Page 2

The crown princess

When the oceans carried the songs of sirens to distant shores, their voices meant death. With a single note, they lured men to the deep, where the sea claimed their souls.

But as the world changed, so did the tide.

The Seven Elders, one from each kingdom, wove a sacred decree into the waters, forbidding the taking of innocent lives. No more enchantments. No more drowning the unwary. A covenant forged to preserve a balance between land and sea.

Now, only the wicked hear the siren’s call.

No longer hunters, they are guardians, divine arbiters who summon only those who disturb the world’s peace. Their song is no longer a weapon, but a reckoning.

For the guilty, the ocean waits.

And in its depths, a last song, a requiem not of death, but of cleansing.

We must maintain balance.

* * *

Iryen

Present days…

The cerulean blue and gold of the kingdom’s colors wrapped around the spiral buildings, their gleaming surfaces catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the water.

The city pulsed with life, each structure standing as a testament to centuries of power, tradition, and the burden of rule.

These houses belonged to my people, sirens and tritons alike, bound by duty and belief.

I scanned the sprawling city, my gaze lingering on the silk flags bearing my family’s crest, a siren tail enveloping Poseidon’s trident, draped proudly outside each home. A silent pledge of loyalty or a carefully curated display of compliance.

Scallop-carved effigies of the goddess adorned vendor stalls, nestled among pearl jewelry and treasures salvaged from sunken ships. A blend of faith and ambition, devotion and trade.

Sea turtles glided lazily through the currents, unbothered by the chaos of the marketplace below.

Schools of fish darted past clusters of merfolk, their scales flashing in the light, while jellyfish drifted like spirits between the towering spires.

Whales sang in the distance, their deep calls weaving into the hum of conversation, the clang of metal, the ever-present murmur of joy.

Hyrem buzzed with activity, the energy of the solstice celebrations thrumming through the water like an ancient pulse.

The capital, always magnificent, seemed to glow even brighter under the spell of the festivities.

Banners of bioluminescent sea flowers and kelp draped the coral houses, their soft light painting constellations across the marble streets.

The scent of salt and seagrass mixed with the sweetness of fermented kelp wine was an intoxicating blend of tradition and revelry.

It was beautiful. It was mine. And yet, beneath its grandeur, memories of the past tainted a day meant for worship .

The streets bustled with life, but I could only see phantoms.

My mother’s laughter as she swam among our people, offering warm smiles and gentle words. My father’s commanding presence, his mere gaze enough to restore order where needed.

They had ruled with strength and wisdom, embodying everything I had once believed in. Now, their absence loomed over the city like a shadow no sunlight could reach.

I carry a kingdom in one hand and my parents’ ghosts in the other.

The festival should have been a time of reverence, a celebration of the goddess’s blessings.

Instead, I could hear the whispers beneath the joyous clamor, the murmurs of doubt, of unease.

My presence alone was a reminder of the blood spilled, of the crown that now rested on my head, teetering, and uncertain.

They crowned me with grief and called it fate. But it wasn’t fate who killed my parents.

I straightened my shoulders, masking the bitterness curling in my chest. Today was not about mourning. It was about faith. Power. And ensuring that those who dared to threaten my rule understood the consequences of their defiance.

I won’t repeat the same mistake I made four years ago.

I swam slowly down the trails, my fingers trailing across the smooth coral walls.

Each ridge told the story of Hyrem, of Aetheria.

The city had stood for centuries, a symbol of strength and power underwater, but today, even with all its splendor, there was an unsettling tension in the currents.

The hum of the city, though cheerful and alive, felt distant, almost muffled by the weight pressing down on my chest.

Music floated through the water, carried by the tides. Sea harps strummed soft, melancholic tunes, mixing with laughter of happiness. Dolphins darted, weaving through the flags as though they were part of the celebration. As always, playful and putting a smile to the children’s faces.

Despite all the euphoria, I couldn’t shake the tension crushing in my chest. I shouldn’t be here alone. They should be with me. Alive and well. Excited for my coronation. But their bodies are rotting in the royal crypt and I lived.

The Solstice Festival had always been a time of joy and renewal, but these last four years, it felt different, void of love and faith.

Heavier. My coronation loomed just beyond the horizon, and with it, the crushing weight of expectation.

The council’s whispers, their doubts, echoed in my mind as I glanced toward the palace rising at the city’s heart.

You’re not strong enough. It is your fault.

The palace, Hyrem’s crown jewel, stood tall and proud in the center, its crystalline spires glowing softly with a silvery light that reminded me of the moon’s reflection on the surface.

It used to fill me with pride, but now, all I felt was uncertainty.

The silent judgment of those around me was almost palpable, a vortex drawing me in.

“Princess!” A child’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts.

“Princess!” I turned to see a small group of young Aetherians swimming toward me, their eyes wide with excitement, tails flicking rapidly through the water.

In their hands, they held a delicate wreath of sea flowers, shimmering with the soft light of the fluorescent rhodymenia.

“For you, my Princess,” the youngest said, beaming as she held out the wreath.

I forced a smile, though the tension in my chest tightened further.

I placed the wreath in my hair, nodding my thanks as their faces lit up with joy.

Their hopeful gaze pressed down on me like a second crown—beautiful, but unbearable.

To them, I wasn’t just Iryen. I was the Crown Princess, the future queen, the symbol of Aetheria’s strength and hope.

As the festivities echoed, I quietly slipped away from the vibrant streets of Hyrem, seeking refuge in our hidden sanctuary.

The familiar pull of the currents guided me along the seabed, past the coral outcrops, and through the concealed entrance to the cave, home of our most sacred place, the moon pond.

The path twisted through jagged rock and coral, a labyrinth known only to those who had trod it before.

Each turn, each shadowed crevice, felt like a test, one designed to keep the unworthy from reaching the moon pond.

My pulse thrummed with anticipation, the cool current brushing against my skin as I neared the sacred place.

The passage widened, revealing a cavern bathed in silver.

Moonlight spilled through fractured cracks in the cave ceiling, casting slender beams across the cavern, illuminating the water in ghostly light.

Emerging, I found Elora and Sienna at the edge of the pond waiting for me, their silhouettes poised against the ethereal glow.

The moon pond lay before us, a hidden sanctuary cradled within the earth, its waters shimmering with an unnatural luminescence.

Turquoise depths reflected the celestial light above, their surface shifting, pulsing as if the very breath of our goddess stirred within them.

Bright dictyota and crystals clung to the jagged cave walls, their faint glow weaving ribbons of sapphire and jade across the stone, painting the cavern with the quiet hum of something alive.

No soul, siren or otherwise, had ever entered this place uninvited. Not for centuries. A barrier was laced with ancient blood and magic to protect us from the human world.

The air was thick with salt, mingling with the damp, mineral-rich scent of the cave.

It wrapped around me, grounding me, yet there was something more, an undercurrent of energy thrumming beneath my skin, seeping into my bones like a whispered promise.

The steady drip of water echoed through the chamber, a rhythmic pulse that matched the steady rise and fall of my own breath.

Stalactites hung like silent sentinels above, their crystalline forms catching the light, glinting like sacred relics. They had stood witness to centuries of whispered prayers, of rituals performed under the watchful eye of the moon. I exhaled slowly, allowing the dread to settle deep within me.

The solstice had arrived, and the celestial forces were aligning, creating a deep, almost tangible connection between the ocean and the Elysium.

The magic of the sea was at its most potent during this time, and tonight, we would honor our goddess with ritualistic ceremonies, invoking her blessings as the tides swelled in harmony with the full moon.

Astralis wasn’t just a celebration of the solstice. It was a time when the balance between light and dark, the ocean’s ever-changing cycles, and the forces of nature were most attuned. It used to be my favorite time of the year, but now was the saddest time of my life.

A bone-deep chill seeped into my scales. The energy in the air was hefty, yet it wasn’t just the pull of the full moon that unsettled me, it was a deeper, more instinctual foreboding, one that tugged at the edges of my awareness like a warning whisper from the deep.

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing.

Why am I so on edge?