Page 72 of Storm and Sea

“Right. Well, anyway, I better get some chairs. Hopefully, I’ll be stuck at this booth for a while taking sign-ups.”

She skipped away, leaving him to watch Nyel go from stranger to stranger, looking more at home than Atreus ever had.

A jolt of clarity shook his chest as he finally pieced together the nameless feelings that paraded in his chest every time he thought of the sireno.

I don’t want him to go.

The sky blushed with molten hues as the sun set over Baia Vita. The island stirred, coming alive with an energy that buzzed in the air like the hum of cicadas. Strings of lanterns crisscrossed the square and stretched between buildings, their flickering light dappling the cobblestones in hues of amber and crimson. The golden glow climbed the hill to illuminate the island’s only windmill, its weathered blades turning lazily in the summer breeze. Laughter spilled from every corner, carried on the scent of roasting hazelnuts and citrusy wine. Booths and stalls lined the square, each overflowing with an array of treasures: meats glistening with juices, candies wrapped in jewel-bright paper, fruits so ripe their sweetness mingled with the aroma of sugar-filled pastries. Other vendors sold handmade soaps, glittering jewelry, and finely stitched clothes.

A kaleidoscope of colors and sounds wove together in a timeless tapestry. Boisterous melodies from fiddles and accordions tangled in the cool evening breeze as dancers swirled, their skirts snapping like waves against the shore. Children darted between booths, sparklers crackling in their hands, their sticky fingers leaving traces of frosting on their clothes. The laughter of old folks, already deep into their wine glasses, rose above the music, blending with the rhythmic stomp of feet.

Baia Vita wasn’t just alive—it was a symphony of hearts beating as one. The very sands spoke, and they all said the same thing.

We are here.

For one night, everyone could forget about the fishing vessels that prowled outside the bay. For one night, they could forget about their dying town and just be. Atreus wanted nothing more than for this feeling to last all season.

Normally, Atreus would spend this night in his lighthouse, barely catching the distant echoes of music. But tonight…tonight he would be here, amongst the people, the humans that permanently took up residence in his heart.

Even if he’d never be one of them. Never feel the lifeblood of the island flow in his veins. Not like they did.

“An imposter.”

“Are you coming?” Nyel urged by the front door. He was buzzing, waiting about as patiently as a pup on a lead. “The sun is down; that means it’s started, right?”

An irrepressible grin intruded on Atreus’s lips, despite his best efforts to force it away.

They’d dressed in their ‘nicest’ clothes, which meant the ones with the fewest holes. Atreus was in a cream long-sleeved button-down and tan dress pants. Nyel sported a short-sleeved orange collared shirt that he left unbuttoned to reveal a white undershirt with blue jeans that were obviously too big for his slight frame.

“Coming, coming,” Atreus said, reluctantly slipping on his shoes. He and Nyel walked side by side, the music growing louder with each step.

“Oh wow,” Nyel said breathlessly as the lights glistened in his eyes.

Even for Atreus, who was familiar with human celebrations, it was overwhelming: the sounds, the lights, and the mouthwatering smells.

“Look, look!” Nyel dashed to the nearest stall, mouth open at the tiny ornamental glass animals.

“What’s that?”

Atreus barely caught up when Nyel was off again. The crowd jostled around them; nearly the entire island’s population gathered in the main square.

“Hey, wait up,” Atreus called as sardine-packed bodies separated them. He lost sight of Nyel and was about to call out when a light pressure wrapped around his wrist.

Atreus froze, his gaze snapping to the point of contact before tracing the arm to a face radiating joy so loud that it cut through all sound, all sense, until it was just… him. Nyel held Atreus—steady and unbothered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Come on, slow-poke,” Nyel said, dragging him to the booth selling candied strawberries.

Atreus followed, overwhelmed by the sensation yet unwilling to pull away, drawn forward by the quiet comfort in Nyel’s touch.

They went from stall to stall, Nyel’s hand sliding from Atreus’s wrist and cupping their palms together to prevent them from being separated. Atreus hardly noticed the goods for sale. He was captivated by the awe in Nyel’s eyes, the way they lit up with every new discovery. The way the light glinted in those flecks of mica like golden coins catching the sun through rippling fountain water.

Atreus couldn’t look away.

The crowd thinned as they moved through the square, finally stopping at a stall selling fruit tarts. He was still holding Nyel’s hand.

It’s so much smaller than mine.

Atreus ran his thumb along the delicate digits before he realized what he was doing. He let go quickly, but Nyel was too engrossed in the tarts to notice. He spoke to the woman behind the booth.