I awoke on half-flooded stairs, and my body was nearly ready to wash itself away. Panicking but weak, I recognized that I was on the main staircase in the entrance hall to Kraken Moor.
“You are awake!”
My head rolled to the side and I saw Mrs. Cotts rushing down the stairs to me. She took my body beneath my arms and hauled me up the stairs to where the water had yet to rise. I do not remember how long I sat there, but Poseidon eventually walked up the steps and out of the water in his diving suit. Looking at me through the front glass window of the round, brass helmet, he found the strength to pick me up and carry me to a bedroom on the second floor.
Resting in bed, Gunnar Haupt in a bed on the other side of the room, I wrote into this journal the story of that day and thought the story over.
But it is not.
I am not sure why it is not, but the look of concern I see on Poseidon’s face as he stands by Gunnar’s bed, his eyes constantly finding mine, tells me there is more to come.
I do not think I can bear it.
He rises to his feet, and walks towards me.
…
This is what he said:
“It did not work. Not fully. The room we were in … it is flooded. The whole basement is flooded. Half of the first floor is flooded and all of the grounds and flooded. Your sacrifice … it broke the gate but it has not sealed it. The Kraken … I am sorry, Miss Sharper, but the Kraken is caught between worlds and we do not know in which realm he will eventually take root.” He motioned to Gunnar. “If the boy was irrevocably damaged by Tchitok, I would gladly sacrifice him, but he recovers. I believe it to be Tchitok’s attempt at revenge for you not following his plan.” Poseidon shook his head, which looked as old as time itself. “If I had just left you there … but I thought we had won … I thought I could save you and the world. I did not realize I had to choose. I can never offer proper apology to you, Miss Sharper.”
I said nothing, but nodded.
I knew what was being asked of me, and having already sacrificed myself once, I found the strength to do it, again.
These are my last words.
Praise be to God.
Your unworthy, unfaithful servant,
Beatrice Sharper.
