Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 163

Chapter 163: The Black Tide

The departure from the Crepusci Estate was less of a tactical exit and more of a goth emotional breakdown.

In the courtyard, Silas was trying to walk to the carriage. This was proving difficult because three grey-robed Shadow Servants were currently lying on the ground, clinging to his ankles.

"Please do not leave us, Shadow Master!" one servant wept, clutching a basket of black fruit. "Take the Berries! They are sour like our souls!"

"Let go!" Silas squeaked, trying to shake them off. "I don’t like berries! They make my tongue purple!"

"He rejects the berries!" the second servant wailed. "He demands blood sacrifice!"

"No, I don’t!" Silas yelled, looking at Lucien for help.

Lucien sighed, adjusting his travel cloak. "They are your cult now, Silas. You must give them a command, or they will follow you to the ocean and drown themselves out of loyalty."

Silas frowned. He puffed out his chest, channeling his inner Duke.

"Sit!" Silas commanded.

The servants immediately sat up straight, hands on their knees.

"Stay here," Silas ordered, pointing a small finger at the castle. "Clean up the mess. Fix the door Uncle Malachi broke. And... water the plants."

The servants gasped.

"A holy decree!" they whispered. "The Rite of Restoration! We shall scrub until our fingers bleed!"

"Okay, bye!" Silas sprinted for the carriage before they could worship him again.

Nearby, Lucien was giving his final orders to Vesper.

"Keep Malachi in the dampest cell," Lucien instructed. "Feed him once a day. If he speaks, gag him. If he tries to use magic, call Rurik’s lightning-eels."

"Understood, Your Grace," Vesper rasped, bowing. "And the Regency Council?"

"Tell them I went fishing," Lucien said coldly. "If they have complaints, they can file them with my sword when I return."

Cassian walked out of the library, carrying a satchel clinking with glass vials. He checked a list written on parchment.

"I have the base for the Gills-Potion," Cassian announced, pushing up his glasses. "But the catalyst ingredients are specific to the deep sea. I need Bioluminescent Algae, pure Kraken Ink, and... Sea-Hag’s Sneeze."

"Sea-Hag’s Sneeze?" Rurik asked, carrying three trunks under one arm. "Is that a metaphor?"

"No," Cassian said seriously. "It is the mucus of a specific hagfish found in the trenches. It is disgusting, but highly potent."

"Gross," Vali cheered, pumping his fist. "I want to collect it!"

---

They piled into the Shadow Carriage. It was crowded, noisy, and smelled faintly of wet dog (Vali) and ozone (Primrose’s glitching tail).

Luna was fussing over everyone, handing out sandwiches. "Eat. We don’t know if there are restaurants under the sea. Clover, did you pack your extra sweater?"

"Yes, Luna!" Clover chirped, hugging her carrot backpack. "But do fish wear sweaters?"

Primrose sat next to Caspian, nervously twisting the ring on her finger.

"You’re quiet," Caspian noted softly.

"I’m practicing my ’Ambassador Face’," Primrose muttered. "Your stepmother nearly fed me to crabs last time. And that was when I was bluffing about the treaty. Now the treaty is real, but I’m showing up with five tails, a glitching body, and a Void apocalypse."

"She will respect the treaty," Caspian assured her, though he didn’t look convinced. "The trade routes have been prosperous. The Surface Warlords sent grain and steel. Sunless City is wealthier than it has been in centuries."

"Yeah," Primrose sighed. "But she still hates me."

"She hates everyone," Rajah offered helpfully from the opposite seat, sharpening a dagger. "Just roar at her."

"Do not roar at the Queen Dowager," Lucien corrected, not looking up from his book. "She hates noise. Stare at her. Unblinking. Assert dominance through silence."

"That is terrible advice," Arjun noted, scribbling in his tactical notebook. "Target ’Grandma’ seems immune to intimidation. We need a diplomatic approach."

"Or," Jax suggested from the corner, "we could just... be polite? And maybe bring a gift? Moms love gifts."

The Warlords looked at Jax like he had suggested hugging a cactus.

"A gift?" Caspian pondered. "She likes... venomous sea snakes."

"Great," Jax deadpanned. "I’ll check the gift shop for a deadly viper."

---

Hours later, the carriage slowed. The dense canopy of the Obsidian Jungle gave way to grey, overcast sky.

"We are here," Vesper announced. "The Coast of Whispers."

The carriage landed on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The group spilled out, eager to stretch their legs.

Vali was already wearing a snorkel he had found (stolen) from Lucien’s pool house.

"BEACH DAY!" Vali screamed, sprinting toward the edge of the cliff. "I’m gonna fight a shark!"

"Vali, wait!" Rurik yelled, chasing after him.

But when they reached the edge, Vali stopped. He didn’t cheer. He didn’t jump.

He gagged.

"Ew," Vali whispered. "It smells like rotten eggs."

Primrose walked up beside him and gasped.

The ocean wasn’t blue. It wasn’t even the dark, stormy grey of the North Sea.

It was black.

Thick, oily sludge churned in the waves. Dead fish—thousands of them—were washing up on the black sand below. The foam was a sickly yellow. The air burned their throats.

"The Corruption," Caspian whispered, his face draining of color.

He scrambled down the cliff path to the water’s edge. He knelt in the sand, reaching out to touch the black surf.

"Don’t!" Primrose warned.

Caspian ignored her. He dipped his finger into the sludge.

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