Furyborn (Empirium 1)

His voice vanished; she was alone.

She couldn’t possibly find the focus to re-create her precious shell, so she resurfaced and dove, resurfaced and dove. Her eyes were on fire from the salt; she could see nothing in this churning black water.

And then—how long had it been? Minutes? Days? Her body was one massive, searing throb of pain—she saw it. It was chance, really: an overhead swing of one of the sunspinner’s light beams. Something long and thin glinted, then vanished.

Thrust into a rise in the seabed, closer to the surface than the other pieces had been, stood the trident’s shaft.

She dove for it, all her focus narrowing in on this one spot. A force rose up within her, something eager and hot and familiar. And as it raced up through her body, firing her blood alive, the ocean around her flashed gold once more.

She understood now; it was easy, with the empirium lighting the way. Move the water, create a path.

The next thing she knew, she was no longer swimming. She was running, her mind clear and blazing hot. Water shot up on either side of her; she was carving a path through it. She reached the trident’s shaft and stood panting on the ocean floor. Around her, the water was a narrow, roaring tunnel, spewing water into the air above like a geyser.

But here on the seabed, everything was quiet, softly floating, softly black and blue and gold. Rielle stood in the tranquility of it, assembled the trident with shaking hands. Attach the prongs to the shaft, the gemstone to the end. She grasped it and looked up.

A column of water led straight up into the air, a path she had carved in that last desperate swim without even realizing she was doing it.

A savage pleasure swelled within her.

I did this.

Me and no one else.

And how does it feel? Corien asked quietly. His presence hovered at the door to her mind.

I feel…

She couldn’t articulate it. Standing there, looking up at the chaos of the water gripped by her power, she could only gape and revel in it and exist.

I feel…

A small fear twisted in her breast, but she couldn’t listen to that now, when everything felt so…so…

She closed her eyes, shivering. The air around her vibrated with warmth. Beyond that, the sea churned, relentless and cold. Sprays of water kissed her cheeks.

Corien’s voice was as gentle as her father’s long-ago embrace: Tell me, Rielle.

I feel…alive.

And you are. You are more alive than anyone.

But then the small fear grew. It reared up and shouted: What might this display have done, up on the surface?

Terror crashed through her body.

Her triumph faded; her focus shattered. The water followed soon after.

It slammed down upon her like the force of a thousand fists, and flung her to the ocean floor. She floated there, stunned, her head ringing.

Rise up, Rielle, Corien urged her.

I…I can’t.

You did it. You’re almost finished.

Rielle watched the trident sink beside her. Her eyes closed.

With no small amount of irritation, Corien said, Your friends are worried sick for you, Rielle. Especially that boy.

Audric. Rielle groped for the trident. Ludivine.

Yes, Corien said, nastily now. Go to them, ease their pain. They love you so.

Rielle forced her eyes open. Lungs burning. Vision dimming. She pushed herself up. She kicked and fought, clawing through cold water, and when she burst up above the waves, she remembered to hold the completed trident above her head.

The sunspinners’ beams shone down upon her. Her arm shook under the trident’s weight, but she held it fast.

This time, the crowd’s roar was deafening.

In an instant, the rain stopped. The waves flattened and calmed, clouds rolling away to reveal a mild blue sky.

Rielle saw through her burning eyes the nearby pier, crowded with figures. One dove into the water, swiftly heading her way. Those still on the pier shouted after whoever it was.

Rielle could hardly swim, the trident slowing her. She’d only gone a few feet when a strong arm gathered her up against a body that radiated so much warmth it could only belong to one person.

“Audric,” Rielle whispered, clinging to him, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. “You feel nice.”

He let out shaky laughter. “We need to get you to my healer. You’re cold as ice.”

“Thank God you’re here.” She squinted up at him as he awkwardly swam back to shore with one arm, her body tucked against him with the other. “I’m tired of swimming.”

“What’s all over you?”

Rielle looked blearily at her hands. “Oh. Jellyfish attacked me. The waterworkers made them angry, maybe.”

“God, Rielle…” Audric’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I stabbed them. The jellyfish, not the waterworkers.” She glared wearily at the pier, where the acolytes waited. “Though that’s still a possibility.”

He laughed again, then said quietly, “Rielle?”

“Yes?”

“Were you frightened?”

She closed her eyes and whispered, “Yes.”

His arms tightened sweetly around her, his mouth warm against her temple. “I wish I could—”

“Your Highness!” A waterworker acolyte knelt on the edge of the pier and extended his hand. He stared at Rielle like she was Saint Nerida risen from the dead.

Audric ignored the man, gently detaching himself from Rielle. “Here, I’ll help you up.”

“No.” Rielle grabbed the edge of the pier and turned in the water to face him. “They need to see me stand on my own.”

He smiled and handed her the trident. “Your prize, my lady.”

She squeezed his hand, then shakily climbed up the pier, refusing the assistance offered her by Grand Magister Rosier, his acolytes, even Tal.

On her own two feet, she stood, swaying slightly, and looked up at the thousands of people lining the cliffs—waving their arms, pumping their fists, shouting her name. When she raised the trident in both hands, their cheers became thunderous.

She turned to face the Magisterial Council, who had gathered on the pier. Tal beamed, his eyes alight with pride. Sloane stood at his side with her arms crossed, a thoughtful frown on her face, her short, dark hair plastered to her pale cheeks.

And beside her stood the Archon, beads of rainwater sliding down his implacable face. oice vanished; she was alone.

She couldn’t possibly find the focus to re-create her precious shell, so she resurfaced and dove, resurfaced and dove. Her eyes were on fire from the salt; she could see nothing in this churning black water.

And then—how long had it been? Minutes? Days? Her body was one massive, searing throb of pain—she saw it. It was chance, really: an overhead swing of one of the sunspinner’s light beams. Something long and thin glinted, then vanished.

Thrust into a rise in the seabed, closer to the surface than the other pieces had been, stood the trident’s shaft.

She dove for it, all her focus narrowing in on this one spot. A force rose up within her, something eager and hot and familiar. And as it raced up through her body, firing her blood alive, the ocean around her flashed gold once more.

She understood now; it was easy, with the empirium lighting the way. Move the water, create a path.

The next thing she knew, she was no longer swimming. She was running, her mind clear and blazing hot. Water shot up on either side of her; she was carving a path through it. She reached the trident’s shaft and stood panting on the ocean floor. Around her, the water was a narrow, roaring tunnel, spewing water into the air above like a geyser.

But here on the seabed, everything was quiet, softly floating, softly black and blue and gold. Rielle stood in the tranquility of it, assembled the trident with shaking hands. Attach the prongs to the shaft, the gemstone to the end. She grasped it and looked up.

A column of water led straight up into the air, a path she had carved in that last desperate swim without even realizing she was doing it.

A savage pleasure swelled within her.

I did this.

Me and no one else.

And how does it feel? Corien asked quietly. His presence hovered at the door to her mind.

I feel…

She couldn’t articulate it. Standing there, looking up at the chaos of the water gripped by her power, she could only gape and revel in it and exist.

I feel…

A small fear twisted in her breast, but she couldn’t listen to that now, when everything felt so…so…

She closed her eyes, shivering. The air around her vibrated with warmth. Beyond that, the sea churned, relentless and cold. Sprays of water kissed her cheeks.

Corien’s voice was as gentle as her father’s long-ago embrace: Tell me, Rielle.

I feel…alive.

And you are. You are more alive than anyone.

But then the small fear grew. It reared up and shouted: What might this display have done, up on the surface?

Terror crashed through her body.

Her triumph faded; her focus shattered. The water followed soon after.

It slammed down upon her like the force of a thousand fists, and flung her to the ocean floor. She floated there, stunned, her head ringing.

Rise up, Rielle, Corien urged her.

I…I can’t.

You did it. You’re almost finished.

Rielle watched the trident sink beside her. Her eyes closed.

With no small amount of irritation, Corien said, Your friends are worried sick for you, Rielle. Especially that boy.

Audric. Rielle groped for the trident. Ludivine.

Yes, Corien said, nastily now. Go to them, ease their pain. They love you so.

Rielle forced her eyes open. Lungs burning. Vision dimming. She pushed herself up. She kicked and fought, clawing through cold water, and when she burst up above the waves, she remembered to hold the completed trident above her head.

The sunspinners’ beams shone down upon her. Her arm shook under the trident’s weight, but she held it fast.

This time, the crowd’s roar was deafening.

In an instant, the rain stopped. The waves flattened and calmed, clouds rolling away to reveal a mild blue sky.

Rielle saw through her burning eyes the nearby pier, crowded with figures. One dove into the water, swiftly heading her way. Those still on the pier shouted after whoever it was.

Rielle could hardly swim, the trident slowing her. She’d only gone a few feet when a strong arm gathered her up against a body that radiated so much warmth it could only belong to one person.

“Audric,” Rielle whispered, clinging to him, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. “You feel nice.”

He let out shaky laughter. “We need to get you to my healer. You’re cold as ice.”

“Thank God you’re here.” She squinted up at him as he awkwardly swam back to shore with one arm, her body tucked against him with the other. “I’m tired of swimming.”

“What’s all over you?”

Rielle looked blearily at her hands. “Oh. Jellyfish attacked me. The waterworkers made them angry, maybe.”

“God, Rielle…” Audric’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I stabbed them. The jellyfish, not the waterworkers.” She glared wearily at the pier, where the acolytes waited. “Though that’s still a possibility.”

He laughed again, then said quietly, “Rielle?”

“Yes?”

“Were you frightened?”

She closed her eyes and whispered, “Yes.”

His arms tightened sweetly around her, his mouth warm against her temple. “I wish I could—”

“Your Highness!” A waterworker acolyte knelt on the edge of the pier and extended his hand. He stared at Rielle like she was Saint Nerida risen from the dead.

Audric ignored the man, gently detaching himself from Rielle. “Here, I’ll help you up.”

“No.” Rielle grabbed the edge of the pier and turned in the water to face him. “They need to see me stand on my own.”

He smiled and handed her the trident. “Your prize, my lady.”

She squeezed his hand, then shakily climbed up the pier, refusing the assistance offered her by Grand Magister Rosier, his acolytes, even Tal.

On her own two feet, she stood, swaying slightly, and looked up at the thousands of people lining the cliffs—waving their arms, pumping their fists, shouting her name. When she raised the trident in both hands, their cheers became thunderous.

She turned to face the Magisterial Council, who had gathered on the pier. Tal beamed, his eyes alight with pride. Sloane stood at his side with her arms crossed, a thoughtful frown on her face, her short, dark hair plastered to her pale cheeks.

And beside her stood the Archon, beads of rainwater sliding down his implacable face.