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Chapter Fifty-Five: Aria

In the weeks that followed our departure from Eersten, Mashaka and I had found ourselves in an uneventful blur of swimming through endless open blue waters. My muscles ache from overuse, and the urge to shift into my mortal form has grown until it feels like I’m trying to keep another being stuffed beneath my skin. I suppose, in a way, I am. Relaying that to Mashaka, he squeaks in annoyance or protest or maybe even agreement, though I doubt very much it’s the latter.

“I am not fully a sea creature like you are. I need to shift, or my body will be forced to do it. Can you imagine how much slower we’ll be if I have to swim by only kicking my legs?” Tiny black pupils glare at me before he darts a little farther ahead as if he can’t even bear to be next to me. As if it’s my fault. Rolling my eyes, I swim up to the surface in search of a place to safely change and rest.

Swimming through the thick layer of the Spell, I raise my head just enough so that my hazel eyes can scan our surroundings. The beaches of the Mortal Kingdom stretch far and wide in front of me. I follow the long line of tan sand at the water’s edge, my disappointment growing when I don’t see a place suitable for my needs.

Sinking back under the surface, I’m about to voice the setback to Mashaka when he darts around me until his long snout pokes at my back. “What are you doing?”

He swims out in front of me and squeaks, the sound distinctly one of exasperation, before he takes off, leaving me to follow. He moves leisurely, and I wonder if he’s also feeling as exhausted as I am. Minutes pass before Mashaka pivots to the right, heading towards the Mortal Kingdom’s shore.

“Wait!” I shout, but of course he doesn’t listen. My apprehension grows the closer we get, and I scan the waters looking for anything that might be a threat. The bottom of the seafloor nears, gradually lifting towards us. Only then does he slow, spinning around and letting out a lower-pitched squeak. My gaze slides from him to the shore in the background. “You want me to go there?” I ask, pointing. He doesn’t answer, just swims past me and back towards the deeper water. “Wait, take my bag please!” Mashaka keeps swimming, and I’m half convinced that he’s going to ignore me again when he abruptly turns and makes his way back. I slide my bag over him, letting it hang mostly from his dorsal fin. “You look adorable!” He snaps his teeth at me and then races back out into the sea. Turning to face the shore I mumble, “There is a fifty percent chance he’s leading me into a trap,” I mumble to myself while I swim as far as I can before shifting into my mortal form and lifting my head from the water. Though I suppose at the beginning of this journey that chance would have been closer to one hundred percent, so I guess I should be happy for the progress in our relationship.

The sand in front of me gives way to a rocky alcove, the gray and white striated rocks creating a natural arch that blocks the sun’s rays. I try to stand and immediately stumble, saltwater stinging as it shoots up my nose. I’m sent into a coughing fit as I crawl the rest of the way, my legs wobbly from the lack of use in this form. Finally reaching the alcove, I check again to make sure I’m alone, before spinning to lay on my back with a huff. In my full mortal body, my braids give way to tight ringlet curls, the strands fanning out as water skims over them. The trapped feeling slowly eases away with the gentle tide, and I close my eyes, the sound of the waves lulling me into further relaxation.

I always feel different above the surface—not necessarily like I belong here, but like I am grasping at a freedom that I can’t gain beneath it. If there were a way I could live as a mortal, completely forsaking my siren form, I think I would do it. That’s my final thought as I begin to drift into sleep, the warm air blanketing my nude skin as the water softly laps around my body.

I wake just before the sun sets, lavender and wisps of pink coloring the sky above. The beach is still empty though a few ships have set anchors down in the distance. Crawling through the shallow water glimmering with the Spell, I wait until I’m deep enough to transform. Ruby-red scales cover my breasts and sides, gradually turning into golden yellow as they move down my forming tail and ending with a rich emerald green that stops at my tail fin.

The waters are calm as I search for Mashaka. My exploration draws me closer to one of the ships bobbing on the water, more dotting the surface nearby.

“Where are you, you little sea monster?” I grumble, pausing about twenty feet from one of the smaller boats. Though it’s difficult to spot them, I can just barely make out the long and wide nets that the mortals on the vessels above have cast into the water to catch fish. It would be my luck to accidentally get caught in one of those, so I’d much prefer that we hurry and leave this area before that happens. “Mashaka!” I shout as a glint of silver scales catches my eye.

Spinning to the right, I watch a small school of tuna swim in my direction, chased by none other than Mashaka. I pinch my lips together, watching as he viciously snaps his mouth and tries to catch one of the zig-zagging fish ahead of him. The school changes direction, but Mashaka is quick and powerful and pivots with them. It isn’t until the shadow cast by one of the boats moves that I see they are swimming directly towards one of the nets.

“Stop! Stop, Mashaka!” I scream, darting to intercept him.

But he’s too focused on catching his dinner, and as the tuna pivot again, they lead him directly into a net, the impact of them all smacking against it causing the boat above to rock.

“Mashaka! No!”

Dread feels like an anchor of its own within me as I watch him get twisted within the net. I dart towards him while the mortals above begin to haul the netting up. I don’t know if they’ll release him. Gods, they might even kill him so he doesn’t scare away the fish they are here to catch. I finally reach Mashaka, his bound body only a few feet beneath the bottom layer of the Spell.

“I’m here,” I tell him, trying to cut the net open with my talons, but the frantic movements of both him and the caught tuna makes it difficult to find a spot to tear at. “Mashaka, calm down!” He squeaks out in terror, his black eyes wide as the voices of the men hauling him grow near. “Mashaka!” I shout as loudly as I can, the sound reverberating against the bottom of the boat and finally knocking him out of his panic. He stills, his gaze snapping to mine. “I’m going to help you.”

At first, I try to find logical places to slice into the netting that I think will free him with the least amount of pain. But the net is already past the bottom of the Spell and mere feet away from breaking the surface.

“Shit,” I hiss, abandoning caution in favor of hastily freeing him.

“What is that ?” a male voice asks, and though I know the Spell is mostly crystalline, I’m hoping there is enough distortion to cause them to pause.

Mashaka stays still, watching as I shred more and more of the rope holding him. The top of his dorsal fin breaks the surface of the water, both of our terror growing when hands grip the netting next to him. I finally disconnect it just before the entirety of his body breaks the surface. The fish scatter as they fall back into the water, leaving Mashaka to sink—his body still too wrapped up in remnants of the broken net to move efficiently. I wrap my arms around him and guide him away from the boats and in the direction we need to continue on our journey.

“Let’s get far enough away that they won’t be a threat, and then I will free you.” He responds with a series of squeaks that would make me laugh in any other situation. “What would Allegra say to know you almost got bested by a net ?” I tease. At the mention of my sister, Mashaka tenses and goes silent. I can feel the quick flutter of his heartbeat beneath my arms, and guilt slams into me as we continue our escape. “I’m sorry, Mashaka,” I whisper.

He doesn’t respond, so I keep going, waiting until the sun has set and the half-moon is shining above us before slowing down. I edge closer to the shore so I can set him down on the sandy ocean floor and begin slicing away at his confinement. It’s a meticulous process, some of the thin ropes spun so tightly around him that they have begun to cut into his skin. He squeaks in protest at almost every piece I remove, but eventually, he settles down and lets me work. I cut the last piece off of him, thankfully finding my bag still hanging from his dorsal fin, and back up to let him swim.

“We should have a quick meal and rest before attempting the rest of our journey.” Without a sound, he darts past me and back out into the open waters. “ You’re welcome ,” I groan as I follow behind him.

We easily catch a few salmon and find a spot to sleep between some phosphorescent anemones and coral, their faint glow brought on by the light of the moon. I curl my tail in and stack my arms to lay my cheek on top of after our meal, closing my eyes and willing sleep to come.

We finally reach the Northern Island roughly four weeks after leaving Lumen—if I’m counting the days correctly. The sun is barely past the horizon, the sky a blend of deep orange and bright blue, when I tell Mashaka to stay close to the shore and then change into my mortal form and begin to crawl towards the beach.

While I’m still not sure I can call the delphinidae a friend, since saving him from being captured by the fishermen, he has been nicer to me. Sometimes, he even brings me the first fish he catches before going back out to catch another for himself.

Standing on shaky legs, I trudge slowly over the white sands of the Northern Island, the sight of the beach without the Spell lining it a bit jarring. Climbing over white boulders made smooth by the crashing of the surf, I clutch my bag while I observe the narrow staircase. It is carved into the dark stone that makes up the cliffside, Virgreen Palace sitting atop.

My ringlet hair hangs down past my hips, dripping water and partially covering me as I scale the steps. The dark stone is cool beneath my feet, granules of sand scraping my soles with each step up. I have to stop and lean against the cliffside multiple times, my leg muscles shaking from being used in this way. After what feels like hours, with sweat beading on my brow, I crest the very top of the cliff and drop to my knees as I catch my breath.

Once the rushing of blood in my ears fades, I slowly stand and nearly get knocked back down by the sight of the palace. It’s massive, perhaps even larger than the one in Lumen, and instead of pearlescent white, aged tan stone makes up the structure. Though its overall shape is rectangular, four towers of differing heights are built into it, two each at its front and back. Green vines and moss cover much of the palace’s front, the plants hanging down over carved stone archways.

There’s a ghostly quiet, one that clings to me as I walk towards what I hope is an abandoned manor. Climbing another set of stairs, my hand drags along a smooth stone banister to help me with balance as I enter a small round portico—if my memory of above-ground architectural terminology is correct. The plants are all overgrown, clearly no one visiting long enough to care for the space.

Before The War Of Five Kingdoms, this island was where the siren queen invited other rulers to come for peaceful revelry because, while part of our queendom, it was treated as neutral ground. When the Spell was cast, the island stayed untouched by its magical border. With no enchantment surrounding it, the Northern Island is technically open to all.

The stone beneath my feet softens into something more polished as I enter the palace through a large archway. Sparkling tiles of gradient blue and shimmering silver and gold glint in the sunlight like tiny gems. Above me is a large chandelier, small shells in pale blue and iridescent white hang in long strands from five different tiers. Tall columns in the same dark stone of the cliff line the hallway on either side, images carved into them that are too layered with dust and dried salt for me to decipher. The tapestries between the columns are tattered, age fraying them into unrecognizable strips of fabric that gently blow in the breeze coming in off of the ocean.

My mother had said that the treasure room where the rings would be kept is beneath the first floor, a magical locked door leading the way to the underwater vault. Remembering her instructions, I make my way through the maze of the first level, having to turn back and retrace my steps twice, until I arrive at the door with the sea urchin handle. All the while an eerie feeling makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

Now, Aria, you must remember this next step. If you fail to do it, you will die, and I’d rather not have to wait weeks to realize you couldn’t complete this simple task. The memory of her words floods my cheeks with heat despite the fact that she isn’t even here. Huffing out a breath, I drag my finger along the sharpened points of the handle before pushing down. Once blood beads on my fingertip, I smear it on the center of the urchin, watching in fascination as the liquid seeps into the unassuming metal and completely disappears.

The sound of locks sliding out of place echoes into the air, starting near the top of the wooden door and then traveling down until the last lock is opened and the door cracks open on its own. Hesitantly, I push it open a little more, poking my head just past it to see into the room. But it isn’t a room that lies hidden beyond; it’s a pool of glistening teal-colored water. The walls aren’t made of tan stone but dark craggy rock, as if this place was carved here before a palace was built atop it. I expect to be plunged into darkness when I step past the threshold and shut the door, but crystals spark to life all around me. Some are embedded into the rocky walls, while the distorted light of others glows beneath the surface of the water.

“Into the water and through the tunnel,” I whisper to myself, recalling my mother’s pointed instructions. I dive into the water and transform, my eyes quickly adjusting to the view beneath the surface. The colors of the crystals gleam in pink and purple and yellow, and the temperature of the water is surprisingly warm as it glides smoothly against my skin. I move in the only direction that I can, the pool narrowing the farther I go until rocky edges brush against my shoulders. There are no crystals to light this part of the tunnel, and I’m left to swim blindly in the dark. I stretch my arms out in front of me, fear trickling into my veins and making my heart pound heavily as I wonder if perhaps this is some kind of elaborate trap put in place by my mother to finally kill me.

Out of habit, I begin to repeat my mantra to myself: Jaw and shoulders relaxed, lips flat, spine straight, and attitude vicious. Over and over, I say the words, first in my head and then out loud as I swim in the oppressive darkness. Something brushes over my arms and down my body, its texture slimy and inducing a million different horrible images of what it could be in my mind, but I push forward. Light glistens farther ahead, growing brighter the closer I get. A crystal, green in color, finally breaks up the darkness of the tunnel. The same jagged dark rock surrounds me, although moss and kelp line its edges—giving answer to the earlier slimy feeling. The water levels are lower here, and when I pop my head up from beneath the surface, thousands of crystals shine in the rock all around me. Like gleaming stars of every color, they illuminate the dark space in a rainbow of brilliance.

I’ve never seen so many gathered in one place before, and I’m momentarily so distracted by it that I don’t notice all of the other items that are lying on natural stone shelves and stacked against the rock wall. Not until I shift and climb the three steps out of the water do I actually observe everything. Treasures and mementos that must date back to even before my mother and her mother. Older still if the film of algae covering some of the items is any indication.

I walk slowly, my gaze traveling over gold bracelets and necklaces with gems of all colors attached to them. There are conch shell helmets and armor, similar to the style the Queen’s Legion currently wears except for the silver metal that has been melted and infused into the material. Three swords lay propped against the rock, their hilts glimmering with what looks like opalescent scales, a round diamond set at the very end of each. A line of dark blue cuts through the shining silver of the blades, a faint magical sensation buzzing from them. In fact, this entire room feels as if magic is coating every square inch of it. I stand on my toes to peek at a shelf. Small daggers and jeweled pins line it, giving way to leather-bound books that don’t look decayed in any way. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I squat down lower to another shelf where I finally spot a collection of rings. Sifting through them, I find three that match my mother’s description.

While all three rings are gold and carved to mimic a spindly piece of coral, two have a small pearl in the center, while the other has a thin line of dark blue similar to the swords. I can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light or not, but it almost looks as if the inside of the pearls and the line of blue are moving. Like mist is somehow trapped within them. Magic radiates from the jewelry, and despite the fact that it’s clearly siren power that is imbued into these items, I drop them into my bag quickly, eager to stop touching them. I take a final glance around the room, grateful I’ll never have to be here again, and dive back into the water.

Shutting the door to the vault, I head back towards the entrance of the palace. Perhaps it’s the unnerving silence or maybe my own imagination, but I can’t help but feel as if I’m being watched. My breaths rush in and out of me as I quicken my steps, checking over my shoulder every few feet. By the time I emerge from the palace and begin my descent down the steps carved into the cliffside, I’m practically running. When I reach the bottom, I sprint through the white sand, stumbling as I go, and back into the water, changing my form when I’m deep enough. Luckily, I find Mashaka a little ways offshore, his squeaks of surprise—or more likely annoyance—loud when he sees me.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say to him, and together, we begin our journey west towards the kingdom of the fae.