“Tyler!” It’s a woman’s voice, sharp with authority. “You know better than to wander off during a tour! The restrooms are outside, just like Ms. Morgan told everyone.”
“But I wanted to see some treasure,” comes the petulant reply.
“Back upstairs. Now.”
Their voices fade as they return to the tour group. I remain frozen for several more minutes, hearts pounding. Such a near miss. Had the old door’s lock not held, and the child found me…
The consequences unspool in my mind like a nautical chart marking dangerous waters. Discovery. Panic. Perhaps violence.
Certainly the end of Ashe’s position here—her reputation in tatters, her livelihood stripped away because she showed compassion to a wounded creature.
Nearly an hour passes before I hear the distant clamor of departing children, followed by blessed silence. Eventually, Ashe’s familiar tread approaches, and the lock clicks open.
Her face appears in the doorway, flushed and slightly harried. “All clear. They’re gone.”
I uncurl from my defensive position, stretching tentacles that have grown stiff from immobility. “One of your charges attempted to enter.”
“Tyler,” she sighs, pushing hair back from her forehead. “His teacher apologized about fifty times. Apparently he has a history of wandering off.”
“The door held firm,” I reassure her, though we both know how tenuous our security truly is.
She collapses into the armchair by the window, suddenly looking exhausted. “That was too close.”
“Indeed.” I move beside her, my tentacles gliding across the worn floorboards. “Ashe, we must discuss what we have both been avoiding.”
Her eyes meet mine, resignation already shadowing them. “Your wound is healing well.”
“Yes.” I settle myself opposite her, arranging my limbs in what I hope is a non-threatening configuration. “I believe I’m recovered enough to return to the water.”
She nods slowly, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the armchair. “I knew this was temporary.”
“The risk grows with each passing day,” I continue, forcing practicality into my voice. “Not just the risk of discovery, but the danger to your position here. This lighthouse is your home.”
“It’s just a job,” she says, but we both know it’s far more than that. This tower of stone and light is her anchor in a world that has taken too much from her already.
“It’s a job you excel at. One that provides you purpose.” I extend a tentacle toward her, stopping just short of contact. “I wouldn’t see you lose it on my account.”
Outside, gray clouds have begun gathering on the horizon—the leading edge of the storm system forecast to arrive tonight. Nature providing the perfect cover for my departure.
“There’s a weather front approaching,” I note. “Strong winds, heavy precipitation. Conditions that would keep even the most determined tourists and fishermen indoors.”
“You want to leave tonight,” she says. Not a question.
“It would be prudent.”
She rises abruptly, moving to the window to stare at the darkening sky. “And then what? You just… disappear back into the ocean? We pretend none of this happened?”
The question pierces more sharply than expected. What indeed? I have existed in isolation for so long that the prospect of returning to it suddenly seems unbearable.
These few days with her—filled with conversation, with touch, with being seen in my true form without horror—have awakened something I had thought long dormant.
“I have a place,” I say finally. “A cabin, hidden in a cove north of here.”
This catches her attention. She turns from the window. “A cabin? On land?”
“I acquired it during my years as Captain Sterling,” I explain. “Before the Great Unveiling stripped away my human disguise. It sits on a private inlet, accessible primarily by water, though there is a difficult forest path as well.”
“And you’ve maintained it all this time? Even after…”
