Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 184: The Tide’s Memory

The sun was barely up when Jax unveiled his masterpiece in the courtyard.

"Behold," Jax announced, wiping grease from his forehead. "The Sidecar."

It was attached to the Iron Wyvern. It wasn’t just a box with a wheel. It was a plush, leather-lined pod painted a deep, royal blue. It had suspension runes, a windscreen made of enchanted glass, and—most importantly—a cup holder.

"It’s ridiculous," Primrose said, staring at it. "It looks like a baby carriage for a Warlord."

"It’s magnificent," Ophelia declared. She was already wearing her leather jacket and sunglasses. She vaulted onto the bike seat. "Get in, Little Fox. We have an ocean to inspect."

Primrose climbed into the sidecar. It was surprisingly comfortable. She looked up at the palace balcony where Caspian stood watching them.

"We’ll meet you there?" Primrose called out.

Caspian nodded. He tapped the blue scales on his wrist. "I will take the coastal route. The currents are fast today."

"Don’t be late, Fish-Boy!" Ophelia revved the engine. "I hate waiting!"

VROOOM.

They shot out of the gates, leaving a trail of blue mana-exhaust and terrified pigeons in their wake.

They didn’t go to the public beaches of Solaris. Ophelia guided them further north, to a jagged peninsula known as Cape Solitude.

In the current age, it was just a rocky outcrop where seabirds nested.

But Ophelia didn’t see the rocks. She saw the ghost of a castle.

She parked the bike near the edge of the cliff. The engine ticked as it cooled.

Ophelia walked through the tall grass, her hand trailing over invisible walls.

" The Great Hall was here," she whispered, stepping over a fallen pillar covered in moss. "The floor was made of pearl mosaic. When the sun hit it, it looked like we were walking on water."

Primrose followed her silently. She could feel the Ninth Tail buzzing at the base of her spine—a sympathetic vibration to Ophelia’s grief.

"And here," Ophelia stopped at a crumbling stone archway that led to nowhere but the open sky and the sea below. "This was the balcony. This is where he asked me."

"Etienne?" Primrose asked softly.

"Yes," Ophelia smiled, tracing the rough stone. "He was so nervous. He dropped the ring. It rolled right off the edge."

Primrose gasped. "He lost the ring?"

"Oh, no," Ophelia laughed. "He dove after it. In full ceremonial armor. Splashed into the sea, retrieved it, and climbed back up dripping wet with a crab stuck to his pauldron. He proposed while coughing up seawater."

She leaned her forehead against the archway.

"He was an idiot. But he was my idiot."

A splash echoed from the cove below.

A moment later, water coalesced on the cliff edge, forming a staircase. Caspian walked up from the surf. He wasn’t wet—the water simply rolled off him like oil.

He approached them, wearing his King’s attire—a deep teal tunic embroidered with silver waves.

"Cape Solitude," Caspian noted, looking around the ruins. "The Jaoiren records call this the Summer Spire. It was destroyed during the Second Serpent War."

"Of course the Serpents broke it," Ophelia scowled. "They ruin everything. No offense to the little alchemist boy."

Caspian walked up to the archway. He stood next to Ophelia.

For a moment, the resemblance was striking. The same jawline. The same eyes. The same way they held their shoulders when looking at the ocean.

"He wrote about you," Caspian said quietly.

Ophelia froze. Her hand, resting on the stone, flickered transparent for a second before solidifying.

"He... he did?"

"Every day," Caspian said. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a small, waterproof cylinder made of dragon-bone. "The Royal Journals of King Etienne I. They are kept in the deepest vault of Sunless City."

He handed the scroll to Ophelia.

Ophelia took it with trembling hands. She sat down on a flat rock, her legs suddenly unable to hold her weight.

She unrolled it. The ink was faded, but legible.

Cycle 4, Year of the Tide.

The Fox is angry with me again. I told her the tails looked fluffy. Apparently, ’fluffy’ is an insult to a warrior. I must apologize with roasted chicken. She loves the crispy skin.

Cycle 10, Year of the Tide.

She is sleeping. The crystal has closed around her. I cannot break it. I tried. I broke my trident against it. The Mages say she is safe, but she looks so cold. I will wait. Even if it takes a thousand tides, I will wait.

Ophelia read the words. A tear splashed onto the parchment.

"He waited," she whispered. "He didn’t hate me for leaving?"

"He visited this cliff every year until he died," Caspian said gently. "He never took another Queen. The lineage continued through his brother, my ancestor. But his heart... his heart stayed in that crystal with you."

Ophelia clutched the scroll to her chest. She let out a sob that sounded like something breaking and healing all at once.

"That stubborn, stupid fish," she cried, laughing through the tears.

Primrose sat beside her, wrapping an arm around Ophelia’s shaking shoulders.

"Are you okay, Grandma?"

"I’m better than okay," Ophelia sniffled. She wiped her eyes on her leather sleeve. "I got my letter. It only took a millennium for the mail to arrive."

She tried to stand up.

"Right! Enough crying. We need to—"

She stumbled.

Her legs didn’t just give out. They vanished.

From the knees down, Ophelia turned into pure white light.

"Whoa!" Primrose caught her before she hit the ground.

Caspian moved instantly, kneeling to support her other side.

"Grandma!" Primrose panicked. She could feel the lack of weight in her arms. Ophelia felt like a bundle of dry leaves. "Caspian, stabilize her! Use the Heart!"

"I’m trying," Caspian said, his hands glowing blue as he poured mana into her. "But the vessel... it’s porous. The mana is leaking out as fast as I put it in."

Ophelia looked down at her missing legs. The light was creeping up past her knees.

"It’s time," Ophelia said calmly. She didn’t look scared. She looked annoyed. "Damn it. I wanted to see the wedding."

"You will!" Primrose insisted, tears streaming down her face. "We’ll move it up! We’ll do it tomorrow! Just hold on!"

"Primrose," Ophelia said sharply. "Look at me."

Primrose looked. Ophelia’s blue eyes were bright, burning with the last of her will.

"I can’t stay. The Merge is happening. If I fight it, I’ll just dissipate into nothing. If I let go... I become part of you."

She reached up and touched Primrose’s face. Her hand was solid again, but barely.

"I want to be part of you," Ophelia whispered. "I want to taste the wedding cake through your mouth. I want to feel Caspian’s love through your heart. I want to see the new world through your eyes."

"But I’ll miss you," Primrose sobbed.

"I’ll be right there," Ophelia tapped Primrose’s forehead. "In the back of your mind. Reminding you to add more salt. Telling you when Rurik is being an idiot."

She looked at Caspian.

"Take us home, King. I don’t want to fade on a rock. I want to fade in the kitchen. It smells better there."

Caspian carried her to the sidecar. She was so light he could have lifted her with one hand.

Primrose sat in the sidecar, holding Ophelia in her lap like a child.

Caspian drove the bike. He didn’t use the engine. He used his wind magic to push them forward, smooth and gentle, so Ophelia wouldn’t be jostled.

They arrived at the palace as the sun set, painting the sky in shades of gold and fire.

The Warlords were waiting. Rurik, Rajah, Cassian, Lucien.

They saw Caspian carrying Ophelia. They saw Primrose’s tear-streaked face.

They didn’t say a word.

Rurik stepped forward and bowed his head. Rajah slammed his fist to his chest in a salute. Cassian lowered his staff. Lucien melted into a shadow of mourning.

They formed a guard of honor as Caspian carried the fading legend inside.

They brought her to the kitchen. It was warm. It smelled of the leftover pizza dough and herbs.

They sat her in the big wooden chair by the fire.

The kids—Vali, Arjun, Jasper, Silas, Orion, Clover, Ellia—crept in. They sensed the shift in the air.

"Is she sleeping?" Clover whispered, clutching her stuffed carrot.

"She’s going on a trip," Primrose said, her voice shaking. She knelt beside the chair.

Ophelia opened her eyes. She was transparent up to her waist now.

"Don’t look so sad," Ophelia chided them weakly. "I’m just... upgrading."

She looked at Primrose.

"Item number four," Ophelia whispered. "The Ocean. I saw it. It was beautiful."

"We did the list, Grandma," Primrose smiled through her tears.

"Almost," Ophelia murmured. Her eyes were starting to drift. "I never... got to try... that Mojito."

Primrose moved faster than she ever had in battle.

She grabbed a glass. Mint. Sugar. Lime. Rum. Soda.

She muddled. She mixed. She poured.

She held the glass to Ophelia’s lips.

Ophelia took a sip.

Her eyes sparkled one last time.

"Tart," Ophelia whispered. "Refreshing. I approve."

She leaned her head back against the chair. She looked at the ceiling, but she seemed to be seeing something else. A merman in golden armor, holding a ring, dripping wet.

"Okay, Etienne," Ophelia breathed. "I’m coming."

She closed her eyes.

The light expanded. It wasn’t violent. It was soft, warm, and silver. It filled the kitchen, wrapping around Primrose like a blanket.

Primrose gasped. She felt a rush of heat, a flood of memories that weren’t hers—the taste of dirt, the sound of a trident hitting a shield, the smell of the sea in the First Age.

And then, the light faded.

The chair was empty. The leather jacket and the boots were left behind.

But Primrose...

Primrose opened her eyes.

They weren’t just silver anymore. They were Silver with a ring of Deep Ocean Blue.

Behind her, nine tails unfurled. Not the translucent mana-tails she usually summoned. But nine, physical, fluffy, majestic silver tails.

She took a deep breath. She didn’t feel empty. She felt full.

"Prim?" Caspian asked, stepping forward.

Primrose looked at him. She smiled. It was Primrose’s smile, but there was a sharp, sassy edge to it that hadn’t been there before.

"I’m here," she said. Her voice echoed slightly, layering two tones into one.

She picked up the Mojito glass Ophelia had left. She finished it in one gulp.

"Needs more sugar," Primrose declared.

She stood up, her nine tails swaying hypnotically.

"Alright, family. No moping. Grandma hates moping. Who wants dinner?"