At first, Marinos thinks of Nakht’s magic as this beautiful, wonderful thing, but then he tries to help Nakht when he overdoes it by absorbing some of the excess energy. Then there’s water in his mouth and lungs, salt stinging his eyes, and he’s struggling to reach the surface, but the rope wrapped around his ankle and the fish net drag him deeper. Even if he could untangle himself, he’s too far down and he doesn’t have enough air to get back up. Still he’s fighting until there’s nothing left, not even blind panic, and he can only stare at the last glimmers of sunlight as even that fades until there’s nothing but darkness and the burning in his lungs.
Then his rain slicked hand slips on the rigging and he’s falling towards the deck. His only comfort is that the rain will make it easier for Roxanna to clean up afterwards.
There’s too much blood. His shirt is soaked through and his ship is listing too much for the calm seas. His fingers are sticky with it, as is the fallen mutineer’s blade. He braces himself against the railing and just manages to get his sword up to defend against his former crew. The intention to fight is there, but not the strength. He’s already collapsed before his enemy can make a move.
He can’t move. Only breath and hope and pray to the gods that every vision he’s had was wrong, that this time he could save him. This is the worst he’s ever been. As soon as he saw Nakht, realized that Minerva was right. He had lost control. He doubted he would even let him get close. He approached him slowly, and thought that maybe there might be some flicker of recognition in his eyes. As soon as they touched, he knew he was wrong. Some part of Nakht knew him, just enough to hold him in a soft embrace. It wasn’t enough to reduce the sheer power going between them. He bites his lip to keep from screaming at the sheer force flowing through him, the green light darting across his body like lightning. His heart’s beating too fast and too erratically to be nerves, beating against his ribs, crushing his lungs. Then the magic stops. And so does his heartbeat.
He doesn’t realize he’s shaking and crying until Nakht is sitting him down on the bed and offering him water.
“Are you alright?” he asks, sitting down beside him and starting to rub his back while he catches his breath.
He tries to stop himself from recoiling, but he practically jumps away, the water cup breaking on the floor. “Don’t touch me.”
“What happened?” His eyes are dark and warm with concern, but Marinos can’t bring himself to look at him with anything less than horror.
“I died,” he says. He’s trying to keep his voice steady, but from the hurt in Nakht’s face, it comes out cold. “ I drowned, fell, bled out…” He stops short of the last vision, to talk about it would make it too real.
“I’m sorry,” he says, staring at the broken clay chips. His hands are still glowing that same deep green as when he first showed him his power. He made little wispy sea creatures swim through the room, then told Marinos he loved him. The same deep green as when he killed him.
“Can I get you another water?” he asks. Marinos manages a nod and he starts to wave his hand over the broken cup, then thinks better of it and gets up to find a servant.
As soon as he’s gone, Marinos knows that he’s never going to see those little green animals the same way again.
