He doesn’t answer, and I realize he’s barely heard me. His focus has sharpened, eyes tracking movement in the water like a predator.
Then something changes.
The laughter dies as the boat rocks violently—much more forcefully than the gentle waves should cause. The foam kraken tips awkwardly, and I realize it’s being pulled underwater by something beneath it.
“That’s not part of the show,” I whisper, gripping Roark’s hand tighter.
His eyes track movement in the water I can’t see. “No. It’s not.”
Sebastian’s voice falters mid-narration as the boat lurches again. The sailors stumble, their practiced choreography abandoned as they grab railings to steady themselves. One man loses his grip on his harpoon, the weapon clattering to the deck.
A massive tentacle—a real one, slick and powerful—breaks the surface and wraps around the boat’s starboard side. It’s darker and more mottled than Roark’s elegant limbs, with angry red suckers that remind me of open wounds.
The crowd gasps, initially thinking it’s an impressive special effect. A child nearby claps until his mother pulls him back from the water’s edge, her instincts recognizing danger before her mind can process it.
“There’s a juvenile kraken under there,” Roark says, voice tight. “Likely confused and terrified by the mechanical lure.”
The boat tilts dangerously as screams replace the theatrical cheers. Two sailors tumble overboard into the churning water, their period costumes immediately becoming dead weight in the waves as the ship begins to splinter.
“They’ll drown,” Roark says, already shrugging off his captain’s jacket and handing it to me with reverent care. “Or worse.”
I clutch his arm. “Wait! You can’t take off your jacket or else the magic will fade. The Coast Guard—”
“Will arrive too late.” He turns to face me fully, his glamoured features intense with purpose. “They need help now.”
“If you go out there, everyone will see you,” I remind him, though I can already read the decision in his eyes. My heart clenches at the thought of what might happen once his secret is revealed to the town. All our careful planning, our hidden moments—over in an instant.
His hand cups my cheek, briefly and tenderly as the glamour shimmers. “I can’t let them die.”
The weight of his jacket in my arms feels suddenly significant—a piece of his past entrusted to me as he steps toward an uncertain future.
“Be careful,” I whisper, my heart racing. “Please.”
He kisses my lips quickly, fierce and resolute, before pulling away. “Keep the light burning for me.”
I watch as he strides toward the water, the glamour beginning to flicker and reveal who he really is. The crowd’s attention is still fixed on the struggling boat, not yet noticing the figure walking purposefully into the churning sea.
Just before the waves reach his chest, the glamour dissolves completely. His form expands, skin rippling back to iridescentblue as tentacles emerge where legs had been, his arms transforming back to their clawed, muscular state. Several gasps and shouts rise from those closest to the water’s edge as Roark dives beneath the surface.
I stand frozen, watching the spot where he disappeared, my fingers pressed against my lips where his kiss still burns.
Chapter 19
Revelation
Roark
The moment I break the surface, the world splinters into chaos. Humans scramble across the sinking vessel while others flail in the churning water, their period costumes tangling like seaweed around their limbs.
I focus first on the immediate danger: a juvenile kraken, perhaps thirty feet across, thrashing just below the surface. She’s young—likely no more than fifteen years old—with mottled purple-gray skin that should be vibrant but instead appears dull with stress.
Her movements betray confusion rather than malice, though the distinction matters little to the humans caught in her path.
Diving deeper, I extend my arms toward the desperate sailors closest to drowning, while using my tentacles to keep steady in the churning water.
Their eyes widen with fresh terror when they see me—trading one monster for another in their minds—but survival instinct overrides fear as they grasp onto my offered limbs. I deposit them on a floating section of deck before plunging toward the kraken.
She senses me immediately, her massive eye rotating to track my approach. Her consciousness brushes against mine—raw, primal, and disoriented.
