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Surprisingly, the presence of the orcas didn’t instill fear, but rather kindled a flicker of hope within me. Their casual, indifferent inspection imparted a reassurance that perhaps my situation isn’t entirely hopeless. Unfortunately, that comfort was fleeting. As they disappeared into the depths, the stark reality of my isolation and peril quickly returned.
I will die alone.
Lost at sea, my whereabouts unknown to anyone, the likelihood of rescue diminishes with each passing moment. No one knows where I am, and no one will come to save me.
chapter six
As I head toward Moonshadow Drop, Stormy's pod races back from the outer boundaries, brimming with eagerness to share the information they've collected during their hunt. Four orcas encircle me, their bodies thrumming with excitement as they respectfully make space for their matriarch to speak first. Stormy glides ahead, casting a stern gaze upon her children to ensure absolute silence. With a commanding presence, she prepares to relay the crucial information, holding their attention with her authoritative look.
"The sentinel sirens guarding the entrance to the Spectral Sea told us of a half-mortal woman adrift just beyond the drop. They believe the gods themselves have placed her there," the matriarch explains, her voice carrying the weight of the news.
"Half-mortal?" I echo, my eyebrows knitting together in intrigue. Something about Stormy's words sends a jolt through my heart, making it flutter with an unexpected rush of curiosity. It should mean nothing to me, yet inexplicably, centuries of pent-up anticipation weigh heavily on my chest, constricting my breath and making it nearly impossible to draw air.
"Yes," Stormy confirms, nodding toward her youngest son, Kirby, who agrees eagerly. "He got the closest to her and believes she's half water nymph. But she must not be aware of it because she was desperately struggling to stay afloat."
Stay afloat? A surge of protectiveness sweeps over me, stirring my emotions into urgent action. I quickly thank them for their valuable reconnaissance and swim off at high speed, driven by a sudden, compelling need to help.
Traditionally, my kind avoids interactions with mortals, and they lack the means to trouble us. Despite the numerous gateways the Spectral Sea provides to the mortal realm, none are visible to humans. They would see only nothingness or treachery ahead, storms that deter them from proceeding on their journey. They would only continue to travel in circles until they eventually tire and abandon their journey. The witches of the Otherworld cast spells over our borders making them impossible to breach with divine permission. In truth, none come close enough to try.
As I approach the western gates, a voice calls out—an unearthly captivating melody that urges me onward, compelling me to swim faster. It feels as if fate itself is guiding me toward this stranded girl. I feel the urgency within my heart and throughout my very essence. Breaking the surface, I zero in on the faint sounds of splashing and a scent that awakens something deep within me.
Could she be my mate? Has fortune finally blessed me with this precious gift? Fueled by a mixture of hope and a sense of destiny, I surge through the water. Even if I am mistaken, someone is in dire need, and I am determined to provide aid.
I pass through the invisible gates and sprint toward the source of the sound, my concern mounting as the movements grow sporadically quieter. Each pause heightens my urgency, pushing me faster through the water in a desperate race against time.
As I draw nearer, her scent intensifies, overwhelming my senses and embedding itself deep within my consciousness. This undeniable connection confirms without a shadow of a doubt that the woman in distress is indeed my fated mate. I've finally found her, and I might be seconds from losing her for good. I have to reach her—my life depends on her survival.
When I reach my tiny mate, she's given up her fight and surrendered to the depths. Her heart continues to beat with a faint but persistent rhythm. Her dark hair fans out above her, framing her face in the shadowy water. Her exhausted body, clad only in a sheer white slip, yields to the chill of the current, slumping with the delicate grace of a wilted flower. I move quickly, determined to revive her spirit and restore her strength.
Diving beneath her, I gently wrap my hands around her waist and guide her upward toward the surface. As we ascend, I press my lips to hers, a deliberate act meant to stir the latent otherworldly powers within her. This intimate connection seeks to awaken her dormant gifts, a vital spark to revive her fading spirit and help her understand who I am.
My delicate mate stirs to life with a sharp gasp, her eyes widening in astonishment as she discovers her newfound ability to breathe underwater. Startled and overwhelmed, she meets my gaze, her eyes brimming with fear. In a frantic effort to escape, she kicks and flails, instinctively struggling against my unfamiliar embrace, undoubtedly fearing that this mysterious being before her might finish what the merciless sea had begun.
As we break through the water's surface, I am finally graced with my fated mate's exquisite voice, a privilege that stirs deep emotions within me.
“Release me!” My mate pounds her fists against my shoulders, struggling desperately to escape my hold. Her efforts to break free only exhaust her further and her expression of fatigue soon gives way to tears. Using the last of her dwindling strength, she whispers, "I have to get home," before her resistance fades. She slumps forward, her head coming to rest against my chest in surrender.
I don't know how long she's been adrift, but from her weary state, there's a strong possibility she hasn't slept in days.
“What's your name, little one?” I ask, cradling her close to my chest as we submerge beneath the waves. Overjoyed by this discovery, I begin the lengthy journey back to Mirinthia, ensuring she feels secure and protected in my arms throughout the voyage.
"Nerissa," she whispers drowsily, her voice barely audible as we drift through the water. She seems so weary that she might not even realize she's speaking underwater.
Nerissa. Her name is the sweetest sound I've ever heard, enchanting me with every syllable. She carries a scent that tugs at my memory, unmistakably familiar. If I were a betting man, I would wager she is the daughter of Marine, a water nymph and former subject who departed the Otherworld after falling in love with a human. Such a lineage would explain the deep connection I feel toward this woman. And with a name like Nerissa—so regal and fitting—it seems she is unmistakably destined to become the Queen of Mirinthia.
"Where are you taking me?" Nerissa murmurs faintly, her eyelids fluttering closed as she slowly succumbs to sleep.
"I'm taking you home, Nerissa."
chapter seven
“Am I dead?” I whisper, the words barely escaping my lips as I entertain the horrible thought that I might now be a ghost, awakened in the depths of the ocean, doomed to roam my watery grave for eternity. I recall the moment I gave in to exhaustion, silently praying that someone would eventually find my body and return it to my parents. The thought of them clinging to hope, spending their lives in an endless search for me, is the last thing I want. I hoped for closure, for their sake, to spare them that prolonged agony.
“No, silly, you’re not dead. You’re in Mirinthia, the Otherworld kingdom of King Egon,” a fair-haired woman explains as she swims behind me, adjusting a pillow and humming a tune in a high-pitched, somewhat grating voice.
I blink rapidly, my vision surprisingly clear under the salt water. Disbelief grips me as I spot her long blue mermaid tail swishing gracefully through the water. Am I hallucinating? The clarity of my sight underwater and the surreal appearance of this mermaid fill me with wonder and a tinge of confusion.
"Mirinthia? Am I dreaming? You're a mermaid—how can any of this be real?" I stutter, my feet flailing as I try to orient myself and take in my surroundings. Despite breathing and speaking underwater, I feel no water enter my nostrils or pass my lips. It all seems utterly impossible. A creeping realization dawns on me—I must be dead, and this is purgatory for people who die at sea, for nothing else could explain this bewildering experience.
