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Now at the cliff-side, Lune knew for a fact today would be different. Soon they’d be official Compass-mates. Spending evenings curled up and cozy, resting together. In their bed. Listening to the comfort of the ocean waves.

His toes clutched at the rocks for balance.

He gauged the winds, the currents, his distance.

Then, naked, and with his compass securely bound to his wrist, Lune dove into the water.

This was the first time he was back in his element since being poisoned.

He waited, examining his limbs. Nothing changed.

Maybe his body was still trying to adjust. He tread water a bit to get re-assimilated, then abandoned the expectation of a shape-shift.

Arm out in front of him, he used his compass as a beacon to bring him back to where he’d left off. He swam around in slow circles, narrowing down the pattern. Diving a bit lower at each turn.

But the deeper he went, something going on inside himself didn’t feel right. His gills were flared open to full, but he wasn’t getting much oxygen. His legs were tingling. Horrible pins and needles. It had to be the depths waking up his siren’s body.

Suddenly, his compass glowed. Ecstatic, Lune worked to track and pinpoint his target. The deeper he went, the more stabbing and sharper his headache became. His vision started to blur. He was reaching his limit. Still, he pushed, telling himself he was almost there. He could do this.

His hands started to shake. The pressure was squeezing him.

There. Narsus’s compass. He could see the round flatness of the metal against the grainy ocean floor.

He paddled downward and reached for it. But as he touched it, it was like a shot of lightning up his arm.

He froze in shock.

Beneath Narsus’s compass, covered in barnacles and muck, was a…second compass?

Lune immediately grabbed both.

Using his fingernails and teeth on the second compass, he cracked the barnacles and scraped them off. The sweet and briny snack often sustained him when he submersed himself for hours to days. It was the one bit of sea edibles he could stand.

Yes, it was indeed a Compass, and he had a suspicion he knew who it belonged to. If Compass-borns tended to gather in groups, it made sense a lost compass could gravitate toward other compasses. Lune secured them both in the little drawstring carry bag he’d looped over his torso.

He turned to head back. Something inside him suddenly broke. Maybe he tried to ascend too fast. He couldn’t breathe. He thrashed violently. His body was on fire from the inside out. The pins and needles in his legs went numb. His gills were flaring but not working. Or maybe overworked.

Lune gasped and thrashed again as liquid lava instantly seemed to attack his legs. His entire body spasmed, and he screamed. The pockets of air held in stasis in his lungs escaped him. Bubbles were bouncing up to the surface .

His legs. He couldn’t move them. Felt as if they were turning into putty. He couldn’t swim. He’d overestimated himself. Been too cocky by going so deep. Was…was he actually drowning?

Lune flailed, swallowing water that would not flow through his gills. His mind was fogging and his limbs grew heavy.

Narsus. Oh gods, Narsus. His mate would be devastated. It wasn’t fair.