Page 13 of Storm and Sea (Storm and Sea Saga #1)

T he sky blushed with molten hues as the sun set over Baia Vita. The island stirred, coming alive with an energy that buzzed in the air like the hum of cicadas. Strings of lanterns crisscrossed the square and stretched between buildings, their flickering light dappling the cobblestones in hues of amber and crimson. The golden glow climbed the hill to illuminate the island’s only windmill, its weathered blades turning lazily in the summer breeze. Laughter spilled from every corner, carried on the scent of roasting hazelnuts and citrusy wine. Booths and stalls lined the square, each overflowing with an array of treasures: meats glistening with juices, candies wrapped in jewel-bright paper, fruits so ripe their sweetness mingled with the aroma of sugar-filled pastries. Other vendors sold handmade soaps, glittering jewelry, and finely stitched clothes.

A kaleidoscope of colors and sounds wove together in a timeless tapestry. Boisterous melodies from fiddles and accordions tangled in the cool evening breeze as dancers swirled, their skirts snapping like waves against the shore. Children darted between booths, sparklers crackling in their hands, their sticky fingers leaving traces of frosting on their clothes. The laughter of old folks, already deep into their wine glasses, rose above the music, blending with the rhythmic stomp of feet.

Baia Vita wasn’t just alive—it was a symphony of hearts beating as one. The very sands spoke, and they all said the same thing.

We are here.

For one night, everyone could forget about the fishing vessels that prowled outside the bay. For one night, they could forget about their dying town and just be. Atreus wanted nothing more than for this feeling to last all season.

Normally, Atreus would spend this night in his lighthouse, barely catching the distant echoes of music. But tonight…tonight he would be here, amongst the people, the humans that permanently took up residence in his heart.

Even if he’d never be one of them. Never feel the lifeblood of the island flow in his veins. Not like they did.

“An imposter.”

“Are you coming?” Nyel urged by the front door. He was buzzing, waiting about as patiently as a pup on a lead. “The sun is down; that means it’s started, right? ”

An irrepressible grin intruded on Atreus’s lips, despite his best efforts to force it away.

They’d dressed in their ‘nicest’ clothes, which meant the ones with the fewest holes. Atreus was in a cream long-sleeved button-down and tan dress pants. Nyel sported a short-sleeved orange collared shirt that he left unbuttoned to reveal a white undershirt with blue jeans that were obviously too big for his slight frame.

“Coming, coming,” Atreus said, reluctantly slipping on his shoes. He and Nyel walked side by side, the music growing louder with each step.

“Oh wow,” Nyel said breathlessly as the lights glistened in his eyes.

Even for Atreus, who was familiar with human celebrations, it was overwhelming: the sounds, the lights, and the mouthwatering smells.

“Look, look!” Nyel dashed to the nearest stall, mouth open at the tiny ornamental glass animals.

“What’s that?”

Atreus barely caught up when Nyel was off again. The crowd jostled around them; nearly the entire island’s population gathered in the main square.

“Hey, wait up,” Atreus called as sardine-packed bodies separated them. He lost sight of Nyel and was about to call out when a light pressure wrapped around his wrist.

Atreus froze, his gaze snapping to the point of contact before tracing the arm to a face radiating joy so loud that it cut through all sound, all sense, until it was just… him. Nyel held Atreus—steady and unbothered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Come on, slow-poke,” Nyel said, dragging him to the booth selling candied strawberries.

Atreus followed, overwhelmed by the sensation yet unwilling to pull away, drawn forward by the quiet comfort in Nyel’s touch .

They went from stall to stall, Nyel’s hand sliding from Atreus’s wrist and cupping their palms together to prevent them from being separated. Atreus hardly noticed the goods for sale. He was captivated by the awe in Nyel’s eyes, the way they lit up with every new discovery. The way the light glinted in those flecks of mica like golden coins catching the sun through rippling fountain water.

Atreus couldn’t look away.

The crowd thinned as they moved through the square, finally stopping at a stall selling fruit tarts. He was still holding Nyel’s hand.

It’s so much smaller than mine.

Atreus ran his thumb along the delicate digits before he realized what he was doing. He let go quickly, but Nyel was too engrossed in the tarts to notice. He spoke to the woman behind the booth.

“Which one of these has sugar in it?”

Atreus grinned at the befuddled expression on the woman’s face.

“Here, you’d like this one,” he said, picking a peach tart from the bunch and placing it in Nyel’s hand. He also bought a strawberry tart and placed the paper-wrapped treat in his pocket. Handing the woman a few coins, he led Nyel to a nearby bench to enjoy his treat.

Only when they were seated did Nyel stop admiring the delicate cup of custard and fruit.

“I have coins. I could have bought it.”

Atreus waved a hand. “You’ll get the next one. Take a bite.”

Nyel brought the tart to his mouth and bit into it. His shoulders slumped and a flush crept into his cheeks. “Mmmm, it’s so good,” he said through a full mouth. “Here, try.” He held out the tart.

Atreus’s first instinct was to crinkle his nose in disgust at the sickeningly sweet treat. But with Nyel holding it out to him, the offer lingered between them like an unfinished cadence, and he was tempted to lean in and take a bite.

But he cleared his throat, swallowing. “I’ll pass.”

“You don’t like sugar? ”

Atreus shook his head. “Not a sweets kind of guy.”

“I don’t know how you’ve been here so long and don’t like it. Sugar is my favorite human food.”

Atreus chuckled as he stretched his legs, hating how his toes felt trapped, like they were encased in a coffin. He really hated shoes.

“Why did you buy the second one then?” Nyel asked through a mouthful.

“For Marina. I can guarantee she’s so busy at her booth, she won’t get to see much of the festival. She deserves a treat for all the work she’s putting in.”

“That’s so nice of you. I didn’t even think about that,” Nyel praised.

“It’s in my best interest to keep that girl happy. Otherwise, she drives me nuts.”

“I think you just have a soft spot for her,” Nyel teased. “Who knew you were such a softie?”

“Okay, let’s not get carried away. She’s my boss’s daughter. I like to stay in her good graces,” Atreus said, even though the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind when he made the purchase.

“Whatever you say,” Nyel said, shoving the rest of the tart in his mouth.

They continued moving up and down the rows, keeping their coins to themselves except for a little glass turtle that Nyel couldn’t resist.

“I want one of those. I see all the fishermen wearing them.” Nyel said, pointing to a stall selling fossilized shark’s teeth.

“It’s not something you can buy for yourself,” Atreus said with a hint of longing.

“Why not?”

“Someone has to give it to you. It has to be earned.”

“How? ”

“It’s different for everyone. Traditionally, it’s passed from father to son.”

“Oh.” Nyel admired it a moment longer, and Atreus sensed he wanted to ask more questions, but a booth with bright neon lights stole his attention. “What does that one say?”

Atreus squinted at the sign and recognized the ‘B’ as the first letter but couldn’t make fins or tails of the rest. He took a guess based on what lay behind the ticket counter.

“It says Bocce . It’s a game.”

Atreus guessed as much since behind the sign were several strips of grass surrounded on three sides by wooden boards. Two girls played on the strip nearest to them, and the balls clacked against one another with a soft ‘crack’ followed by either cheers or groans.

“I wanna play,” Nyel said.

“Go ahead, dear. The last pair just finished,” said the old woman managing the game. She handed Nyel a bag filled with Bocce balls before returning to her needlepoint.

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” Atreus said, once again smiling at Nyel’s confused expression.

He divided the balls into three groups: Nyel was green, Atreus was purple, and the single white ball, the pallino , stood alone. Atreus tossed the pallino, and it rolled to the center of the course.

“Alright, so here is the basic idea,” he began, showing Nyel how to toss the ball onto the grass. The goal was to roll as many balls as possible close to the pallino . The person with the balls closest to the pallino was awarded points before the board was reset. Having your ball hit any of the wooden barriers disqualified that ball from play. Atreus explained the strategy of trying to hit the pallino closer to your balls and knocking the opponent’s balls out of the way. “You got all that?”

“I think so,” Nyel said, taking an interesting stance. He stood ramrod straight, holding the ball high above his shoulder .

“You’re gonna throw it off the strip doing that,” Atreus said, stopping him before he hurt someone. “Like this.”

He crouched over Nyel, cupping the hand with the ball and guiding it closer to the ground, helping him adopt more of a bowler’s stance.

“Now bend your knees a little. There you go. And it’s a gentle toss. Go back and forth a few times. Get used to the weight,” he said, making the motion along with Nyel.

“G-got it.”

Atreus leaped away as Nyel’s breath shuddered against his chest, the warmth of his back lingering like a brand. He cleared his throat. “You got it. Go ahead.”

Nyel lobbed the ball, and it rolled within an inch or two of the pallino before coming to a halt.

“That’s a point!” he cheered. “Right?”

“Only if I don’t knock it out of the way, but yes.” Atreus took his ball and copied the move with an easy throw, knocking Nyel’s green one away. “Now I canceled yours out.”

Nyel glared. “Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be.”

They went back and forth, making points and canceling them. In the final round, Nyel’s last throw knocked one of Atreus’s balls away from the pallino , bumping it into the border and disqualifying it.

“I win! Take that,” Nyel cheered.

“Beginners luck,” Atreus teased.

“I don’t know; that looked like pure technique to me,” a voice said from behind them.

Leo jogged forward, his partially unbuttoned dress shirt loose-fitting with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. There were dark circles under his eyes, but few would notice because of the brilliant smile acting as a mask.

“Mind if I play the victor?”

“Go ahead,” Atreus said, stepping aside .

As Leo picked up his first ball, a woman with a group of curly blond kids walked past.

“Good luck Leofel. Don’t be too late.”

“You got it, Ma,” Leo said, waving to Emelia. Atreus did a double take, certain Leo’s sister had much longer hair the last time he saw her.

“Your name is Leofel?” Nyel asked.

“That’s the full name. But only my parents get to call me that,” he replied with a wink.

“I like it. It’s pretty.”

Leo smiled. “How about we make a bet? If you win, you can call me by my full name. Deal?”

“And if you win?” Nyel asked.

“I’m sure I can come up with something.”

Atreus clenched his fists, resisting the urge to point out that Leo never offered to let him use his full name.

Why does it matter?

He shook off the unbidden irritation and watched the match from the side.

“I’m game,” Nyel said. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Leo said, flashing his signature smile.

Atreus didn’t care for the way Nyel returned the gesture. The game took far too long, filled with endless high-fives and snarky trash talk. Neither pulled too far ahead in points, despite Nyel tossing his ball out of bounds twice. Atreus suspected Leo was intentionally missing points, and that irritated the hell out of him. After what felt like the entire night, the game finally ended, with Nyel winning by a hair.

“Great game. You’re a natural,” Leo said, patting Nyel on the shoulder.

“It was fun. Thanks for the match, Leofel,” Nyel said, emphasizing the full name. “Are we only allowed to play during the festival?”

“Not at all. We can play anytime.” Leo said, again touching Nyel’s arm, “My folks have an old beat-up set behind the house. Come by sometime for a rematch.”

“Hey, Nyel, didn’t you want to see the booth selling belts?” Atreus interrupted.

“That’s a good idea. Half my pants don’t fit, and I’m tired of using the rope to keep them up.” He pulled up his too-big jeans for emphasis.

“I’ll tag along,” Leo said, and Atreus bit the inside of his cheek as he quickly fell to the back, the other two taking the lead and talking animatedly.

On their way, they paused at Marina’s Bayallon booth but could only manage a quick wave as she was swarmed by kids eager to sign up.

“Looks like a good turnout. Should be a fun race,” Leo remarked.

“I can’t wait to see it. Especially the ‘bike’ part. I’ve never been on a bike,” Nyel said.

“Never been on a bike? Well, I’ll have to do something about that,” Leo said, his hand once again finding its way to Nyel’s shoulder.

And for the first time in his life, Atreus wanted to smack that smile off his face. When they arrived at the booth selling leather belts, it quickly became clear that Nyel was far too short on coins to afford one.

“It’s okay,” Nyel said, noting the price. “I’ll save up, and the rope works fine for now.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t get one. Did you get anything else cool?” Leo asked.

“Yeah, check this out.” Nyel pulled the small glass turtle from his back pocket and held it in the palm of his hand .

“How pretty. Let me get a closer look.” Instead of taking the turtle, Leo cupped Nyel’s hand, bringing it close to his face. “That’s a neat one. Good find.”

“Right? I like the way it sparkles inside.”

“I just remembered something. You two keep going,” Atreus said, his voice harsher than he intended.

He didn’t wait for a response before shoving through the crowd, earning a few displeased glares. He had to get away from those two. What was wrong with him? Why was his best friend pissing him off so much?

And why does he keep touching Nyel?

It shouldn’t matter. They were simple gestures. Humans touched to communicate all the time. So why did it make Atreus want to hit something?

Nyel doesn’t owe me a damn thing. He isn’t obligated to spend all his time with me.

But with the chance of Nyel leaving, Atreus wanted to keep the sireno all to himself.

Which was stupid.

“He’d sooner trust a human than a halfling.”

Atreus ground his teeth, his feet wandering wherever they wished. He hardly noticed that he’d left the square and was pacing up and down random backstreets. But he couldn’t shake the truth. Nyel was perfectly at ease among humans now.

“And yet he’d turn and run from a freak like you.”

“Stop talking. ”

“You’re mad. Talking to yourself like that.

What would Nyel think?

Maybe that stranger was right.

Maybe I am your Skraith.”

“Shut up!” Atreus yelled, nearly tripping as his shoe sank into the damp sand. He blinked, the faint glimmer of moonlight illuminating the gentle push and pull of the water. Without thinking, he’d walked to the beach, his subconscious taking over, trying to lead him home.

Atreus kicked off his shoes, letting the cool sand sooth his bare feet. He had no reason to be this upset.

You’re being stupid.

This time, he didn’t know if it was ‘the voice’ or himself thinking the words.

It didn’t matter.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood on the shoreline—maybe only a couple of minutes or more— maybe he’d go to his lighthouse after all. Maybe he was better off alone?—

Maybe I’m not meant to be with my own kind.

“You’ve always been an outcast.

It’s in your nature.”

What if I don’t want to be alone anymore?

“It’s not possible.

They’ll hate you.

Fear you. Despise you.”

Nyel doesn’t hate me .

“Because you’re a liar.”

I’m not a liar.

“You’ve been living a lie since the

moment you stepped on this island.

You’ll always live in the shadows.”

Stop it. I don’t want that.

“It’s too late to change the tides of fate.”

You don’t know that.

“Oh, but I do.

I know what you are, Atreus.

For I am you, and you are me.”

I’m nothing like you. I don’t think like you.

“You are me.

A freak.

A mutt.”

I’m not.

“Halfling. Bastard. Monster.”

Stop it.

The words echoed, bouncing in a chasm of his own making, distorting and multiplying until they became a horde—a macabre choir whose sole purpose was to inflict insurmountable pain.

“It’s your fault.

It’s always been your fault.

You ruin everything you touch.”

“STOP IT!” Atreus screamed, clutching his head as he dropped to his knees in the sand. The voice beat against his skull like a creature trying to claw through tissue and bone.

“PLEASE JUST STOP!”

“Atreus?”

Nyel knew this night would stay with him forever. The festival was a whirlwind of sights and sounds, a world so vibrant and alive it made every celebration he’d known before pale in comparison.

Everywhere he looked, something called for his attention, leaving him dizzy, unsure which way to run first. But more than the stalls of goods and food, the festival was about the people. For the first time since his arrival, Nyel saw who the villagers of Baia Vita truly were. The heavy lines on the fishermen’s faces had softened, their defeated voices replaced with laughter, their weary sighs gone with the empty nets of yesterday. Baia Vita was more than just an island—it was a people, a way of life. And tonight, as their hearts beat in time with the push and pull of the tides, they were allowed to just be .

Men and women spun in the square and cheered over carnival games while children ran underfoot, screeching with delight. Nyel was sure he’d never seen this much joy in Corallina, even when their crop yields were good. His people, the Sireni , were too scared.

Scared of the world. Scared of the humans.

Maybe scared of themselves.

He thought of his parents, terrified to let Marvassa change their bodies.

They’re missing so much.

With a pang, Nyel wished he could bring Sonia here. She’d love this. Guilt twisted his insides at the memory of his aunt .

The baby will be here soon.

Nyel should be there for her as the baby’s due date approached. He should go back and tell his parents the truth—explain that he couldn’t live the life they had so carefully laid out for him. That his existence couldn’t revolve around a Lifebond and nothing else. He snorted, already imagining his mother’s response.

“You only say that because you’ve never experienced it. You’ll take back those words once you find the right girl.”

But would the right girl ever come? He and Chel were very close, yet Nyel felt nothing. No sparks. No blossoming of light. Empty.

Maybe I’m just not built for a Lifebond.

The reality of being mate-less would kill his parents, with no hope of grandchildren. And even he had to admit, the idea of spending the rest of his life alone was depressing. Nyel wanted it—to have someone. But maybe not yet? Whenever he tried to settle with the idea of becoming Bonded, something always felt… off.

Maybe I’m just broken.

He jerked himself to the present, shoving the rest of the peach tart in his mouth. The sweetness made him giddy and more than a little buzzed with energy. He wanted to see it all. If this festival only happened twice a year, he wouldn’t miss a second of it.

“What does that say?” Nyel asked, pointing to a bright green neon sign as he and Atreus explored the square.

“It says Bocce . It’s a game.”

Atreus had to explain the rules twice before Nyel finally got the picture. As he lined up his first throw, a hand grabbed his arm, stopping him mid-motion.

“You’re gonna throw it off the strip doing that. Like this.”

Suddenly, Atreus’s chest pressed against Nyel’s back. He guided Nyel to arch lower, bending with him as they swung their arms back and forth, testing the ball’s weight.

“There you go. ”

Nyel felt more than heard the words as they rumbled through his back, down his spine, settling somewhere in his stomach.

“G-got it,” Nyel stammered, overwhelmed by the scent flooding his senses.

The scent reminded him of the sky after a storm—crisp, charged, and alive—as if Pygon , the Spirit of the Sky, had swept through with torrential winds, washing away the old and welcoming the new. The comparison made Nyel’s head swim, amplifying the strange, jittery feeling coursing through him.

At that moment, Atreus leapt back, and Nyel was both relieved and disappointed by the loss of contact. He blinked, forgetting that they were in the middle of a game.

Focus, you weirdo.

When Nyel landed his first roll directly on the board, a smirk twisted his lips.

“Lucky shot. Let’s see if you can do that again.” Atreus said, lining up his throw.

Nyel forgot to follow the ball as it flew through the air. He was too focused on Atreus’s face. His friend was… off. The entire night, Atreus was like one of those human toys called a Yo-yo. Smiling and enjoying the festival for one minute, then tight-lipped and distant the next. As though he were constantly being reminded of something heavy.

We all have something heavy weighing us down.

But this felt different. Atreus was definitely bothered.

When Leo showed up and joined the game, Nyel thought for certain that his presence would lift Atreus’s spirits. They’d known each other for years. How could Nyel compare to that? He was certain Atreus still half-hoped he would leave Baia Vita and never come back, a thought that made him sadder than he cared to admit.

However, Leo’s presence only seemed to darken Atreus’s mood, and Nyel couldn’t understand why. Leo, or rather, Leofel, was perfectly pleasant the entire evening. The three of them should have had a great time.

So why?

“I just remembered something. You two keep going.”

Before Nyel could ask him where he was going, Atreus pushed his way through the packed crowd.

“What’s his problem?” Leofel asked, releasing Nyel’s hand with the glass turtle.

“I don’t know,” he said, tucking his treasure in his pocket. “Should we go after him?”

“No. Atreus is a guy that likes his space. Just leave him to it; he’ll come around.” Leofel said confidently.

Nyel wasn’t so sure. But wouldn’t Leofel know better? Still, the nagging in Nyel’s mind told him to go after Atreus—that this was something only he could help with. That right now, Atreus needed a fellow Mer.

Or maybe Nyel was kidding himself. Maybe he was searching for a deeper friendship, a deeper connection that simply didn’t exist.

“Hey, wanna go try the darts? I bet you’d be good at?—”

Leofel stopped mid-sentence as two burly men approached. They stood out from the crowd, seeming to part the tide of bodies without effort. People cast worried glances over their shoulders, hurrying away.

“You know what, I’ll meet you at the darts in an hour,” Leofel said, his charming tenor going serious.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, trying to be casual, but Nyel saw the increasing worry in his yellow eyes. “I’ll meet you there.”

Before Nyel could say anything else, Leofel met the two men a few yards away. The music was too loud for Nyel to catch what they were saying, and a moment later, Leofel was herded away from the square—one man leading, the other pushing at his back. The interaction left Nyel uneasy as he stood alone, palms sweating, unsure of what to do.

Leofel had it handled. Nyel had no right to interfere in his business and would likely just get in the way. There was still so much he didn’t know about humans. But there was a non-human he could help.

Nyel didn’t hesitate this time. His gut told him to go after Atreus. Worst-case scenario, he’d tell Nyel to go away.

It took him less than a minute to lock onto Atreus’s scent. It was distinct among the human scents of earth and oil. It was alive with shifting winds carrying the musky tang of rain. There was a wildness there, an untouchable vastness, like the charge of an open sky before a crack of thunder. The scent clung to Atreus as if he’d just stepped from the swirling torrent—raw, brooding, and ominous. Nyel couldn’t help but breathe deeper, the sensation both rejuvenating and suffused.

He zigzagged through the alleys until he reached the beach, where discarded shoes lay scattered and footprints etched a path in the sand. Nyel kicked off his own shoes, but a distant yell cut through the ocean’s steady song of waves and foam, making him freeze.

Heart pounding, he dashed forward, following the sound until he spotted a lone figure kneeling in the sand. Atreus’s shoulders trembled, his head bowed as fingers tore through his gorgeous curls, yanking hard enough to make Nyel flinch at the sight. Crumpled and unmoving, Atreus looked as though the weight of the world had driven him to his knees.

“Atreus?” Nyel called, quickening his pace, alarmed.

The sound of his name startled Atreus, snapping him out of whatever episode he’d been experiencing. He stood abruptly, swaying as if dizzy. As Nyel cautiously approached, Atreus stiffened but didn’t turn. Nyel shivered, rubbing his arms up and down as he stood beside him. The air turned frigid this close to the sea, and he wished he’d brought a jacket.

“Atreus… what’s going on? You’ve been off since yesterday.”

Atreus said nothing, but Nyel knew he’d heard as he watched the muscles in his jaw flex.

“Please. Just talk to me.”

So many moments passed that Nyel was convinced Atreus would continue ignoring him. But when he spoke, it sounded like a dam breaking, his voice spilling with pent-up frustration.

“How would you know if I’m off? You barely know me. We’re practically strangers.” The words were spoken softly but sent a biting cold through Nyel’s chest.

“I… I just…” Nyel sighed. “I thought I did. Sorry.”

Atreus let out a ragged sigh of his own. “Don’t be. I haven’t made it easy.”

“No. You haven’t.”

A pause.

“I don’t know how,” Atreus confessed, tilting his head to the sky in self-deprecation.

That wasn’t true. Atreus could be open; Nyel had seen glimpses of it. Moments so rare they burrowed into Nyel’s brain like drops of water carving their way into stone. A flash of mirth as they laughed at the fountain, the flush of cheeks as Marina accosted him with a pillow, the half-hidden grin as Giovanni complimented his work. It was there. But Atreus held himself back, damning up his feelings like they were something shameful and unsightly. He built a wall around himself, shutting out everyone—just as he had with Leofel, Marina, and Giovanni.

And now me.

“I think you’re scared.”

At this, Atreus rounded on him, his shoulders stiff and his fists clenched.

“Can you blame me? I risk my life every time I step on this island. Every time I work at the docks. I’m risking everything constantly .” The exhaustion in his voice sounded like a rope pulled taut for too long, fraying and ready to snap.

“You don’t have to.” Nyel steeled himself. If they were going to talk about this, then he would say everything on his mind. He faced Atreus, looking into those intense eyes. “These humans care about you whether you want to admit it or not. Marina adores you like an older brother, Leofel looks up to you, and Giovanni pretty much considers you a son.”

Nyel might as well have slapped Atreus in the face for the appalled expression he now wore.

“How can you even say that?” he breathed with fracturing restraint.

“Because it’s so freakin obvious! They care about you; I’d even go so far as to say they love?—”

“Stop,” Atreus barked, silencing him. “You don’t know a damn thing. You’ve been here a couple of weeks and think you’ve got this all figured out, do you? Well, news flash: humans don’t adopt sea monsters into their families. To them, we’re a myth, and if that illusion ever breaks, they’ll hunt us down like animals.”

Nyel shook his head. “You don’t see the way they look at you.”

Whatever mirror he’s looking in isn’t sending back the right picture.

Nyel wished he could replace Atreus’s warped self-image with the one Giovanni saw, the one Marina and Leofel saw.

Or the one I see.

“You’re full of shit.” Atreus laughed mirthlessly.

Nyel stiffened. “Well, if I’m so full of—that, why even bother with me? Why haven’t you forced me off this island? You could do it. You know you could. Chase me into the sea. Force me to leave and keep Baia Vita all to yourself. So why haven’t you?”

Atreus let out a shaky breath with measured control .

“Because,” he said slowly, “I let myself get used to you.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away? You want me here, or you don’t, Atreus, which is it?”

Atreus flashed him a venomous glare, abalone eyes blazing. “You’re making that decision very easy right now.”

Nyel huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“There it is again. Pushing me back. Like you push everyone back. Those people care about you, Atreus. They care, and if you’d just let them see?—”

“Let them see what I am!?” Atreus yelled so loudly that Nyel jumped. “Let them see the monster that’s been working alongside them, walking the streets while their children play?”

Nyel set his jaw. He wouldn’t back down.

“Horace has already seen a Mer. He won’t stop talking about it. It wouldn’t be that big of a shock.”

“I hate to break it to you, but they all think he’s crazy.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t accept you?—”

“How could the humans accept me when my own species pushed me away!?” His voice echoed against the rocks. “How can anyone care about me when my own kind call me a FREAK!”

Atreus shoved off the sand and ran. Ran into the water and disappeared beneath the surf. For a moment, Nyel stood alone, mute with shock. He was frozen in place with nobody for company except the twinkling stars.

When Atreus rose, his clothes hung in tatters, shredded by razor-tipped fins. They flared, the moonlight accenting every curved spine. His body was big, much larger than it had been as a human. A mosaic of scales sparkled in the light, glistening off the water.

Mixed scales.

Halfling.

Nyel’s breath caught in his throat as a wave of dizziness struck him. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. How had he gone so long and never?—?

Atreus stalked closer, talons curved, tail swishing. Nyel barely resisted the urge to run, keeping his feet planted until Atreus stopped— barely a breath away. Nyel clenched his fists but couldn’t stop the tremble of fear rocketing through his body. He was at the mercy of Atreus now.

At the mercy of a halfling.

“How can the humans accept me when my own kind call me a bastard?” Atreus whispered, and Nyel scented his breath. It was the same scent of an oncoming storm. No, not oncoming. The storm was here, and Nyel could anchor himself and weather it or run.

“I’m a mutt. A halfling abomination because of who my parents were. Cursed.”

Atreus’s voice went so quiet that Nyel could barely hear him over the waves.

“How can I let anyone in, when everyone before… left me?”

Abalone eyes locked with his, and Nyel witnessed the fracture inside them—a chasm stretched over a decade long and deeper than a broken heart.

A shattered spirit.

Nyel saw the resignation in those eyes. The defeat. Atreus had already accepted that Nyel would cast him out. Would leave him.

Nyel remained like a pillar of marble. Frozen, for one, two, three seconds.

He doesn’t get to decide the way I see him.

Nyel sloshed into the lapping waves, his steps unsteady as feet turned to claws. Yet his resolve remained firm as he threw his arms around Atreus’s middle. The water soaked his clothes and clung to his legs, but he didn’t care.

“You don’t get to push me out,” Nyel breathed, voice steady despite the wild beating of his heart. He buried his face in Atreus’s chest, refusing to let go. “Not this time.”

He didn’t know what to do. One moment, Nyel looked ready to bolt; the next, unwavering arms wrapped around him. Atreus flinched in shock. Never expecting this—not the embrace, not the warmth, not the refusal to walk away.

“You don’t get to push me out. Not this time.”

Atreus’s arms lifted in surprise, hesitating mid-air, and several moments passed before he allowed them to descend. He held Nyel’s petite human form to his middle, hardly believing this was real.

“I’m not going to run away.” Nyel pulled back enough to stare up at him. “I’m not going to do that. So get that idea out of your head.”

Atreus couldn’t swallow, couldn’t feel the waves lapping at his ankles. All he felt were warm arms and the solid pressure of Nyel’s body against his.

When was the last time anyone held him like this? Touched him? He couldn’t remember.

“I was wrong,” Nyel continued, and it seemed the words couldn’t come out fast enough once he started. “I was so stupid and wrong and…. I’m sorry. I don’t care what you look like. I don’t care who your parents were. It’s all so freakin stupid.”

Atreus realized with a start that Nyel was close to tears.

“There is nothing wrong with the way you are, Atreus. Nothing. I’m so glad I got to meet you, to see the real you before I saw the color of your scales.”

His breaths were heavy, and Atreus felt their warmth on his scales.

“I’m ashamed of the way I was raised to think. I might have missed this. I might have missed you.”

Nyel shook his head, face buried in Atreus’s chest.

“I hate to think that. I hate it.” He squeezed tighter, his voice a whisper nearly swallowed by the waves. “I’m so glad I got to meet you.”

This was the last place Atreus ever imagined he’d find himself tonight, with Nyel squeezing him like he might melt into the sea, begging for his forgiveness.

“Y-you’re…” He cleared his throat. “You’re not scared? You don’t think I’m dangerous?”

The memory of Nyel’s mother flashed behind his eyes—the revulsion on her face, the way she shielded her son from him. From a monster.

Nyel shook his head, face still buried in Atreus’s torn shirt.

“No. You’re not dangerous. You’re kind and generous to a fault and so damn down on yourself-—” he took a shuddering breath. “It’s my fault. Mine and all the Sireni . I’m so sorry.”

Atreus didn’t know that a few select words were all it would take to evaporate years of pain and self-loathing. Of course, it didn’t all go away, but a significant weight in his chest eased.

“It’s just one sireno.

The rest of them will never accept you.

You’re a freak.”

The voice hissed loudly, eager to get its words in .

But with Nyel holding him like this—like he meant something, like he was someone worth holding onto—it was easy to push it away.

He’s enough. Even if it’s only him. Nyel is enough.

Atreus didn’t trust himself to speak. With a shuddering exhale, he returned Nyel’s embrace, his massive webbed hand covering half the sireno’s petite back. They stayed like that, silent, until Nyel finally spoke.

“Oh. I’m sorry—I forgot you’re not big on hugging. I didn’t mean?—”

But as he tried to pull away, Atreus’s arms tightened instinctively, pinning Nyel to his chest.

Don’t let me go…not yet. Not yet.

Without hesitation, Nyel wrapped his arms around Atreus again, mindful of the sharp spines along his back, and pulled him closer—closer than they had ever been before. It was as though they’d bridged a gap. An unspoken distance neither had dared to cross until now. At that moment, it didn’t matter what separated them: their differences, their fears, or the barriers they’d built. All that remained was this closeness.

“Can I ask you something?” Atreus asked after a while.

“Anything.” Nyel pulled back just far enough for Atreus to look into those gold-flecked eyes. The side of the sireno’s face was damp where it rested against Atreus, a patch of green scales glinting on his cheek. Slowly, Atreus lifted his hand and brushed his index finger over the smooth, shimmering surface.

Nyel’s breath hitched as he repeated, “Anything.”

“Can I see you? In the sea?”

Nyel smiled at him, finally letting go. Atreus had to resist the urge to pull him back. Without preamble, Nyel dove into an oncoming wave, disappearing for a few seconds before emerging. He appeared almost silver under the moonlight, his jade scales catching the glow with every ripple of the ocean’s surface. His fins deepened into a rich azure, their edges fading into the blackened night. Nyel lifted his tail, the fins soft and elegantly curved, flowing gently with the water instead of ending in harsh barbs.

“I didn’t realize how much I’d miss this,” he said, waving his tail back and forth.

Atreus moved his tail closer, comparing the two. They were so different.

But…Nyel said he didn’t mind.

Atreus still didn’t dare let himself believe it. He half expected Nyel to flip on a dime and tell him to get away.

But he didn’t. In fact, Nyel did the opposite and moved closer, his voice going quiet.

“I wish the Sireni would take the time to get to know a halfling. The way things are, it’s… not right.”

Nyel lifted his tail, running it against Atreus’s. The smooth edge grazed his scales in a touch so fleeting it could have been an accident—if not for the way it lingered. Atreus’s breath stuttered, his body trembling at the contact. It wasn’t just a brush; it was deliberate, like the gentle pass of fingertips tracing across bare skin. The warmth pooling at the base of Atreus’s neck spread down his spine all the way to the end of his tail.

He was utterly unmoored.

“I only learned about it less than a day ago: that I’m a halfling. I knew something was wrong with me, and that’s why the Sireni drove me off as a kid. I just never knew why.”

Nyel’s tail stilled, and Atreus was left breathless at the loss of its caress. “You said they drove you off?”

“It was a long time ago.”

Nyel dropped his head, face averted. It took Atreus a moment to recognize the sound of muffled sniffling.

“Hey, don’t… don’t do that.” Atreus reached out, gently ta king Nyel by the chin and tilting his face toward him. Before he could stop himself, he wiped away a tear with the back of his index finger. “I don’t like it when you do that.”

Nyel let out a hysterical sort of laugh. “What? Cry? You’ve never seen it.”

“And I never want to.”

Their eyes met, and something awakened inside him—a force as steady and timeless as the moon’s pull on the tide. The air shifted, and Atreus felt as if an invisible current coiled around his ankles, tugging him toward the sea. Radiance flickered in the space between their gazes, like fractured sunlight through cresting waves, making him blink—but the glare didn’t fade. It wasn’t light but warmth, something deep and primal pressing against his core. It was alive, shimmering with a quiet power that defied explanation because it simply... was.

Atreus had no control, no will to keep his chest from cracking open. It was as though the cage guarding his heart unlocked, spread wide and exposing the delicate bead of light that was...him. His pulse thudded heavily in his ears, and the distant echo of an ancient song rang from somewhere inside him— a whale’s hymn.

His skin prickled—not unpleasantly—but with the charged sensation of swimming too close to a voltai eel, electric and teetering on the edge of overwhelming.

And then, he saw it—or thought he did. A golden thread looped in the air around them. It shimmered, twisting and dancing before his eyes. The hair on the back of his neck rose as a shiver tore through him, heart pounding and ears filled with whale song. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, though for what, he couldn’t say.

But just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

The glow, the warmth, the connection—it vanished like a brittle glass snapping under pressure, leaving Atreus reeling. He staggered inwardly, the absence of it striking him like the air had been knocked from his lungs. His chest ached with a hollowness he couldn’t name, and tears welled in his eyes, hot and stinging, blurring the sight of Nyel, who was now hastily wiping his eyes.

For a moment, Atreus just stood there, swallowing against the lump rising in his throat. Had Nyel felt it too? For a brief moment, he was tempted to ask.

That golden thread, that impossible, beautiful connection.

Or was it only Atreus foolish enough to believe in something so fleeting? Who’d felt like he was on the edge of something extraordinary, only to watch it slip through his fingers like sand?

The ache twisted as though he’d been struck by a devil ray’s barbed tail. The ocean continued to move around them, indifferent to the loss he could still feel echoing in his bones. Yet as he wracked his brain and blinked away the sting in his eyes, Atreus couldn’t name what it was he’d lost. He bit down on the trembling in his jaw, grinding his teeth.

What… just happened to me?

Nyel took a moment to compose himself, wiping at his eyes repeatedly before letting out an embarrassed chuckle. “Ugh, I’m a mess. It’s been a lot.”

Atreus cleared his throat, shaking himself. “Yeah. A lot.”

“Where did you learn about it? That you were a halfling?” Nyel asked, still pushing at the wetness in his eyes.

“A stranger. I didn’t catch his name. He was a Mer—another halfling like me. He told me that if I showed myself to you, you’d leave. He wanted you home—a relative of yours.”

“Nephi.”

“What?”

“His name is Nephi. And he’s my brother. Well, half-brother.”

Half-brother sounded a lot closer than ‘distant relative,’ as Nephi had called them .

“I take it you don’t have a good relationship.”

Nyel shook his head. Atreus didn’t have to think too hard to guess why.

“I need to fix it—all of it. I’ll do it in front of my parents if I have to. There is nothing wrong with Nephi, besides the fact that he’s an incurable jerk,” Nyel added under his breath. “But it isn’t his fault our dad had an out-of-species relationship. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“He’s expecting you to run home.”

Nyel huffed. “Well, then he’s in for a surprise. But I am going home.”

Atreus jerked his head, tail splashing.

“Not to stay,” Nyel added quickly, “to make things right. I’m going to tell them everything.”

“I imagine that will be a fun conversation.”

Nyel laughed with a nervous hiccup. “Yes. Super fun. They won’t take it well, but I don’t care.”

“Even when you tell them you’re hanging out with a halfling?”

Atreus knew Nyel’s parents would react poorly to the news. They’d tell him Atreus was dangerous. That Nyel was an idiot for being so close to a monster. Would Nyel listen to them? They were his parents, after all. What if they convinced him Atreus really was a freak? What if they persuaded him to stay home?

“Especially then,” Nyel said, and Atreus took comfort in the determined resolve in his voice. Nyel faced him, mouth set in a severe line. “I’m on your side, Atreus. Please believe me.”

Atreus averted his gaze, unable to hold its intensity. He nodded.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you know I’m on your side.” The look on Nyel’s face told Atreus he was dead serious.

“Why? ”

“Because sometimes you have to hear things out loud with your own voice to believe them.”

Atreus took a deep breath. “I know you’re on my side.”

“And that you know I’ll be there for you.”

Something twinged in Atreus’s chest, and he had to resist the urge to rub it.

“I know you’ll be there for me.”

“And that I’m the best Bocce player that ever was.”

The tension in the air popped like a balloon, and Atreus barked with laughter. “Don’t push your luck. And I demand a rematch.”

“Wanna get your tail kicked again that badly? I guess I can do that,” Nyel said with a mischievous smirk.

“You’re so?—”

The sound of gunfire cracked in the sky, drowning out his words. Nyel yelled, and Atreus grabbed him, ready to drag them into the waves and away from the firing shells. They’d been spotted. They?—

Lights exploded across the sky in flashes of blue and purple, followed by a dull ‘boom.’ The display disappeared in a whisp of smoke and the sound of crackling popcorn.

“Nyel, look!” he said, pointing to the sky with one webbed hand while the other remained wrapped around the sireno’s shoulders.

Fireworks flew, blasting the air before fizzling into a dazzling display of color and light. Bursts of amethyst and iris exploded, followed by smaller pops of magenta and orchid.

Nyel’s mouth fell open. It opened and closed a few more times before the words finally made it out on an exhale.

“It’s you. Those colors. It’s you, Atreus. It’s… beautiful,” he whispered, the brilliant lights reflecting in those honey-brown eyes.

And in that moment, Atreus didn’t hate the color of his scales.