Swimming around him, I force him to face me, teasing him to find a crack in his armor.
"If you keep disobeying the natural order of things," I warn him, "you will lose your status. Stealing trinkets? Refusing to court the ladies? The Elders will punish you."
"Not possible," Vaelis says, his chin held high. "I am a Red. I have the blood of the deep. I can do whatever I want."
I study his absolute confidence. He defies the entire world without a second thought.
"I like your drive," I whisper. "I look up to you. I want to be like you." I pause in thought. "Does that mean I can pursue potions? Can I study alchemy instead of the spear?"
Vaelis grimaces, the playful arrogance draining from his face. He offers a genuine warning.
"No, Mira. That path is different."
"Why?"
"Alchemy corrupts the blood. If you feed your foolish fixation," Vaelis says, "you'll rot in the dark. Just like the evil witch."
The forbidden danger fuels my curiosity.
"What witch?" I ask.
Lowering his voice, Vaelis leans in close. The shadows of the cave dance across his scales.
"They say there's a monster living in the Silt District," he whispers, spinning a terrifying tale. "She was once a young mer, like you. She dabbled in dark potions. The magic twisted her biology, to the point she no longer appears to be a mer at all. She is a horrific abomination. She lives in the dark, feeding on the desperate."
He tries to scare me, using the tone young boys employ to frighten their peers.
I'm not scared. I'm intrigued. A mer who defied the Council and bent magic to her will. A mer who carved her own power, and her own path.
We part ways outside the cave.
Vaelis swims back toward the royal spires, his crimson tail disappearing into the glittering light.
I don't report to the training grounds.
Turning my tail, I swim down.
Leaving the warm, sunlit waters of the upper city, I swim toward the lower docks, where the light fades and the water grows heavy with cold.
I'm searching for the old prophet.
Thalos the Elder sits alone on a rusted iron pier.
He is ancient. His scales are the color of oxidized copper, a muted, beautiful green-brown. His fins are tattered and long, floating like torn kelp. His eyes are golden, his white hair trailing behind him.
Swimming up to the pier, I grip the rough stone edge.
"Thalos," I say, bowing my head.
The old mer looks down at me. His bright eyes crinkle at the corners.
"Little Mira," he rumbles. His voice is a deep, comforting scratch in the water. "You are missing your combat drills. The Vanguard will not be pleased."
"I have a question," I say, ignoring the warning. "About the witch in the Silt District."
Thalos loses his smile. Sighing, a heavy sound stirring the silt around the pier, he bends his long body down to my level. Despite his age, his movements hold a fluid, enduring grace.
"Curiosity is a dangerous game in the Reef, child," Thalos says. "Playing with such things leads to severe punishment here."
