Caelion raised his hands, and I watched, mesmerized, as the air itself seemed to bend to his will. He crafted a shimmering bubble; iridescent and air and water swirling, cast it over my other mates’ faces with a flick of his wrist. The bubbles clung to them like translucent masks, glowing faintly with an otherworldly luminescence. Then, with a grander gesture, he conjured something truly spectacular: a massive sphere of crystalline air, large enough to cradle all four of my cubs inside. It looked like a giant beach ball from my old world, only this one shimmered with prismatic colors, refracting the sunlight into dancing rainbows across the sand.
"Ready to be part of our world?" Caelion asked, and for a split moment a Disney movie popped in my memory, the little mermaid, Ariel.
He dove first, his body slicing through the turquoise water with hardly a ripple. I gasped as his legs began to fuse, the skin between them knitting together in a seamless transformation. Scales erupted in a cascade of sapphire and emerald, spreading upward like living jewels embedding themselves into his flesh. His feet elongated, webbed fins unfurling from his ankles, until there it was; a magnificent tail, powerful and gleaming.
He looked like something carved from myth itself. Like Poseidon had descended from Olympus. Like... well, like the most dashing merman a girl could ever imagine.
"Come in," he called, his voice carrying impossibly clear through the water. "The water’s warm... well, warmer than you’d expected it to be."
I hesitated for just a heartbeat, my toes curling in the wet sand. I trusted them; I knew they wouldn’t let me drown but the vast expanse of the ocean had always been my boogeyman. Pools were one thing. But the sea? The endless, hungry blue that had swallowed ships and sailors for millennia?
I stepped in.
The water embraced me like a lover; cool but not cold, silk against my skin. Ravin gently guided the cubs’ bubble into the waves behind me, and I heard their delighted squeals echoing from within their aquatic hamster ball. Caelion reached for my hand, his fingers webbed and strong and pulled me under.
Instinct screamed. I clamped my mouth shut, my lungs burning, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted to escape. We descended, the surface world growing distant and fractured above us, light bending into cathedral windows of liquid gold.
Caelion turned to me, his eyes still so beautifully, impossibly him, crinkling with warmth. He started talking, his voice still carried in the water "Just breathe... trust me."
Then he let go of my hand.
Panic flooded my system, he let go, oh gods, he let go and I flailed, bubbles escaping my lips in a desperate trail. I opened my mouth to scream, to curse him for betraying my trust, to—
Air rushed in.
Sweet, impossible air flooded my lungs and my mind shattered around the impossibility of it. How? There was no air here. Nothing but crushing blue surrounded us, pressing from every angle, filling every space. I should have been drowning. I should be gasping for air. And yet I breathed.
Not the desperate, burning gasp of a woman fighting for her life, but a true, deep, satisfying breath. The kind that fills your belly and spreads through your chest like warm honey. It tasted of salt, yes, sharp and briny on my tongue, but beneath that lay something else. Something that hummed against my teeth like electricity. Magic, it must be magic, this world its beyond anything I could think of.
I gasped again, not from panic now, but from wonder. Laughter burst from my throat, hysterical and delighted, and the sound didn’t die as it should have. It traveled, transformed, carried away in perfect spheres of crystalline bubbles that rose toward the distant surface like glass balloons, catching the fading light and turning it into captured stars.
"Wow," I breathed, clapping my hand over my mouth in disbelief. I could talk. Underwater? This is unbelievable.
"See?" Caelion’s laughter rippled through the current, sending tiny shockwaves of warmth against my skin. "You can swim and breathe just like me—just without the fancy tail accessory. Though I must say, the legs are growing on me."
"You scared me when you let go," I said, still breathless, still giddy, still processing that I was breathing underwater. "I thought I was going to be a part of this sea in a very permanent, very dead way."
Ravin glided up behind me, encased in his own shimmering bubble-mask, his massive form surprisingly graceful in the weightless blue. He held the cubs’ bubble with one hand, pushing it along with the dignified air of a king escorting his royal carriage, though I noticed his ears were pressed flat against his head and his tail swishing in the water, gliding.
"How are you feeling, Krys?" he asked, his voice pitched several notes higher than usual. He cleared his throat and tried again, deeper this time, more authoritative. "I mean. Yes. How are you. I cannot say I like this." A pause. "It feels... off. Being this far below the surface. Wrong, even. Deeply unnatural."
I looked past him to where Leon and Soryn floated, both wearing identical expressions of barely concealed panic. Leon kept flinching every time a fish swam too close, his hands hovering near his weapons as if he could stab the entire ocean into submission. Soryn looked... well, greener than usual, which was impressive for a man whose natural complexion already suggested "freshly exhumed."
"Leon?" I asked.
"I don’t like it," he said immediately, his voice clipped. "It feels wrong. Everything about this is wrong. There is no ground. There is only down and more down and then presumably very dead." He shuddered, watching a jellyfish drift past with naked suspicion. "I keep expecting to fall."
"And you, Soryn?"
Soryn pressed his lips together, looking like he was trying very hard not to be sick inside his own air bubble. "I’m... managing," he squeaked. Then, louder: "I am completely fine. This is fine. I love the ocean. The ocean is my friend." He gagged slightly as a curious octopus touched his tail with its tentacles. "Please get away."
I stared at them. My fierce warriors. My protectors. Three grown men who would happily face down a charging bull moose or a rival clan’s entire fighting force, reduced to trembling kittens and garden snakes by the concept of buoyancy.
"Interesting," I said, swimming a lazy circle around them. "Because correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you three love baths?"
Ravin’s ears would have flattened further if physics allowed. "That is entirely different."
"Is it?" I tilted my head, grinning. "Because last I checked, you loved diving under water to tease me. and Soryn, you and Leon practically fight over who gets to wash my back whenever we’re in the stream. Remember last time? You two were splashing each other like children, trying to ’accidentally’ bump each other out of the way so you could reach the soap first."
Leon’s face went red. Or as red as it could go underwater. "That was... the current was strong that day. I was stabilizing myself."
"The current was barely moving," I said.
"I am a large man," Leon said stiffly. "I require significant stabilization."
"And you, Soryn? You specifically requested I sit ’just there’ so you could ’thoroughly wash my hair’?"
Soryn puffed out his chest, which caused him to bob upward like an angry cork. He flailed for a moment, regaining his dignity with visible effort. "Bath water is civilized," he said, as if explaining to a very slow child. "It is warm. It is shallow. It comes with you naked in it. This water is cold and endless and contains things with tentacles that touch without permission." He glared at the octopus still swimming around him, who was now making soft, distressed noises.
"Also," Soryn added weakly, "in baths, I can stand up. Here, if I stop swimming, I just... keep going. Downward. Forever. Into the dark."
"Into the abyss," Leon agreed solemnly.
Ravin just nodded his agreement.
I laughed, the sound bubbling up and joining the hum of the crystals. "You three are ridiculous. My big, brave mates, terrified of a little water."
"We are not terrified," all three said in unison.
"We are experiencing," Ravin continued, pushing the cubs’ bubble forward with perhaps more force than necessary, "a healthy amount of situational awareness."
"Respectful caution," Leon added.
"Strategic discomfort," Soryn finished, finally getting away from the octopus and holding it at with caution.
"Sure," I said, patting Ravin’s shoulder, then Leon’s, then swimming over to boop Soryn’s nose. "Just stay close, my brave heroes. And remember, if anything goes wrong, I can breathe down here. Which means I’m the one who gets to save you."
"That is not comforting," Ravin muttered.
"It’s a little comforting," Leon admitted.
"I would prefer not to need saving at all," Soryn said, but he took my hand anyway, his fingers cold and clammy even through the water.
I spun in a slow circle, arms outstretched, watching my hair billow around me like a dark cloud, my three disgruntled mates trailing behind me like the world’s most reluctant parade. There were no restrictions here; no gravity pulling me down, no air running out, no fear of sinking. I was flying. I was free.
"This is amazing," I whispered, and even my whisper carried. I can’t believe something I’ve always dream about finally came true.
What little girl hadn’t pressed her nose against the aquarium glass and wished? Who hadn’t sung "Part of Your World" into a hairbrush microphone, dreaming of trading her feet for fins? I had. I had. And now here I was, swimming with my very own Prince Eric; well, four of them, actually, plus a tail, three anxiety disorders, and one very confused octopus who seems attached to Soryn.
"Let’s go," Caelion called from below, his tail giving a powerful sweep. "We’ve got a long way down before we reach the fish tribe."
"Joy," Ravin said flatly.
"I can’t wait," Leon lied.
"I’m going to be sick," Soryn whispered.
I laughed, taking all their hands in mine, and dove deeper into the glowing blue.
I checked on my cubs; dry as bones, giggling and pressing their faces against the bubble’s interior as fish darted past them like living confetti. Ravin guided their aquatic stroller with surprising tenderness, his massive hands keeping the sphere steady as we descended into the twilight zone.
The open sea surrounded us now, an endless cathedral of blue that shifted from turquoise to cerulean to indigo as we plunged deeper. Schools of silver fish parted around us like mercury splitting, their scales catching what little light remained and scattering it into stardust. The pressure should have been crushing, but Caelion’s magic held it at bay; I felt only a pleasant hug from the deep.
Then the temperature dropped.
It happened suddenly, a curtain of cold that swept over us as we passed some invisible thermocline. The water grew darker, denser, more mysterious. I shivered, watching my breath fog in little crystalline puffs before dissolving into the brine. For a moment, doubt crept in how deep were we going? What lurked in these crushing depths where sunlight doesn’t shine on or too deep for it shine on?
But then—light.
It started as a glow, faint and radiant, clinging to the rocks like bioluminescent moss. Then it strengthened, multiplied, transformed into something impossible and breathtaking. Crystals; massive, jagged, larger than houses; erupted from the seafloor, pulsing with internal radiance. Moonstones the size of wagon wheels were embedded in the rock faces, casting silver beams through the darkness like underwater spotlights. And the weeds! They swayed in the current, each frond tipped with miniature stars, turning the ocean floor into a galaxy made of living things.
We swam into the city, and I forgot how to breathe; not because I couldn’t, but because the beauty stole my breath entirely.
The fish tribe city rose before us like Atlantis reborn. Spires of coral, bleached white and glowing pink, twisted toward the surface in impossible architecture. Buildings were grown, not built; shaped from living nautilus shells, their chambers serving as windows that glowed with warm, inviting light. Bridges of woven kelp connected towers that housed thousands, and everywhere, there was movement.
Mermaids with tails of every color imaginable; ruby and amethyst and pearl, glided through the water, their hair floating like banners. So I guess mermaids and merman of every color is true. Shark-finned warriors patrolled the perimeter, their dorsal ridges cutting through the water with predatory grace. Whales the size of castles drifted past the city gates, their songs echoing through the structures like living foghorns. Dolphins raced between the buildings, playing tag with children who had gills flaring at their necks and webbed hands.
And then I saw them; the tentacled ones.
They drifted near the city’s edge, their lower bodies a mass of undulating arms that put any Disney villain to shame. Not Ursula, exactly. No one was that purple or that bitter, but the resemblance was uncanny. Yet among them swam others who were breathtakingly lovely—tentacled beings with pearlescent skin that shimmered like abalone shells, their arms trailing behind them like gossamer ribbons in a breeze. Some had faces so beautiful they made my heart ache, with full lips curved in mysterious smiles and eyes like liquid mercury. Their upper bodies were humanoid, regal even, with wise eyes that seemed to hold centuries of ocean secrets. One of the pretty ones raised a hand in greeting, her tentacles curling in a graceful dance that might have been a wave or an invitation, her smile promising either welcome or wickedness; or perhaps both.
It was surreal. It was impossible. It was—
"Awe-inspiring," I breathed, the word barely sufficient for what expanded in my chest.
I had met beast-folk on land; wolf beastmen and bear beastmen, lion beastmen, and many more. But this? This was a whole other world, a civilization as old as the tides, hidden beneath the waves where land-dwellers never dared to look.
"Welcome," Caelion said, taking my hand again, his tail brushing against my legs in a caress, "to the fish tribe. Where the seaweed is always greener, and every creature has its own little niche."
I laughed, the sound bubbling up and joining the song of the crystals, the hum of the whales, the whisper of a thousand fins. This was crazy. This was magic.
"So," I said, grinning at my merman mate, my warrior, my cubs floating wide-eyed in their bubble behind me. "When do I get my dinglehopper?"
"You’re what?" Caelion asked, his tail pausing mid-stroke, his head tilting in that adorable, confused way that made his wet hair drift across his forehead like dark seaweed. His brow furrowed, creating a little crease that would have been funny if I hadn’t been suddenly drowning in a different kind of depth.
I couldn’t help the Little Mermaid puns. I was in the deep ocean, surrounded by mermaids and mermen in their actual natural habitat, living the dream I’d sung about into a hairbrush at seven years old. The irony was very delicious, the reference too perfect. How could I not?
Caelion looked at my other mates, his expression of bewilderment spreading like a contagion. "What’s a... a dinglehopper?"
Ravin, still bobbing nervously in his bubble, shook his head. Leon, who had been watching a passing school of fish with suspicious intensity, shrugged his massive shoulders. Soryn, greenish but present, simply stared at me with blank confusion.
None of them knew.
How could they? They didn’t have Disney in this world. No animated classics, no sing-alongs, no DVD players, the "Under the Sea" number over and over. They didn’t know about Ariel and her fork, about Sebastian and his anxiety, about the crab who just wanted everything to be perfect for the prince.
They didn’t know about any of it.
"It’s nothing," I said, forcing my voice light, breezy, dismissive. "It’s a phrase from my old world. Nothing important. Just... a silly word."
But the lie tasted bitter on my tongue, saltier than the ocean water I was somehow breathing.
Because it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.
It was Saturday mornings in footed pajamas, cereal turning soggy while I stared entranced at the television screen. It was my mother humming "Part of Your World" while she braided my hair. It was the first time I’d seen the ocean in person, standing on the Santa Monica pier at age nine, convinced I’d see a mermaid if I just looked hard enough. It was the hope chest of dreams I’d packed carefully in the attic of my heart, all the stories and songs I listened to while growing up.
And they were gone. All of them. Trapped in a world I could never return to, shared with people who would never exist here. I could talk about dinglehoppers and Sebastian and poor unfortunate souls until I was blue in the face, and no one, no one, would ever understand why I smiled when I said it.
The weight of that loneliness hit me then, sudden and sharp as a hook through the ribs. I was surrounded by four men who loved me, by four cubs who needed me, by an entire underwater city glowing with wonder and magic, and yet in this moment, I had never felt more isolated. I was an island of foreign culture in an ocean of people who spoke a different language of the soul.
I swallowed it down. Hard.
The lump in my throat didn’t dissolve so much as relocate, settling heavy in my chest like a stone dropped into still water. I smiled, bright and sharp and practiced, and I swam closer to Caelion, taking his hand in mine, the coolness of his scales.
I had to be happy. I chose to be happy.
I had four mates who would die for me. Four cubs who is growing day by day making my life happier than I had ever been before. A life of adventure and magic and beauty that most women in my old world would have traded their souls to experience. I was literally living the fairy tale.
So why did it feel like I was leaving something precious behind every time I took a breath?
"Show me the city," I said, and my voice only wobbled a little. "I want to see everything."
Caelion’s eyes softened, searching my face as if he could see the cracks in my mask. For a terrible moment, I thought he would see, the sorrow I was trying to bury beneath wonder, the homesickness I had no right to feel in paradise.
But then he smiled, squeezing my hand, and led me forward into the glowing spires.
Behind me, I heard Leon mutter to Ravin, "Do you think she’s okay?"
"She will be," Ravin answered, low and certain. "She’s a strong female."
I closed my eyes for just a second, letting their love wrap around me like a blanket, and I made myself believe it was enough.
It had to be enough.