I’d drowned. I was sure of it.
I think.
The last thing I remembered was Gavin’s firm grip. His eyes, fierce with determination, right before I plunged beneath the frigid waves. I could still feel it, that helpless slide of our fingers separating. The magic was stronger than both of us.
Fear had clamped down on my chest. Then came the vortex, swirling and tumbling me like sea glass. The ruins of my family home had flashed in my mind. My friend’s faces, Gavin’s, werethe last to fade. And in that final flash, his eyes still held mine. Not the horror-rimmed look from the ship, but the one from the alcove. The one that had made me hope for something more.
But those hopes were dashed, and then the whirling current stole the breath from my lungs, and I inhaled the promise of salty death. Darkness filled my mouth, my throat, spilling into my veins. A pain so intense, I begged for peace.
Except when it came, I didn’t die.
You came home.
The siren-like voice curled through my mind, making my heart race as I searched for the source.
But I was alone.
Had my friends survived? I had to believe they were still on the ship. That the storm had passed, sparing them. Anything else was too hard to accept.
I pressed my palm to the slippery cushion beneath my body. The bedding was made of seaweed.
Where was I?
Bars formed from pearlescent coral stretched from floor to ceiling at one end of the cramped chamber. The other walls were made of black, claustrophobic rock, lit by faint shafts of light. A corroded metal bowl lay partially buried in the sand near a shale slab that created a small table.
It was too quiet, as if I hadn't fallen into the sea, but into that endless void beneath the rope bridge. Into a dark pit of nothing.
Unease slithered through my body. The sparse furnishings. The thick bars. I answered my own question.
This was a cell.
I winced, my muscles spasming as I pushed myself up on myelbows and braced my palms against the padded seaweed. But the movement felt unnatural. Wrong.
My eyes shot wide. The confusion clouding my senses evaporated, and with a jolt, I scuttled backward until my back hit the rock.
No. Nope! This is not happening.
I couldn’t look away as I open-mouth stared at where my legs should have been. In their place, shimmering scales tapered into an almost translucent fin. I blinked once. Twice. My mind battled to rewrite what I was seeing.
The tail—no, my tail—swished, curling toward me like I’d bent my knees. My stomach lurched, and I clapped a hand over my mouth. I was going to be sick. Bile coated my throat, and my vision blurred again. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could still see my fin as if it had been burned behind my eyelids.
How is this possible?
My heartbeat kicked up another notch as I braved a second glance and let my trembling fingers explore the silken scales that started near my hips. The smooth surface felt foreign, but undeniably real.
A wave of dizziness passed through me. My hand glided up my bare abdomen to the edges of a green kelp wrap that covered my chest. The strands of my hair flowed eerily around my neck and shoulders, swaying with the movement of water. A wide swath floated in front of my face, and I grabbed the saturated locks to pull them closer.
The length had turned a rich purple hue. Similar to the amethyst crystals in the hair comb. It was as if the magic inside had leached into the strands and stained them, leaving its cryptic mark. The rest of my hair was still a dark shade of brown.
I looked for the comb, but it was gone. And I was glad to berid of it. Look what it had done to me! I was afraid that if I saw it now, I’d rip it apart, strip the pearls, and grind the crystals against the rock. I needed to destroy it. Even if it was the only thing that could change me back. I wished I’d never laid eyes on it, never listened to its siren charm.
Magic was a terrifying thing. And I wanted to scream into the void because there was an irony to my fate.
Most people believed mermaids were a myth. But I knew they were real. I’d spotted one once, below the cliffs outside my family home. When I told my father on our daily walk, he drew pictures in the sand of a beautiful underwater kingdom. A realm of sand and salt, with a castle carved from stone with glittering coral spires.
He said it was the land of our ancestors, and I giggled, imagining myself among them. Young girls often dream of becoming a princess, wearing lavish gowns, and finding a handsome prince.
I dreamed of becoming a mermaid.
