As light shone down from the ocean’s crest, Nicholea awoke to a messenger boy from a place beyond Meridia’s sands. The Zhar’s two personal guardsmen swept through his bedchamber entrance, the thin youthful arms of the boy clasped in their fists.
But it wasn’t the boy’s arms, lips, head or torso which caught Nicholea’s waterbreath to his throat. It was the fin flapping below the boy’s waist. Meridians weren’t built like this. Any normal Meridian boy coming with message would be directed to the waiting halls for attention after morning’s meal, but because of the boy’s uniqueness he was brought directly to the Zhar’s attention. What was this boy? Where were his legs?
“Release me at once,” the boy demanded of the guards, his tense, red eyes fixed on the Zhar. “Are you the leader of these sands?”
The guards hovered stilly.
“Where are your legs, boy?” Nicholea questioned, Zharista Alexandra gently awakening beside him.
“Master Evanshade requests an audience outside the city walls as midday comes, with news of a race separated from yours years before now. Let me loose or his kindness will turn sour once I tell him of how you’ve held his own master’s son hostage.” Jagged teeth twisted between the boy’s lips as churning heat lit within his eyes. “I am Venge. I bring greetings from the sands of Sangfoul.”
“Does this Evanshade come in friendship or with destruction?”
“He comes with desire to retwine the friendship of our race’s lost ancestors, a true waste of time.”
At this, the guards simultaneously tightened their grip and the boy cursed staggeringly.
“Let him go,” Nicholea quickly said. “I’ll meet this Evanshade. Venge, I apologize for any disservice you feel you’ve been given. I am excited to learn of our brethren race.”
Venge cringed at the apology, was escorted by the guards beyond Cardonea Tower and swam, swiftly beating his tailfin, beyond Meridia’s walls.