The seafloor shuddered. Merfolk staggered back. Gasps shattered the harmony. Voices faltered.
Someone screamed.
Maleia lunged for me, her fingers inches from my wrist—
The water snapped back. Lashed at her hand. Forced her away. The hum deepened—too rhythmic, too precise to be accidental.
Constellations flared across my vision. Patterns I didn’t recognize. Stars arranged wrong.
The Tidekeepers did not react like the others—not in fear, not in surprise, but with the precision of those executing a familiar protocol.
No cries.
No scrambling.
One inclined his head—barely a motion—eyes flicking to the others in a silent exchange too quick to grasp. Another was already lifting his staff, not in alarm, but with practiced precision.
Now,something in their posture said.
A crushing force snapped around my magic. Cold. Primal. Tight as a vise.
The Tidekeepers cut me off.
The weight of their power slammed through me. I choked, pain splitting behind my eyes as blood filled my mouth and drifted upward in a thin, scarlet ribbon. My strength went with it—drained so suddenly my vision dimmed at the edges.
I must have pushed too hard. Or not hard enough.
The light collapsed—but the emptiness didn’t. Holding myself upright took more effort than it should have. Something inside me stayed hollow, the song had been cut out mid-note.
The shockwave died in a hard, brutal drop.
The entire chamber had seen it. Felt it. They would never forget it.
Merfolk stepped back from me the way one might retreat from a wounded shark—slow, cautious, eyes sliding away as if looking too long might invite disaster.
Even the pod leaders looked shaken. The Court exhaled in fragments.
Whispers rippled through the gathered merfolk—fear, awe, disbelief tangling in the wake of what I’d done.
The Tidekeepers lowered their staffs in unison, movements precise and controlled. One adjusted the fall of his robe. Another steadied himself. No fear lingered in their eyes.
Only calculation.
A brief glance passed between them—quick, restrained—before Calder inclined his head once, confirming a task completed to satisfaction. Then he turned to the court.
“The imbalance has been contained,” he said calmly. Contained.
Containment required compliance. Resistance made power like mine unpredictable—and unpredictability was the one variable the Tidekeepers refused to gamble with. Abrupt corrections had a way of tearing holes where none had existed before.
Maleia swam to me, gripping my arm harder than she meant to. “Nerina… are you okay? What was that?”
Before I could answer, Calder cut in.
“It was dangerous.”
His tone was quiet, but the word sliced.
“It was uncontrolled,” another Tidekeeper murmured.
