Chapter 94: Navigation of Vibes

The boat drifted through a thick, viscous soup of grey, oily sludge that smelled like rotting eggs, wet socks, fermented cabbage, and bad decisions. It was an olfactory assault that burned the nostrils and settled heavily in the back of the throat.

The mist hung low and oppressive, a suffocating grey blanket that clung to Ren’s exposed skin, leaving a film of cold, sticky dampness.

Every time Viper’s wooden pole hit the water—shloop—a bubble of trapped methane rose to the surface and popped with a depressing bloop.

The trees here were twisted, skeletal things, their bark stripped away to reveal pale, grey wood that looked like bone. Their roots knuckled out of the water like arthritic fingers grasping for air, draped in Spanish moss that hung limp and grey like the hair of drowned ghosts.

But the worst part was the wildlife.

“That is not a mosquito,” Ren whispered, staring in horror at a buzzing insect the size of a sparrow hovering near her ear. “That is a government drone.”

The bugs here were prehistoric. There were dragonflies with iridescent wingspans wide enough to slap you in the face, water striders that looked like alien tripods skating on the surface tension, and black beetles that chittered from the rotting logs.

Ren sat rigid in the boat, absentmindedly stroking the fur of Kael’s ears as he slept on her lap. Her eyes darted around the murky water, her brain helpfully replaying every YouTube video she had ever watched at 3 AM titled “Top 10 Swamp Monsters Caught on Camera” or “Crocodile Attacks Boat: NO SURVIVORS.”

’This boat is wood,’ she thought, eyeing the rotting planks with deep suspicion. ’One solid chomp from a massive crocodile, and we are toothpicks.’

Her imagination added even worse things. ’Giant carnivorous salamanders? Mutated catfish with legs?’

As if on cue, a massive, dark shadow glided silently beneath the boat. It was long, tubular, and moved with a disturbing sinuous grace.

Ren flinched, her hand tightening convulsively in Kael’s hair. Kael let out a soft snore, completely unbothered.

’Calm down, Ren,’ she chided herself, forcing her breathing to even out. ’You are traveling with the Tiger King and the Snake King. If a swamp monster attacks, I just have to throw one of them at it.’

She looked down at her security detail to reassure herself.

Kael was out cold. His face was pressed into her stomach, his breath warm through the thin animal skin skirt. He looked peaceful, almost innocent, betraying no sign of the feral madness that was currently eating his brain.

She looked at Syris.

He was… struggling.

The Snake King was fighting a losing battle against sleep. His eyelids were fluttering, heavy with exhaustion from his all-night packing spree. He was swaying. Slowly, perilously, his upper body was listing to the side.

He leaned further.

And further.

It was like watching a tree fall in slow motion. His nose was mere inches away from the disgusting, sludge-filled water. One more inch, and the King of the Swamp was going to face-plant into his own kingdom.

Ren uncurled her bare toes and gently nudged him in the ribs with her foot.

“Syris,” she hissed. “Wake up.”

Syris jerked awake, blinking his amethyst eyes rapidly. He looked around, confused, before spotting the murky water inches from his face. He recoiled in disgust, shuddering as if the water had personally insulted him.

“Come here,” Ren whispered, patting her bare shoulder. “Lean on me.”

Syris didn’t argue. He shuffled closer on the wooden trunk and rested his head heavily on her shoulder, his black hair cascading over her arm like a silk curtain. Within seconds, his breathing evened out, and he was asleep.

Ren smiled softly, despite the cold.

She looked at them. Kael on her lap. Syris on her shoulder. Two of the most powerful, terrifying predators in the Beast World, currently using her as a human beanbag chair.

’They’re actually pretty cute when they’re sleeping,’ she thought.

A cold breeze cut through the mist, making Ren shiver violently in her skimpy outfit. The silence of the swamp was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic splash-creak, splash-creak of the pole.

She looked up at the only other conscious person in the boat.

Viper stood at the stern, rhythmically pushing the long pole into the mud to propel them forward. He looked bored. He looked confident. He looked like a man who knew exactly where he was going.

“Hey, Viper,” Ren whispered, trying not to wake the boys.

Viper grunted, not breaking his rhythm.

“Do you leave the Palace often?” she asked, trying to make conversation to distract herself from the creepy noises of the swamp and the paranoia of becoming crocodile food.

Viper shrugged his broad shoulders. “Not really. Maybe twice.”

Ren’s eyebrows shot up. Her eyes widened in genuine admiration.

“Twice?” she whispered, impressed. “Wow. And you memorized the route through this maze after only two trips? That’s incredible. I mean, look at this place. Every tree looks the same. Every patch of fog looks the same. I would be totally lost.”

Viper paused mid-push.

He looked at Ren. His expression was puzzled, his brow furrowing as if she had asked him to solve a calculus equation.

“Memorized?” Viper asked slowly, tilting his head. “No. I do not know the way from memory.”

Ren’s smile faltered. “Sorry?”

Viper shrugged again, casually dipping the pole back into the water and giving a random shove to the left.

“I am just paddling in a direction that looks… sort of familiar,” Viper said nonchalantly. “Maybe it is this way. Maybe it is that way. The mist makes everything look the same.”

The silence that followed was louder than the buzzing mosquitoes. It was a silence heavy with impending doom.

Ren stared at him.

Slowly, the color drained from her face, leaving her as pale as a sheet. A distinct, violent twitch started in her left eye.

“What?” she questioned in a low tone, the trembling clear in her voice.

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