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Esmyra

A s dawn approached, Esmyra and Draevyn silently slipped from the castle, the stone pathways of Maerinys gleaming under a heavy mist.

They kept their hoods up and heads down, navigating the unfamiliar roads as quietly as possible.

They passed several carts in the streets; the merchants laughing amongst each other as they set up their stands for the day—some displaying an array of food, while others hung bolts of fabric and jewels.

The further they wandered from the castle, the more people emerged from their homes to start their day. Children darted around, chasing each other, and their laughter echoed as they raced by.

It was strange to think she belonged here, to this kingdom beneath the waves. It called to her—her blood and name. Yet she was a stranger here, surrounded by nothing but secrets and lies, aside from the man accompanying her.

As much as she didn’t want to entertain the doubts he voiced about Syrena, the guard last night had all but confirmed that, at the least, her twin was hiding something .

Whether that was knowing a way out of Maerinys and secretly keeping her as a hostage, or something entirely more sinister, Esmyra wasn’t sure. All she knew now was that Draevyn’s instincts were right, and he had rooted them deep inside her, twisting with her own.

As they ducked beneath a darkened archway, she thought of how Syrena had seemed so genuine in her lessons, guiding her with ease as she found herself. But it had all come so easily, as if she were being shaped into something she didn’t fully understand.

Just as her father had shaped her before.

Esmyra noticed guards and staff she recognized from the castle out among everyone, hanging decorations for the celebration that was to come in the evening.

A sinking feeling crept into her gut, realizing she wanted no part in it.

Every minute down in Maerinys now felt more suffocating than the last. Only a day ago, she was excited to be there and learn more of herself and people. Now she was counting down the seconds until she could escape.

Before she made any decisions, she had to find out the truth—whatever it was.

Draevyn stretched his arm out to halt her as he peered around the corner. “Fucking Irah,” he huffed as he pressed her body against a building with his own. The warmth of his chest against hers, even through their cloaks, sent her heart fluttering.

Only a second later, several armed guards marched by.

“There’s so many of them. Why?” he whispered. “They’re fucking everywhere .”

“Keeping tabs on everyone, it seems,” she muttered back, catching sight of a guard stationed near a group of music performers. She bit her bottom lip. “Or maybe they’re looking for us?”

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Of course they are. You’re not in your room or the gardens, and Syrena stated she would be occupied. That’s likely exactly what’s happening.”

They hid in a narrow alley between two buildings as she pulled the map from her cloak and rolled it open. “We only have about another mile before we’re on the outskirts of the city. ”

“Well, we best be quick then, before they send more of her goons out looking for you.”

“Aye,” she answered, while giving a sharp nod. The thought of Syrena sending people to spy on either of them irritated her.

Draevyn signaled all was clear, and they raced from the alley, stepping through narrow side streets to avoid the more crowded paths.

As they ventured deeper, the sounds of the bustling marketplace faded, and the streets became quieter, less inhabited.

Buildings became replaced by hints of ancient architecture before the sinking, as it jutted out from the sea floor—half-shattered columns wrapped in algae and partially reclaimed by coral.

“There,” he murmured, nodding to an archway half sunken into the earth. It was hidden beneath overgrown kelp several yards from them.

As they approached, Esmyra noticed a faint etching of a trident with a coiling serpent carved above it, surrounded by the familiar runes.

It was the same symbol that marked the book Draevyn stole from the library.

She unrolled the map once more. Looking back and forth from the parchment to the arch looming before them, she said, “This has to be one of the entrances to the caves.”

The path beyond the arch was dark, disappearing into shadows as its steps sloped downward, looking entirely uninviting.

“This is it. I know it is,” she whispered, looking at him.

His eyes were assessing her, and she would’ve given anything to know what he was thinking. “If this is our way out, there’s no going back,” he said.

The arch seemed to pull at her, drawing her toward the remaining mystery of Maerinys—a mystery that felt painfully entwined with her existence.

Syrena had told her so many things, so many half-truths and lies.

Esmyra realized the only way she would uncover the truth of her past was by taking matters into her own hands.

She nodded firmly, and without another word, they descended into the shadows, leaving the stone paths of Maerinys behind them.