The sea stretched to the horizon, grey and green and endless, the sky reflected on its surface like a promise. The air smelled of salt and life and something ancient that made my blood sing. I had forgotten how beautiful it was. I had forgotten how terrifying.
Caelion stood at the water’s edge, his pale hair whipping in the wind, his face turned toward the waves with an expression I could not read. He breathed deep, his chest expanding, his eyes closing. I watched him, and my heart hurt. He was so far from his home, his people, the waters he had been born to. All because of me. All because he had chosen to bind himself to a land-dweller.
He did not complain. He never complained. But I knew this was not his preference, this dry existence, this separation from the source of his power. The sea was his home, and he had left it for me.
He opened his eyes and found me watching him. He smiled, and it was real, but I saw the longing there too, the hunger for the deep.
Then he ran. Three steps, four, and he launched himself into the air, arching like an arrow before he hit the water. The splash was silver and sun-bright, and when he surfaced, he was changed.
His legs had fused, the fabric of his trousers dissolving into scales that shimmered blue and green and violet in the light. His tail was long and powerful, finned and flared, absolutely stunning in its alien beauty. He was a merman, truly and completely, and the sea welcomed him home with open arms.
He laughed, the sound carrying across the water, and he turned to me with joy lighting his face. "You ready?" he called.
I smiled, my throat tight with emotion. "Yes," I called back. "Of course I am."
He raised his hands, and the magic came. Air bubbles formed, shimmering and iridescent, each one large enough to hold a cub. He sent them floating toward the shore, one for Atlas, one for Ryder, one for Chase, one for Jasper. The older cubs giggled as the bubbles settled over their bodies, their eyes wide with wonder.
The three newborns he placed together in a single larger bubble, Sikai and Niku and Levara floating like pearls in a glass case, their tiny paws pressing against the membrane with curiosity.
For Leon, he created a bubble that fit over only his face, a mask of air that would allow him to breathe while the rest of him will remain encase in water once he goes in. Leon accepted the magic with a nod of thanks.
Leon gathered his cubs, as he walks toward the sea, carrying them. They twirled in their bubbles, spinning and laughing, delighted by the weightlessness, the strangeness, the adventure of it all.
I looked at Soryn. His face was practically green, his stomach clearly rebelling at the thought of what came next. But he straightened his shoulders and accepted his bubble without complaint.
"Not your first time," I observed.
"Still hate it," he confirmed. "But I will endure. For you. For them." He gestured at the cubs. "For the adventure."
One by one, my mates entered the bubbles, the magic settling over them like blessings. Ravin looked grim but determined. Leon was already testing the limits of his face mask, blowing bubbles and watching them float away. Veylan was examining the membrane with scholarly interest, poking it with a finger since this was his first time, and also Aureon first time, he looked like he was reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this moment, but he stood firm.
Caelion swam to me, his tail flashing beneath the waves, and reached out his hand to take mines. I didn’t need the bubbles since becoming Caelion’s mate I could breathe underwater, which still amazes me.
I took his hand, feeling the scales against my palm, and together we descended into the blue.
We swam deeper, the light from above us fading to a distant memory, replaced by the soft glow of bioluminescence that clung to the rocks like scattered stars. I watched the newborn cubs, their tiny faces pressed against the membranes of their shared bubble, eyes wide with wonder. It was their first time in the deep, and they loved it as much as their older siblings had on their first journey. Sikai tried to catch a passing fish through the barrier, his paws leaving smudges on the surface. Niku batted at a jellyfish that drifted too close, giggling when it bounced away. Levara simply watched, regal even though she’s only a month old, her dark eyes reflecting the blue-green light.
I turned to look at my older cubs, who were now in their individual bubbles instead of clustered together. Atlas had discovered that he could make his bubble spin by running in place, and he was currently attempting to set a record for most rotations. Ryder had found a school of silver fish and was trying to race them, his bubble bumping against Ravin’s every few seconds. Chase was attempting to stand on his bubble’s surface, which physics would not allow, resulting in a lot of falling and laughter. Jasper, ever the observer, was simply floating, his eyes tracking the movements of a manta ray that glided past like a shadow with wings.
Ravin, tasked with keeping them in line, was having a time of it. He kept having to swim ahead and physically push Atlas back toward the group or grab Ryder’s bubble before it floated into a coral formation, or rescue Chase from yet another upside-down tumble. His face was set in lines of grim determination, the same expression he wore when hunting particularly difficult prey.
Aureon and Veylan swam nearby, their bubbles close enough that they could speak if they shouted. Both were in awe, their eyes tracking the alien beauty around them; the coral spires that reached like fingers toward the surface, the schools of fish that moved as one mind, the strange creatures that glowed and pulsed in the darkness. But they seemed to be taking it much better than Soryn, who still looked green even in the blue light, his face pressed against his bubble as if he could will himself back to dry land through sheer force of concentration.
We continued swimming, and gradually the darkness gave way to light. Not the light of the sun, filtered and distant, but the light of the city itself. Crystals embedded in the rock walls pulsed with soft radiance, arranged in patterns that suggested streets and home of the fish tribe. Fish with lanterns attached to their fins swam in orderly rows, lighting the way for travelers. Gardens of kelp waved in the current, their fronds dotted with pearls that caught the light and threw it back in rainbow arcs.
It was beautiful. It was haunting. It was nothing like the world above.
Soon we were in the heart of the fish tribe, the Mer folk city rising around us like a dream made stone and coral. The palace was ahead, a structure of spiraling shells and mother-of-pearl that caught the light and sang with it, a low harmonic hum that vibrated in my bones.
Caelion stopped in front of a guard, his tail flashing in a pattern that I recognized as a signal. The guard, a young merman with scales of green and gold, nodded and darted away. It did not take long for his father to come out and greet us.
The Mer king did not look different from the last time we had seen him. His eyes were tired, his smile weak, his shoulders bowed under responsibilities. He looked drained. Unhappy. A male who had been given power and found it poisoned, who loved a female who despised him in return.
"Hello father," Caelion said, his voice carrying clearly through the water. He did not bow. He did not smile. "I am here to get some information, if you have time."
Caelaris looked at his son, as if seeing him for the first time in years. Then his gaze shifted to me, to the cubs in their bubbles, to the males who surrounded me like a wall of protection.
"You look well, child," he said finally.
"Yes," Caelion said, and there was an edge to his voice, a sharpness that cut. "My mate treats me well. She loves me."
I knew it was a jab. I knew the history, the pain that lived between these two males like a wall of thorns. Caelion’s father had never cared to take care of him, had never seen him as anything but a child his mate despise, someone who wasn’t important as trying to win the favor of a mate who wouldn’t give him another chance. Caelion’s own mother had wanted to get rid of him, had despised him as the son of the mate she loathed, a male who survived while her beloved was killed protecting him. Caelion had grown up unwanted, unloved, a prince in name only, and now he stood before his father with a family of his own, loved and chosen and whole.
Caelaris flinched. Just barely, just enough to show he understood the barb. He gave us a weak smile, the expression of a male who had lost this battle before it began. "That is great news," he said, and he almost sounded like he meant it. "Come. Let us take this talk in a private setting."
He turned, his own tail flashing silver in the light, and we followed him through the palace gates, past guards who watched us with curious eyes, past courtiers who whispered behind their hands. We followed the Mer king to his meeting room, a chamber of coral and crystal that overlooked the deep trench where the city ended and the abyss began.
He turned to us once the doors were closed, once the guards had been dismissed, once there was no one to hear but family.
"Now tell me," he said, his voice tired but resigned. "What brings you all here?"
Caelion took a breath. The gesture was vulnerable, the child seeking the parent he had never truly had.
"It is about the Azure Sovereign," he said, his voice carrying the weight of words that should not be spoken aloud.
The Mer king looked at us. Waiting for us to continue.
"Father," Caelion continued, pressing forward before courage could fail him. "Krys gave birth to a daughter a month ago. When she was born, she glowed with the blue light. The sign of the blue bind." His voice dropped, carrying the weight of their fears. "The healing tide runs in her veins, Father. As a child born with the power, we are not sure what to expect. If she is safe. If the power will go berserk." He looked at me; his pale eyes filled with worry. "It is a power that is not supposed to exist, at least according to our history, when it died with the fourth daughter. Until Krys came along carrying that blue bind." He took a shaky breath. "What can we do to prevent other beasts from finding out? What can we do to protect her?"
Caelaris looked at us, his expression softening. "I do have some knowledge," he said slowly. "But I am afraid it is not much."
I stepped forward, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Whatever it is, please. Anything helps."