I realize that he will never return to himself.
That he will never be whole.
Because he chose me.
No.
His shadow cuts through the water, refusing to abandon me as the sea pulls me deeper into its seemingly endless dark. The pain that had consumed me moments ago fades away as I drift further away from the fragile world above.
Something else enters the water. As I drift in and out of consciousness, it descends steadily toward me, its shape widening as it falls, passing through Sable’s shadow without resistance.
I force my eyes to open again when coarse fibers brush against my arms and tighten around my body.
A net.
Unseen hands above begin to pull, dragging me upward against the will of the sea. And even though drowning is a scary way to go, I’d rather sink to the bottom of the sea than fall into their hands.
Sable’s shadow seems to understand this. He stays close, his form wavering in the broken reflections of the lantern light above as he reaches for the ropes binding my body, again and again, but no matter how urgently he tries to tear them apart, they don’t give in.
He shakes his head in panic, not in denial but in helpless acknowledgement that he cannot free me. But then his eyes widen, and his mouth forms a single word meant only for me.
Look.
His gaze drops toward my legs as pain begins to take root.
It starts as pressure, but quickly grows into something far more deliberate, something structured. It spreads through muscle and veins with an increasing intensity as my body begins to change. To shift.
Without being driven by any conscious thought, my knees draw together. The bones beneath my skin begin to shift and realign, their fragile human structure collapsing inward as something stronger takes its place. The pain sharpens as the transformation continues downward, my lower legs lengthening even as the joints dissolve.
I reach for the hand of Sable’s shadow as the surface comes closer.
“I am here,” he says, as his fingers wrap around mine, squeezing. The voice sounds distant, muffled by the sea, but it reaches me anyway.
My legs form into something seamless and whole. The muscles along them tighten and strengthen as they fuse, forming something powerful and unmistakable. I feel its weight even through the net that binds me, feel the subtle, instinctive awareness of its presence, and though I cannot move it freely, I know it belongs to me in a way nothing ever has.
My tail.
It is beautiful.
Not in the way human things are beautiful, not fragile, but powerful and whole. Scales and muscle form a pink armor that I’m sure would help me travel far, if only I weren’t captured.
A flicker of light beneath me draws my attention away from my tail. Faint at first, barely more than a thread of light, the Glimpulses weakly through the water as if it has been waiting for my shift. My chest tightens as it drifts closer, its glow strengthening with every pulse. It lingers in front of me, then flares, sudden and bright, before vanishing completely. The scales of my tail catch the remaining light filtering through the water, their surface shimmering in soft shades of pink and pearl, iridescent in a way that reminds me of the Sea of Dreams.
The net tightens as I am dragged higher, the fibers biting deeper into my skin as the surface breaks around me and cold air replaces the sea's comforting embrace.
It is only then that I realize I should’ve drowned. I was under the water for what felt like an eternity, and there’s no way I held my breath for that long. My body convulses violently at the sudden absence of water, the air more suffocating than drowning has ever been. I open my mouth on instinct, but nothing comes. Panic surges through me.
I gasp again, my jaw straining open, but my lungs only stutter, useless. Moments ago, I was breathing without effort, and only now do I understand that I was never holding my breath at all.
Trembling, my hands reach for the side of my throat.
My eyes widen in shock. Gills. Of course, I have gills. But do I have lungs?
“Breathe,” Sable’s shadow says, his voice insisting. “Just breathe. Slow.”
My eyes meet his as the net jerks hard, hauling me fully from the sea, the water pouring from my body in heavy streams. My chest spasms again as I try to force air into my lungs that now feel so foreign, so purposeless. The deck comes into view. With the lack of oxygen, the voices around me become distant and distorted. Violently, they drag me over the railing, my tail heavy and unresponsive beneath me as exhaustion settles into my bones.
My vision flickers, and I force my eyes open.
