Lightning split the sky like the crack of a whip, momentarily turning the beach silver-white. Kael flinched as the boom echoed through the cliffs, the shockwave so close it knocked him back onto the wet sand. The last thing he remembered was Lyra's voice—sharp, scornful: "Get over yourself."
Then darkness.
Kael woke to the smell of scorched air and salt, his body sprawled at the edge of the tide. Rain had ceased, but the wind still danced in wild eddies. He groaned as he pushed himself upright, his fingers sinking into the soaked sand. His muscles screamed. His hair clung to his face in thick strands, and a bruise was already blooming across his temple.
"Lyra?" he called hoarsely.
No answer. Just the hiss of waves dragging themselves back to sea. For a moment, panic welled up in his throat. What if she was gone? What if he had dreamed it all—the mermaid, the bond, the curse?
A splash answered him.
He turned.
There she was, floating near the shore, propped on her elbows against a rock. Her hair was slicked down her back, seaweed tangled like ribbon through it. Her expression was unreadable. But her eyes—those deep, glossy green eyes with gold-slit pupils—watched him too closely.
"You're not dead," she said dryly.
"You sound disappointed," he croaked.
She smirked but didn't deny it. "You nearly got yourself fried."
"You left me out here!"
"You fell."
"You told me to get over myself!"
She shrugged one shoulder. "I stand by it."
He staggered to his feet. "What the hell happened?"
Lyra tilted her head. "The storm was natural. But... the sea reacted to you. And I don't like things I can't predict."
Before he could respond, a distant voice called out.
"Kael?"
He froze.
A girl in a patched brown cloak approached slowly, her boots sinking in the wet sand. She looked no older than sixteen, with unruly black curls and eyes too large for her narrow face. In one hand, she clutched a basket. The other hovered near her chest, clenched nervously.
"I-I saw you from the cliffs. Are you okay?"
He nodded slowly. "Just... shaken. What are you doing out here, Miri?"
Lyra narrowed her eyes. She hadn't expected an audience.
The girl—Miri—glanced past Kael to the water. Her expression shifted. Not quite fear. Not quite awe. "I was gathering driftroots. After the storm, they wash up fresh. But then I saw you. And... her."
Kael turned slightly. "Miri, this is..."
"You can call me bored out of my scales," Lyra said smoothly, flipping a strand of kelp from her shoulder.
Miri blinked. Her grip on the basket tightened. "She's a mermaid. A real one."
Kael nodded. "Yeah."
The girl said nothing for a long time.
"People in the village whisper about the sea witch who drags men under," Miri finally murmured. "They say she curses them."
"Do I look like I drag men anywhere?" Lyra asked sweetly, though her smile was all teeth.
Kael stepped between them. "She's not what they say."
Miri hesitated. Then lowered her eyes. "I won't tell. But... you should be careful. Not everyone keeps secrets."
With that, she turned and vanished up the cliff path.
When she was gone, Lyra exhaled sharply. "That one's trouble."
"She's a kid."
"So were the ones who started the last witch hunt."
Kael shivered. Not just from the wind.
Lyra moved closer, the surf foaming around her tail. "You need to understand, Kael. I'm not your village myth. But I'm not harmless either."
He looked at her. "Then why didn't you let me drown?"
She frowned. "Because you're... irritating. And I hate unfinished business."
He barked a laugh. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
For a moment, the air between them softened.
Then something changed.
A ripple shuddered through the sea—too deliberate to be wind. Lyra went still.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," she said. But her voice had gone cold.
"You felt that too."
She didn't answer. Just stared out past the waves. Her fingers twitched like she was remembering a weapon she no longer held.
"Lyra?"
"Stay out of the water tonight," she said quietly. "Promise me."
Kael swallowed. "Why? What's out there?"
Her eyes didn't leave the horizon.
"Old things. Hungry things."
And in the distance, something watched Some tides carry more than foam.