The ripples grew larger, spreading across the dark water in concentric circles. Whatever moved beneath the surface was massive—far larger than the platform that had been our shelter only minutes ago.
"What the hell is that?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the soft lapping of water against our tiny island.
Joran's face hardened as he stared into the darkness. The firelight carved deep shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look gaunt and haunted. "Nothing good."
"We need to douse the fire," Laina said, already moving to kick dirt over our pitiful flame.
I caught her ankle. "If we lose that heat, we'll freeze."
"If we keep it, we'll be eaten." Her violet eyes reflected the flames, twin points of fierce light in her pale face.
The water bulged about twenty yards from our position, a dark hump rising above the surface before sinking again. The ripples intensified.
"Shit," I muttered, releasing Laina's ankle and scrambling to my feet. My soaked clothes clung to my skin, each gust of wind stealing more precious body heat. I summoned Frostbite and Heartseeker, the twin daggers materializing in my hands with the now-familiar surge of cold and heat.
Fat lot of good they'd do against something that size.
Joran stood silently, his lean frame taut with tension. He pulled his hunting knife from his belt, the blade looking pathetically small against the vast darkness surrounding us.
"It's circling," he said, eyes tracking the movement of the water. "Testing us."
"Testing what?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "How we taste?"
"Whether we're worth the effort."
Laina had abandoned her attempt to put out the fire, instead pulling her bow from her back and nocking an arrow. The bowstring was wet, likely ruining its tension, but she held it ready anyway.
The ripples stopped.
For three heartbeats, the marsh fell silent—no lapping water, no distant animal calls, nothing but our ragged breathing and the soft crackle of our dying fire.
Then the surface of the water erupted.
The creature rose in a cascade of fetid marsh water, towering over our tiny island. In the dim firelight, I made out a segmented body, pale and glistening, rising at least fifteen feet above the water. It had no discernible head—just a tapering end that split open to reveal a circular maw lined with row upon row of backward-curving teeth.
My throat closed. My limbs locked. I'd faced monsters before—in the Awakening Plains, in the Whispering Forest—but nothing like this. This wasn't something you fought. This was something you ran from, if you were lucky enough to see it coming.
The massive body swayed above us, water streaming from its pale, rubbery skin. No eyes. No nostrils. Just that terrible mouth and what looked like clusters of thin, whip-like tendrils sprouting from segments along its length.
"Marsh Leviathan," Laina breathed, her voice barely audible. "It can't be real."
"Looks pretty damn real to me," I replied, forcing my frozen limbs to ease into a fighting stance.
The creature remained motionless, its body perfectly vertical above the water. The tendrils twitched, rippling in sequence down its length.
"It's sensing us," Joran murmured. "Those filaments detect vibration. Sound. Heat, maybe."
As if responding to his words, the creature's body suddenly angled toward him. The circular maw pulsed, opening wider.
It attacks by sound.
The leviathan hung there, swaying slightly. Its flesh had a translucent quality—I could see dark shapes moving within it, like shadows behind frosted glass. Digesting prey, I realized with a lurch of nausea.
Laina's bow creaked as she slowly raised it, drawing the string back despite the water damage. I caught her eye and gave a tiny shake of my head. One arrow wouldn't stop that thing. It would only guarantee our deaths came faster.
She hesitated, then lowered the bow fractionally.
The creature's body suddenly convulsed, a ripple running from its base to its maw. The tendrils along its length stiffened, pointing outward like the spines of some monstrous sea urchin.
Then it began to descend.
Slowly, almost gracefully, the pale column sank back into the marsh. Water closed over it until only ripples remained to mark its passing.
None of us moved. None of us spoke. We stood frozen, weapons clutched in white-knuckled grips, waiting for the attack we were sure would come.
One minute passed. Two. Three.
Finally, Joran exhaled. "It's gone."
"For now," I said, not relaxing my stance. "What the hell was that thing?"
"A story," Laina replied, her voice unsteady. "A fucking children's story to keep them from playing near the marshes." She lowered her bow fully, hands trembling. "They're not supposed to be real."
"Well, someone forgot to tell it that," I muttered, allowing my daggers to dissipate.
Joran crouched by our fire, adding a few more reeds to the dying embers. "The old stories call them Blind Singers. They hunt by sound and vibration. The tendrils you saw can detect the slightest movement in the water."
"Great," I said, sinking down beside the fire. My legs felt like water. "So we're stranded on a mud patch in the middle of a frozen marsh with a monster from a fairy tale hunting us."
"Not hunting," Joran corrected, his voice hollow. "Not yet. It was curious. Testing."
"And when it decides to hunt?" Laina asked.
Joran didn't answer.
I stared into the small fire, trying to think past the fear still coursing through my system. My hands ached, the damaged flesh protesting every movement. My clothes were still soaked, and despite Heartseeker's residual warmth, I could feel the cold seeping into my bones.
"We need a plan," I said finally. "We can't stay here."
"We can't leave, either," Laina pointed out, gesturing to the dark water surrounding our tiny island. "That thing is out there."
"Not just one," Joran said quietly. "The stories always mention them in pairs. Sometimes more."
"Of course they do," I sighed, rubbing my face with my damaged hands. The pain helped clear my head. "Look, if they hunt by sound and vibration, we need to be quiet and still. But we also need to get off this island before we freeze to death."
"Those two goals seem mutually exclusive," Laina said, pulling her knees to her chest.
I examined our surroundings more carefully. Our island was little more than a raised hummock, perhaps fifteen feet across at its widest point. The marsh stretched in all directions, a patchwork of open water and thin ice, with occasional clumps of reeds breaking the surface. In the distance, I could make out the dark line of what might be the shore, but it was at least a hundred yards away.
Too far to swim without making noise. Too far to cross the ice without breaking through. Too far to reach before the cold killed us or the leviathans returned.
"We need a distraction," I said slowly, an idea forming. "Something to draw them away."
"Like what?" Laina asked.
I reached for Heartseeker again, the dagger materializing in my palm with a surge of heat. "Fire."
"You want to burn down the marsh?" Laina's eyebrows shot up.
"No. Just create enough noise and vibration elsewhere to keep those things occupied while we make for shore." I pointed to the floating debris from our collapsed platform. "We can use pieces of the platform as rafts. Push them ahead of us as we go."
"The reeds might burn," Joran said, considering. "Even in this damp."
"Especially with a little help." I held up Heartseeker, its blade glowing with inner heat. "I can start a fire at the furthest point of the island. When it catches properly, we slip into the water on the opposite side."
Laina shook her head, her long black hair swinging with the motion. "It's insane."
"Got a better idea?"
She pressed her lips together, violet eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, she sighed. "No."
"Then it's settled." I stood, ignoring the protest from my tired muscles. "Joran, gather whatever reeds and dry material you can find. Laina, help me drag some platform pieces to this side of the island."
They moved to comply, Joran slipping silently around the perimeter while Laina and I waded knee-deep into the frigid water to retrieve floating sections of wood.
"This is suicide," she muttered as we dragged a large piece onto the muddy shore.
"Probably," I agreed. "But sitting here waiting to freeze or be eaten is definitely suicide."
We worked in silence after that, gathering what usable debris we could find. By the time we finished, Joran had collected a decent pile of reeds and marsh grasses on the far side of the island.
"It's not much," he said, his lean face grim in the firelight. "But it should catch."
I nodded, examining our makeshift rafts—three sections of platform, each about four feet square. They wouldn't keep us above water entirely, but they'd provide some buoyancy and, more importantly, a barrier between us and anything lurking below.
"Okay," I said, keeping my voice low. "Here's the plan. I'll start the fire over there." I pointed to Joran's pile. "Once it's going strong, we slip into the water on this side, using these as shields. We push them ahead of us as we move toward shore, staying as quiet as possible."
"And if the leviathans aren't fooled?" Laina asked.
I met her eyes. "Then we die a little faster than we would otherwise."
She held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded once.
"Now let's do it before I change my mind."