In every village, secrets sail on the wind — some welcome, others deadly.
---
The mist clung to Kael's shoulders like a secret he couldn't shake off. Each step into the village felt heavier than the last, not because the road was steep or the basket at his side too full, but because everything felt… off.
He hadn't seen Lyra again since the incident at the cove — not since her tail had shimmered beneath his hand and her words had tangled in his thoughts like a curse. "Touch it again, and I'll teach you what drowning in air feels like."
Except she hadn't really meant it. Had she?
Kael's mind had replayed that moment a thousand times during his walk back to the village, each replay softening the edge of her threat, teasing out a flirt hidden behind sharp teeth.
Now, back among people, the silence felt too loud.
"Kael!" someone called from the dock's end. It was Theo, the boy who always found excuses to skip his chores and follow Kael around like a lost pup. "Where'd you disappear to?"
Kael hesitated before answering. "Fishing. Didn't catch much."
Theo grinned. "You never do. But you always look like you found treasure when you come back."
Kael smirked. Because maybe I did.
He ruffled the boy's hair, gave a few friendly nods to passersby, and moved quickly toward Old Mara's hut. If there was anyone who could sense the shift in the wind, it was the village healer. And she had already noticed him the moment he'd arrived.
"Mara," he said as he stepped inside, ducking under bundles of herbs.
The old woman didn't turn. "You smell like salt, boy. But not the sea I know."
Kael froze. "What do you mean?"
Mara hobbled over to her table and crushed something green into a paste. "There's something strange stirring in the tides. I've lived by this coast for seventy years, and I know when it breathes differently. The water feels... watched."
Kael's grip on his basket tightened. "Suppose someone disturbed something that should've been left alone."
Mara finally looked at him, her eyes too young for her age. "Suppose they did. Then they better decide quick — whether they'll run, or protect it."
Before Kael could respond, the door creaked open.
A man stood there, tall and dressed in flowing black robes that looked too fine for these parts. His features were smooth, unmarred by sun or labor, and his voice slid into the room like oil on silk.
"I hope I'm not interrupting."
Mara stiffened. "We don't get many travelers here, stranger."
"I go where truth drifts," he said, then looked at Kael. "And where truth stinks like hidden magic, I tend to linger."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
The stranger smiled. "Sorin. A scholar of old tides. And something in this place has stirred an ancient pulse I haven't felt in years."
---
Back at the cove…
Lyra floated on her back, bored out of her scales.
Sunlight danced across her skin, and the sea was still, but her mind wasn't. She hated the way her thoughts kept dragging her back to Kael — to his eyes, his hand on her tail, his scent clinging to the air like a storm about to break.
Stupid, stubborn mortal.
He was different, yes. Curious. Not afraid. But also frustratingly kind. He hadn't recoiled at her sharpness, hadn't flinched when her magic flared. That made him dangerous.
She dipped under the surface, tail flicking with more force than needed, and swam deeper until the silence was thick and old memories stirred in the silt.
You're cursed to remember, the sea always whispered. And she did. The betrayal of the gods. The chains of immortality. The loneliness so deep it nearly unmade her.
When she surfaced again, the clouds had gathered.
She wasn't alone.
A ripple of energy tickled the edge of her senses — not Kael. Something colder. Something familiar.
---
Back in the village…
Kael watched Sorin walk away from Mara's hut with a chill that clung to his bones. The man's presence felt too polished, too… scripted.
He turned to Mara. "He's not just a scholar."
"No," she said, grinding leaves with firm hands. "He's something older. Something that walks like a man, but listens like the sea."
Kael didn't wait to hear more. He took the path back toward the cliffs, faster than before. Something inside him whispered that Lyra wasn't safe. And for some twisted reason, the idea of anyone else finding her made his stomach twist in ways he didn't want to name.
---
At the cove...
Lyra hovered just below the surface, her hair fanning like seaweed, when the disturbance rippled again.
A cloaked figure stood at the edge of the cliff.
Sorin.
He didn't speak, but his presence pushed against the very air — magic thick and seeking.
"You have no place here," Lyra called, rising from the water, droplets clinging to her skin like pearls.
Sorin's eyes didn't waver. "You're still here. Bound. Bored. But not forgotten."
Lyra's breath caught. That voice — it wasn't just Sorin. It was something older speaking through him. "Who are you really?"
"An echo," he said. "And the reminder that your curse has a clock. Tick too long, and the sea will claim what it spared."
Before she could respond, Kael burst through the clearing, breathless and wide-eyed.
"Get away from her," he growled, hand on his blade.
Lyra blinked.
Sorin laughed. "You've trained a puppy well."
"I'm no one's pet," Kael said, stepping closer.
Lyra's tail coiled behind her, tense. "You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should he," Kael snapped, eyes fixed on Sorin.
The scholar tilted his head. "Interesting. Mortal and siren, tangled in the old magic again. History repeats... and then devours."
He stepped back, disappearing into the trees without a sound.
---
That night, Kael built a fire by the shore. Lyra hovered nearby, arms folded over a rock, watching him with narrowed eyes.
"What was that back there?" he asked.
"Trouble," she said simply.
"Why didn't you tell me about him?"
"Because you're mortal. You break easy."
He smirked. "You're still talking to me."
She scowled. "Don't mistake curiosity for care."
Kael leaned in slightly. "Would it be so bad if I did?"
For a second, her expression cracked. Then she flicked water at him with her tail. "Get over yourself.
Some tides bring treasure. Others bring warnings. And some… bring both in the same waves.