“I am not fully a sea creature like you are. Ineedto shift, or my body will be forced to do it. Can you imagine how much slower we’ll be if I have to swim by only kicking my legs?” Tiny black pupils glare at me before he darts a little farther ahead as if he can’t even bear to be next to me. As if it’smyfault. Rolling my eyes, I swim up to the surface in search of a place to safely change and rest.
Swimming through the thick layer of the Spell, I raise my head just enough so that my hazel eyes can scan our surroundings. The beaches of the Mortal Kingdom stretch far and wide in front of me. I follow the long line of tan sand at the water’s edge, my disappointment growing when I don’t see a place suitable for my needs.
Sinking back under the surface, I’m about to voice the setback to Mashaka when he darts around me until his long snout pokes at my back. “What are you doing?”
He swims out in front of me and squeaks, the sound distinctly one of exasperation, before he takes off, leaving me to follow. He moves leisurely, and I wonder if he’s also feeling as exhausted as I am. Minutes pass before Mashaka pivots to the right, heading towards the Mortal Kingdom’s shore.
“Wait!” I shout, but of course he doesn’t listen. My apprehension grows the closer we get, and I scan the waters looking for anything that might be a threat. The bottom of the seafloor nears, gradually lifting towards us. Only then does he slow, spinning around and letting out a lower-pitched squeak. My gaze slides from him to the shore in the background. “You want me to go there?” I ask, pointing. He doesn’t answer, just swims past me and back towards the deeper water. “Wait, take my bag please!” Mashaka keeps swimming, and I’m half convinced that he’s going to ignore me again when he abruptly turns and makes his way back. I slide my bag over him, letting it hang mostly from his dorsal fin. “You look adorable!” He snapshis teeth at me and then races back out into the sea. Turning to face the shore I mumble, “There is a fifty percent chance he’s leading me into a trap,” I mumble to myself while I swim as far as I can before shifting into my mortal form and lifting my head from the water. Though I suppose at the beginning of this journey that chance would have been closer to one hundred percent, so I guess I should be happy for the progress in our relationship.
The sand in front of me gives way to a rocky alcove, the gray and white striated rocks creating a natural arch that blocks the sun’s rays. I try to stand and immediately stumble, saltwater stinging as it shoots up my nose. I’m sent into a coughing fit as I crawl the rest of the way, my legs wobbly from the lack of use in this form. Finally reaching the alcove, I check again to make sure I’m alone, before spinning to lay on my back with a huff. In my full mortal body, my braids give way to tight ringlet curls, the strands fanning out as water skims over them. The trapped feeling slowly eases away with the gentle tide, and I close my eyes, the sound of the waves lulling me into further relaxation.
I always feel different above the surface—not necessarily like Ibelonghere, but like I am grasping at a freedom that I can’t gain beneath it. If there were a way I could live as a mortal, completely forsaking my siren form, I think I would do it. That’s my final thought as I begin to drift into sleep, the warm air blanketing my nude skin as the water softly laps around my body.
I wake just before the sun sets, lavender and wisps of pink coloring the sky above. The beach is still empty though a few ships have set anchors down in the distance. Crawling through the shallow water glimmering with the Spell, I wait until I’mdeep enough to transform. Ruby-red scales cover my breasts and sides, gradually turning into golden yellow as they move down my forming tail and ending with a rich emerald green that stops at my tail fin.
The waters are calm as I search for Mashaka. My exploration draws me closer to one of the ships bobbing on the water, more dotting the surface nearby.
“Where are you, you little sea monster?” I grumble, pausing about twenty feet from one of the smaller boats. Though it’s difficult to spot them, I can just barely make out the long and wide nets that the mortals on the vessels above have cast into the water to catch fish. It would be my luck to accidentally get caught in one of those, so I’d much prefer that we hurry and leave this area before that happens. “Mashaka!” I shout as a glint of silver scales catches my eye.
Spinning to the right, I watch a small school of tuna swim in my direction, chased by none other than Mashaka. I pinch my lips together, watching as he viciously snaps his mouth and tries to catch one of the zig-zagging fish ahead of him. The school changes direction, but Mashaka is quick and powerful and pivots with them. It isn’t until the shadow cast by one of the boats moves that I see they are swimming directly towards one of the nets.
“Stop! Stop, Mashaka!” I scream, darting to intercept him.
But he’s too focused on catching his dinner, and as the tuna pivot again, they lead him directly into a net, the impact of them all smacking against it causing the boat above to rock.
“Mashaka! No!”
Dread feels like an anchor of its own within me as I watch him get twisted within the net. I dart towards him while the mortals above begin to haul the netting up. I don’t know if they’ll release him. Gods, they might evenkillhim so he doesn’t scareaway the fish they are here to catch. I finally reach Mashaka, his bound body only a few feet beneath the bottom layer of the Spell.
“I’m here,” I tell him, trying to cut the net open with my talons, but the frantic movements of both him and the caught tuna makes it difficult to find a spot to tear at. “Mashaka, calm down!” He squeaks out in terror, his black eyes wide as the voices of the men hauling him grow near. “Mashaka!” I shout as loudly as I can, the sound reverberating against the bottom of the boat and finally knocking him out of his panic. He stills, his gaze snapping to mine. “I’m going to help you.”
At first, I try to find logical places to slice into the netting that I think will free him with the least amount of pain. But the net is already past the bottom of the Spell and mere feet away from breaking the surface.
“Shit,” I hiss, abandoning caution in favor of hastily freeing him.
“What isthat?” a male voice asks, and though I know the Spell is mostly crystalline, I’m hoping there is enough distortion to cause them to pause.
Mashaka stays still, watching as I shred more and more of the rope holding him. The top of his dorsal fin breaks the surface of the water, both of our terror growing when hands grip the netting next to him. I finally disconnect it just before the entirety of his body breaks the surface. The fish scatter as they fall back into the water, leaving Mashaka to sink—his body still too wrapped up in remnants of the broken net to move efficiently. I wrap my arms around him and guide him away from the boats and in the direction we need to continue on our journey.
“Let’s get far enough away that they won’t be a threat, and then I will free you.” He responds with a series of squeaks that would make me laugh in any other situation. “What would Allegra say to know you almost got bested by anet?” I tease. At the mention of my sister, Mashaka tenses and goes silent. I canfeel the quick flutter of his heartbeat beneath my arms, and guilt slams into me as we continue our escape. “I’m sorry, Mashaka,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond, so I keep going, waiting until the sun has set and the half-moon is shining above us before slowing down. I edge closer to the shore so I can set him down on the sandy ocean floor and begin slicing away at his confinement. It’s a meticulous process, some of the thin ropes spun so tightly around him that they have begun to cut into his skin. He squeaks in protest at almost every piece I remove, but eventually, he settles down and lets me work. I cut the last piece off of him, thankfully finding my bag still hanging from his dorsal fin, and back up to let him swim.
“We should have a quick meal and rest before attempting the rest of our journey.” Without a sound, he darts past me and back out into the open waters. “You’re welcome,” I groan as I follow behind him.
We easily catch a few salmon and find a spot to sleep between some phosphorescent anemones and coral, their faint glow brought on by the light of the moon. I curl my tail in and stack my arms to lay my cheek on top of after our meal, closing my eyes and willing sleep to come.
We finally reach the Northern Island roughly four weeks after leaving Lumen—if I’m counting the days correctly. The sun is barely past the horizon, the sky a blend of deep orange and bright blue, when I tell Mashaka to stay close to the shore and then change into my mortal form and begin to crawl towards the beach.
While I’m still not sure I can call the delphinidae a friend, since saving him from being captured by the fishermen, hehasbeen nicer to me. Sometimes, he even brings me the first fish he catches before going back out to catch another for himself.
Standing on shaky legs, I trudge slowly over the white sands of the Northern Island, the sight of the beach without the Spell lining it a bit jarring. Climbing over white boulders made smooth by the crashing of the surf, I clutch my bag while I observe the narrow staircase. It is carved into the dark stone that makes up the cliffside, Virgreen Palace sitting atop.
My ringlet hair hangs down past my hips, dripping water and partially covering me as I scale the steps. The dark stone is cool beneath my feet, granules of sand scraping my soles with each step up. I have to stop and lean against the cliffside multiple times, my leg muscles shaking from being used in this way. After what feels like hours, with sweat beading on my brow, I crest the very top of the cliff and drop to my knees as I catch my breath.
Once the rushing of blood in my ears fades, I slowly stand and nearly get knocked back down by the sight of the palace. It’s massive, perhaps even larger than the one in Lumen, and instead of pearlescent white, aged tan stone makes up the structure. Though its overall shape is rectangular, four towers of differing heights are built into it, two each at its front and back. Green vines and moss cover much of the palace’s front, the plants hanging down over carved stone archways.
There’s a ghostly quiet, one that clings to me as I walk towards what I hope is an abandoned manor. Climbing another set of stairs, my hand drags along a smooth stone banister to help me with balance as I enter a small round portico—if my memory of above-ground architectural terminology is correct. The plants are all overgrown, clearly no one visiting long enough to care for the space.
