Page 38 of Drown Me Gently

It was all very hypnotic.

Okay… think. You know what you’re looking for. Sort of.

There were too many bottles. Too many labels in languages he didn’t understand. He moved deeper, searching for something, anything, that looked secret or well-hidden. Ulric wouldn’t want access to the land to be so easily discovered.

Then he saw it.

Tucked behind a curtain of seaweed was a mirror. Not one of the practical ones. Not a caster’s tool.

This mirror was hand-carved, delicate, with tiny seabirds etched into the edges. They circled the frame like they were caught in flight. Auren’s heart skipped.

The shape of the bird’s beak, the span of its wings. These carvings were modeled almost identically to the sculpture in his cave. Had Ulric sponsored a court statue maker for this? Auren didn’t know what to make of it, but didn’t allow his mind to ponder. He reached for the beautiful art piece, searching. His fingers curled around the frame, and he gave it a light tug.

A soft click echoed.

A hidden alcove shifted open behind the wall. Auren’s heart slammed into his ribs. Inside was a single decanter, glowing violet. Stoppered tight. Etched with runes so old even the water around it shimmered with resistance. He had almost missed it.

But the birds brought me here.

Auren stared at the vial for a long moment, reconsidering his actions. But just as quickly as it came, he shook off the thought and took it.

No going back now.

Auren exited the room, dashing as fast as he could away from the palace. There wasn’t time to exit the city entirely, not when he could be discovered at any second. He had to surface. Now. No time to wait and swim to shallower waters. He pointed himself towards the sky and swam. He swam higher than he’d dared since the sinking potion. When the pressure stopped him—when the magic seized his limbs and anchored him there—he took the vial from the pouch tied to his belt.

He unstoppered it. The scent hit him in a wave of algae and sulfur. He raised it in shaking hands.

For freedom. For air. For Elias.

He drank.

The liquid was thick, like gooey kelp and crushed pearl, strangely sweet at first, then bitter as rot. It coated his tongue, clinging like syrup, and the moment it slid down his throat— Pain exploded through him.

His tail convulsed. His spine arched. Muscles locked, and his skin felt as if it were being flayed with volcanic rock, scraped raw until there was nothing sea-born left. The water turned white. Then red. He screamed, but no sound came. Only bubbles and the soundless pressure of a world trying to tear him apart.

He was being pulled upward.

Dragged by a force so strong it fractured his thoughts.

The last thing he felt was fire in his bones.

And then—nothing.

The magic clung to his tongue with the residual taste of metal, like iron ore and copper. Auren grimaced, trying to work some moisture into his mouth. He stirred and lifted his head. Sand coated his lashes as he blinked at the unforgiving light. He took a large pull through his gills.

Wait.

No— he inhaled.

Lungs expanded in his chest, and Auren snapped to full wakefulness, hands flying to his neck. Smooth skin met his fingertips. No gills. It had worked.

Oh, my gods. It worked. It actually worked!

The world came into focus. He was lying on warm, white sand, the breeze caressing his skin. The scent of the sea lingered, familiar. But now, it mingled with the smell of sunlight, pollen, the distant hint of woodsmoke, and… human cookfires?

Auren closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the sun.

The sun. The only constant in his life. The thing that had always been there, waiting above. Now, he could feel it without the ocean’s barrier. Without the weight of Poseidon’s power pulling him back. He sank his fingers into the sand, feeling every grain sift through his palms.