Shui Yi shuffled back, her hand covering her mouth as she watched the King's eyes glow with an ancient light. His deep, resonant voice echoed through the throne room, reciting an incantation she had never heard before but found terrifying. Each word flowed with an unsettling rhythm, heavy with authority. The coral wall flowers shriveled, and the throne room door cracked.
No… this couldn't be happening. Her father would not do this to her. The water currents thickened with dark magic, the spell winding around her, suffocating her, pulling at her soul with a painful grip. Her heart pounded. She clutched her tail, the iridescent appendage that was her connection to the sea. But the magic pinned her in place, and she felt as though the ocean itself was retreating into the distance, abandoning her. "Father…" Her voice faltered, the words heavy with disbelief.
His face, once warm and filled with the love of a protector, now looked like a mask of cold duty. His gaze fixed on the trident, its power intensifying. The water around them churned violently, spiraling and whipping at her. Beneath the magic, a foreign ache spread from her chest to her tail. The pain surged in waves. What was he doing?
He raised the trident higher. His words, like thunder, crackled, sending waves crashing in every direction. She gasped for air, her body trembling. The pain in her chest intensified, creeping through her limbs, and her tail spasmed as the scales cracked and peeled away. Father… please stop… But no sound left her lips.
Her tail—a symbol of everything she was—began to disappear. The sharp sting of its loss spread through her, each inch of her mermaid form fading into something alien.
No. Not the tail… anything but that… please, no…
Each painful mutation blurred her vision, and the ocean's embrace—the constant, soothing lull of the sea—faded into an unreachable dream. The transformation wasn't just physical; it felt like her soul was being torn apart. She clutched at the air, grasping for something to hold onto. Everything was slipping away. Her once-glorious tail was gone; in its place, two weak, unfamiliar human legs wobbled beneath her. She collapsed, falling to her knees on the cold, hard sand. Her breath was ragged and shallow. She reached down, trying to feel the comforting scales, the connection to the ocean she had always known. But there was nothing. She was no longer a mermaid. She was no one.
"Father… how could you?" Her voice was barely audible through the deafening roar of the incantation.
His gaze remained fixed ahead, never acknowledging her pain. "You have dishonored the legacy of the Merfolk," he said, his voice hollow, foreign, as if the merman she had known no longer existed.
Shui Yi's chest tightened. The magic coursing through her was excruciating, and she couldn't understand why. She tried to call to him again, but the words caught in her throat, strangled by the power of the spell. Why couldn't he see? Why couldn't he hear her?
"I've failed you, Shui Yi," he murmured. His shoulders stiffened, his back tensed after he finished the spell. With a swift motion, he gestured toward her. Long Fei's cloak wrapped around her, offering her little comfort. A bubble began to form, isolating her from the rest of the world. Outside, the currents raged on, but the gravity of the spell pressed down on her, rendering her helpless and frozen in place.
"Your exile begins now," his voice barely a whisper over the chaotic storm. "The shore will be your home, but the ocean will never embrace you again… unless you retrieve the Sacred Pearl."
Her heart raced as his words sank in, her thoughts swirling. That wretched relic. The mention of the Sacred Pearl was the dagger that twisted deep inside her. He had taken so much yet never clarified why. She didn't even know she was entrusted with it. Now, this was her punishment: exile for something she had no knowledge of. The injustice bore down on her, and her heart swelled with rage and disbelief.
"Enough with this Sacred Pearl! If it was so important, why didn't you tell me?!" Her voice cracked, but she immediately clamped her mouth shut, realizing her outburst too late.
Her father's eyes widened. Guilt flickered within them, but he returned to his throne.
Another fire ignited within her. Losing her tail was like severing her last tie to him.
"You failed me, Father! You entrusted something so precious to someone who knew nothing. Who was never meant to bear such a burden! You failed me, you failed our kingdom... and worst of all, you failed as a father."
She hadn't meant to yell. It wasn't like her to lash out this way. But there it was: the truth she could no longer hold in. She huffed, her fury unlike anything she had ever known. His back was still turned against her, the silhouette of a monarch who would not look at her as his daughter anymore. She couldn't bear to look at him any longer. She couldn't even call out to him.
The bubble rose slowly, drifting through a hole in the ceiling. She wanted to scream and banged her fists against the bubble that separated her from the world she had once known. But the magic held her in place, and the storm of emotions constricted her throat, leaving her mute. The silence inside the bubble was deafening—a crushing reminder of her isolation. She was cut off from everything: her family, her kingdom, her sea. All of it slipped away as the sunlight grew brighter, blinding her eyes.
When the bubble finally broke through the surface, Shui Yi felt the harsh sunlight basking over her. Her body felt foreign and weak. The saltwater was replaced by the scorching heat of the sun, harsh like her father. The dry, stifling air burned her lungs. She gasped, struggling to breathe, another reminder that she no longer belonged to the ocean.
***
Meanwhile, in the throne room, the King could no longer hold his composure. Once Shui Yi disappeared from view, a sharp bitterness rose in his throat, blood pooling against his tongue. He staggered, his body shaking with the aftershocks of the spell. He braced himself against the edge of the throne, gasping for air.
With each pulse of the trident, the warmth drained from his body, his essence flickering like a dying flame. He knew it was the price he had to pay. But it was nothing compared to what he had done to his daughter. This was the only way for her to survive.
He thought of how her laughter once filled the palace, her innocent joy so pure. "Father, you're so strong. You'll always protect me, right?" she would ask, her eyes full of trust, her small hands tugging at his tail. Now, their tie was torn apart. How could a father do this to his own daughter? But how could he let her die? The weight of that decision crushed him.
His heart ached, his voice cracking with regret. "Forgive me, my child…" he whispered. He had no choice. He couldn't let her die. But what had he done? What kind of father cast his daughter away like this? This was all he could give her.
The King lowered his head, guilt weighing him down. His life force was fading, but it didn't matter. It was a small price to pay for her to live longer. He slumped on his throne, replaying his daughter leaving him, as tears streamed down, salting the sea with melancholy.