Tag: Elspar Stories

Of Depth and Deception (Chapter 1)

The full book is available on Amazon here.

Chapter 1
Skehl

Skehl fixed his eyes on those two distant glows, fleeing into the ocean’s black night. His heart fluttered. At last, this sham of a “hunt” was nearing its end.

Mustering all he had left, he grunted through his hours-deep exhaustion, ignored the throbbing ache of his muscles, and beat his tail with a ravenous fervor, eager to close the distance. He had somewhere else he soon needed to be, and he would not accept being late on account of clan deserters with inconvenient timing.

“We aren’t going to harm you,” he shouted as he neared.

The deserters only pressed on, their tails whipping up plumes of bubbles as they went. They were slowing, though—the smaller one especially.

A bright flash from behind, and a crackling warmth enveloped Skehl, pricking his scales and skin like urchin needles. He didn’t flinch or fear despite the ocean itself quivering around him. It was a familiar sensation: his sister’s power.

The deserters must have felt it too, for they halted; the gills on their necks fanning for breaths as they turned to face those they believed to be their executioners.

Skehl approached, his gills and chest heaving, his webbed-hands held out at his sides.

“We don’t want to harm you,” he said. “I promise.”

The deserters floated hand-in-hand, both eyeing him with furrowed brows and understandable skepticism.

He was used to that.

Briefly, he explained their intention—his and his sister’s—as all four of them floated together in the bubble of light cast from their collective glows. How they wanted not to punish, but to save.

“All we need is for you to let my sister Shock you both around the wrists,” he said, numb to how insane the proposal sounded after having offered it to countless other deserters in recent months. “Then you’ll be free to go. No questions will be raised and no one else will come looking for you. You have my word.”

“Why?” the older deserter asked as she maneuvered the younger one behind her. They were siblings, clearly.

“It’s complicated,” Skehl said. “Please, just trust when I say it’s the only way we can let you go.”

“W–will it hurt?” the young boy asked, poking his head around his sister’s side.

“Yes,” Skehl said, almost in a whisper. “Yes, it will.”

He peered into the boy’s moonful eyes—glistening and violet and young. Too young to lead a life like this, fleeing his home.

And such bravery…

“We’ll do it together, though. All of us.” Skehl offered a wan smile as he held out his hands. One to the boy, sunrise-red. The other to the older sister, her own scales and skin a warm summer-kelp green, dressed in a tattered shawl of red seaweed. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

The older sister flared her nostrils and huffed. She put on a tough front—bony shoulders wide, her expression cold and fearless. But she didn’t struggle against him. Didn’t resist. Not with Skehl’s sister there, her brilliant magenta glow the brightest of them all, pressing over them with the might and command of a beautifully deadly sun.

There was no fighting a Trenchguard such as her. The older sister understood that.

She took Skehl’s hand and squeezed in a manner almost threatening—if not for how much she trembled.

He held tight to her and the boy both amidst the ocean’s cold, ceaseless swaying.

“Just a quick Shock on the wrist,” he said. “Then it’ll all be over.”

“So you say,” the older sister said, a bitterness in her tone.

Skehl didn’t respond, just nodded to his sister. “We’re ready, Thressel.”

Her tentacles came. Only three of the many that hung from the underside of the wide, pink jellyfish-like dome atop her head. Long and sinuous, each tentacle coiled around a bare, scale-flecked wrist; the siblings winced as the tiny barbs bit into their skin. But not Skehl. Experience had a way of dulling the pain, the thick callous and scars already marring his wrist. This was far from their first cheated assignment.

White static crackled against skin. Blindingly bright. Burning.

Skehl’s heart ached as the siblings screamed. He held in his own—just grin and bear it. This pain was the price of their freedom. And Skehl was happy to pay it with them, for it made all this easier, made his conscience lighter.

It helped him and Thressel, too. The Shock. Doing so provided enough truth to their story—enough sureness to their voices and calmness to their heart rates—that should they later be questioned by a Truthseer regarding the assignment, they could just skirt the edges of their lie. This was a trick they had learned from Thressel’s Tethien partner, being that Truthseeing was a skill unique to his kind.

The white static dimmed, then died; Thressel drew back her tentacles.

Skehl let go of the deserters’ hands and kicked off with his tail to allow them their space. Already, a surge of cool soothing was working its way through his arm and down to his wrist—lifelight flowing through his veins to begin the slow healing process.

The older sister held her brother and inspected his burned wrist, whispering sweet calm in the boy’s ear. Her tenderness reminded Skehl of his oldest sister: Binah. The ease and comfort she had been so adept at providing…

Before Thressel had killed her.

No—that’s not fair. He glanced at his sister, noted the distant stare in her eyes. More and more, she was like that. Right there beside him. Yet a thousand leagues away. Binah had killed herself when she Shattered her mind. Thressel had just put her out of her misery…

When I was too weak to.

“Are we done?” the older sister asked.

Skehl nodded.

The boy flitted his gaze between his sister and Skehl as he held his trembling arm to his chest. “Where will we go?”

“I…,” the older sister paused, glancing all around, “We’ll figure it out. But anywhere is better than the trench.”

Skehl disagreed, though he knew better than to say so. He didn’t want to frighten the boy any more than he already was.

“I could look into a few options for you,” he offered. “Perhaps See which directions would be best to avoid.”

At this, Thressel shook her head as if awakening from a daze.

“No!” she said, sharp and berating. “They made their choice. If they want to be digested in the belly of a shark or a sword-nosed shredder, let them. But I won’t have you wasting your lifelight on their behalf. Sparing them is enough.”

Even the older sister recoiled from his offer, her eyes fixed on the white-ink swirl of blindness in his left eye—one of Seeing’s most perilous and common consequences. Only the boy appeared intrigued, his tail swishing under him, those bright, moonful eyes of his glinting with enthusiasm.

And for Skehl, that was enough.

“It won’t be a waste; I apprentice with the Tide’s Eyes,” he said, shooting Thressel a subtle but clear don’t-you-dare-contradict-me glare as his lie slipped out. He said it hoping to put the older sister at ease, but also to remind Thressel of her earlier promise. That this assignment would be quick, which it absolutely had not been. “Besides, what good is freedom if you die before you get to live it?”

Thressel, to his great relief, kept her mouth shut and let him live in his lie.

Though hopefully it won’t be a lie after today—if I can get back to the palace in time…

The older sister looked around once more, desperation plain in the stress-crinkles framing her eyes.

“Fine,” she said, pointedly avoiding Skehl’s gaze.

He didn’t take it personally. Most Skaltressians were cautious around Seers. Stigma and superstitions had long bred fear and misunderstanding about what Seeing was, how it worked. Skehl had even met a few who were convinced that blindness was infectious. It wasn’t.

They were just ignorant.

He flared his gills for a long breath and calmed his mind.

Then, after a moment of deep focus and quiet…

He Saw.

It was a tricky process. One he had much experience with, though little understanding. All that he knew was due to Binah’s teachings during their short time together. Even now, seven years after her passing, he held every memory of her near his heart. Grateful to have had at least one sister who believed in him.

Eyes still closed, Skehl focused on the deserters. Their safest paths. Immediately he dismissed any potential futures that would lead them west into the deeper waters beyond the imperial border. All knew well the stories of the prowling behemoths and entrapping whirlpools that lurked there. Yet even the shallower waters to the east held their own multitude of potential miseries: hazy visions of feral shivers of sharks, spontaneous swarmings of zapping jellyfish, various Reefguard and Trenchguard patrols. Not to mention the eight other clans, most of which would sooner spear them down than harbor them as refugees and risk the ire of the Skaltressian Tidal Family.

Death was everywhere. Inescapable.

But none of this is certain, Skehl reminded himself. At least not yet…

He heard muffled words, then. Unclear, but for the concern that soddened them.

And as he began to pull back into himself—into the present—he fought to resist that familiar, nagging curiosity that always beckoned him deeper into the infinite depths of Time’s potential futures. That’s what made Seeing so dangerous; its allure was unlike any other. Taunting. Teasing. Almost entrancing.

When he returned fully to the present, he opened his eyes and—

“Skehl!” Thressel cried, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she shook him. “Are you alright?”

He tried to answer, but his mind whirled and pounded, his thoughts all clotting together like a spring algae-bloom.

His sister’s soft blue eyes were piercing, stricken red.

“I’m fine,” he finally managed to say before rubbing his eyes and turning to the deserters. “Swim northeast. There might” — or might not — “be a pod of Twanderian researchers out there. They’re likely to offer help.”

“You’re certain that’s our best chance?” the older sister asked, holding her brother close.

Skehl told them what Binah used to say: “The future is not known for its certainty. But, yes. That’s your best chance.”

The older sister nodded and said, “Thank you. I never expected such… strange kindness from Trenchguards.”

“She’s the Trenchguard.” Skehl tossed a thumb at his sister. “I’m just her brother.”

And with that, the siblings kicked off, their glows soon swallowed by the depths and darkness.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Thressel asked, a distance returning to her voice as it adopted a soft monotone.

At least she cares enough to ask…

“Yeah. Just a headache, is all.”

Thressel held his gaze for a moment, then turned to look out across the endless ocean after the deserters. There was that longing in her eyes again. As if some part of her wanted to leave with them. Start a new life of her own. She was strong, yes. But hers was not a killer’s nature. Never was. Perhaps that was why she had taken to her new Trenchguard position with such a heavy heart. She had gone from a Protector, responsible for finding and jailing thieves and petty criminals, to a Retriever, tasked with hunting down and killing clan enemies and deserters. It was arguably a simpler position—better paying, too. But it demanded something darker from her. Made her colder. Even after they had found a way for her to avoid killing, to cheat.

Skehl swam up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. He wanted to say something, comfort her. Remind her that this was their home. Here—these waters, the trench—was where they belonged. Where he needed them to stay. Even if just for a few more years…

But he held his tongue. Said none of that.

Words were hard sometimes.

Instead, he gave her a squeeze and nodded back towards the trench. That somewhere else he needed to be was an entrance exam for the Tide’s Eyes—the trench’s most illustrious order of Master Seers. Should he pass, it would change both their lives for the better. He would learn to hone and control his Seeing ability, and Thressel could finally retire from the Trenchguard. Maybe even rediscover some of that innocence and peace it had stolen from her.

But I’ll never pass if I don’t make it there in time…

“We should start back,” he said, kicking off.

Thressel didn’t answer, didn’t follow.

Skehl hated to pressure her; clearly, she was dealing with troubles of her own. But he had waited years for this opportunity. Had supported her in nearly every way a brother could regarding her wants and dreams. It was her turn this time. Just this once.

Because the Eyes don’t offer second chances…

He was about to encourage her again until Thressel finally kicked off after him, saying, “Sure. There’s always more…”

Skehl winced at the lifelessness of her voice, the drooping of her shoulders.

When she caught up with him, he smiled, nudged her in the side, and said, “Yeah. We’ve still got some bodies to find.”

He hoped his jovial tone and playful words might brighten her mood or lift her spirit.

They didn’t.

So, they swam on. Together.

And in silence.

Read Chapter 2 here!

October 21, 2025
Of Depth and Deception (Chapter 2)

The full book is available on Amazon here.

Chapter 2
Skehl

A few hours later, Skehl trailed after his sister as they descended into the Belly, the trench’s deepest, narrowest depth. The water was gelid and stale. Heavy—as all the ocean’s entirety weighed on him. Crushing. His every muscle felt near to bursting. Yet he only bit his lip, clenched his hands, and endured. This pain had become just another part of his life. Gruesome in its familiarity after he and Thressel had first decided to spare the living…

By stealing the dead.

In and out, he assured himself, kicking through the thick, white-grey haze of glow and gloom that lingered here. Two bodies, that was all they needed. The sooner they found them, the sooner they could turn surfaceward. Towards the Skaltressian Palace where his exam was set to take place—if he hadn’t already missed it. Time was impossible to discern when down so deep.

We wouldn’t even be here if she had just requested the night off like I’d asked her to weeks ago…

He flitted his gaze from body to body—so many bloated and rotted. The last remnants of their lifelight wisped from their empty eye sockets and gaping mouths, melding with that pervasive, sickly haze. Tethers of kelp-twine were all that held their swaying remains. One end tied around their waists, the other around any of the myriad sunken boulders, bedded deep in the sludge and grime. Relics from that long ago time when his clan had first invaded the trench and carved out a home for themselves within its sheer, looming walls.

Skehl always swam through these waters with a pang of guilt in his chest, for here was meant to be a place of solace and somber reflection. Of family.

One of his tattered blue tentacles brushed across a corpse’s splayed, frozen fingers, and shivers like squirming eels raced down his spine. Instinctively, he furled his tentacles at the tips and drew them closer to himself.

At least we aren’t adding more tethers. Not like we used to.

Thressel offered little help. Just swam steadily onward, her mass of usually mighty tentacles rustling after her, limp and lifeless. She moved as if lost in a daze—or in the depth of herself. Her self-imposed distance, like an armor, was most impenetrable precisely when Skehl needed her most.

This would go faster if you would help—

There!

He beat his tail and swam over a few bodies towards one nearly identical to the older sister’s—and thankfully not yet decaying. It had a slightly darker green hue, but her length and build, as well as the circumference of the wide jellyfish-like dome atop her head, were close enough.

“Thressel!” he called, waving to get her attention. “How about this one?”

The body would suffice. He only wanted Thressel to offer some semblance of presence, acknowledgement.

She gave neither, just continued to float in place a short distance away. She held her hands clasped at her waist, where the magenta scales of her tail blended into the bare Lais-moon pink flesh of her lower torso. A vest of kelp buttoned over her chest for modesty.

Skehl willed her to respond. To return to some semblance of the sister he once knew her to be. Before they had lost Binah. Before she had accepted her most recent promotion—and lost so much of herself. Before…

Will you ever let me in again?

“Thressel…” he said, kicking his tail and doing his best to close the distance between them. “Can you be here, please. With me. I really need us to hurry.”

She turned to him, eyes wide with dull surprise, as if she had forgotten he was there.

“She’ll do.” Her voice was tired, brittle. Like the cracking of a crab’s shell.

Skehl sighed, his top lip twitching. “Great. Thanks.”

He turned from her and withdrew a clamshell-knife from his satchel, set himself to hacking through the twine.

“Here.” He held the corpse out to her. “Char away.”

Even with his back turned after kicking off to resume his search, the brightness of Thressel’s Shock blinded him for a few long moments as the sharp crackling of her power poked and jabbed at him from all sides, like a throat of needles swallowing him whole. She had needed to use more this time—more body to burn.

Sacrilegious as their actions here were, they worked. Rare was a raised eyebrow or a pointed inquiry when a body was returned to the palace burned beyond recognition.

Of the myriad atrocities Trenchguards were renowned for, their idea of “fun” was the scum on top.

Skehl continued in silence, doing his gods-blessed best to ignore that warm, black scent of death scraping at his nose, that flesh-burned taste seeking to infiltrate his lips. It might have been torture, had it not become so ordinary an occurrence.

Instead, he focused on time and its steady passing. Like grains of sand falling—one by one by one.

I’m… not going to make it back in time, am I?

He spotted a faint purple glow, then. Off in the distance.

Someone was coming.

On his own, Skehl could have hidden easily enough—the blue glow of his few and tattered tentacles was subtle, like the light of the Cal-moon, if watered down and muffled behind a splash of grey clouds.

Thressel, however, could not. Tentacle-laden as she was, she was as visible as a sun against the Belly’s grey backdrop.

All they could do was wait.

Skehl only hoped this interruption would not cost him future.

An older sister approached through the haze, slender and rustling with a modest amount of mauve tentacles. Her arm draped the shoulders of a boy barely beyond his youngling years. Skehl noted his length and those vibrant red tentacles, swaying amidst the boy’s titled posture. As if he were struggling to maintain his balance.

It was the boy’s eyes, though, that most piqued his interest.

Inky white… he realized, leaning in as the two Skaltressians neared. The boy’s Shattered. Like Binah.

Skehl hated himself for the relief he felt. For the plan he was already forming.

Technically, the boy was still alive in the sense that he was still breathing. Yet it was widely accepted amongst Master Seers and scholars that there was no coming back from a Shattered mind. Not really.

“What are you two doing out here?” the mauve sister said, her voice shrill and expectant. “And what is… OH!”

Her eyes went wide, settling on the burnt body.

“What have you done?”

Skehl turned to Thressel, unsure what to do or say. But with her eyes downcast and her lips tight as a clam, it was clear he was on his own to get them out of this mess.

“She was, uh…” he began, crafting his lie as he went, “a Trenchguard. Killed our older sister. Burned and brutalized her for unpaid medical debts after I…” He gestured to his blind left eye.

The mauve sister recoiled when she realized and held tighter to her brother as though Skehl’s own “recklessness” could have somehow harmed the boy more than he had already harmed himself.

Facing down her upturned nose and that fierce glint in her eyes of blatant mistrust, Skehl could only think of how this—right here—was precisely why he needed the Tide’s Eyes and the Master Seers. Not only could they teach him better restraint and control, thereby sparing him Seeing’s worst consequences and prolonging his life by years, but they also offered so much of what Skehl has longed for all his life: community, kinship, understanding. Sure, he had contented himself with a life devoid of all that. But only out of necessity. Only because a chance at an alternative had always been beyond his reach.

Until now.

“It’s been years since we lost her,” Skehl continued, fighting with himself to affect a modest, reserved tone. “And the pain never ebbs. So, when we learned that the Trenchguard responsible for her death had passed, well… sometimes vengeance calls with a fervor.”

The mauve sister traced her eyes across Skehl’s form, that etching of disgust never leaving her face. Then her gaze passed to Thressel and her multitude of pristine tentacles. Rare was such a symbol of status and power. Reserved exclusively for the Tidal Family, Skaltressian Reeflords and Reefesses—and decorated Trenchguards.

Skehl fought off the tremors that threatened to overwhelm him. Never before have they come so close to being found out.

Not even the Eyes have made mention of our treason…

The mauve sister turned back to Skehl and said, “Your sister’s untimely fate was the price of your own negligence. You never should have done what you did. This” —she gestured to her brother— “is where your selfish indulgence will get you. Tethered down here right beside her.”

She nodded towards the charred corpse, “It’s disgraceful—what you did to that Trenchguard. She was… only doing her job.” Something flickered across the mauve sister’s face, and she sighed. “Though, I suppose I can understand the sentiment. My older brother, he… The same.”

They all drifted together in silence.

“Was it worth it?” she asked. “Whatever it was you Saw?”

The desperation in her voice hit Skehl. Right in the chest. The deep sorrow so apparent in the wavering of her tone. As if she was seeking solace.

He glanced again at her brother, floating tilted. Lifeless. Yet still breathing.

That question isn’t really for me, is it?

And he found it in himself to be kind.

“In a way, it was,” he said. “I’ll… never forget it. It was the only time I ever felt truly one with the gods.”

The mauve sister held his gaze for what felt like a brief eternity; a thousand conflicting feelings played across her face.

Thressel grabbed Skehl’s hand and squeezed.

“Well, I suppose that’s that…” the mauve sister said, stifling a sniffle. “Off with you both. And remember, the Belly is a place for mourning, not vengeance. Whoever they were in life, the dead are owed their rest. Understand?”

“Of course.” Skehl’s stomach was a tangle of knots. “We won’t do it again.”

He almost didn’t notice then… how easily lying now came to him.

He and Thressel kicked off and left the mauve sister to her grieving.

After swimming a short distance away, Skehl leaned towards Thressel and whispered, “Not too far. I have a feeling she’ll be quick.”

Thressel just looked at him in that lifeless manner all her own.

“His size,” Skehl said.” His coloring. A strong charring and we’ve got our last body.”

“But…” Her eyes narrowed. “Skehl, he’s still alive.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Except that he’s not… there anymore. You know that. Binah always said that once Shattered, a swift death was preferable to one drawn out. He might be in pain for all we know.”

“And it would get you back to the palace faster.” Thressel’s tentacles furled, and something fierce flashed in her eyes. “No. We’ll find another. However long it takes.”

Skehl clasped his hands together and sighed, gills fanning. “Thressel—”

“No, Skehl.” Her resolve was absolute.

Now you come alive. Just to hold me back.

Thressel started off in the opposite direction from the boy.

Skehl glanced back and saw that the mauve sister had tied her brother’s tether and was already departing back into the gloom and darkness.

You never lift a tentacle to help me…

He beat his tail and shot straight for the boy.

Let’s see if you’ll lift one to stop me.

Another kick, and he was by the boy’s side, slowing only when he heard that undeniable, paralyzing sound: breathing.

But this isn’t living, Skehl reassured himself. Like Binah wasn’t living when Thressel—

He drowned the rest of that thought—too painful—and focused again on the boy. On that whisper of warmth radiating from his not-dead cheeks.

Yet… in the boy’s eyes…

Skehl saw Binah. Her madness. The pain of losing her.

He saw himself. The future he was fleeing from.

Saw who he needed to become to avoid such a fate as this. Someone with skill and control. Someone with power.

Someone like Thre—

He stopped himself before finishing the thought.

Why can’t you understand?

He withdrew the clamshell-knife from his satchel and raised it to the boy’s throat. Pressed it ever so tenderly, his hand trembling.

Getting into the Tide’s Eyes isn’t just for me.

He felt that steady pulse of his life, beat-beat-beating against his palm, clasped firmly around the pommel.

It’s for us. So that we might know what it is to laugh together again.

Skehl took a breath. Then another.

Please, Thressel. Let me help you.

He readied himself. Then he readied himself some more.

But he couldn’t move. Not a muscle.

“I can do this.” He had meant for it to be a shout, but even he had barely heard his words. “I can…”

His eyes began to sting.

“I…”

Movement in the water.

“Skehl!” Thressel swooshed up beside him. “Don’t. We can find another body.”

He shook his head. “If there’s a chance I can make it back in time…”

And in the fury his sister wore, Skehl saw how puny and pathetic he really was.

“Is the Tide’s Eyes really worth this?” she asked. “Why can’t you just… not See, Skehl? After all it’s taken from us?”

He recalled Binah’s face from that last day, when he had found her—what remained of her. Her lifeless eyes. Her mouth agape, as if frozen in a perpetual scream. How weak she must have been after so long strong. How she must have lost control while doing that singular, glorious thing that is most indescribable. Most irresistible.

When the itch comes.

I can’t let that be my future. I can’t…

“Yes,” he said, only slightly hating himself as the word passed his lips, knowing full well what it meant. “It’s worth it.”

It has to be.

Thressel stared into his eyes, and he almost recoiled. Almost.

“Fine, then,” she said. “Kick off.”

“But I can—”

“Kick off!”

That tone of hers… arguing would have been futile.

He slunk away. Watched as Thressel coiled her tentacles around the dying boy’s body and squeezed—almost as if she was more clinging to the boy than rearing to kill him.

Do you really think me so incapable?

He turned away as his sister let loose another burst of light, another thunderous crackling—all that power he didn’t possess.

Aren’t I?

And the deed was done.

The deed was done.

They started back through the Belly in utter silence, kicking their way towards the tail-end of the trench, where it opened to the uncharted waters of the western oceans.

Best to avoid swimming surfaceward through the trench itself; the bodies would only bring unwanted questions, whirl up unnecessary intrigue and panic.

Skehl swam fast and focused, forcing dozens of scenarios to flash through his mind. Some where he arrived at his exam on time, the tests and trials he would be asked to complete. And others where he arrived late, and all was lost. Each one was a distraction. Bad distractions, for the boy—now dead—managed to surface in every one.

Familiar voices pulled Skehl from his waking nightmares, and he realized they had arrived at the trench’s tapering end.

“Come on,” came that deep, predatorial voice that could only belong to a Tethien. To Bren. “I should be getting relieved soon, and we’ve both got the next few days off. How about we go for a little risqué hunt? Just us. Out in the western oceans.” He pumped his brow and flexed his biceps, clearly showing off for Thressel’s enjoyment. “I hear there’s a pod of spear-nosed slashers migrating through. And you’re in definite need of a little fun. What do you say, starfish?”

Skehl rolled his eyes, both at Bren’s unimaginative nickname for Thressel and at his asinine proposal. He’s been nudging Thressel to go hunting with him out there for weeks.

Tethiens and their ridiculous need for bravado…

“Hey, hey,” came Cahla, Bren’s Skaltressian Trenchguard partner. “Before everyone gets all mushy—pay up.”

She held out her hand to collect their bribes, the cost for her discretion. Cahla had never really been one to take her job seriously, but when she found opportunities to squeeze something out for her own benefit, she squeezed hard.

Skehl and Bren each handed her three moonstone-chips apiece.

“Everyone,” she reiterated, sneering at Thressel.

“I… forgot my chips at home,” Thressel said. “Assignment came unexpectedly…”

Cahla flared her nostrils, her sunrise-yellow tentacles glowing brighter.

“That’s the second time you forgot this month. I’m not running a Carekeeper’s charity hovel here.”

“You’re not doing anything here,” Thressel snapped.

“What did you just say?”

“Oh, by Cal’s decree, can you two just drown all that?” Skehl shouted. “Here.” He pulled another three chips from his satchel and shoved them into Cahla’s hand. “Some of us have places to be.”

Cahla flitted her eyes between him and Thressel, then grunted as she kicked off and swam a short distance away.

“Well,” Bren said, smirking at Thressel as he wagged his long, angular tail under him like a bulbous-nosed shrieker eager for a treat. “What do you say?”

Thressel hesitated.

But Skehl was out of patience.

“Whatever you chose to do,” he said, kicking surfaceward, before glancing back down at her, “be smart about it. And don’t go anywhere until the afternoon classes start, okay? I need to be at my best for this, so I need you nearby. Please?”

Thressel nodded, the two charred bodies still swaying on the tethers she held. She’d need to deliver them to her commander to confirm the assignment was successful, which meant that she’d be near the palace—near Skehl—for a short while, at least.

“Thanks,” Skehl said, meaning it.

And, as he kicked off surfaceward, he thought he heard the faintest whisper of Thressel’s voice saying something that sounded an awful lot like: “Good luck.”

Read Chapter 3 here!

October 21, 2025
Of Depth and Deception (Chapter 3)

The full book is available on Amazon here.

Chapter 3
Rader

After two long weeks riding various westerly currents through uninspiring stretches of open ocean, Rader arrived at last before the Aghata Trench — not to the usual glamor and pomp that greeted him, but to the quiet puzzlement of two mere Skaltressian Trenchguards, utterly dumbstruck by his arrival.

What a clever Tide, pretending not to have known of my coming.

He loomed over the Trenchguards, the steady swish of his obsidian-black tail keeping him balanced and poised amidst the ocean’s gentle morning sway. Disbelief kept them frozen before him, their mouths agape.

“Hm,” was all he said, affecting an uninterested tone.

They remembered their places, then, practically throwing themselves into deep bows.

Rader looked past them with practiced disdain, his gold-flecked blue eyes flaring with a fierce glow, like small white suns. He knew his role. He played it masterfully.

The younger of the two Trenchguards— a boy with long, pleated tentacles that glowed a rich blue—stole a curious glance across Rader’s body, then back down to the trench’s vanishing blackness. He was quick, yes. Both daring and demure in equal measure. But Rader was quicker, spotting precisely what he had most longed for throughout his long journey: a comely face, blushing.

The Emperion grinned, flitting his eyes once more over the boy, drinking in all his most alluring features: toned arms, broad shoulders, and that long, slender tail.

A clever Tide, indeed. For how I do so adore blue…

“Good morning,” he said.

“Favored,” the Trenchguards said as one. Then, the older of the two, laden with hundreds of tentacles in all varying shades of red, continued, stammering, “I–it is a tremendous honor that we may be at your service, Favored. Please, whatever you need, your will is our purpose.”

She had raised her head to speak. Rader met her eyes and she averted her gaze once more. Silent and waiting.

He let them wait, turning his attention instead to the trench itself.

Like a black vein without end, it stretched in both directions, so wide he could barely glimpse the opposite side. Yet it was the red that most held his attention. Those long, spindly tendrils rooted to the trench’s walls and spilling past its craggy lips like the exposed, bloody innards of a festering beast. He knew it was only a rare algae that fed on the sounds that would otherwise grow deafening at greater depths. Still, he couldn’t shake his discomfiting awe.

I’ve never known life to look so much like a dying thing.

He returned his attention to the cowering Skaltressians, his gaze settling once more on the blue boy.

“You,” Rader said, and the young Trenchguard lifted his head. “Escort me to the palace.”

Wide eyes and a twitch of the mouth. “M–me?”

Rader flared the white glow of his eyes. Less menacing, more agitated.

And all for show.

Yet the blue boy must have seen only menace. He shot a terrified glance at his partner.

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Never keep a Favored waiting.”

“Isn’t that nice,” Rader said, a calculated edge of annoyance to his tone. “At least one of you was taught proper protocol.”

To be Emperion was to be unquestionable command. And Rader couldn’t change what he was. Or what was expected of him.

“I, uh — ”

“The palace,” Rader repeated. “Now.”

“Of course.” The blue boy spun, his tentacles splaying like a whirlpool as he did. He started north, along the trench’s eastern cliff, a flurry of bubbles left in his wake.

Amused, Rader watched him for a moment — admiring the view.

Then he kicked his tail and left, sparing not even a parting glance for the red Trenchguard.

He caught up to the blue boy with effortless ease, pressed in close, and followed.

The journey was quick. They swam along the trench until it split into two diverging branches. It was there, carved into the underside of the sharp-pointed plateau, where Rader spotted the Skaltressian Palace. From their distance, it appeared like a spiraled-bruise, nestled amidst the viscera-red algae growing along the wall, and encased within walls of pure diamond. Rays from the rising red and gold suns speared through the water, casting rainbow glints from the diamond’s polished edges.

Impenetrable diamond at the front; solid rock at the back. An excellent defensive position.

Despite swimming so near the suns-warmed surface, a subtle chill had begun to envelop Rader, as if the trench itself was siphoning off his warmth. He dug through his travel satchel and pulled out the cloak he had purchased in Parel—the Emperion capitol—before departing on this technically “unauthorized” clan visit. Not that anyone would dare question an Emperion.

The cloak emitted a soft glow and a pleasing warmth as he slid into it. Which made sense.

It was woven from Skaltressian tentacles, all plucked and shredded—made thread thin. Lifelight flowed through every strand. Warmth and time, taken from thralls, and repurposed as comfort and luxury for whoever could pay the price. Whoever was willing to.

He considered this for a moment, the reality he had never really considered. Had never needed to.

Movement drew his attention, then, as they neared the palace; he was happy to let it.

The trench rippled with life, here. Skaltressian Reeflords and Reefesses rustled about, all decorated in their cascading profusions of colorful tentacles, their bodies aglitter with Clawfer-forged jewels: necklaces and earrings of pearls, armlets of gold or silver.

Their attendants trailed in tow, at a distance. Most were pallid and lifeless in the eyes, as phantoms are. In place of the pearls, the gold and silver of their masters, they wore strings of shells around their necks, kelp-twine bracelets around their wrists.

A starker difference than most of the other clans Rader’s assignments have taken him to.

He was not here, though, to comment or pass judgment, but to satisfy his own curiosity. Back in Parel, he had found a scroll slipped into his sleeping-anemone—a bold breach of his private chambers. Or a foolish one. He might have been furious, had he not been so impressed.

Rader chuckled to himself, recalling scroll’s message:

Forgive me, Favored, my disturbing you,
but a most disastrous current descends upon our home.
I beseech you to come to the Aghata Trench,
for we are in dire need of that which only you can offer.
More, I dare not say — Eyes are watching…
We are unworthy, yes, as we are in need.
Please, Favored.
Come.

‘Come,’ written on its own line — practically a command… Amusement tugged at the corner of his lips. Typical, gutsy Tides.

Indeed, he had his suspicions of who had sent the scroll, but experience had taught him well that surprises were the way of life. Best to stay his assumptions, keep his eyes and ears sharp. Besides, it wasn’t so much the who that had piqued his intrigue, but the why.

He set his eyes on the Skaltressian Palace, looming as he approached. Murmurs and gasps surrounded him, his mere presence a spectacle. Rarer than rare were Emperions beyond the immense, white marble walls of their capitol. Rarer still was the Emperion who travelled without a vast retinue stringing along after them. Like fish shit.

Rader arrived before an archway carved from the diamond encasing the palace. A yellow Trenchguard raised her hand, signaling him to halt.

“Welcome, Favored,” she said, “to the Skaltressian Palace. We… were not expecting you.” She bowed, and the other dozen or so Trenchguards followed suit.

“I can see that.”

A subtle disturbance in the water behind him. Rader glanced over his shoulder and spotted the blue boy, his hands and tail trembling. When the boy realized Rader was watching him, he hastily crossed his arms over his shell-armored chest and forced his tail steady and straight.

Poor kid is wound up tighter than a Buroden Scenter’s braid.

Rader offered what he hoped was a placating smile, though it seemed to have little effect.

“How impressive,” came a weathered voice—one Rader recognized even before turning back to face the speaker. “To approach my family’s home without drawing the attention of our Eyes.”

“Indeed, Tideress Fahvia,” he said. “I am.”

A creation long past her expiration, cloaked in a flowing shawl of emerald tentacles, hers was the presence of a dying tempest. Proud and dignified—despite the crack and pop of her every stiff movement. Yet those inky-white eyes still held that same blazing wit and warmth Rader recalled from all their few interactions over the years.

She bowed, or tried to. He didn’t mind, and offered a respectful nod of his own. A being such as her —lifelight dimming — was due a tender amendment in expected propriety.

Something, though, was not quite right.

“Someone’s missing,” he said, glancing past her.

The Tideress nodded.

“My apologies, Favored. My brother—”

“Is not who I was referring to.”

The Tideress looked long into Rader’s eyes.

“Cora will join us when it is time.”

What are you playing at, Tideress? That Twanderian has practically become your eyes.

“I see,” he said. “It’s just… I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you without your shadow. Not in recent years, at least.”

“Assistant,” the Tideress politely corrected.

Rader shrugged.

“Come,” she said, turning towards the palace. Then, as if catching herself, “If it pleases you, Favored. I would have the honor of showing you to your chambers.”

Rader arched his brow. “I never said I was intending to stay.”

The Tideress had already kicked off towards the palace. “You did not.”

He laughed.

Well, with the who out of the way, I supposed only her why remains. You’re growing lax, Tideress, in your dimming years…

Rader started after her, then stopped right as he entered the palace waters.

“You will join me,” he said over his shoulder to the blue boy. His tone ensured no argument from the Trenchguards, nor refusal from the boy. “This should be quite the education for you.”

He winked.

The bulge in the boy’s throat bobbed, yet he followed.

Rader knew the boy’s kind: a low-ranking Shocker—young, yes, though likely already trained to kill. And undoubtedly rarely ever permitted such access to the palace without a summons. He would learn much, indeed.

Especially once the theatrics are through…

Thank you so much for reading the first three chapters!

If you like what you’ve experienced so far, check out the full book on Amazon here.

October 21, 2025
The Lies We Tell (An Elspar Story)

Sodden with rain and swinging a basket stuffed with wet-shrooms, you return to me. Long ears twitching in a whispering wind.

“Such a mad storm,” I tease, my feathers rustling as I rise from beside the fire. The rumbling clouds smother the light clacking of your claws against the wood floor as you pad about the hollow.

“Not mad.” You place the basket down and shake out the feathers along your arms and legs. “Lonely.”

“Lonely?”

“The rain just wants someone to play with.”

“I… suppose it does.” I chuckle. “Come. I’ll preen your feathers before bed.”

You roll your eyes and snatch a handful from the basket.

“Ah! One. Unless you want to wake up with a stomachache.” I raise a brow.

There’s a flicker of challenge in your eyes, but you relent with a groan, then quickly pop a plump one into your mouth.

I shake my head, tsking. “Come on.”

We settle ourselves beside the fire, deep within our home at the base of this wide white tree. You flare your heat, like I taught you, and the wetness wisps from your body, mingling with the stream of smoke and slipping along the ceiling out into the gusty night.

Juice smears your lightly feathered cheeks, still bulging as I set myself to your preening. Even after all these years, some small part of me recoils from the eerily smooth, oil-slick texture of your plumage — so different from the gripping prickliness of my own. I always try, of course, not to let it show. It’s not your fault, being what you are. But even now, I note the tension in my hands as I work, the feel of such… wrongness.

I pluck a few stray leaves and twigs from your feathers. Toss them into the fire. We don’t need its warmth; I just find the light comforting.

“How about a bedtime story?” I ask.

You hesitate, and there it is again — that twitch in your ears, amidst the whispering wind.

You’re listening to it. You’re doing that a lot more lately…

My mouth tightens.

“Tem–uh…” You catch yourself, red flushing the gold of your cheeks. “I was, uh, wondering… Maybe you could finally tell me the story of where I came from? You… said you would.”

I exhale slowly. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

I toss another handful of leaves into the fire and the crackling echoes, keeping the silence at bay.

“Alright.” We both take a breath. “I suppose you’re old enough now to hear that story — how we came to be a family.”

I suspect, though, that you’ve already heard a very different version…

You look up at me, such eagerness in your eyes.

I force a smile to hide the unease, wrap my red-feathered arms around you in a long, snuggling hug, then I tell you the story — my version. The one I need you to believe.

“You fell from the sky the day I found you. Just an adorable little ball of gold and orange fluff. It was a windless day, so I knew you would be perfect. The whole island rattled with giddy anticipation of your arrival. Both suns blazed high in the sky like proud brothers, eager to witness your burst.” I press a clawed finger to the tip of your nose. “I remember climbing all the way up the great fire-mountain, never stopping once, not even to catch my breath. I was too excited. To meet you.”

I lean in and whisper, “And you know what?”

“What?”

“The island tried to trick me.”

“Wh–how?”

“It led me to think it had gone back to sleep. There had been so much rumbling and smoke billowing from the mountain’s mouth. But then… it all quieted back down. And I feared I would be alone a while longer.”

Your eyes are fire-bright and on me — no twitching of the ears.

“The quiet stretched on and on until… the mountain erupted! Ash and rock and lava spurted higher than the clouds — ”

“The clouds!?”

I nod, exulting in your excitement.

“Uh-um! And all that ash and rock fell across the island like a…” My throat clenches; it’s harder to breathe. “Like a… warm, loving mist.”

I force another smile, bury the truth away.

It was a nightmare, really, but I’ll not tell you that. I’ll not tell you of the weeks I spent choking and aching; of the burning in my chest with every insufferable breath, nor the fetid, burnt stench of charred carcasses that clung to the ashy air. That suffocated all the island’s life. Unlike any other burst I’ve witnessed. And never supposed to happen here…

No. None of that, my sweet ember. You don’t need to carry that.

“Nanna?” You look up at me.

From a daze, I return to you. The fire flickers, enlivened, as if listening to some enrapturing breath. And from my periphery, I spot — again — that twitching of your ears. It had swooped in to fill the silence I had left…

Ever there. Ever whispering.

And a part of you.

A part I won’t always be able to keep you from…

“I’m alright.” I pat the feathers behind your ear, so desperately wishing I could tear it away from you. I can’t. “Just got lost in the story, is all.”

We nuzzle closer together and stare into the fire. Once, twice, three times I catch you flitting your gaze towards the dark patter outside. Towards the sky. Your curiosity is growing. And I know, as I’ve always known — it is telling you a different truth. Its version. That, though we are both wingless, you are a Binding Feuo. It latched onto you — Bound with you — at your bursting, and with its guidance, your feathers will one day learn to catch the wind and carry you to those distant islands so high in the sky. To where the pretentious other Bound Feuo reside — and where you truly belong…

Not here. Not grounded. Not with me.

“W-was I the only one?”

“What do you mean, my ember?”

“On that day, when the island shook, was I the only one?”

“Of course you were. We are the only ones — you know that.” My tone is sweet; the lie is bitter.

More ear twitching. Undoubtedly contradicting.

I grind my teeth. What I wouldn’t give to silence it.

Just for a few years more…

Of course there were others — fifty-four others! That windless day had made me a fool, dumbly hopeful that I might find more like me after so long down here. On my own. And I did find them. I scoured the island, over and over, searching for all of you. Every one I found was choking to death on the smoke, their arms and legs broken, their feathers bent and crushed, their tiny bodies splattered across the mountain or dangling dead amongst the scorched branches, drowning in the soot-choked rivers and lakes… It was a madness I couldn’t fathom. Burstings are supposed to end in life–not death. Not even for my rare kind.

Only six of you had a fighting chance. Five like me — Unbindable. And you. The sole survivor, in the end. Because of it. Because it Bound with you. Saved you. And I am grateful for that… just as I am filled with such spite, because it will still steal you away from me someday. And that loss will cut deeper than all the others.

Love hurts worse.

You mutter something into the fire, and on the walls the flickering shadows of your ears seem to taunt me. That twitching…

“Is everything alright, Kai?”

“Uh…” Your eyes grow wide, as if I had just caught you stealing another wet-shroom before bed. “It says… you’re lying.”

I take a deep breath. “I know it’s hard, my ember. I know… But you cannot believe what it tells you.” I lift your chin until your eyes are on mine. “It isn’t family, it lies.”

A frightened wetness glimmers in your eyes, and you pull away from me. “I… want to sleep now.”

“Alright.” I look down at you with a pained smile.

You raise your arms in a long stretch and yawn, then pad across the hollow and settle yourself away from me, right by the opening. And the rain. And the sky.

“I hope I dream of flying again…”

“Flying sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Not in a dream.” Your tone is clipped, your gaze distant — fixed outward. “You can’t get hurt in a dream.”

The rain patters. The wind whispers — low and persistent.

“Temn says that one day he’ll help me fly.”

My feathers bristle at its name, and the fire flares beside me.

“We cannot fly, Kai. I’ve told you that.”

You tilt your head, but I can’t tell if it’s a nod or a shake.

“My ember, I just don’t want you to get hurt. Promise me you won’t try. That would be very reckless.”

Still nothing.

“Kai?”

“I promise, Nanna…” The brokenness in your voice pains me, too.

“That’s very wise, Kai.” My voice cracks, and my chest grows heavy. “We’re safe here, on the ground. And as long as we stay together, we’ll never be alone.” I swallow. “It lies, Kai. Remember that. It lies.

You say nothing more, but your breath comes wet and unsteady, almost trembling. “We’re family, my ember.” I want to go to you, to hold you close. I don’t. Yet in the silence, I whisper:

“Family never lies.”

May 6, 2025