The Midnight Star (The Young Elites 3)

I scramble past him and start climbing up the ladder. Had he been one of the guards I’d placed outside Teren’s door? Had he released him, thinking Teren would kill me? Had he been loyal to Teren during his Lead Inquisitor days?

The man swings at me again. I react blindly, grabbing the dagger embedded in the wood, and then I whirl around and lash out at him. My blade strikes flesh. The man’s eyes bulge, and his mouth drops open. He stares at my scarred face for an instant, then collapses at my feet.

Another assassination attempt.

I clutch the dagger in one hand and struggle to the top deck. An icy wind blasts me with rain. I freeze and look up at the sky to see clouds hovering so low that they seem like they might touch the crow’s nest, clouds so black and ominous that it feels like I am peering up into the gaping mouth of Death herself.

“Adelina!” a drenched Magiano shouts from near the bow of the ship, where he hangs on desperately to the rigging of the sails. He’s pointing in the direction where Raffaele’s ship must be. Frantic, I glance around the deck. It all looks like a blur—a mass of gray crew fighting the tempest, water everywhere. I whirl around, as if my would-be assassin is behind me.

“Teren!” I shout back at Magiano. “He’s gone! He’s—”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I spot him. Under the glow of a streak of lightning, I see Teren making his way toward Magiano. Teren’s wrists are still bound in chains, and as he moves, they clatter noisily. A gasp escapes me. No. I shout again and prepare to strike with my energy, but a huge wave smacks the side of the ship and I stumble at the impact. A rope snaps loose from somewhere and hits Magiano viciously in his side—on his never-healing marking.

Magiano doubles over in agony and loses his footing. His hands grab for the rigging. I leap onto the deck right as Teren reaches it. Teren is going to kill him. The thought speeds through me like lightning—and my powers well up, roaring to the surface as I face Teren.

But Teren seizes the rope—and swings it toward Magiano with all his strength. Despite his pain, Magiano manages to catch it. He swings back toward the mast and hits the spar with a soft thud—narrowly avoiding going overboard. He crumples on the deck, clutching his side.

I wipe water from my vision. Did Teren just save Magiano’s life?

At the same time, another wave crashes against the deck, flooding it. It washes one of my Inquisitors into the sea. I stumble and fall on my knees. Before me, Teren loses his footing and tumbles. I rush forward. Somewhere in the gale, Magiano calls out to me. “Adelina—don’t!” he yells.

The water sweeps Teren overboard. We need him is all I can think. We need Teren if we want to live. I reach the railing and look down to see Teren clinging to the side of the ship. His chains clack in the wind. He glances up and catches sight of me.

Let him drown, the whispers say. Let the Underworld take him. Let him sink. He deserves it.

I hesitate, trembling from the effort of listening to the voices. He does deserve it. For a moment, the thought crowds my mind and the whispers crow as if they’ve won. Teren’s face shifts and moves, rippling with an illusion out of my control, shifting from a human face to that of an unrecognizable demon, the monster underneath his skin.

Then I remember why we are here. I reach down, close my hand tightly around his wrist, and pull as hard as I can. Teren climbs slowly, making his way up one step at a time. His eyes reflect the lightning and the torrential rain. When he is back on board, I think, we will need to secure his quarters more strictly.

“Look out!” someone shouts. I glance up just in time to see Magiano leap in my direction. But it’s too late—an instant later, a wave hits the side of the ship like a battering ram and I’m flung free of the railing. All I see is a rush of black sky and ocean. Magiano is still standing along the deck, his arm outstretched toward me. Then he vanishes from sight as rain and ocean spray streak past. I look down to see the dark ocean rushing up at me.

The Underworld has come to claim you, the whispers scream.

Then I hit the water. And the ocean consumes me.

Said the man to the sun, “How I wish you could shine your light on every day of my life!” Said the sun to the man, “But only with the rain and the night could you recognize my light.”

—Domaccan poem, translated by Chevalle

Adelina Amouteru

The world is deafening and silent. Light and dark. I think I see Caldora in the depths, her long, monstrous fins carving through the water. The thunder sounds muffled from underneath these black tides. I float for a while, unsure of where I am or whether I am even alive. The current tosses me, I am down, and my heartbeat thuds in my ears. I struggle to breathe.

I surface with a gasp. Rain and seawater pours into my open mouth. I choke, coughing, and search for the ship. It’s behind me, looming. I try to swim in its direction, but another wave swallows me and I’m tossed over and over. I manage to pull myself up again, only to see the ship edging farther away.

“Magiano!” I cry out. “Violetta!”

But my voice is lost in the tempest. Another wave pounds me and I’m submerged in the depths once more.

I will not die here. Not like this. The thought becomes a drumbeat that fills me with rage, and the rage gives me strength. I force my limbs to keep churning, force my head above water one more time. The storm roars its fury overhead—lightning flashes between the clouds, and sheets of rain pummel me. I’m swallowed by another wave and every time I surface, the ship looks farther away. I start to lose feeling in my limbs. The energy of the Underworld seeps under my skin and down my throat. Monsters seem to swim in this sea, their massive black silhouettes framed by deep blue, which seems to extend down forever. amble past him and start climbing up the ladder. Had he been one of the guards I’d placed outside Teren’s door? Had he released him, thinking Teren would kill me? Had he been loyal to Teren during his Lead Inquisitor days?

The man swings at me again. I react blindly, grabbing the dagger embedded in the wood, and then I whirl around and lash out at him. My blade strikes flesh. The man’s eyes bulge, and his mouth drops open. He stares at my scarred face for an instant, then collapses at my feet.

Another assassination attempt.

I clutch the dagger in one hand and struggle to the top deck. An icy wind blasts me with rain. I freeze and look up at the sky to see clouds hovering so low that they seem like they might touch the crow’s nest, clouds so black and ominous that it feels like I am peering up into the gaping mouth of Death herself.

“Adelina!” a drenched Magiano shouts from near the bow of the ship, where he hangs on desperately to the rigging of the sails. He’s pointing in the direction where Raffaele’s ship must be. Frantic, I glance around the deck. It all looks like a blur—a mass of gray crew fighting the tempest, water everywhere. I whirl around, as if my would-be assassin is behind me.

“Teren!” I shout back at Magiano. “He’s gone! He’s—”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I spot him. Under the glow of a streak of lightning, I see Teren making his way toward Magiano. Teren’s wrists are still bound in chains, and as he moves, they clatter noisily. A gasp escapes me. No. I shout again and prepare to strike with my energy, but a huge wave smacks the side of the ship and I stumble at the impact. A rope snaps loose from somewhere and hits Magiano viciously in his side—on his never-healing marking.

Magiano doubles over in agony and loses his footing. His hands grab for the rigging. I leap onto the deck right as Teren reaches it. Teren is going to kill him. The thought speeds through me like lightning—and my powers well up, roaring to the surface as I face Teren.

But Teren seizes the rope—and swings it toward Magiano with all his strength. Despite his pain, Magiano manages to catch it. He swings back toward the mast and hits the spar with a soft thud—narrowly avoiding going overboard. He crumples on the deck, clutching his side.

I wipe water from my vision. Did Teren just save Magiano’s life?

At the same time, another wave crashes against the deck, flooding it. It washes one of my Inquisitors into the sea. I stumble and fall on my knees. Before me, Teren loses his footing and tumbles. I rush forward. Somewhere in the gale, Magiano calls out to me. “Adelina—don’t!” he yells.

The water sweeps Teren overboard. We need him is all I can think. We need Teren if we want to live. I reach the railing and look down to see Teren clinging to the side of the ship. His chains clack in the wind. He glances up and catches sight of me.

Let him drown, the whispers say. Let the Underworld take him. Let him sink. He deserves it.

I hesitate, trembling from the effort of listening to the voices. He does deserve it. For a moment, the thought crowds my mind and the whispers crow as if they’ve won. Teren’s face shifts and moves, rippling with an illusion out of my control, shifting from a human face to that of an unrecognizable demon, the monster underneath his skin.

Then I remember why we are here. I reach down, close my hand tightly around his wrist, and pull as hard as I can. Teren climbs slowly, making his way up one step at a time. His eyes reflect the lightning and the torrential rain. When he is back on board, I think, we will need to secure his quarters more strictly.

“Look out!” someone shouts. I glance up just in time to see Magiano leap in my direction. But it’s too late—an instant later, a wave hits the side of the ship like a battering ram and I’m flung free of the railing. All I see is a rush of black sky and ocean. Magiano is still standing along the deck, his arm outstretched toward me. Then he vanishes from sight as rain and ocean spray streak past. I look down to see the dark ocean rushing up at me.

The Underworld has come to claim you, the whispers scream.

Then I hit the water. And the ocean consumes me.

Said the man to the sun, “How I wish you could shine your light on every day of my life!” Said the sun to the man, “But only with the rain and the night could you recognize my light.”

—Domaccan poem, translated by Chevalle

Adelina Amouteru

The world is deafening and silent. Light and dark. I think I see Caldora in the depths, her long, monstrous fins carving through the water. The thunder sounds muffled from underneath these black tides. I float for a while, unsure of where I am or whether I am even alive. The current tosses me, I am down, and my heartbeat thuds in my ears. I struggle to breathe.

I surface with a gasp. Rain and seawater pours into my open mouth. I choke, coughing, and search for the ship. It’s behind me, looming. I try to swim in its direction, but another wave swallows me and I’m tossed over and over. I manage to pull myself up again, only to see the ship edging farther away.

“Magiano!” I cry out. “Violetta!”

But my voice is lost in the tempest. Another wave pounds me and I’m submerged in the depths once more.

I will not die here. Not like this. The thought becomes a drumbeat that fills me with rage, and the rage gives me strength. I force my limbs to keep churning, force my head above water one more time. The storm roars its fury overhead—lightning flashes between the clouds, and sheets of rain pummel me. I’m swallowed by another wave and every time I surface, the ship looks farther away. I start to lose feeling in my limbs. The energy of the Underworld seeps under my skin and down my throat. Monsters seem to swim in this sea, their massive black silhouettes framed by deep blue, which seems to extend down forever.