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“Of course. Tell Drue I wish him well.”

Nuri and Ruslo demonstrated how to make fire by striking flint with a blade. Golden sparks flew from the flint into the mound of dried coconut husks, transforming the pile into flames.

Fire lighting was far more difficult than it looked, and she had to try several times to get the spark to jump correctly. But eventually, the fire caught, and yellow flames danced high and bright.

Riella felt Kohara’s thoughtful gaze on her the whole time, but the older woman didn’t try to discuss Ferrante or the cave, for which she was grateful.

As night fell, stars decorated the lilac sky and the crescent moon rose. Riella usually adored staring at the moon. But this evening, she kept her eyes firmly at ground level, knowing the waxing moon was now counting down to her death.

Jarin returned from visiting Drue as the crew came up from the beach.

The men guzzled water before progressing to flagons of mead and bottles of rum. They sat on the stumps around the fire, or sprawled out on the sandy ground. Crickets chirruped behind the tree line and bats swooped silently overhead like ghosts.

“How’s Drue?” she asked Jarin as he brought food to her.

She picked at the fruit, which seemed to have lost all flavor.

“He improves.”

The siren nodded. She gazed into the hypnotic flames, the weight in her chest too heavy for her to bear carrying on a conversation. Jarin sat by in pensive silence.

It was harsh and unusual to know when she was going to die, but not how. Everyone knew they’d die one day, of course. But it was something else entirely to have a countdown, and to be unable to stop it.

After all, who was she to go against fate? Jarin’s father hadn’t been able to stop it. In fact, he’d walked right into it, head held high. Perhaps that was the strongest thing to do.

As she watched the fire, she wondered if she would’ve lived differently, if she had known she’d die so soon. Would she have made different choices?

But, if she had made different choices, she’d not be in this mess to begin with. Galeil and Mareen wisely avoided humans, and they still had their tails and Singing voices to show for it. They were free. And what could be more wonderful than freedom?

“Dance with us,” said Ruslo, offering his hand to Riella.

Snapping out of her trance-like state, she agreed. While Berolt played a fiddle, the children showed her a simple dance, repeating the steps for her until she could do them too. She twirled and spun around the clearing until her mind was blessedly free of thought. On the other side of the fire, Jarin eyed her through the flames, even when talking with his men.

This was a kind of freedom, she thought. Feeling giddy and joyful, dancing with children on the warm sand. She would die, like everyone would, but not yet. Until then, she could savor her remaining life.

She tried to convince herself to be alright with the situation. After all, had she not always been willing to die in battle, during the war? Was this so different?

The music grew louder as the rum flowed, and more pirates joined the dancing. Riella eventually ran out of breath, her hair sticking to her hot face, and she wandered from the fire pit to breathe the cool night air.

The shadows greeted her like an old friend. Away from the music, the jungle was alive with night noises. She let her feet guide her toward the distant crashing of the ocean, alone.

As she climbed the silver dunes, sea grass bowing in the stiff breeze, she felt lost and bereft. The wine-dark sea was no longer her home. If she tried to return to it, the ocean would kill her as if she were human. She dwelled on land now, and yet she didn’t belong here, either.

But even when she’d lived in the sea, she’d never completely fit in with her friends. She’d always felt different. Like there was no place for her.

Perhaps it did not matter anymore that she didn’t belong. Perhaps that was the point the whole time—she wasn’t meant to. Her life was not about belonging.

It was about fulfilling a prophecy, and then dying.

In the middle of the expansive beach, there was no hiding from the moon. It bathed her in pearly light, making her skin glow. The thundering waves were so loud that she didn’t hear Jarin until he was very close.

He stood before her without saying a word, blocking her view of the ferocious sea. He covered her shoulders with his large hands, and she let him. She took a deep breath and looked up into his serious eyes.

When she opened her mouth to speak, she tasted salt. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. How long had she been crying?

It was too late to hide her vulnerability from Jarin. He’d already seen, and nothing bad happened. Perhaps she ought to let the tidal wave rise inside of her and flow outward.

“I don’t want to die,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m scared.”