Her mouth tightened. “I don’t know what I am,” she drew a slow breath, then added, almost reluctantly, “…but I want to.”
She shut her eyes, then exhaled.
“I never really fit there,” she admitted, staring toward open water. “Even before all of this… before I left… it always felt like something was missing.”
“Not good enough,” I said, stepping closer. “That kind of power doesn’t come from nowhere. And it doesn’t appear overnight.”
She turned as if to argue—then stopped. That hesitation told me more than the argument would have.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
Reminder: speak softer. Flies and honey, or whatever they say.
“Look. I don’t know how to handle this either. But you need to give me something. I need to know who—what—I’ve brought onto my ship.”
I lowered my voice. “If you don’t know what you are… then what do you know?”
Nerina paused, glancing toward the sea before looking back at me.
“I know I wasn’t supposed to leave Thalassia,” she said slowly. “I know my mother kept things from me. Things about who I am. About what I am. And I think that thing—” she nodded toward the artifact, “—is part of it.”
She crossed her arms, posture tightening as if bracing for impact.
“You think I don’t know I’m different from the other merfolk? I’ve always felt… unusual. Like I didn’t belong. They never said anything outright, but I couldfeelit. There was something about me they didn’t understand. Something they feared.”
I tilted my head. “And you never questioned it?”
“I tried. Every time I got close to an answer, the Tidekeepers made sure I stopped looking.”
“Why?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Why would they care what you found?”
Nerina hesitated. “I don’t know. They were always watching—always making sure I never stepped too far outside the lines they drew.”
“Tidekeepers,” I repeated. “And what exactly are they?”
She sighed. “Guardians of Thalassia. Keepers of our history and laws. They ensure order among the merfolk and serve as Meris’s closest advisors. They’re powerful, relentless, and they don’t tolerate disobedience.”
The name landed heavier than she seemed to realize.
Meris.
I kept my expression neutral, but something tightened in my chest. Most people spoke of Meris the way they spoke of storms—something you survived, something you prayed never noticed you.
Sailors cursed her. Witches bargained with her. Even the boldest kept her name at arm’s length.
Nerina didn’t.
She spoke as though Meris was near. Familiar. I filed the thought away.
Nerina glanced at me, something unreadable flickering across her face. Under it—fear.
She is scared of them.
Her voice dropped, a tremor barely concealed. “They’ll come for me. The Tidekeepers. My mother. They’ll send threat after threat until they drag me back to Thalassia.”
The sea answered with a low, distant groan—too deep for thunder, too deliberate to dismiss. The water darkened a shade. Currents tightened beneath the hull, closing.
I let out a bitter huff. “They can try.”
