Page 15 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

He was alone now. Alone with the ache. Alone in a cage Ulric wrapped around him in the name of protection.

When Auren first tried to rise—just high enough to feel the sun’s warmth kiss his skin—his body stopped responding.

And then, like a weight was tied around his fins, he was yanked downward with brutal force.

The magic gripped tight, slamming him into the sand.

His tail locked up, muscles spasming. It felt like gravity had multiplied tenfold, pressing in on his ears, like the ocean grew teeth and was dragging him back into its belly.

It punished him.

Every time he swam upward, pressure surged through his limbs until his vision blurred. He couldn’t breathe. Not when it was light he craved and couldn’t have. Not when the surface was so close yet out of reach. He couldn’t even rise high enough to feel the warmth of the sun.

The realization broke something inside him.

Auren collapsed into a seagrass field, body trembling with exhaustion and rage.

The tall, rippling blades swayed. Tiny bubbles curled through the water from his gills, rising to nowhere.

Sea turtles grazed nearby, their wide jaws grinding on the soft fronds.

One blinked blankly at him, then returned to chewing.

It was quiet here. Peaceful, even.

He hated it.

“I don’t belong down here,” he whispered hoarsely into the sand. “I never did.”

Tears stung his eyes and trailed upward through the water. He pressed his face into the earth, curling into himself.

Elias wouldn’t have done this.

Elias looked at him with wonder, not caution. He’d smiled without guilt. Touched Auren’s cheek like he mattered. Like he meant something.

He saw me. He saw me.

Ulric didn’t see him. Not really. Or worse—he did and still chose duty over him. Maybe Auren was never meant to be sea-born. Maybe he belonged on the land. With Elias. Auren was angry. Angry at his own helplessness. At the pathetic way he could do nothing.

“I’m so sorry, Elias. I’m sorry.”

He whispered into the fronds of grass, miserable as a passing crustacean nibbled at his tail. He flicked it away with an irritated jerk. What Auren would give to feel the sun. To be free of this burden and never have to return to the water?—

His heart stopped, and a powerful jolt sent shockwaves through his body as though he’d been struck by an electric eel. He sat up in the grass, his mind buzzing with clarity.

“How could I be so stupid?”

Hadn’t that bastard given him the answer? Ulric said he’d been to the surface. Seen the greed of humans. He’d meant to use that information to fight Auren, but the bitter Kraken had given Auren exactly what he needed. Ulric had gills, same as any Merfolk. He couldn’t breathe air.

There is a way.

Auren realized. If Ulric was spending hours, even days, on the surface, there was a way to do it. A way he transformed his gills to tolerate human air. Or perhaps a potion that stopped the need for breath altogether? Auren didn’t know; all he knew was that he would find it.

And take it.

Grief was swept aside by purpose. Hope surged through him like a breaking wave. He would talk to Elias. Tell him everything. Be with him, in all the ways two beings of flesh and blood could.

Auren knew what he had to do.

Elias, wait for me.

He waited over a week.

No word from Ulric. No summons from his mother. The guards thinned, pulled away by the Queen’s command. There was a political summit between courts, an emergency gathering of magical delegates.

Perfect.

Auren bided his time. He smiled at the right nobles, nodded when spoken to, and feigned the interest expected of a prince. But tonight, as the tides receded and the palace sank into its usual ebb and flow of courtly pomp and posturing, he slipped away.

The path to Ulric’s apothecary was darker than usual, the blue bubble flames dimming to barely a glimmer. The private quarters in the palace were almost completely unguarded. Almost.

Two eelhounds patrolled the mouth of the apothecary. Grotesque things with coiled, rippling bodies like undulating sea snakes. Their underbites protruded viciously, exposing rows of serrated teeth.

They hissed low in their throats, sensing him immediately.

Shit.

Auren ducked behind a statue of Poseidon, racking his brain.

Think, dammit.

He dug through the pouch at his side and pulled free a few strips of sea-urchin nuggets.

He thanked his lucky stars for having grabbed a few morsels from the feast in the ballroom.

Auren tossed the bits of flesh to the left of the corridor entrance, where they caught in a drifting current and tumbled down the hall.

The eelhounds snapped their heads toward it instantly, their serpentine bodies streaking after the scent, all slashing teeth and whip-like speed.

Auren slipped inside the apothecary, closing the door behind him just as the beasts vanished into the darkness. His pulse roared in his ears. But he was in. And no one was going to stop him now.

The air was thick with crushed herbs, burnt coral, salt, and something more arcane, like magic ozone. Vials floated on shelves made of driftwood and stone. Tinctures glowed in shades of blue and green, bobbing up and down in the soft current.

It was all very hypnotic.

Okay… think. You know what you’re looking for. Sort of.

There were too many bottles. Too many labels in languages he didn’t understand. He moved deeper, searching for something, anything, that looked secret or well-hidden. Ulric wouldn’t want access to the land to be so easily discovered.

Then he saw it.

Tucked behind a curtain of seaweed was a mirror. Not one of the practical ones. Not a caster’s tool.

This mirror was hand-carved, delicate, with tiny seabirds etched into the edges. They circled the frame like they were caught in flight. Auren’s heart skipped.

The shape of the bird’s beak, the span of its wings.

These carvings were modeled almost identically to the sculpture in his cave.

Had Ulric sponsored a court statue maker for this?

Auren didn’t know what to make of it, but didn’t allow his mind to ponder.

He reached for the beautiful art piece, searching.

His fingers curled around the frame, and he gave it a light tug.

A soft click echoed.

A hidden alcove shifted open behind the wall. Auren’s heart slammed into his ribs. Inside was a single decanter, glowing violet. Stoppered tight. Etched with runes so old even the water around it shimmered with resistance. He had almost missed it.

But the birds brought me here.

Auren stared at the vial for a long moment, reconsidering his actions. But just as quickly as it came, he shook off the thought and took it.

No going back now.

Auren exited the room, dashing as fast as he could away from the palace.

There wasn’t time to exit the city entirely, not when he could be discovered at any second.

He had to surface. Now. No time to wait and swim to shallower waters.

He pointed himself towards the sky and swam.

He swam higher than he’d dared since the sinking potion.

When the pressure stopped him—when the magic seized his limbs and anchored him there—he took the vial from the pouch tied to his belt.

He unstoppered it. The scent hit him in a wave of algae and sulfur. He raised it in shaking hands.

For freedom. For air. For Elias.

He drank.

The liquid was thick, like gooey kelp and crushed pearl, strangely sweet at first, then bitter as rot. It coated his tongue, clinging like syrup, and the moment it slid down his throat— Pain exploded through him.

His tail convulsed. His spine arched. Muscles locked, and his skin felt as if it were being flayed with volcanic rock, scraped raw until there was nothing sea-born left.

The water turned white. Then red. He screamed, but no sound came.

Only bubbles and the soundless pressure of a world trying to tear him apart.

He was being pulled upward.

Dragged by a force so strong it fractured his thoughts.

The last thing he felt was fire in his bones.

And then—nothing.