The Castle of Triton rose in the distance—a colossal fortress with many tall turrets, arched buttresses, and massive windows. Hundreds of sharks circled above and around the castle, guarding their master inside.
As Xanthus neared, five of the larger sharks broke rank and charged toward him. Their gaping mouths sneered, ridged with sharp, dagger-like teeth. Xanthus’s steel muscles clenched, prepared for battle.
The sharks stopped just out of striking distance, effectively blocking his approach to the castle. Their eyes pierced him, oozing a deep and loathing hatred. The most frightening shark hovered in the middle, flanked by the others. Half his face was missing. The horrific injury had healed, leaving pink and grey flesh knitted together, knarled and misshapen. How could he have survived such a severe injury?
A thundering concussion pounded through the water. The rumbling sound formed words. “Let the Dagonian pass.” A shudder went through Xanthus at that menacing voice.
The sharks hesitated a moment before parting. Still, they continued to glare at him. Xanthus readied himself to respond in case any of the guards decided to attack. An assault would be unlikely; given it must have been Triton who had ordered them to back off. But with so much anger and vicious hatred directed at him, Xanthus held his defensive posture as he approached the castle.
A massive, grey leviathan clung to the side of the building. His mountainous bulk and countless tentacles snaked over the surface. Xanthus searched for the castle door. He circled the entire building but still couldn’t see any sign of an entrance. Finally, he puzzled it out. The leviathan had to be covering it. He scowled at that realization. Surely, he wasn’t expected to fight the thing. The creature might look soft, but inside that gelatinous body lurked a razor-sharp beak so large and powerful it could snap him in two. Xanthus might be able to slice off a tentacle or two during the fight, but in the end he’d still be dead and the injured leviathan’s tentacles would grow back in a matter of months.
The monster’s great eyes fixed on him as he moved toward the creature. When Xanthus swam close enough to touch him, the tentacles slithered back, revealing a gigantic door. One thick tentacle pushed the door open, generating a low, thundering rumble. Xanthus focused on the door as he tried to ignore the monstrous, fleshy archway he passed under.
Darkness enveloped him as he swam into an immense hall. A kaleidoscope of faintly luminescent stone framed great tapestries along the walls. He swam above an intricate mosaic map of all the oceans and seas. It covered the entire floor of the vast room. Near the back of the hall, high branches of black coral cradled an enormous throne. His eyes widened at what looked like fire-lit torches—something he’d seen pictured in a book of human lore.
Double doors slammed open at the back. A figure entered wearing a hard, stony glare. Firelight glinted across roped muscles and a mighty tail. His blond hair and trimmed beard swaying in the water did nothing to soften his scowl.
There was no doubt that King Triton had entered the room.
Xanthus’s eyes widened in shock. Triton looked like a Dagonian.
“Xanthus Dimitriou?” Triton’s deep voice rumbled.
“I’m at your command, Sire.” Xanthus bowed before he neared the throne, careful to maintain a respectful distance.
“Before I give you any command, you will answer me this one question. Are you courageous or stupid?” The god’s furious blue eyes reflected the fire of the torches. Xanthus felt as if he were staring into the burning pit of Tartarus. His first impression couldn’t have been more wrong. Triton was nothing like a Dagonian. With the tail of a tiger shark, fiery eyes as blue as the sea, and the temperament of a raging typhoon, Triton’s presence oozed powerful, menacing god.
