna Park. When I do, I hit a boulder and hold on to my head to stop it from shaking.
Kai points to where the ground widens beneath us. Branches claw out of cracks in boulders the size of trucks. My eyes adjust to the darkness. I graze the hilt of my dagger for reassurance. It’s a really sharp security blanket.
When we swim into an underpass, I shiver down to my fins. Here the stones are blue, iridescent where they’ve been chipped away, revealing the gem underneath. Fish the size of footballs gather around us in neon colors. Their teeth are sharp, their faces like arrows leading the way.
Along the walls are etchings depicting different scenes like a time line: the circle of the earth, the separation of the heavens and seas and volcanoes. The three separate pieces of the trident, wars, and the trident whole again. Then there are things I don’t recognize: beasts cut out of whole animal parts and symbols I have no name for. Clouds, stars, and moon phases.
The current draws us deeper into the tunnel until we reach an opening. We swim up again toward the clear light near the surface. When I’m above ground, it takes a second to readjust. The cave is massive, lit with torches.
“Where are we?” I trace the cool, blue stone.
Kai is in a half shift. The scales stop at the top of her thigh and wash away everywhere else. Her feet smack wet on the ground. “The entrance to the Hall of Records.”
I grab one of the torches on the wall and bring it with us.
“Father?” Kai calls out.
At first it’s enthusiastic, like she’s just waiting for him to come out of the dark room and hug her.
We inch deeper into the hall. The room is lined with books, shelves made by cutting away at stone walls. There are papers all over a long rock slab of a table, ripped and crumbled. Pots of incense, candles, powders, and roots are smashed to bits.
“Father?” Kai repeats.
I stick my hand out to stop Gwen from taking another step into the den. “Be careful, there’s glass.”
“What a mess,” she says.
I pick up a bit of parchment, singed at the edges and soaked at the center, ink running down the pages. When I try to lift it, it becomes dust in my hands.
I reach out to grab Kai’s hand but she’s so quick, running over the glass and into an opening to the right. We follow her into a darkly lit room. At first I don’t know what I’m looking at. Then Kai’s scream fills every nook and cranny of the cave. Atop a gleaming onyx table is an old man with armored scales along his arms and legs. There’s a knife stuck in his chest, just below his heart. His fingers rest around it, keeping the pressure. His breath is a shallow rise and fall. Eyes, the same crystal blue of his daughter, peel open. When he blinks a few times, the color drains. It’s like I’m underwater again, numb and wading at the bottom of the sea wearing ankle weights.
In the darkness, his eyes find mine. The sound from his throat is a gargle. His hand, soft and brittle, reaches out to mine. “B—”
“Shhh,” Kai whispers. Her chest is filled with ragged breath, hitched and frantic. She grabs on to his robes. “Don’t talk, don’t talk.”
She turns around, looking at the jars along the walls. She pops open all the corks and sniffs. Not finding the thing she’s