The water was cold—shockingly cold—as Glad plunged into the sea.
Above her, dimly, she heard screams. Ariel's voice. Others.
But mostly, she felt pain.
Marikit's claws had pierced deep—deeper than any wound she'd taken in centuries. Blood—her blood—clouded the water around her.
This is it, she thought hazily. This is how it ends.
Then something grabbed her.
Not a creature. Not a person.
A current. Warm. Purposeful.
Lifting her. Carrying her.
Toward the surface.
Toward air.
Toward life.
She broke through gasping, coughing, choking—but alive.
Morag's face appeared above her. "Kelpie rescue! We've been waiting in the water the whole time! Did you think we'd just watch?!"
Glad laughed weakly. "I forgot about the kelpies."
"Everyone forgets the kelpies. That's how we like it."
Ariel reached them seconds later, gathering Glad into his arms, sobbing with relief.
"Don't ever—don't EVER—"
"Had to. Love you."
"I love you too. STAY ALIVE."
Above them, Marikit's scream echoed—captured, subdued, finally defeated.
The battle was over.
Glad was alive.
They had won.