How Strong Must That Eel Be

The next three rest stops came together in a steady, familiar rhythm, the demon builders refining their craft with each passing structure, Nettle's two ships running their now-practiced tow routine, Squishy meeting each delivery at the appropriate depth to find, once again, the most sheltered, beautiful spot he could locate before ever setting a single house down.

Colm's evenly spaced route held true, each new rest stop settling into place at roughly the same day's-swim interval as the first, the whole pilgrimage path steadily filling in behind them.

It was during the delivery run toward the fourth stop that the water beneath Nettle's ship erupted without warning.

A massive, serpentine shape breached alongside the hull, scaled, coiling, unmistakably the same breed of sea serpent that had once nearly capsized their entire submarine expedition months earlier.

"...Serpent," Arista said, tense, already moving toward the railing.

But the alarm barely had time to settle before it became clear the crisis wasn't actually one at all.

Selen's two companions, the same mermaids who'd first circled Bram in astonished wonder the day they'd found the trident, moved to intercept the creature with calm, unhurried confidence. Plain bronze tridents flashed in their hands, practical weapons with sharpened points and none of the ornamentation of Selen's golden trident. These had clearly been made for fighting.

One drew the serpent's attention with a sharp, darting feint from above, exactly the same three-dimensional combat style Arista had watched demonstrated in the training clearing days earlier. The other struck low and fast the moment the serpent's guard shifted, driving it back with two clean, decisive blows before it had any real chance to engage.

The whole fight lasted under a minute. The serpent, clearly outmatched, retreated back into the depths, and the two companions simply resumed their positions alongside the ship as though nothing of note had happened at all.

Bram watched the water where the serpent had disappeared.

"...Last time a serpent attacked Nettle's ship, it took her whole crew to fight it off."

Claire glanced toward Selen's companions. "...And just now, those two handled the same threat by themselves, in under a minute."

"Exactly," Bram said quietly.

Arista sat with that, feeling the uneasy weight of the comparison settle in. "...If a sea serpent's practically nothing to them—"

"—then whatever that eel actually is, guarding the caves beneath the ring," Bram finished, "has to be considerably worse than anything we've faced yet. If two mermaid escorts handle a serpent this casually, and their people still couldn't overcome that eel, generation after generation, for as long as anyone remembers—"

"That's not a normal boss monster," Arista said, sobered by the implication. "That's a real raid boss. The kind of thing that takes multiple guilds working in coordination to bring down."

Selen, having watched the exchange, nodded slowly, something grave in her expression. "You understand now, perhaps, why my people stopped attempting that path generations ago. It was never a lack of skill. No group we could assemble was ever able to overcome it."

Bram studied the water where the serpent had retreated, unsettled by the scale of what that comparison implied.

"...I'm glad you built the tube," he said quietly. "I don't think I want to know what actually happens to whoever eventually tries that fight properly."

"Me neither," Arista admitted, watching the ship continue steadily onward, the fourth rest stop's components trailing patiently behind. "Let's just keep building doors instead."

With four of the five rest stops finished and steadily settling into place, Arista finally turned her full attention toward the project's actual endpoint, the new City of Worship, sited a modest fifty meters from the Drowned Court's sealed dome, close enough that Dryva's people would arrive at journey's end within easy sight of both their god and the ancient capital that had once been theirs.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Discussing the design with Selen had presented one small practical problem: Arista needed a flat surface to draw on, while Selen had no practical means of joining her on deck.

The solution now hung from the side of Nettle's ship.

A narrow timber work platform had been suspended from ropes and pulley blocks and lowered until it rested just above the waterline, high enough that the ordinary movement of the sea passed beneath it without washing over the boards, but low enough that Selen could float alongside and see everything laid out in front of Arista.

A drawing easel stood near the platform's center, secured well enough that a badly timed shift of the ship wouldn't immediately donate the entire design to the ocean.

Arista stood before it with charcoal in hand while Bram leaned against the outer rail beside her, Selen drifting in the water only a short distance away.

"...I don't want to just build a smaller version of the original city," Arista said, turning the easel slightly so Selen could see the first rough plan more clearly. "That feels like recreating something without actually understanding why it worked. I want to know what this space is actually for, beyond simply being grand."

Selen considered the question seriously, her gaze moving over the sketch from the water. "The original City of Worship served several purposes at once. A place to bring tribute. A place to simply be near him, without necessarily needing to offer anything at all. A place for the priest to commune privately, when needed. And a place for celebration, when the pilgrimage concluded successfully."

"...So it's not just a shrine," Arista said, working through the layers. "It's a shrine, a gathering space, and a private sanctuary, all combined."

"Precisely." Selen rested one hand lightly against the edge of the platform as she looked over the drawing again. "But the old city was built for a far larger population than remains today. The purpose should survive. The scale does not need to."

Arista nodded slowly. That distinction felt far more useful than simply copying old architecture and shrinking it until it fit.

"...A tribute space, obviously," she said, adding a new section to the sketch. "Somewhere pilgrims can leave offerings, matching the old tradition. But I don't want everything piled into one ceremonial heap and forgotten afterward. Shelves, alcoves, proper display spaces. Somewhere the offerings can remain visible."

Claire, watching from the deck above, leaned over the railing to get a better look. "So the tribute becomes part of the place."

"Exactly." Arista added several smaller recesses around the central space. "Dryva actually likes keeping things. Shiny rocks, weird objects, anything new enough to interest him. We already know that. It makes sense to give the offerings somewhere they can stay instead of treating them like they're supposed to disappear after the ritual."

Selen nodded. "The oldest accounts describe much the same. Dryva often kept what pleased him."

Arista smiled faintly. "Of course he did."

She widened the main gathering area, rubbing away one of the original walls and redrawing the entire seaward side as open space instead.

"And this should stay open. No enclosed hall he'd have to squeeze himself into. If Squishy wants to come close during a ceremony, he should be able to."

Selen's expression softened as she followed the change taking shape beneath Arista's charcoal. "That also follows the older tradition. Dryva was never contained within the city. The people gathered near him."

Arista paused, looking at the open side of the design.

"...The city gathered around him," she murmured. "Yeah. I like that."

Bram looked over her shoulder at the revised plan. "So we're definitely not building him another house."

"He has a house."

"A house currently full of pillow."

"He likes his pillow."

"I wasn't criticizing."

Arista gave him a look before returning to the easel.

She marked out a smaller chamber set apart from the open ceremonial space, angling the board toward Selen again once she'd finished outlining it.

"This can be the private sanctuary. Somewhere the priest can commune with him without an entire pilgrimage group listening in. Then the central area handles tribute, ceremonies, and whatever celebrations happen when people finally reach the end."

Selen studied the new addition from beside the platform. "That is much closer to the old arrangement."

Bram tapped the edge of the central court on the drawing. "...Still grand?"

"Grand enough," Arista said. "Fifty to a hundred pilgrims at a time, same scale we've been working around for the rest of the route. I don't want a giant empty plaza designed for thousands of people who aren't here anymore. It should feel full when the people who actually use it arrive."

For a while, Selen said nothing, simply following the design as Arista refined it: the open court facing the sea, the tribute alcoves, the private sanctuary, smaller gathering spaces around the edges where pilgrims could rest together after completing the journey.

"...My ancestors built the old city for the people they were, and for Dryva as they knew him then," she said at last. "You are building for the people we are now."

Arista's charcoal stopped against the page.

"...Yeah," she said after a moment. "I think that's what I've been trying to do."

She stepped back as far as the small platform allowed and looked over the finished concept.

The ancient City of Worship would remain beneath its sealed dome, carrying the history of the people who had built it. Squishy already had a home of his own, one he'd recently filled with pieces of an enormous cloud pillow. This new city had a simpler purpose: to give the restored pilgrimage somewhere to end, a place to gather, leave something behind, and celebrate having made the journey.

Arista rolled the sketch carefully away from the easel.

"...Let's build them somewhere worth arriving at."