Page 4 of Storm and Sea

“That’s it?” Atreus asked the first time he watched his friend dive.

“What? Think you can do any better? Go on then,” Leo challenged.

Of course, Atreus refused. He was careful to stay away from the water’s edge whenever a human watched. Even his best friend.

But right now, he was alone and free to be himself.

Atreus pulled deeply, a sensation akin to inhaling, letting the seawater flow through the gills at his neck. The delicate layers fluttered as they extracted life-giving oxygen from the water. Even if he never surfaced again, Atreus wouldn't drown. And that is exactly what most Mer did. Live their lives hidden in the sea. Away from humans. They were content with life beneath the waves, never knowing the kiss of a summer wind. Atreus often wondered what it would be like to live as the others did.

“But you aren’t like the others.

Are you?”

Atreus didn’t need the reminder as he concentrated on untying the empty lobster traps.

The Mer in the local village, hidden within Baia Vita’s bay, were covered in scales of varying shades of peridot and moss. Their bodies were small, fins rounded, and they blended into the kelp they so diligently farmed. Not for the first time, a pang of longing struck hard as Atreus imagined what his life might have been like if he’d been born to look like them.

From a distance, anyone who spotted him beneath the waves would say he was a unique shade of cerulean blue, that is, until they got close enough to see the truth. Sporadic scales in varying shades of indigo, séance, and cobalt mixed with flecks of midnight made him look like a mosaic of cool tones. These colors spread to his fins, where the purple became more dominant, and when the sun hit him just right, hidden streaks of magenta blended the outer edges of his dorsal and tail fins.

As a kid, he’d taken pride in having an identical tailfin color to his father—a vibrant purple fading to magenta along the spines. But therein lay the problem. While his father’s body was entirely purple, Atreus’s scales were predominantly blue. Something was wrong with Atreus, and it all started and ended with the color of his scales.

They never spoke of his birthplace—his home tribe across the sea. Even mentioning it soured his father’s mood faster than fish skins left to rot in the sun. Over the years, though, using scraps of discarded comments, Atreus had managed to piece together this much:

His home tribe wanted him dead.

From the moment he was born, Atreus had been marked for death—all because of the color of his scales. But that hardly seemed like a good enough reason to murder an infant.

Atreus didn’t fully understand it, and his father refused to explain. It was the threat to his life that forced his father to take him in the middle of the night and flee. Leaving behind a life Atreus would never know.

A mother he’d never remember.

Atreus sentenced his father to a life of exile for the crime of being born. He supposed that, after years of isolation, his father had enough. And left.

“Shouldn’t be allowed to exist.

They wanted you dead.”

The voice hissed at him, each syllable a cruel reminder that his very presence was a crime in someone’s eyes. Not for the first time, Atreus wondered if things would have been better if he’d been silenced as a babe. Never a burden.

His head shot up as the sound of a rumbling engine hummed above him. The underside of a boat glided across the surface as it returned to the harbor. Likely escaping the incoming storm. The sound of an engine alone would have sent most Mer diving beneath rocks.

Atreus smiled. He didn’t need other Mer. He’d made a life for himself with their natural enemy. With humans. And since they were the only ones who would have him, the only ones who would accept him as one of their own — Atreus would gladly align himself with them.

“They only accept you because

they don’t know what you are.”

The whisper in his head might as well have been a shout for how long it rang in his ears.

Doing his best to ignore it, Atreus untied the final lobster trap, glad to see the large pincers of a king male snacking on the bait inside. At least he’d eat well while the storm ravaged the sky.

But the voice wasn’t done with him. It pressed against his mind, slithering inside like a sea snake ready to inject its venom. Atreus snapped and acknowledged the insistent whispers—anything to stop the internal assault.

They’ll never know what I am. As far as they’re concerned, I’m just like any other human. I’ll be fine as long as I stay away from the water.

“And how long until that happens?

How long until you slip, and