𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ᵉ*ᵗᵐ

49 ┃ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

━ ⭑─⭒━

━ ⭒─⭑━

You woke up with a gasp.

The sound tore from your throat like it had been waiting at the base of your lungs for hours. You lurched upright, eyes wide, chest heaving—air hitting your tongue like saltwater. For a terrifying moment, you couldn't tell if you were breathing or drowning again.

The world around you felt wrong—not dangerous, not deep—but like something was missing. The pressure. The cold. The weight of the sea pressing in on all sides. Your body still remembered it. Your bones did too. It clung to you like seaweed you couldn't peel off.

Your ears rang.

And through the ringing... you still heard them.

Eurylochus' voice—quiet, brittle, bleeding with memory.

"We weren't supposed to eat them."

"She waited too long."

"Tell me... would you have done the same?"

And behind his words, the others.

Five hundred mouths without sound.

A thousand hands reaching out with want and nothing.

You could still feel their stories—curling up your spine like fog. Like if you opened your mouth, their words would pour out instead of yours.

Your eyes darted around.

You weren't in the graveyard.

You weren't underwater.

But your skin didn't know that yet.

Your body was soaked in sweat, sticky against the linen shift you'd slept in. Your hair clung to your neck, matted and damp, like the sea had followed you here in ghost form. Your hands trembled as you lifted them, like you expected to see sea glass instead of skin.

The small room swam around you—familiar, safe, and yet your heart still pounded like you were trapped below.

Then—a soft sound.

A whine.

Lady.

She pressed gently into your side, her nose nuzzling against your ribs, warm and solid and here. When you didn't move right away, she laid her head on your stomach—slow, careful, like she knew you weren't all the way back yet.

You swallowed hard.

Your hand found her fur, fingers curling tight against it, like she was the anchor and you were still floating.