Prince of Endless Tides THREE-CHAPTER sneak peak

beware the dark waters, where monsters lurk

27 Years Ago

I lurked in the shadows, where no creature could see me.

The stone pillars groaned beneath the weight of my tentacles. I wrapped each limb around the ruins of an old city, dragging myself through the murky water towards my destination.

The Above was painted in the dark jewel tones of dusk, stars winking into existence across the heavens. I wondered if they could see me lurking in the depths, stalking my prey from the doorway of what once was a building. If the gods still watched from their perches, would they be proud of what I had been or what I was forced to become?

Perhaps neither.

It had been the water which whispered of a disturbance. I had been miles from this forgotten place when the ripples alerted me to something… strange. But whatever I had expected to find was not what waited before me.

Death. It was everywhere.

In all my hundreds of years, this was something I had never witnessed before.

Clouds of blood danced within the ocean’s currents, catching drifts which twisted around floating corpses. I could taste the iron tang beneath the kiss of salt across my tongue. And I wasn’t the only one. There were so many dead, almost too many to count. Some were still whole, whereas others had already been torn apart by the circling grey sharks, their bellies undoubtedly already full, yet still unable to resist the call of blood.

But I knew that the true predator had yet to arrive.

Soon the Mer would catch the scent of all of this humanity, and they would flock here. So I would wait, lingering in the shadows, trident aloft in my hand, ready to slay every single one of them.

I had seen no shipwreck, no proof that these people should’ve been this far out in the ocean. The nearest island was miles away, too far for so many to simply swim here. How did so many drown at once? Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children.

I had to get closer to find clues before the true monsters of the ocean came. I didn’t simply crave answers—I starved for them.

Stone cracked as my tentacle tightened its grip. I pushed closer to the scene just as a hammerhead dove in, snatching the blue-grey arm of a man who floated close to me. The shark’s swishing tail made my white hair fan out around my shoulders.

As I moved forward, the dead were everywhere, hanging lifelessly like puppets on a string. I swam through a cloud of them, cautious to keep myself at a distance. The corpse of a woman passed beside me, chestnut hair waving in front of a paled, freckled face. Her arms lifted as though she waited for someone to embrace her, save her. But I was too late. Only death would hold her now.

She belonged to Gorgana now, the Goddess of Death. They all did. Fitting, I thought, considering this forgotten city I swam through was once a great feasting ground for death, a place which had known tragedy.

The ruins of this city had been worn down from years beneath the water. Coral clung to old stone and seaweed grew amongst mounds of rubble. This place was so old, even I did not remember the name of it. Karakos, God of the Oceans, had swallowed this city, raising the water high above it as he drew it into his embrace.

The god of the ocean was greedy. So greedy that he had once claimed the sky as his own domain, reaching up and threading his water into the clouds, imbuing the air with his moisture. I knew the stories of how that gluttony led to Karakos’s demise.

This wasn’t the first city Karakos claimed. Many had fallen beneath the tidal waves and vicious currents. Until one day that all stopped.

But these dead before me were not from the old world.

Where did you come from?

Propelling myself through the ruins of the city, I grew closer to its heart. The

further I went, the more dead there seemed to be. I held back, cautious; I didn’t want to feel dead skin brush against mine. No matter the dead or the living, I desired nothing to touch me.

A pulse rippled outward, the beat of what sounded like a muffled drum. Fish scattered out of their shoals, eels whipped passed me fleeing in haste. The force of it snatched my hair back from my face, kissing my skin and filling my mouth with the salty taste of… magic.

A tree stood proudly in the centre of the city, a strange sight to see so far from land, deep in the ocean. But here it was, and here it had always been. Thick green foliage shifted languidly in the water. Dark brown roots dove through sand and stone, piercing Karakos’s flesh like thorns.

A wall of corpses floated before me. I pushed out a hand, willing the water to clear me a path through them, already cringing at the thought of my skin being touched.

Corpses tangled themselves in and around the branches, wide eyes and mottling skin glinting in the glow of the ocean. The glare of moonlight barely reached this far down, but my eyesight allowed me to see everything in keen detail.

These bodies were… strange. They wore clothes I had never seen before, tight-fitting to their bodies. Some were even weighed down by thick bands of gold and jewels. What surprised me the most was the lack of wounds. Beside the blood from the sharks feasting, these dead were seemingly fine.

Their death was by drowning. Nothing else.

But how?

I didn’t need to wait longer for what I truly came here for. The sharks broke formation, fins flicking, bodies writhing to get away. Something had spooked them. These kings of the sea only feared one thing.

The word formed in bubbles beyond my lips. ‘Mer.’

I hid myself amongst the tree’s branches. Out across the dark, I searched for the tell-tale glow of milky eyes, the flash of iridescent tails and sharpened teeth and claws. At my waist, my pale skin shivered where it met the sticky orange flesh of my eight limbs. Each one twitched with unspent energy.

But it was not the Mer who came, at least not yet. Another shudder passed over the ocean, spreading outwards as though someone, or something, lingered within the bark of the great tree. I thrust myself away, the need for distance loud as alarm bells.

Then I stilled at the impossible sight before me. Out the corner of my eye, I caught movement. Just shy of the thick, luscious crown of the canopy was a foot. It was small as the palm of my hand. Then there was a leg, chubby and stout. And… it was kicking, moving not because the water shifted it, but because the baby was alive.

One moment it had not been there, and the next it demanded my entire attention.

All at once my eight limbs contracted together, propelling me towards the impossible. The infant came into view, small hands grasping out for the tree as though it had enough awareness to latch onto something. It was so small, so innocent. So strange.

It had a crown of midnight-black hair which danced around its small skull. Wide blue eyes framed with long lashes. A small body barely covered by the white sheet which the ocean slowly unravelled. The baby opened its mouth to wail, inhaling water, filling its tiny little lungs with salt and brine.

My power ebbed out of me, wrapping around the water until I commanded them. The currents shifted, drawing the baby towards me. Lips blue, skin growing pale, eyes growing heavy.

I once had known death, all too well. And I recognised it was only moments from claiming another.

It seemed fate wished to toy with me today.

My ears twitched, not towards a sound, because the Mer could not speak. They lost that ability when the curse changed them, stealing away humanity and leaving only twisted, monstrous creatures in its wake.

That was the thing about gods. They made heroes and they made monsters. The Mer were the worst of them.

A disturbance like an echo washed over my conscience. The water warned me of the arrival of the Mer, their slick and silent forms slicing from their hidden coves and dwellings. I looked between the trident in my hand and the dying baby in the other and made a choice.

It was a simple decision to make, but that didn’t stop me from hesitating.

I had to save this innocent life.

Clutching the baby to my chest, I focused on the Above. A halo of light lingered around the moon, casting a circular formation over the surface. I swam, pushing with the force of my eight tentacles until water rushed past my ears, leaving the tree and the dead beneath me.

As I broke the surface of the ocean, the gills around my neck flattened, allowing for the fresh kiss of nightly wind to bless my lungs. A chill raced over my skin, tickling over my shoulders. I could barely see through the thick, tacky strands of hair plastered over my face.

With the child raised above the water, I waited for it to make noise, to prove it still lived. It was so small it rested within my hand, curled into a foetal position, so incredibly motionless. I focused on the faint beat of a heart beneath the press of my fingertips.

My magic called out to the water lingering in the baby’s lungs. Holding my fingers above its mouth, I latched onto the unwanted liquid and guided it free. A ball, minute as a pearl, raised beyond its paled mouth before dissipating into mist at my will.

Time drew out.

‘Live, small one,’ I urged, brushing the dark hairs from its forehead. My gaze fixed on its chest, waiting for it to move.

As though it heard me, it unleashed a bellow so great it had the power to wake the sleeping world. Small lungs now freed of water, I watched the colour slowly seep back into the child’s cheeks, flushing them a dawn pink.

The sound was a glorious thing.

‘Hush,’ I said, unsure what to do with such a little life. ‘You are safe now.’

Far off, firelight glinted across the shoreline of Ire. The island was distant, and the weather was calm. Still, even now, I could not fathom how this child, and so many others, had gotten this far out into the ocean. It was a mystery, and one I did not have time to ponder.

Far beneath me, the Mer would be tearing into the bodies, devouring humanity, spreading their poison, creating more monsters for me to face. It was instinctual, the draw to dive down deep and slay each and every one of them. But I then looked back to the baby, all rosy cheeked with its banshee-like cry, and I knew where my responsibility lay.   

I did not know how to console a child. It was not one of my skills, not one of my powers bestowed to me the night I faced Karakos and came back with a second chance at life. But there was something I could offer it, some form of comfort which time could not have made me forget, no matter if I wished to or not.

The song broke out of me as I swam towards the coastline. It was a light melody, one my own mother had once sung to me. From my soul, I pulled out the words which I had not thought about for a very long time. It came to me quickly, as though my mother leaned into my ear now, whispering each note, each lyric.

‘Hush, little baby, no matter where you stray, across the sea and far away, my love for you persists as strong, a tide which draws you to and from, I will find you anon. Anon.’

The song calmed the child, enough for its screams to simmer to a small whimper. Then it closed its all-seeing blue eyes and slept.

I did not know how long I swam for. Not until I heard water slapping against wood, followed by the humming of a deep baritone voice in the distance. I looked up from the sleeping child, scared the moment I took my eyes off it, it would die.

Gorgana would have had her hunger quenched tonight. I would not allow another life to be handed over to death.

A small boat bobbed upon the ocean’s surface, the fisherman throwing his netting out into the shallow water. I could not see his face, nor could I tell if he was a good enough man to be worthy of a child. Whatever fate awaited this baby with him would be realms better than what I could have offered. In the unforgiving ocean, there were only monsters and mayhem. The Below was not a place for a child, not a place for a human.

You were but a child when you first came to me, a far-off voice sounded deep in my core. Did I not save you?

I ignored it, refusing to acknowledge the god this time. His allure was commanding, but so was the need to get this child out of the cold water. Doing so was answer enough to the taunting god of the ocean, Karakos, who always lingered close to my conscience.

I encased the child’s small, sleeping body in my power and guided it towards the boat. I waited, with only my eyes lifted above the surface of the water, as the fisherman felt the knock of flesh against the side of his vessel.

There was a feral part of me which twisted into knots as he leaned over the edge, peering at what it could have possibly been. That feeling only built as the fisherman reached in, lifted the baby from the water and cradled it to his chest.

It didn’t take long for the fisherman to leave. I supposed his bounty did not matter, not when he found an infant in the water instead of fish.

Not able to relinquish responsibility, I stalked his boat for a while until he reached the stone jetty, moored his vessel, and raced towards the Kingdom of Ire with the child clutched in his arms.

I could have followed, if I so wished. I didn’t. There was something I had to finish, even if my mind was stuck on the mysterious child and the future I had just handed him into.

Water sloshed around me as I turned towards the Below. I couldn’t see the drowned city from here, but if I reached out into the water, it told me the Mer still ravaged their meals.

Pushing the child to the back of my mind, I focused on my task at hand. I had to focus, to complete the deal I had agreed to all those years ago. The one etched across my torso in swirling ink in the face of a monster. The face of a god.

The face of Karakos.

My tentacles contracted beneath me, serpentine limbs spinning into a vortex of rubbery flesh. Trident in one hand, the power tracing over my skin, I unleashed a warning cry. It sang of both the promise of vengeance and the hope of my freedom.

Chapter One - Ernest

‘Do I please you, my Prince?’ Hadeon’s question echoed around us, bouncing off the rock walls of the cave.

I withdrew his length from my mouth with a pop, gazing up the mounds of a muscular stomach to his face. Was it my groan which gave me away?

‘You certainly do.’ My tongue traced my lower lip as I flashed him the wickedest of smiles. ‘Although, I think the question is, do I please you?’

Hadeon glared down at me as though I was a plate of his favourite food, and he was a starved man. It was an expression I had grown accustomed to. He had been my personal servant for almost a year, so he was rather familiar with taking commands from me. All six-feet of muscle, sun-kissed skin, brunette hair and a smile which had the power to undo me. But when we found time alone, it was me who got on my knees, bowing to every one of his whims and wishes. Literally.

‘Yes, Ernest,’ Hadeon replied, eyes narrowing to intensify his sultry desires, ‘you do. However, you would please me more if you put my cock back in your mouth and did that thing I like with your tongue.’

I rocked backwards, clearing the spit away from the corners of my mouth with the swipe of a thumb. ‘As it is my birthday, I’d like to propose a request.’

‘But the tongue-thing you do—’

‘Can wait,’ I interrupted with a smile. That was the thing about me. I could make Hadeon think I did everything and anything to please him, but in reality it was me who still held the control.

Deep down, Hadeon knew that too. That was why he liked me.

‘Ernest of Ire.’ He snatched my face with his large hands, kissed me greedily, and then let go of me. ‘You know I am powerless to refuse you. Ask it, anything, and it will be yours.’

When I was with Hadeon, I spoke plainly. There wasn’t a need to overthink my words, or carefully put together what I wished to say in a way that would not upset or offend. No, with him I spoke from the core. And right now, my core wanted something with a passion.

‘I’d prefer if both our mouths were occupied,’ I said.

His brow peaked. ‘I’m all open to requests.’

I slithered up his torso, the sand indenting beneath my knees. Sand was fucking everywhere. In my hair, between my toes, and in places it really shouldn’t be. Whoever it was that glorified sex on the beach was incredibly misinformed.

‘Hmm, let me think.’ I crawled my fingers over his chest like a fiddler crab. Of course I knew my answer, but drawing it out only added to the excitement.

‘I have a few suggestions.’

‘Patience.’ I placed a finger over his lips, silencing him. Hadeon took it in his mouth, biting down until my skin ached. I recoiled back, noticing the pinched red skin.

Before the moment was ruined, Hadeon spoke. ‘Answer my question, my love.’

Gods, the way he said my really put an emphasis on the word. Not that I minded. It was nice to be desired, naturally. With Hadeon, this was all real. He wanted me for me, not what I could offer him.

As he waited for my answer, I continued my up and down rhythm with my fist around his cock. It was thick, but my fingers still met all the way around it. The length was perfect, smaller than mine—but when I sat on it, the size didn’t matter. Pleasure was an entirely unique language, and one I wished to master entirely.

‘If this is the one birthday gift you give me, I want to make sure I ask for the right thing. Otherwise, I may spend the next year regretting my answers.’

Hadeon threw his head back, the veins in his neck bulging as lines of pleasure etched themselves into his forehead. ‘Fuck, Ernest. I don’t know what’s better, your hand or that pretty little mouth of yours. Keep going like that and I’ll finish before you tell me what you want from me…’

I smiled, a winning grin which only highlighted my internal pride. ‘Eat my ass,’ I said so matter-of-factly it even caught Hadeon by surprise.

‘Now now, Ernest.’ He balanced himself on his elbows, his mouth watering at my request. ‘Where are your manners?’

‘Please,’ I drawled, pouting with an extended lower lip. ‘Hadeon, my humble and most adoring servant, please do me the honours and eat my ass.’

‘Much, much better.’

Hadeon and I had grown comfortable within our little cove. It was hidden by a rock formation, shadowed by my Kingdom which stretched far above us. From here the castle built upon the cliff looked endless. It stretched far into the blue skies, piercing the heavens beyond it. One tower was so tall that if you walked up to its top it made you lightheaded, which was exactly the feeling I had now as Hadeon tugged me up to him.

I paused long enough to trace my tongue around his nipple whilst his fingers dug into my scalp. Hadeon’s anticipation was palpable I could practically taste it—his pre-cum was lathered across my tongue already. Hadeon extended his tongue to me, beckoning me to suck on it next. I knew that look he gave me, all wide-eyed and expectant. It was the type of look someone gave a cool drink on a warm day, all panting and desperate.

Hadeon’s guttural moans and my light purrs echoed across the towering wall of rock at our backs. His touch was firm, but he was always careful not to leave marks. I wasn’t so careful. My nails tore into his flesh, scoring him with my touch. No one would ask a servant why their skin was marred by some feral cat. Whereas for me, the prince, if anyone found anything untoward, it would be their damnation.

And with Hadeon, I couldn’t afford to lose him. He was the only real thing in my life. Something I held close to my chest and coveted greatly. Which was exactly why I’d stolen him away to this very cave, because nowhere else was safe for us both to exist.

Outside the cave’s mouth, the ocean’s surface was so still it could’ve been made of glass. Occasionally, winged fish would jump out of it, disturbing the surface in endless ripples. Then it would settle once again. Far off in the distance, the shapes of small fishing vessels bobbed, nets cast out and lines waiting patiently for something to snap on bait. They were far enough away that they wouldn’t recognise me—most importantly they couldn’t see me position myself on Hadeon’s face.

Our only witness was Karakos—the God of the Oceans. Maybe the first time we stole away down here, escaping from the castle along the narrow, naturally carved steps into the rock face, I might have worried that he judged me. Now, all those months later, I was sure my bare ass hardly made the god blink.

If gods blinked, that was.

Hadeon shifted my body, his body barely straining to move me. He spun me around, moving me into the position he wanted. Whereas I face his cock, I can feel his cool breath between my spread ass. Gods know I loved this position. It kept both our mouths occupied. It was fair and balanced, no one was left without pleasure.

Hadeon ate my ass like it was a piece of fruit. A peach dripping with juice, so delicious he couldn’t help but devour his fill. And to stop myself from moaning on an endless loop, I bent over and returned his cock into my mouth. I took it all in. Every inch until his head pressed into the back of my throat, making me gag.

He growled in response, his tongue lapping my centre, his teeth nipping and grazing skin. Every now and then, he would slip a finger or two in, stretching me, preparing me. The last time we’d visited our little haven, it had been my turn to bend Hadeon over the table of rock and fuck him. Although it was a rare occasion, there was something thrilling about him submitting to my control. But today of all days, I longed for him to have that power.

If there was one thing that could rid the tension lingering in every muscle of my body, it was the press of his length against the soft spot deep within me.

Just as I readied myself for the initial burn of his entrance, Hadeon pushed me off of him. I landed carelessly into the sand, the wind knocked out of my lungs and the lust out of my groin.

‘What in Karakos’s name was that for.’

‘Get up,’ Hadeon hissed, gathering my clothes and throwing them at me. ‘Quickly.’

I caught my belongings, blinded half by sand and half by my disappointment. ‘What’s gotten into you, Had?’

Hadeon rushed to dress himself, his eyes fixed on something outside of the cave’s entrance. Whatever he saw panicked him enough to become rough with me. I followed his line of sight and saw what had caused his urgency.

A ship. It was an impressively large vessel made from red-polished wood and golden painted trim. The gargantuan sails where retracted, helping the large vessel slow its movement to a steady crawl. Across the cream material was the symbol of our Kingdom—the golden conch shell.

My fingers lifted and pressed to the base of my throat, covering the very same marking. Scarred, pale skin had marred my throat for as long as I’d remembered. The strange mark was the muse for my father’s emblem, because when I sang it glowed the same hue of gold stitched into the ship’s sail.

‘I thought everyone was accounted for,’ I said, lifting a hand over my brow.

‘They must just be late arrivals,’ Hadeon replied, tugging a leg of his trousers on before the other. It was almost comical, watching him hop around with my spittle all down his chin and chest.   

Sunlight reflected off a spyglass from the top of the bird’s nest. I slunk back into the shadowed mouth of the cave, feeling the press of Hadeon’s half-dressed body from behind. His arms wrapped around me, his chin resting on my shoulder, his grip vice-like.

‘It isn’t late, Had. Look.’ I narrowed my eyes on the back of the boat, pointing out something troublesome.

Hadeon must have noticed it too. I felt his heart skip through his chest. ‘Is that…’

My heart hammered in my throat, a chill of dread coursing down my neck. ‘Yes. The Mer.’

Spears impaled the vessel’s stern. They coated the wooden frame like the spikes protruding from the back of a porcupine. I held my tongue, watching as the ship crept closer into view. Although I couldn’t see the port, I could imagine the sudden explosion of action across the long stone jetty.

‘This isn’t good,’ Hadeon said. ‘It’s lucky the ship has even made it back. The Mer grow more brazen with every passing year.’

I couldn’t take my eyes off the ship as it passed. ‘When I asked Father last night if all the ships were accounted for, he said they were.’

‘Because if he accepted that one ship hadn’t returned, he’d be accepting responsibility.’ Hadeon hated my father, and always had. I often thought it was because of the way my father treated me, or the power he held over me. But something told me Hadeon’s hatred was deeper. ‘One of the stable hands said their uncle went out fishing and never came home. His boat was found offshore, torn to shreds. Your father blamed it on the sharks, but no sharks have nails which gouge through wood—’

‘Please.’ I turned my back on the ocean, on the ship. Staring at it wouldn’t change anything. ‘I don’t want to think about it, not today.’

I’d heard the same story Hadeon was sharing. Mer attacks were growing more frequent. It was true, but putting the blame on my father was the same as resting that burden on my shoulders. We were one and the same, after all.

Hadeon swallowed hard, eyeing me with some trepidation. It wasn’t often he looked at me with anything but desire. Now, a flash of something far more feral passed behind his eyes.

‘Terian must do something,’ he added as he finished dressing, ‘or these attacks will persist. It’s a disease, a disaster waiting to happen. Unless your father submits to the old ways, the Mer will continue their pursuit to spread their curse.’

The old ways. A term to describe a time when blood was spilled into the ocean to appease the god who ruled it and keep his Mer at bay.

‘I didn’t know you were so in-tune with old customs,’ I snapped, feeling as though I was seeing Hadeon in a new light. The acolytes of Gorgana were a small group, but that didn’t take away from their formidability. There was a temple on one of Ire’s neighbouring islands, although it seemed their sway had begun to spread like poison across other islands over the years. ‘Next thing I know it will be you who’ll be walking around dressed in red robes, demanding blood for the sea.’

He stepped in close to me, gaze cold. ‘Someone has to make the change.’

Where I had hoped he’d tell me I was being ridiculous for even suggesting such a thing, he didn’t. I didn’t know what worried me more, the look he continued to scrutinise me with, or the lack of rebuke to my suggestion.

‘Hadeon, this is ridiculous. There hasn’t been a blood debt to Karakos in hundreds of years. Why would he be displeased now? I hardly think a lack of spilling blood in the water has anything to do with the Mer’s attacks.’

‘Then what does?’ Hadeon’s shout echoed around us, burning my skin with its scorching heat. ‘It is alright for you, Ernest. You can stay away from the water, hide in your little tower and watch the world get washed away. But for the rest of us? We stop venturing out and the food supply stops. My mother is out on her boat before dawn every day. She goes out and every fucking time, I expect her never to return. Not all of us have the luxury of staying away from the sea.’

I reached out for him, only to be smacked away. ‘Hadeon, I’m sorry—’

‘You don’t understand.’ He gazed to the castle above us, frown deepening to a scowl. ‘None of you do.’

My head ached at the mention of my father, and at the mention of such a disgusting tradition. ‘It isn’t as simple as that.’

‘Oh, I am sure. Choosing a sacrifice for Karakos is not exactly as simple as picking out what colour jacket to wear for tonight’s festivities. Let’s not kid one another, Ernest. We both know your father hasn’t got the slightest issue with choosing who is to be thrown into Karakos’s domain.’

‘Then trust that what must be done will be.’

‘When?’ Hadeon snapped, eyes flaring wider. ‘You know the old stories, you understand what Karakos is capable of. He swallows cities. Kingdoms.’ The atmosphere shifted so suddenly it was as if the world rocked. ‘Which begs the question, is that what your father desires?’

I was far too stunned to speak. ‘That’s treason, Hadeon. Careful.’

‘There’s a price we must pay for all of us not to be turned into monsters.’ He snatched my wrist, tugging me in close. His grip hurt, grinding the bones of my wrist together. I’d never seen him so panicked, so furious. ‘What is a little blood if it means saving thousands? One sacrifice and it may stop us from being swept into the ocean, only to be bitten and changed by the waiting Mer.’

Bitten and changed.

I tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. ‘Who are we to determine whose life is worthy or not?’

‘Not we. You. You and your father.’

Part of me longed to reach out and hold Hadeon, to beg for him to see reason. But there was another part of me, the long-suppressed feral part, that wanted to lash out with claws for even insinuating such a thing.

‘My father would never doom us,’ I replied, snatching my wrist from Hadeon and balling my hands into fists at my side. ‘He loves his subjects.’

‘He loves what his subjects provide him...’ Hadeon replied, lips turning into a sneer of disgust. His gaze lingered over my shoulder, out across the oceans to the specks of islands our naked eye could not see. ‘But what about them? There’s talk, you know. People are whispering about your father’s desire to use Karakos’s wrath to wash away everything in this world, until he’s the only one left to rule.’

‘No one has the power to manipulate a god,’ I said, laughing at the ridiculous notion even though there was nothing funny about this. That was how I coped, laughing when others cried, giggling in moments when I should be sombre.

‘No one,’ Hadeon said, leaning in, ‘but you.’

The slap came out of nowhere. One moment I was still, the next my hand was raised, my palm stinging with the force of my blow. Hadeon’s head snapped to the side, his hand coming up to cover his cheek.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—’ I began, but it was too late. What was done was done. I waited for Hadeon to move, breath lodged in my throat. He straightened slowly, lowering his hand back to his side so I could see the perfectly etched mark of my handprint on his face. Tears welled in his eyes, as they did in mine.

‘I should get back to the castle.’ His voice was rigid, every word poised and careful. ‘There’s still plenty to do before your big night.’

He made a move to walk past me. My fingers barely grazed his arm before he jerked away.

‘Don’t,’ he growled.

My heart stammered, shuddered and a single fissure cracked over it. ‘Hadeon, don’t leave me. Not like this.’

‘No,’ he snapped, finally letting his tears loose, ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’

What I longed to say was, yes, you shouldn’t have. But saying that wouldn’t have helped in the moment. Hadeon walked away from me, leaving me in the belly of shadows in nothing but the skin I was born in, my clothes fallen at my feet.

I scrambled for something to say, something to do which would make him stop walking away.  Desperation was a sin—that was one of my father’s many lessons. I supposed this was simply another sin to add to my ever-growing list.

Alongside lying.

‘I’ll tell him,’ I shouted, voice echoing against the stone walls. ‘I’ll tell my father about you.’

Hadeon stopped dead in his tracks, but still kept his back to me.

‘After tonight,’ I panted, breathless although I hadn’t moved an inch from where I stood. ‘I’ll tell him everything. No more lies and secrets, no more hiding away here and stealing moments. We’ll be open about us, for the whole court to see.’

He glanced over his shoulder, face void of any emotion. ‘And what if he doesn’t approve?’

It was a test, one I’d been waiting for.

I gathered my courage, taking in a deep breath as Hadeon settled his all-seeing eyes upon me once again. His cheek still bore the print of my hand, but he couldn’t see the mark he had left upon me.

No one but you.

Hadeon was right, though. Perhaps I did have the power to manipulate a god. I could open my mouth now and unleash my voice, not the one I spoke to Hadeon with but the inner one, the beast lurking in the pit of my throat, which held the power to make anyone do anything I desired.

He waited patiently for my answer, although he likely saw it gleam in my eyes before I spoke it aloud.

‘Then I will make him,’ I said.

Hadeon smiled slowly, his chin tipping forward until he looked at me through his lashes. It was a smile I had seen before on another’s face. My father, when he first discovered what I could do, what I could offer him.

‘I love you, Ernest,’ Hadeon said, grin only widening by the second.

I opened my mouth to reply, but the words got lodged in my throat. Shame, because Hadeon didn’t stick around long enough for me to force them out.

Chapter Two - Ernest

Cool winds billowed in through the balcony, snatching at the sheer curtains until they danced like twin ghosts beside the open doors. The view beyond looked out across the oceans. The summer heat was suffocating, working under my skin and settled there like a parasite.

There was nothing to see but sea and sky—both elements blending seamlessly together far off in the distance. I knew the Below was a dangerous place, yet it looked so beautiful. Sunlight skipped over the calm surface of the water, causing the ocean to glisten as though it was made entirely from diamonds. Was that what lured people in? Drawing them from the safety of land into the clutches of the monsters who lurked beneath?

The salt tang of air tickled my nose, and the soft ocean spray kissed my cheeks.

‘Are you pleased with the colours, my son?’ My father’s booming voice drew my attention back to the mirror before me. ‘I picked them out myself. You shall stand out tonight, my very own star amongst a sea of unimportance.’

‘Yes, Father,’ I replied, because it was easier to keep conversation short than encourage him. ‘I do.’

I hated my reflection. It was the painful reminder of my mother, the woman I had killed. For as long as I could remember, my father had reminded me of how painful I was to look at. From my thick black hair, now speckled with strands of silver at my temple, to the blue of my eyes, I was my mother’s son. Although I didn’t remember her, not even in a faint memory, my father did—and by the gods, he reminded me every chance he could get.

Sometimes he would take my face in his hands with eyes full of tears. Those times were rare. Mostly he refused to look at me, keeping his dark eyes everywhere but me for days on end.

Unlike Hadeon. Hadeon never turned his gaze away. To him, I was the least painful thing in the world. He made me feel seen, more so than I ever had before. Which was why Hadeon never left my thoughts. His words haunted me, replaying in my skull, his winning smile etched into the dark behind my eyes. If I contemplated the way he looked at me for too long, I feared I would forget myself.

The needle pricked through my trousers, stabbing into my thigh with ease. The pain was the perfect distraction, but I didn’t dare cry out. I dug my teeth harder into my lower lip, swallowing back the gasp. Because pain was weakness and my father watched on from behind, waiting for an excuse to berate me.

‘I’m sorry, my Prince,’ the seamstress spluttered, her hands shaking violently. It was no wonder she had pricked me. Between the proximity of the King, my father’s all-seeing gaze, and the fact her colleague had been killed only yesterday for less than pricking me, she was scared for her life.

Why? Because when my father’s men had asked her colleague to make me an outfit for my birthday, she refused on the basis of being too busy. It was a valid response, what with the city overspilling with visitors from neighbouring islands. But it wasn’t good enough for my father.

No one refused the King, not even me.

So he’d had the seamstress killed, leaving this poor woman to come in her place to do the job, knowing what would happen to her if she so much as spoke at the wrong moment.

‘Careful,’ I said, gently brushing my hand over the seamstress’s knuckles. She flinched away from me. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, I focused back on my reflection. ‘We wouldn’t want to ruin such a beautiful outfit with blood, would we?’

I hated how the seamstress regarded me, her green eyes wide with fear which concealed another emotion. Love. Not real love. Fake and forced, conjured once a year in a spell of my own making.

A wave of sickness roiled in my stomach. I clutched it, massaging the cramping. Hours separated this moment from tonight’s festivities. And every year my guilt grew harsher than the year before.

‘It won’t happen again, Your Highness’ she said, quickly regaining her composure as the needle threaded back into the seam, weaving gold thread against the crisp white material.

‘It’s no bother. Those fingers of yours are practically magic. And my name is Ernest, please use it. Makes sense since we are spending the next few hours together. May I ask what I can call you?’

Father huffed, just out of view.

‘Aleanna.’ She swallowed hard, gulping down a sob as she pulled at the golden ribbon and continued stitching it down the outer leg of my trousers.

‘Well, Aleanna,’ I said, practically feeling my father cut daggers into the back of my head with his eyes. ‘You’re doing a fantastic job. As the King said, it looks handsome. You’re extremely talented—’

‘Aleanna has work to finish.’ The deep voice resounded at our backs. Aleanna stiffened, fingers shaking violently as she attempted to regain her hold on the needle. Head bowed, she got back to work.

My attention flickered to where my father sat. He was barely in the reflection, but I saw enough.

My father, Terian—the King—sat up straight in his chair, lips glistening with the pulp of the grape he had just finished dismembering with his teeth. His handmaiden was waiting, silver tray held aloft, overspilling with freshly picked vines, sliced oranges and thinly sliced meats.

He was a meticulous man in every aspect of the word, from his straight-backed posture, sculptured beard and perfectly laid auburn hair. He was handsome and kind-faced, with eyes as dark as shadow. But it was a mask, and he hid the truth behind it.

He was a serpent in sheep’s skin.

‘Are you ready to tell me where it was you scuttled off to this morning?’ His question sliced through me, deep to the bone. He slowly lifted his gaze from the skinless grape, to me.

‘Swimming, Father,’ I lied.

He studied me, scrutinising everything about me. I practically felt the pop of the grape as he put it between his teeth and bit down. ‘Is that so? Next time inform me of your movements. I don’t like when you are out of my sight.’

‘I know, Father. I’m sorry.’ I spoke with the same trepidation Aleanna had with me. ‘It won’t happen again.’

Even I hated the way I sounded as I spoke to him. He reduced me to a child, meek-voiced and pathetic. I wondered if this was why I turned into such a demanding monster out of his earshot. Twenty-seven years old, and my father still made me feel like an infant.

‘Of course it won’t happen again,’ Terian said, dismissing the conversation with a hand. ‘Now, I forbid any more speaking. Rest your voice. Save it for this evening.’

My lips practically sealed shut, melding together and refusing to part. I nodded, lifting a finger to my throat, to the magic lingering within it.

‘Good boy,’ he cooed, focusing on the next grape he would devour. ‘Good, good boy.’

A shiver passed over my skin at his praise. It was not something he gave out often and Karakos knew I thirsted for it. Starved for it. Would do anything for it. Even if that meant using my gods-given gift to give him everything he ever wanted.

* * *

My body ached after hours of standing before the mirror. I did what was asked of me, lifting my arms up whilst cream material was draped over my shoulders, cut, pinned, threaded together until some semblance of an outfit began to form.

‘I wish for Ernest’s throat to be uncovered,’ my father said, walking around me as a wolf would stalk its prey. ‘Many people have journeyed around the land to hear my son tonight, but part of the miracle is seeing him too.’

I could hear them now. The sound of a bustling crowd being herded like cattle through the gates of our city. Dread coiled in my chest, squeezing my lungs until I couldn’t breathe.

‘Yes, my King,’ the seamstress replied, eyes trained to the floor.

My father’s cold fingers brushed over my neck, tugging at the high collar of the newly crafted jacket. He folded back each flap of material until my skin was on display. More importantly, the smudge of the pale birthmark nestled just above my clavicle.   

It was the hearty knock at the door which drew his attention from me. As his finger dropped and he looked away, I found that I could breathe again.

‘Come in.’

Hadeon entered, his eyes fixed to his boots. It took everything in my power not to look at Hadeon. But I couldn’t help but risk a glance in the mirror’s reflection. When I did, I found his eyes were on me.

‘Apologies for the intrusion, sire—’

‘Spit it out.’

‘It is regarding the ship which arrived late to harbour,’ Hadeon spoke to my father with the authority of nobility, not a servant. ‘The captain would like to discuss the… issue which occurred during their voyage this morning.’

I carefully studied my father’s reaction. After Hadeon’s accusations, I could not help but contemplate if what he said was true. Did my father wish to use Karakos’s wrath against the neighbouring islands? Surely not. The god had become all but a myth, as all the gods had. Nothing more than names written on parchment, stories told to children to keep them behaving.

‘Call it for what it is, boy. A Mer attack. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.’

Aleanna stilled as though she was listening in, her mind locked on the conversation and not the threading she was midway through.

‘Reports have come in that there have been sightings close to the shore.’ Hadeon bowed his head, not out of respect, but to hide the pure hatred that creased over his brow. Maybe I should have said something, but it seemed words failed me.

‘When?’ Terian snapped.

‘All but an hour ago, my King.’

A few more words were exchanged, mainly my father berating Hadeon who continued to hold onto respectable silence. Then they left, the man who had my heart and the man who gave it to me. The silence which followed was thick with tension. That was the thing about my father’s presence—you felt it when you entered the room, but it was in the aftershock when he vacated it that truly left its mark.

Aleanna returned to her task. Scissors snipped near my throat, cutting through the collar of my jacket just as my father had requested. There was no more conversation to be had. Her movements slowed at the light pulsing just beneath the skin of my clavicle. Of course, her awe couldn’t be helped. Magic was rare, gifted by a god—although which god gave me mine was still up for debate.

Most of all, magic was dangerous. Something to be desired by those who beheld it, and feared by those who faced it.

In Aleanna’s moment of transfixion she caught her palm on the scissor’s edge, splitting her skin. Metal clattered against the stone-slabbed floor as she dropped the scissor and stumbled back, pain twisting the beauty of her features into an unrecognisable mask.

‘Fuck,’ she gasped. It was refreshing to hear her swear, as though I finally saw the truth of her, the one my father’s presence buried.

‘Here. Let me help you,’ I said, stepping down from the podium.

‘I’m fine, my Prince,’ she said, but the single tear which escaped her eye suggested otherwise. It was not one of sadness, but frustration. ‘It is best I don’t get any blood on your outfit or—’

‘Please.’ I kept my voice calm as I spoke. A pulse of light reflected off her features, shining from the conch of power imbued beneath my skin. ‘I don’t wish to hurt you. Only help.’

Her features relaxed, her hand dropping to her side as though she forgot about her wound—which wasn’t how my power worked. Well, unless that was my desired goal, my explicit intent. This time I simply needed her to calm down. So I wove that intention into my voice, persuading Aleanna’s subconscious to heed it.

Anyway, if my father heard her and returned to see this, I highly doubted a cut palm would’ve been what she was worried about.

Aleanna relaxed. She did it because she had no choice.

‘May I?’ I asked, no longer poisoning my words with my persuasion. ‘I’m no healer, but I can at least tidy you up before you find one. If we’re quick, I can have you on your way before… he returns.’

‘But your outfit isn’t finished.’ Her sea-glass green eyes widened as though I had said something funny. ‘Nor do I have enough coin for a healer.’

I didn’t need to ask if my father was paying her for tonight’s outfit. It was an honour to be chosen for such a task, one which she couldn’t refuse. No one refused us, as her colleague had discovered.

‘Then I’ll have to see what I can do about the outfit,’ I said, eyes scanning the room. ‘Now please, you have done much for me. Allow me to repay the favour.’

There was a reading chair situated beside the balcony. Beside it was a table covered in books. I gestured for her to sit, which she did with little hesitation. From the awkward posture of her back, I could tell she was not used to sitting on something so plush. Comfort was a luxury, and one not everyone could afford.

Blood smudged over her apron, staining the light blue into a rusty brown. ‘If I get any on you—’

‘Never mind that,’ I said, searching the room for something useful. The silver tray waited where my father had sat. His chalice of spirits was untouched and mostly full. I picked up the goblet and a cushion.

‘Here, bite down on this. It might sting, but at least the cut will be clean.’

She did as I asked, taking the cushion I offered and stuffing it between her teeth. I doused her wound with the alcohol and she hissed, eyes flaring wide as the blood was washed away. If reading minds was my power, I may have heard her screech a string of profanities.

The cut was superficial, nothing that wouldn’t heal in time. But it might put her out of commission and affect her livelihood. ‘Once we bandage this up, I’ll fetch you some coin to cover any missed work.’

‘But your outfit…’ Poppy-red hair fell over her face, shielding her eyes, which widened with disbelief.

‘Looks fantastic. Between me and you, I’m rather familiar with a needle and thread myself. I can finish off the collar before my father returns. I’ll tell him I dismissed you.’

She paused, looking at me properly for the first time. When she next spoke, I did not expect those five words to come out of her mouth. ‘You are different than him.’

Her compliment should have made my insides warm, when in truth it only inspired dread.

‘I’m told I took after my mother.’ Even though I had no memory of her, talking about her was still a painful ordeal. ‘I’ll let you in on a little secret. When my mother grew up, she used to mend fishing nets for a living. When I was old enough, I took up a needle and thread just to feel like I was respecting her memory. It brought me closer to her.’

‘Fishing nets and collars are very different, Ernest.’ Aleanna offered me a smile as she pressed a clump of fabric cuttings against her wound. I continued to wrap more off-cuts around it like a bandage.

Perhaps in another time, another life, I would’ve been friends with this woman. She was around my age, late twenties give or take. If I didn’t have my magic, maybe we would have been in the same school together, learned the same skills… maybe even kissed the same boys.

But alas, we were worlds apart, all because of what lingered within my throat.

‘What’s your greatest wish?’ I asked, wanting nothing more than to stop the way she was staring at me like I was some great oddity.

It was such a peculiar question that it did exactly what I required. Aleanna looked up at me, fair brows raised in confusion. ‘Pardon me… I don’t understand.’

I finished wrapping the material around her hand, staunching the bleeding. ‘It’s a simple question. If you could have one wish, what would it be? Money, power, beauty, knowledge?’

Aleanna pondered it for a moment, mulling over my question.

‘My mother is unwell,’ she answered finally with confidence.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said as ideas formed in my mind.

‘You didn’t spread the illness, did you?’ Aleanna bit out suddenly. ‘There’s no need to apologise.’

I bowed my head, aware of how the rays of light from the balcony reflected off the woman’s hair. It was the same colour as the blood staining the makeshift bandage around her hand.

‘Can I ask what happened to her?’

Aleanna paused. For a moment I thought she was going to refuse me. Unlike my father, I wouldn’t make her do anything. But when she finally replied, I believed it was because of the small relationship we were slowly building. ‘It’s a rot in her lungs. It fills them with blood until one day, it will drown her. And if I had a wish, it would be that she gets better.’

Aleanna would never have known it, but her answer struck a chord. It was a wish I too once had, before I understood my power to make it happen. My throat tightened as her eyes settled on mine. The familiar tug of an unseen collar pulled at my flesh, a reminder of the rules that bound me.

I gazed to the closed door. The thing about my father was that his deep voice carried. If he was close, I would’ve heard him. It was a risk, to do this. I couldn’t buy Aleanna’s trust with coin, but I could with power.

‘Thank you,’ I exhaled, squeezing her hand tight.

Before she could respond with her confusion to my thanks, my voice silenced the world. Magic unfurled in my throat, a rosebud beneath a ray of golden sun. It opened wide, yawning as though it was some creature kept in a deep slumber. As always, it glowed beneath my skin, reflecting light off Aleanna’s sharp features.

And so, I sang.

The melody was light. Soft. I kept it to a whisper, knowing only Aleanna and these four walls could hear. It didn’t need to be sung in words, but forming my intention into the lyrics only made my magic stronger. Like the knotting of rope, I twisted my intent with my magic, filling every note with what I desired.

And what I desired was for Aleanna’s mother to be well. For the rot to vanish, her lungs to clear.

We both didn’t hear the door open.

My focus was on Aleanna and her greatest wish. It wasn’t until my name rang out across it all, louder and more demanding than any power I could possess.

‘Ernest Ire.’ King Terian stood beneath the arched frame as the remnants of my voice faded into the air. This was not my father, but the King. All vicious power, fury, and horror. A storm brewed in his eyes.

I drew back from Aleanna, ready to shield her. But Father reached us in a few strides, snatching Aleanna’s wrist and pulling her from the chair. She dangled from his hand, like a puppet on a string.

Fear captured her, as it did me. She was far too scared to cry out. And I was far too scared of him to beg him to let her go.

‘Do you ever learn?’ Terian bellowed, the walls quaking from the fury in his voice. ‘What will it take for you to understand my rules?’

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn’t move a muscle. Even if Father asked me a question, I knew the best thing now was to not speak. It was my voice that got me into this mess. It would not be my voice that got me out of it.

I was a man, but beneath Father’s glare I felt like I was nothing more than a boy.   

With his spare hand, my father tangled his fingers in Aleanna’s red hair, snatching her face until his mouth was inches from her ear.

I couldn’t hear the words he shared, but I didn’t need to. Her eyes flew wide, her mouth parting in a sharp scream which was stifled by another hard yank of her hair.

‘I can make her forget,’ I spat, but he didn’t hear me. ‘You know I can… let me try… please…’

Father moved with the confidence of someone who had made their mind up. I chased him out onto the balcony, grappling at Aleanna’s apron as though it would stop what was to come.

‘No.’

‘I can do it, Father. Please, let me do it.’

Cool winds screamed out across the void, snatching my voice away as though it longed to steal it. The once calm water were now a boiling mass of waves which clashed against one another. Someone had angered Karakos—or perhaps the god was simply hungry, ready for my father to feed him.

Magic filled my throat like a stone. I took a breath in, prepared to stop him. Because I could.

The sky howled. The ocean bellowed.

‘If you do this,’ I screamed, unable to stop myself. He had broken me down, allowing that feral part of me to slip free, ‘I will never utter another sound for you.’

Terian stopped, my threat sinking in. I was his greatest strength, but also his greatest weakness.

I watched his emotions played out in the colour draining from his skin, like ash turning to snow. His grip on Aleanna lessened. She released a gasp riddled with relief. And for the first time, when she stared at me, it wasn’t with fear.

It was with hope.

But that lasted a mere second before Father flung her body over the stone balcony.

A scream tore from me. Not from my chest, or my gut, but from my soul. It was filled with magic, my throat flashing with light as I bellowed out across the ocean. There was no room for thought or contemplation as my magic spilled out of me.

It was a creature in its own right.

‘You did this,’ my father said, so calmly I was surprised to hear him above my screams and the thrashing ocean.

I shot forwards, the balcony wall slamming into my hips. If it was not for Father’s sudden grip on my neck, I might have joined Aleanna, throwing myself into the abyss of ocean below.

I watched the water as it swallowed Aleanna whole. It chewed her body up, devouring her. And I witnessed the moment she had crashed beneath, waiting for the ocean to spit her back up.

It didn’t.

‘Take it,’ I screamed until my throat felt like it was bleeding. ‘I don’t want this. I don’t deserve it. Take it from me.’

‘If I could, I would,’ Terian replied as his fingers clamped tighter around the back of my neck. But I wasn’t speaking to him. I spoke to the ocean, to Karakos. Hell, I spoke to Aleanna’s broken and ocean-battered corpse. What good was a voice that I couldn’t use? A voice kept under lock and key?

‘You killed her for nothing!’

‘A lesson. Ernest, you forget yourself,’ my father hissed into my ear, nails pinching my skin. ‘My forgetful son, you killed my wife. My heart. Your mother. You took her from me, selfishly. That was for nothing. Or have you forgotten?’

No, I hadn’t. Because at every given moment, my father had reminded me of what I had taken from him. Guilt was a familiar friend. I had known the emotion long before I could name it.

Tears fell from my eyes, snatched by the winds as my father held me down. There was nothing else to do but look below. Every passing second, I longed to see red hair amongst the dark blue, or a flash of flesh being churned by the water.

‘I’m sorry,’ I cried, unsure who my apology was for. Aleanna, or the man I had just failed. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

Terian drew me back, hoisting me from the balcony’s edge until I skidded across the stone slabs of the floor. Clouds brewed at my father’s back like wings. He was ominous as a God as he glowered down at me.

‘One rule,’ he said, voice barely audible over the beginning of the storm. ‘That’s all I have. One rule for you to follow in exchange for such a lavish life. One rule for you to abide by to spend every day surrounded with luxury and comfort.’ He leaned in so close that I could almost feel the nip of teeth against my ear. ‘One rule to repent for your sins.’

‘She could’ve lived,’ I hissed, refusing to blink as my father released me,

‘Your mother should have lived,’ he snapped, treading careful footsteps until he was beside me. ‘But alas, she did not. You killed her the moment you entered this world. You took her from me. And everything I have done since is for you. One day you’ll understand. Now pick yourself up. We have guests to greet.’

Hate burned at the back of my throat. ‘I won’t—’

‘Yes!’ he shouted as the sky was slashed with forks of lightning, thunder echoing a moment later. ‘Yes, you will. Because you are mine. Because you and that fucking voice belongs to me.’

There it was again, the collar around my neck tightening. I gazed past my father, losing myself to my thoughts. When I looked across the balcony wall to the boiling view of sea and sky, it wasn’t to look for Aleanna—it was to search for my way out of this… this curse.

‘And if I refuse?’

Father knelt before me, his expression smoothing into one I had not seen for years. It was the face of a man who once sat me on his lap and read me stories. The face of a man who kissed my torn knee when I fell off a donkey. The face of a man who loved me, not for my voice, but for me.

My father—the one I had been searching for. The one who died when he no longer saw me as his son, but the key to his future.

‘Then the first neck I break in honour of Karakos will be your little lover’s. Hadeon, is it?’

The world fell away from me as I stared deep into his knowing eyes.

‘Did you think I wouldn’t find out?’ Terian said, glowering down at me, the mask of a caring father gone once more. ‘Did you think you could sneak around fucking servants and I would be blind to it? You greedy, pathetic little child. You’re playing with toys. And toys can break.’

I swallowed hard, tasting the sharp bile which crept up my throat.

‘I take your silence as your understanding, Ernest. People are begging for their King to turn back to the old ways. And I shall. But mark my words, one step outside of my boundaries again and I will take Hadeon from you and feed the ocean with his blood. Am I clear?’

It was hard to speak with my broken heart filling my throat. I could only force out one word. ‘Yes.’

He stopped and took in a hulking breath, shoulders relaxing. Then he spoke the two words that had the power to ruin me. ‘Good boy.’

Chapter Three - Killian

I remembered the day my mother killed me as though it was yesterday, not hundreds of years before.

Her nails had gouged across my scalp as she held me in place, my head over the cliff’s edge with nothing but the roiling black waves beneath me. Wind had torn at my skin, snatching my desperate tears and stealing them into the ocean beneath.

‘My baby,’ she had cooed, red robes flapping around her narrow frame like a flag. ‘Killian, my baby boy,.’

As the crowd of her fellow acolytes stood and watched, my mother took the cold blade—metal splattered with the sea-salt spray of the ocean—and drew it across my neck as a musician would an instrument.

The serrated edge bit its teeth through flesh. She plucked my veins like strings.

I was conscious long enough to watch as my blood fell like rain, staining the white cliffs crimson with my life whilst the ocean’s tongues lapped at the rock, drinking my blood. It was a painful endeavour, bleeding out, one which scarred more than my flesh.

This was the ultimate betrayal.

There were no tears from my mother, no broken-hearted screams as I died, no rush of regret. She knew what she was doing, and she did so with confidence.

‘I will save you from them,’ mother had cried, ‘just as you will save us from damnation.’

Blood turned against blood as the tide turned against the shore.

That night was no different to this one. A storm raged across the ocean, churning the waves into a mass of vicious mountains which crashed against one another. Lighting forked through the ominous sky, splitting the dark clouds apart with moments of beautiful light.

Instead of being held over the precipice of a cliff’s edge, I was nestled in the home I’d built on the very spot where my mother had killed me. It was a humble dwelling, with its lit hearth and incense-heavy air. The glass rattled as the winds battered them from outside, the storm longing for entry into my home.

Hundreds of years had passed and yet her voice was still clear as the day I last heard her.

All the old myths portrayed Karakos as an angry god. Even when he was calm, there was danger lurking beneath the depths of his domain. The ocean had the power to offer sustenance to those who needed it, or the power to swallow Kingdoms whole.

I often wondered what Karakos saw in me, but I knew an answer would always be out of reach. Did the god weigh up my innocence, or lack thereof? Did he regret saving me?

In the years since my mother had killed me, the world around me had more than changed—it was barely recognisable. Life had blossomed and waned, spreading like weeds which withered and grew in an endless cycle. And I’d watched it all happen through this very window. The only thing which never changed was the ocean. Even the stars shifted in their seats, some dying whilst others were born anew.

The ocean was eternal, but I… I was ancient.

But what displeased Karakos today was not sacrifices or blood. I was the last life given to the ocean—my story had changed the course of Ire’s future. No one wished to anger a god who could rise over the world and draw life into his domain.

But in the years since Karakos saved me, it seemed the god forgot his promise. Forgot me for another—someone else of more importance.

I watched from my perch as the first figure emerged from the rough water. A Mer. Other sinuous heads popped out of thrashing waves. They all watched as one of their own dragged itself onto the shore.

Impossible. This was… wrong. I clutched the damp wall for support, unsure what I had just witnessed, unable to move as the Mer pulled itself out of the depths. Its unnatural body clawed across sand as scales melted to flesh. Its tail dissipated like smoke caught on the wind, revealing two legs beneath.

Legs. Human legs.

I followed its sights, which I could tell were set on the Kingdom of Ire, my ears pricking to catch the sounds of the city which rose over the roar of the waves.

‘How?’ I asked, breath fogging on the window, obscuring the view.

Karakos didn’t reply.

No Mer had ever walked on land. They were monsters of the deep, creatures made in their creator’s image but twisted in Gorgana’s wicked game. What I witnessed should have been impossible. A miracle, some might say.

Or a nightmare come true.

I turned my back on the ocean, on Karakos, on my hopes of freedom. Then, as the storm broke, I heard it. As I had all those years ago as my body tumbled into the raging water, as Karakos embraced me in its many limbs.

‘Killian, my Killian. My. Killian.’

There was a time I lived to please my saviour. But just as my mother drew that blade over my throat—the woman who bore me into this horrifying world and believed she had the right to take me out of it—Karakos would do the same, in time.

In the years I had been alive, I had learned many things. The most important was

patience.

My trident leaned against the wall. I took it, fingers grasping the cool metal. The power stored within it thrashed against my skin until it bled inside of me. Lightning flashed outside my shack, illuminating the cracks in the door and wooden slats. I kicked the door open, viewing the dark night beyond.

‘Lead the way,’ I spoke to the dark, watching the smudge of a figure moving towards the castle in the distance, ‘and I shall follow.’

* * *

The Mer walked awkwardly on legs which didn’t belong to it. The creature glowed like a beacon, a shimmer of magic oozing from its skin. Whatever power gifted such an ability to the Mer was strong enough to defy natural laws.

Each step looked as though it pained the Mer, like it was walking on shards of broken glass. If it wasn’t for the spell woven around its legs, I had no doubt the Mer would still be floundering in the water, full of hate and watching the humans from a distance, waiting for some drunk fool to fall in and be devoured, bitten… changed.

I might have even killed it if it stayed water-bound. Perhaps I still would. But not before I discovered what brought it here. And, more importantly, how.

It was barefoot, its skin a mottled mess of blue, purple and white, its red hair sodden with ocean water. But no one seemed to notice as it passed, even though its clothes were sodden and its arms hanging limp beside it. Even though it was dead, a corpse infested by the creatures of the deep.

Mer did not walk. Mer did not leave the ocean. No one in Ire would be looking for such a thing, and yet I had watched it crawl out the Below.

I made my mind up on one thing as I followed it through the streets of Ire. The Mer had found a way into the body of a deceased, something I had never seen before. The corpse was fresh, the smell of death buried by the salt and brine coating its skin. With my sharpened senses, I could smell the rottenness of disintegrating flesh even at a distance, the vile smell making me gag.

The only detail which sang of life was the poppy-red hair. Violently bright, it swung around her shoulders in salt-crusted strands.

I had my sights set firmly on the creature, but in the time it took me to blink, it had vanished. I’d lost it amongst the bustling streets. My eyes scanned frantically for the shock of red hair, hoping to find it, but there were too many people around. A sea of flesh—nobles, commoners and lowborn alike—all hoping for a seat to watch the evening’s show.

I was familiar with their desire to hear the prince sing, but the Mer was what brought me here. I knew where it was heading, but that didn’t stop the urgency from propelling me forwards.

I didn’t want to miss it, this phenomenon of a Mer walking among the living. Whilst it stalked towards its prey, I did the same.

Frustrated, I longed to knock elbows into bodies, shifting people out of my way as I cut my way through Ire’s streets. But I couldn’t risk my skin touching that of another’s. I drew my elbows in, wishing for the shawl I wore to engulf me. To protect me.

My trident was no longer a trident, but a walking stick. It was a simple spell, something which cost me little. Like water casting a mirage on a hot day, it took barely any effort for me to warp what those around me saw. With the King’s guards loitering around the streets, carrying a weapon in plain sight was not a wise choice. Not tonight of all nights, when they’d parade their little prince out before an enormous crowd.

That was the thing about humans. They coveted wealth and power, but above all it was magic that drew them like moths to a flame and completely drew their attention. Whereas they would each be wishing for a glimpse of the prince, no one paid mind to the elderly. I discovered in my years of walking among them that the old were a forgotten group, a long-lost relic which were better ignored than recognised. For hiding in plain sight, this illusion was perfect.

No one would mind an old man, but a monster—this city would crumble on its own accord if they truly saw me.

They all had a name for me. I just wondered if I would hear it tonight.

Ire was alive with sounds and smells, assaulting every one of my senses. Vendors sold grilled fish seasoned with dried salt and herbs. I could barely watch as the humans feasted greedily on the white meat, sucking the juices from spindly bones before discarding scraps for stray cats to finish.

That was one detail about Ire that hadn’t changed. This city belonged to strays more than it belonged to those born of royal blood.

I almost tripped over a swarm of cats. One stopped short of my boots, arching its back whilst expelling a ferocious hiss. Cats never liked me, not even before Mother killed me and Karakos saved me.

Musicians fiddled with strings, plucking awful tunes from their wooden instruments. People danced, whooping and crying with joy, clapping their hands whilst others spun vigorously around.

They wouldn’t dance if they knew what this city was built on. The blood, the sacrifice. Or maybe they would.

It had been hundreds of years since I had last visited Ire. I had hoped to avoid it for another hundred. But tonight—tonight was different. Part of me admired what humanity had achieved. But another part of me, the louder and more dominant part, almost longed for Karakos to return and swallow this place entirely. All the greed, all the joy and laughter—it grated on me like a knife to my flesh.

I moved swiftly, passing through the winding streets, my fingers drumming on the walking stick. The closer I got to the castle, the more people surrounded me. Suddenly, I no longer cared about the Mer as arms bumped into me, elbows and hands brushing me.

All that touch, all that proximity… it would ruin me.

My breathing grew laboured and my head started spinning. Panic seized me until I was no longer moving of my own accord. It was all of them around me, pushing and heaving. The beast within cracked a single eye open. I felt it stir, awakened by all the touch. But before it broke free, I pushed my way through the stream of bodies until I stood alone in one of the many side streets.

White-painted buildings arched overhead, guarded by olive trees leaning out of clay pots. I fell down upon a step, sitting as the world steadied. Even away from the crowd, I still felt their touch slithering over me like leeches. I threw my hood back, my pale hair tumbling over my shoulders as my mirage slipped away. The air was heavy, thick and warm. My stick was no longer a stick, the prongs of the trident gouging three scars into the stone beneath it. I couldn’t hold up the magic, couldn’t focus on anything but the insistent, vile touch of hands upon me.

Breathe, my baby. My Killian.

I heard my mother singing to me as she always did. Taunting me even in death. Her dulcet tones hadn’t faded in the years since she’d died. I still could hear her as clear as day, as though she stood beside me and spoke.

It was in that moment that I knew this was a mistake. Coming to Ire was a mistake. Following that damned Mer was a fucking mistake. I should have killed it the moment it stepped free of the ocean. But instead I followed it, knowing the jeopardy I put myself in by doing so.

Then why are you here, my son?

I buried my face in my hands, squeezing my eyes closed to surrender myself to the dark.

‘Answers,’ I growled out, wondering if my mother’s spirit could hear me. She always seemed to speak to me, but she never answered.

As expected, my mother didn’t respond, but I was glad for the silence. It gave me a chance to catch my breath and focus on the rolling ocean, far away from the city, to distract me. All the while, I felt the slithering tingle left in the wake of so many people touching me. It would take a fire to scour myself clean.

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