“Please…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, the last embers of hope flickering desperately within me. “I’ll go alone. Just… please, let me go.”
The queen regarded me for a long moment, her emerald eyes searching mine. Finally, she sighed, a sound like the rustling of kelp in a strong current.
“Fine,” she conceded, her voice heavy with the weight of her decision. “But you have three days, the time of the full moon, to bring theFlor da Luaback. No more.”
Relief, sharp and sudden as a jolt of electricity, surged through me. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” I released a breath, bowing my head in gratitude. I turned to leave, my tail flicking powerfully, sending a flurry of bubbles swirling around me in my haste.
“But…” Nerina’s voice, sharp and commanding, stopped me in my tracks.
I turned back slowly, the sound of my heart a heavy drumbeat in my ears. Dread coiled in my stomach. I didn’t want to hear any ‘buts.’
“Luzia,” Nerina’s voice turned cold, the previous softness vanishing like a ripple in the water. Her eyes held mine, sharp and piercing. “You know why interaction with humans is forbidden. But you, of all my subjects, should understand the true cost. You carry her name, after all.”
The weight of her words settled upon me, heavy and cold—my great-aunt.
“I remember your namesake,” the Queen continued, her voice a low, bitter current. “She had the same fire in her eyes that I see in yours. The same reckless heart. She, too, thought she could bridge our worlds. She fell in love with a human.”
The Queen’s gaze became distant, clearly lost in a painful memory. “She chose him. She chose the land. And when she left, she did not go empty-handed. She took our most sacred artifacts with her, theSeolaisandSussuron. TheSeolais, the one true key that unlocks our ancient magic, and theSussuron, the vessel that holds our history… our maps, our songs, our deepest knowledge. One is useless without the other. She stole our heritage and left it fractured, leaving us powerless to reclaim it.”
Her eyes snapped back to me, the fury returning. “That is the true scar of betrayal. It is not just that humans hunt us. It is that we can be tempted to forget who we are. Do not make her mistake. Do not let a human heart poison yours.”
I stood frozen, the story a chilling revelation. “I understand, Your Majesty,” I replied, my voice steady though my insides trembled.
“Whether or not you find the flower, you are to return here by the dawn after the full moon. Otherwise, this is no longer yourhome. You will not be allowed to enter… ever,” she warned, her voice low and dangerous.
“I will find it.” I had to, and I would. I didn’t care if the queen didn’t believe I could do it or if the others here were too gutless to come with me.
“Promise me, Luzia,” Nerina insisted, her gaze piercing.
I placed my hand on my heart, bowing my head in a gesture of solemn commitment. “I promise, Your Majesty.”
“May the energy of the river keep you safe,” the queen said, her voice softening once more. “And may I see you again in three days, either with or without the flower?”
I bowed one last time, then turned and swam quickly away, the queen’s warning echoing in my mind, no longer a simple rule, but a chilling, personal reminder of the stakes of my quest.
CHAPTER 3
Caio
The familiar silhouette of Riomira, nestled against the emerald embrace of the Amazon rainforest, filled me with a sense of homecoming so profound it ached. The boat’s gentle rocking beneath my feet was a soothing rhythm against the backdrop of the river’s murmur, a lullaby that eased the tension that had coiled tight within me during my months in the city.
Standing at the prow, I breathed deeply, the humid air thick with the scent of river water and damp earth, filling my lungs. It was a welcome contrast to the sterile, air-conditioned confines of the university library. This was where I belonged—by the river, amidst the vibrant pulse of the rainforest, not trapped within the concrete jungle of Manaus.
I’d hired the boat—a splurge, but I craved the river’s healing touch, a respite from the relentless pressure of my studies. The boatman, his face a roadmap of wrinkles etched by sun and river winds, had sized me up with shrewd eyes, recognizing a city boy ripe for the picking.
Even mentioning my parents, respected members of the Riomira community, hadn’t softened his resolve. He’d seen the crispness of my city clothes, the gleam of my new watch, and the scent of opportunity had filled his nostrils.
I’d paid the exorbitant fee, happy for the solitude his taciturn nature afforded me. Now, as the contours of my family’s dock came into view, he cut the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the river’s whispers.
A familiar tightness constricted my chest, a grim reminder of the city’s grip. The pollution, stress, and endless hours hunched over textbooks had all taken their toll. I fumbled for my inhaler, its metallic coolness a familiar, unwelcome weight in my palm. Two puffs, and the world slowly regained its focus. I was halfway through my medical degree, so close to realizing my dream of returning to Riomira, of bringing healing to the people who lived along the river’s edge. I wouldn’t let this weakness, this persistent shadow of asthma, hold me back. I would breathe, persevere, and heal.
The river, a shimmering, sensuous ribbon of liquid gold under the afternoon sun, flowed past, carrying with it whispers and secrets. Its surface, a mirror reflecting the vibrant green of the rainforest canopy, rippled and danced, almost as if something beneath were stirring. The air, thick and intoxicating, hummed with unseen energy, a pulse that resonated deep within me. I found myself staring into the depths, a strange, inexplicable pull drawing my gaze toward the swirling currents. It was as if the river itself was beckoning me, promising something both exhilarating and dangerous.
This was the lifeblood of the Amazon, a source of both sustenance and solace, a constant reminder of the interconnectedness of all living things. Being here, surrounded by its ancient wisdom, I felt a sense of peace I had never found in the city—a sense of belonging.
My fingers brushed against the cool, smooth surface of the pendant that lay hidden beneath my shirt. It was a small, intricately carved wooden disc depicting a woman with a fish’s tail, her arms outstretched toward the moon. A legacy passed down through generations of women in my family, it was a tradition broken for me, an only child.
It was part of a larger collection, a series of similar carvings that told a story, a legend whispered in hushed tones by my grandmother. It was a story of river spirits, magic, and a hidden world just beneath the surface.
