Seal will return and our plan will be over. Go to the door with the sun and do not forget to take your harp with you.”
“What’s that for?”
“Silly girl, I can’t fly after you if the harp stays here!”
Oh, that’s it! So he’s not free, he’s chained to the harp. So his arrogance is just a pose. The spirit is not as strong as he wants to be. Well, there’s no need to obey him then.
Lilophea also decided to show her character – like a naughty girl, she showed the spirit her tongue and rushed to find the right hall herself.
“Wait, what about me,” the abandoned spirit yelled on the threshold of the bedroom. He couldn’t seem to cross the threshold into the room where his harp remained. Lilophea turned over her shoulder and shouted mockingly:
“I will check your words and come back. Don’t be bored!”
The harp music behind exploded with mournful notes. So be it! She had had enough of the spirit. She wanted to feel free. Though how could she be free if she was a prisoner of the undersea kingdom? Perhaps after being in the same room with a gossiping spirit for more than an hour, she would feel free, even in a dungeon, if the spirit weren’t there. It seems that the music of the harp is pleasant, but the spirits that accompany it strongly resemble possessors. Once you listen to the harp, you are in their power. They beckon, press on consciousness, hypnotize. It is much more comfortable without them.
The water dragons, which at first might have been mistaken for the moldings on the pillars, crawled overhead and slowly followed Lilophea, as if they were supposed to be her bodyguards in Seal’s absence. Though what was there to guard the king’s wife from in his own palace? Is it no coincidence that Seal is so overprotective? Could that creature who yelled angrily at the wedding be dangerous? Or was it the one imprisoned behind walled-up doors in the king’s chambers that should be feared?
Right now Lilophea didn’t want to think about that. She hurried excitedly toward the doors with the bas-relief of the sun on their doors. The dragons behind her immediately lagged behind, as if the sun with a woman’s face frightened them. Turning around, Lilophea noticed that they were crawling away into the shadows, hissing as if the image of the sun was scorching them.
Something was not right here! The sight of the sun with its graceful girlish face captivated her herself at first sight. Such beauty! Lilophea ran her finger over it, and that face did not come alive to bite her. It was motionless and beautiful.
The doors opened easily. No key was needed. The amulet Lilophea wore around her neck was reflected in the empty eyes of the sun. For a moment it seemed like it was the passageway to the hall, where a measured glow poured over it.
No sun was imprisoned within. But it was as bright as daylight. In the center of the hall there was indeed an arch, like a bridge, with a parapet decorated with stone dolphins. The ends of the arch rested on the floor so that they could be climbed up like a bridge. Lilophea decided to try her luck. She easily climbed up and suddenly found that the bridge-arc was much larger and wider than she first thought, and its size was not limited to this hall at all. As she climbed higher, the bridge bifurcated. Then it parted. Lilophea was dizzy from the height to which she had suddenly climbed. The hall, it turned out, had no ceiling. Instead, water masses bubbled overhead, and after a while she managed to breathe in clean air. So it really was possible to go to the surface over the bridge! The harp spirit did not lie. It felt as if she were ascending to the very heavens. The ends of the bridge diverged in an unexpected tangle of new paths, making it possible to go farther and farther. The paths kept multiplying. Lilophea picked a path at random and found herself on a wide, azure bridge, with puffy clouds hanging low over the parapet.
And where was she? She couldn’t see the coast from the bridge. It was high and cool. The air is somehow damp, even foggy. The sea is raging under the bridge, and the clouds are peacefully napping above. She reached out her hand and touched one of them.
If she had known from the start that the bridge from the underwater palace led straight upward, she would not have tried to escape the first time she swam away from Seal to the surface. It turned out to be a lot simpler than that. You stepped onto the bridge, and there you are at the top. And the bridge also diverges in different directions in a tangle of branching and branched bridges and bridges. Each of their ends must rest on the shore of some state.
Here should be the way to Etar, to Sultanite, and home to Aquilania. But how do we know which one leads where? All the bridges are different shades, like a rainbow. Only a rainbow doesn’t have that variety of tones. All the bridges have different borders: seashells, corals, gold, silver, big pearls. Lilophea turned sharply, seeing a bridge with a railing made of dead men’s bones. It felt like it led to some creepy place. It was the realm of death itself, maybe. The sight of it sent a chill down my spine.
A network of bridges stretches in a labyrinth over the sea. There seems to be no way for humans to come here, except for those unfortunate ones who are lured here by the spirits of the sea. And why do the paths across the bridges give up to the Morgens, who can sail to any shore on their own? There lies some mystery here. But Lilophea was not about to become a pathfinder now. All she cared about was choosing the right direction to go. So she rejoiced when she spotted some boy at the crossing of the bridges. Probably he is the local sentinel. Winged fish, hovering over the parapets, whispered something to her about crossing guards. They were probably the place to turn for help if she got lost on the bridges.
Lilophea called out to the boy, but he did not turn around. She had to get as close to him as she could. He stood still at the exact spot where dozens of bridges, both wide and narrow, diverged in different directions at once. Some of the bridges went upward. Some went downward to the water.
“Which bridge leads to Aqilania?” She asked, and then hesitated. For to go back home would mean to leave Seal and all the wonders of the maritime kingdom. Without the wonders of the underwater world she could still survive, but to forget the underwater king… it was beyond her. His voice, his words, his beautiful face, his golden eyebrows and eyelashes… and also his blue skin and tentacles! But there was no need to think about the latter. What matters is not the monstrous thing about the king of the sea, but the feeling that he is the closest being to her in the entire universe. Only with him can it be good. And then there’s the feeling of being alone when he’s not around. Why on earth would he leave her alone for so long, giving her the opportunity to obey the evil spirit of the harp and throw herself into adventures? If Seal had not been away, she would not now be traveling through the maze of bridges over the sea.
The boy answered nothing. Lilophea had to touch him by the shoulder. Then he turned around, showing a creepy fish face with scales on it.
Lilophea couldn’t think of anything else to ask him, and standing next to him became unpleasant. She picked her own bridge at random and ran forward. The puffy skirts rustled around her legs like sea foam.
It took a long time to run. Without knowing the direction, it was difficult to navigate. Sometimes the bridges crossed each other, sometimes they had no railings, and it was scary to walk across them. The risk of falling back into the water and possibly being eaten by sharks was too great. Though shouldn’t they also respect the queen of the seas? Or would hungry sharks not care about the queen or the common food?
“Sharks are not the scariest thing that lives in the sea, sailors often said. Now Lilophea knew they meant morgens.
One of the bridges, orange like a flame, led her to the banks of Tioria, where the waterfalls
