I slipped under the water to the sound of her murmured prayers. My hand left hers even as I strained to reach for her again. It was too late.
Freezing waves prickled my skin and I stifled a gasp but the delta rushed into my mouth instead of air as I was dragged down. Like a startled deer I kicked furiously in the water but all I could feel was the millstone, pulling me deeper. For all my thrashing I felt no sand or mud to ground me. Death lurked below, waiting.
This is the first of your three deaths. Hold fast, I will come for you. You must feel your mortality. I could almost hear her whisper. My sorceress, my prophet, my bride. Obeying her had been easy when it was proclaiming my birthright to the druids.
The drumbeat matched the pounding in my chest. Was I hearing the drums, or my own wildly beating heart? My bravery evaporated. Everything in me screamed that I no longer wanted this. Cold adrenaline clawed up in my veins as the moonlight above me faded from the depths. The crush of seawater was a vise. If it hadn’t already been as dark as night I would have felt blind.
Do you trust me? She had asked as the iron clasped shut only moments before.
Did I trust my siren bride? It’d seemed easy at that moment to tell her yes, seeing her dark eyes focused in all her intensity, to hope for blessings from her soft pink lips. But now I was drowning in earnest. I tried to focus, to surrender with dignity. The drums were gone but the deafening pounding remained.
Even the gods must prove themselves, she’d soothed.
I would trade godhood for a wheezing breath of sweet air once more. Pain exploded in my head.
Hold fast, my bright one.
There was nothing to be done. My fate was sealed from the moment my bride latched the millstone to my feet. Weariness seized my body in an unmovable prison.
You will be the father of an empire. Kings will kneel at your feet.
I fought for every last wisp of air in vain, my lungs burned with the salty brine.
The Dagda will claim you as kin.
The darkness consumed my body. From somewhere earthly soft fingertips traced my face. I surrendered. The Dagda had come for me.
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