Page 4 of Storm and Sea (Storm and Sea Saga #1)

T here wasn’t time to douse the fire. No time to hide the evidence of his space being lived in. Atreus only had a second to grab the sharpened metal pipe and dive behind the curtain partition, heart in his throat.

How had he been so careless? He cursed himself; it was this damned weather. The rain always made him melancholic, and he let his head drift to another world.

The steps grew louder, with a slightly irregular gait as if the person climbing was hobbled on one side. He held his breath and watched through a slit in the curtain. When the door opened, it creaked loudly, the rusted hinges protesting. Lit by the flickering firelight came a hand—an arm, a face.

The young man was pale, almost alarmingly so. His dark brown hair lay in messy waves that curled around his ears. He appeared close to Atreus’s age, though with a slighter build. His frame was lean, lacking noticeable muscle definition. This person didn’t spend a lot of time doing physical labor.

Atreus knew all this with only a glance, reading the stranger like a book. The intruder stepped fully into the firelight, his bare chest exposed and his lower body covered in dried seaflax pants. He stooped as he walked, as if still grappling with his center of gravity, and Atreus knew instantly that this stranger was Mer.

Mer— and likely out of the water for the first time.

What are you doing on a human island, you dummy?

Atreus lowered the makeshift spear but kept it in his hands, just in case.

He watched the stranger for another minute, noticing the Mer’s amazed expression as he took in every foreign object. His eyes were wide with awe, seemingly oblivious that a fresh fire meant somebody had recently inhabited this space. Atreus caught the glimmer of gold in those brown eyes. They shone like bits of mica embedded in the rocks along the island.

He couldn’t look away.

When the stranger reached a cautionless hand to the metal bowl and yelped as it burned him, Atreus decided it was time to step out before he did any real damage—mostly to himself.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t touch that,” Atreus said as he revealed himself.

The stranger yelped again, losing his footing and landing hard on his rear, the seaflax pants crunching as he fell. “I— please… I don’t… . I’m not going….”

Panicked eyes locked onto the sharpened rod in Atreus’s hand, so he tossed it to the side with a loud clang.

“Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you,” Atreus said in what he hoped was a calm voice. “Talk normally; we understand each other.”

Despite trying to calm the boy, Atreus’s heart was racing in his chest. Someone was here—a real person. He hadn’t spoken to another person in months. But this wasn’t a human—this was a being of the sea.

Like me.

It dawned on him that, other than his father, Atreus had never spoken to another of his kind.

“Oh. I didn’t know we spoke the same as humans— I mean. Of course, we do.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Of course, we can understand each other. Why wouldn’t we?”

Atreus rolled his eyes. “Smooth.”

“W-what do you mean? This is, ugh, human language?”

He said it like a question. His lie was so poorly hidden that Atreus wondered if this idiot was that clueless or just a special kind of stupid.

“You’re not human, and you’re not doing a very good job hiding it.” Atreus said, “What are you doing here, sireno ?”

“Oh. I’m just y-y-ou know.” The Mer could hardly speak as tremors ran down his body. His teeth chattered as he spoke.

“You have no idea what you’re doing. Go back to the sea where you belong,” Atreus bit out, annoyed at the intrusion. But he couldn’t help adding, “Unless you have a good reason to be here.”

He flinched internally at the shallow sign of weakness. The loneliness inside him escaped for a brief moment and opened the door for this stranger to stay.

It was pathetic.

“I can’t. I-I have to s-s-stay a-away.”

Atreus couldn’t ignore his chattering. “You’re cold. ”

“C-cold?”

“Yes. It’s something humans have to deal with.”

“Oh,” the sireno said, goosebumps erupting along his arms and legs.

Atreus moved to his meager store of belongings and threw him a spare set of clothes.

“Put these on. They’ll be big on you, but at least they’re dry. You can sit closer to the fire—but don’t touch it!” he warned.

“Right. I figured that one out,” the stranger said, holding up one red-tipped finger.

When he stood, the seaflax pants nearly fell off him. They weren’t meant to dry outside the water. Atreus averted his gaze, not willing to turn his back to a stranger entirely but allowing him privacy. Cloth rustled as the boy struggled to organize himself in foreign clothing.

Finally, he heard, “I don’t know how to put these on.”

“Legs in the two long holes, ignore the hole in the back.”

“What’s that for?” the Mer asked.

“A tail.”

“But… we don’t have one right now.”

“Well, I never know when I might have to make an emergency dive. Don’t want to tear my stuff,” Atreus huffed, annoyed.

That’s exactly what had happened. He’d dropped a pail of water onto himself, revealing scales instantly. With Leo seconds away from spotting him, Atreus leaped over the ropes and into the sea. His tail manifested with Marvassa and ripped his pants to shreds. After that, he’d painstakingly sewed a convenient human invention called ‘velcro’ to a hole in the back of all his pants. It kept the hole closed while he was in human form and adapted to a tail without ruining it.

“Right, okay, I got it. What about this one?”

Atreus turned to see the boy struggling to figure out the t-shirt.

“Here,” Atreus said, holding it open and helping him work his way inside. The stranger’s skin was cold to the touch. But also… so clear. Not a blemish. Not a single imperfection. It was pure like the world hadn’t yet had a chance to mark him.

Once he settled the boy beside the fire with a patchy blanket, he addressed him again.

“I’ll ask again, sireno , what are you doing here?”

“You’re a sireno too?” he asked, avoiding the question.

Atreus didn’t know how to answer that but found himself nodding anyway. The boy sighed.

“That’s a relief. I thought I’d run into a human.”

“Well, what did you expect? You surfaced in human territory.”

“I heard it was abandoned.”

“It is. Well, besides me.”

A million more questions burned in the boy’s eyes, but Atreus wasn’t ready to answer any of them.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here or not?”

“Oh, well.” His hands twisted in his lap. “It’s a long story.”

They listened to the fire crackle in the bowl and stared at the embers as they dwindled. Atreus reached and added a fresh log, coaxing the fire to grow, much to the boy’s amazement. He scooted further away as the heat intensified.

“I never knew it could be so pretty. The fire.”

Atreus didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. It’d been months since he’d spoken to another person, and none of them were Mer. His social skills were excruciatingly out of practice.

“I’m Nyel Veritani, by the way.”

Atreus thought about that for a moment. “Your first name is weird,” he said and cringed at how rude it came out.

Nyel nodded. “It’s from far away. My dad insisted on it. My mom wanted to call me ‘Raffi.’”

The fire gave a loud pop, making Nyel jump. He curled in the blanket, his teeth worrying the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

Nyel tensed, tugging the blanket even tighter. “Can… can I get it now?” he asked cautiously, as though he were approaching a wolf eel with an attitude.

Realizing he was being a jerk, Atreus sighed loudly. “It’s Atreus.”

“And your last name?”

“Don’t have one.” He said too quickly and was glad when no follow-up questions came.

“Your name is strange, too,” Nyel said.

“It’s from far away,” Atreus copied, which earned him the barest hint of a grin.

The tense, wordlessness they fell into after that was enough to make Atreus’s skin itch. He fidgeted until his patience wore thin and stood, retrieving the remaining cans of sardines. He didn’t feel like cooking anymore, and the lobster would be fine until morning.

“Here.” He tossed the can to Nyel, who missed and picked it up from the floor. “Like this,” Atreus said, showing him how to break the seal and pull open the metal can. Instantly, Nyel covered his nose with his hand and gagged. “What?”

“Is that— fish?”

“Sardines, yeah. Humans put them in these things and they last forever without going bad.”

Nyel pushed the can away, still actively trying not to be sick. “I can’t. Sorry.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Nyel looked at him incredulously. “It’s meat. You can eat this stuff?”

Atreus shrugged. “I prefer them fresh, but this is better than going hungry. ”

“I’ll have to disagree with you on that,” Nyel said, taking shallow breaths.

“Well, it’s all I have unless you want to cook him,” Atreus said, pointing to the lobster.

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Nyel watched him, and for the first time since he’d dropped the spear, Atreus thought he saw a flicker of fear in those eyes. “You said you were Sireni ?”

“Yeah. And?”

“ Sireni , don’t eat meat.”

Well, shit.

Atreus was painfully aware of how little he knew about Mer. He was more familiar with humans than his own species. He ignored Nyel’s comment.

“You’re from that village, right? Down the sandbank?”

“Yeah. My family and I live on the edge of Corallina, just outside the hijiki fields.”

“Family?” Atreus hated how the word caught in his throat as he said it.

“Well, yeah. You didn’t think I lived by myself, did you? I’m only eighteen springs.”

I’ve been on my own since my thirteenth winter. And I have no idea how many years I’ve lived since.

“How many springs have you seen?” Nyel asked as though reading his mind.

“Twenty-two,” Atreus settled on, though he had no idea. He opted for the higher range.

“And you’re out here on your own?”

I didn’t used to be.

“Yes. And I’m very comfortable that way,” he lied. And, sensing more questions about his personal life, he redirected, “So what— you ran away from your parents?”

Nyel’s jaw tightened, and he curled inward, tugging the blanket tighter. “I left my aunt, too. She’s about to have a baby. She told me to come here and… wait it out.”

“A cousin.” Atreus mused, quickly getting swept up in the idea of it all. Nyel had parents. Two people to watch out for him and care about his well-being. He also had an aunt and a cousin on the way. A new life was coming into this world—more family.

“I wonder if she’ll have a boy or girl, not that it matters as long as the baby is healthy?—”

“Go back in the morning,” Atreus cut him off, a bitter tang in his mouth.

“What? Why?”

“Because you don’t belong here; you belong there, with your family, in that village with hundreds of other happy families like yours.”

“You don’t know a thing about my family.”

“I know what all you Sireni are like. You’re all the same, right down to the scales on your back.”

No room for outsiders like me.

“You speak like you aren’t one,” Nyel said, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his tone.

Atreus glared. “Out. Tomorrow. I’m leaving early in the morning, and I don’t want you hanging out here while I’m gone.”

Nyel couldn’t believe his ears. This was the most presumptuous person he’d ever met. What made him the authority on Nyel’s business?

When he limped up the tower’s steps, he never imagined he’d find another Mer at the top. At first, Nyel thought he’d stumbled upon a human and was seconds away from having a sharpened piece of metal shoved through him. But Atreus immediately understood what he was and looked just as relieved as Nyel. Neither of them were expecting company this evening.

Though Corallina was a large settlement of hundreds of families spread over thousands of nautical miles, Nyel was pretty confident he would have remembered a name like ‘Atreus.’

He’d never met this sireno before, and Nyel wasn’t sure calling him a ‘ sireno ’ was accurate either. Atreus was dodgy, and Nyel didn’t miss the way he talked about the villagers with disdain.

Now, Nyel was getting kicked out.

And I just got warm.

But he wouldn’t let the cozy warmth of the fire tempt him into begging. He had more dignity than that.

Nyel stood abruptly, dropping the blanket as he returned Atreus’s glare.

“Why tomorrow? Since I’m such a nuisance, I’ll see myself out now.” As he turned to stalk away, he slipped on the material wrapped around his foot and fell .

“Sharks!” Nyel cursed, head spinning. He wasn’t used to the sensation of falling and found that he didn’t like it at all.

A gentle hand lifted his foot a second later, inspecting the wrapping. Nyel hadn’t even noticed when Atreus dashed across the room to help him.

“You’re hurt.”

It wasn’t a question.

“It’s not your problem.” Nyel tried to stand, but Atreus’s gentle grip raised his foot, preventing him from moving. “Hold still,” he commanded, resting Nyel’s foot on his lap and removing the wrap. The wound immediately started to bleed again.

“There was human glass downstairs.”

“Yeah, I know,” Atreus said, a guilty look coming over his face. “Wait here.”

He carefully lay Nyel’s bleeding foot on the floor, returning a moment later with a stool, a bucket of what smelled like fresh water, and a dry rag.

“There’s sand in your cut. Wash it out here, and I’ll wrap it,” he said, turning his back and preparing pieces of white cloth.

Nyel wanted to protest, but the deep incision in his foot pulsed in rhythm with his heart.

“Fine,” he huffed, sitting on the stool and easing his foot into the water. It didn’t sting as much as he expected, and he gingerly stuck both hands in, cleaning the wound with his fingers and flushing out the embedded sand. Though the water was likely made of rain, Marvassa changed him where the water touched. In less than a second, he was removing sand from a webbed foot with elongated talons.

“After you dry off, I’ll wrap it and?—”

Atreus stopped mid-sentence, his eyes wide at the sight of Nyel’s transformed skin. He stared, mouth slightly open. Feeling self- conscious, Nyel finished cleaning the wound and pulled it from the water.

“What?” he finally bit out when Atreus continued to stare as he dried himself with the rag, and his skin returned to its human state.

“You’re… it’s you.”

“Me?”

“Your scales. They’re... green.”

Nyel rolled his eyes. “Of course, they’re green—mine and every Sireni in the ocean. Good job,” he mocked.

Atreus ignored his jab. “No. Not like the others. You’re unique; it’s—” He tilted his head, examining. “It’s like jade.”

“Yeah, I’m weird. My mom and aunt have it, too. So what?” A rush of heat flooded Nyel’s face.

For a moment, Atreus looked like he wanted to say more but shook himself. “Never mind. Hold still.”

Despite his sharp words and abrasive attitude, there was a surprising gentleness in the way those large hands touched him. Careful and precise. Atreus dressed Nyel’s wound with a clear, syrup-like liquid before wrapping it in clean white cloth. He pinned the end of the wrap closed with a metal clamp and inspected his work.

“Keep it dry for a few days.”

His voice lost its bitter edge, and he still held Nyel’s foot in his lap, staring at it as if the green scales might spontaneously return.

“Kind of hard to do in the ocean.”

At this, Atreus lifted his head, and with him kneeling so close, Nyel got a clearer look at his features. His curls fell low, covering most of his forehead. His nose was wide-set, in proportion with his defined square jaw. A light dusting of freckles bridged over his nose, growing darker as they dotted down his neck and shoulders. But what made Nyel’s gaze stick like barnacles on a rock were those eyes. Beneath thick brows were eyes unlike anything Nyel had ever seen. All Sireni had the same colored eyes: Brown. Boring. Bland .

But these eyes…

They shimmered like nacre, or the inner lining of abalone shells—but with an unsettlingly hypnotic green hue. Even the kelp in its most ripe state couldn’t hope to compare to the vibrant color looking back at him now. Streaks of deep sea green and hints of turquoise danced across the surface, mixing and morphing, casting a subtle iridescent glow. As the firelight shifted, the colors transformed, undulating with a pearlescent sheen, like liquid glass in motion.

“You can stay,” Atreus said, snapping him from his daze.

“Wait— what?” Nyel blinked rapidly and straightened. He hadn’t realized he’d leaned in so close.

“Wait until the wound closes, then go. Before you leave, jam the front door closed with a stone.”

“What about you?” Nyel asked because it sounded like Atreus was going to leave him alone in this tower.

“I have somewhere to be,” Atreus said, finally releasing his leg and standing. He ran a hand through his tight curls, a motion Nyel suspected he did a lot.

“Where?”

“Nowhere,” he said too quickly, and Nyel didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to the window. Then it clicked—why he’d never seen Atreus before, why Atreus was so familiar with human artifacts.

“You’re going to the human town, aren’t you?” Nyel knew he was right when Atreus’s defined jaw set. “That’s where you go, isn’t it? Why, I’ve never seen you around before.”

“You don’t see me around because it’s been made very clear that I’m not wanted,” Atreus bit out.

Nyel recoiled. He had no idea what that could possibly mean.

Atreus made a frustrated sound like he regretted saying so much. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter at this point; I’ve done well enough on my own. Tomorrow, I’m leaving. I’m going back to my life, and you’re going back to yours. End of story. ”

Nyel sat frozen, his mind reeling.

Atreus waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello?” he called in irritation, but Nyel’s gaze remained distant. He was caught in a whirlpool of thoughts and revelations.

Somehow, somewhere on human sands, Atreus had a life. A life outside of farming kelp or herding schools of goatfish. A life outside of arranged dinners with potential Bond mates. A life free from expectations and living exactly as his parents did—as his grandparents and great-grandparents. The same ebb and flow of farming, mating, and raising the next generation, only for the cycle to start again.

Yet Atreus didn’t fit that mold. His life was made up of something else entirely. Nyel didn’t know that was even possible. His chest tightened as a sickening thought took hold—Nyel knew so little of the world beyond the one he was raised in.

But here was proof that a different life existed. There was another way to experience the world. And now that Nyel knew it was there, he couldn’t go back to the way things were—back to the sheltered community where he never belonged.

“Hello? Did you hear me?” Atreus snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Take me with you,” Nyel blurted.

Atreus huffed a laugh. “Absolutely not. It’s a human town,” he said, putting emphasis on the word. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You do it.” Nyel countered.

“And I’ve been doing it since I was thirteen. I can read them—or at least the few I talk to.”

“You talk to humans!?” Nyel said, almost leaping to his feet in excitement when the sting in his foot forced him to remain seated. “Isn’t that dangerous? Don’t they… you know…”

“Attack me?” Atreus finished. “If they knew what I was, yeah, they probably would.”

“They don’t?” And the scope of what Atreus was saying sank in. “They don’t know what you are. They think you’re a human like them.”

“Yes. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

Nyel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Atreus was walking the razor’s edge of life and death. One slip-up, one splash of water, one raindrop, and he’d be exposed. If he’d managed to keep himself hidden since he was thirteen, surely Nyel could manage. Right?

“I still want to see it.” Nyel insisted, and he could almost hear Nephi’s cautionary words in the back of his head.

“That’s too bad.” Atreus shot out. “Heal and go home.”

Nyel was standing now, ignoring the pain in his foot. “Why not?”

“Because you’re running from your problems, and I’m not gonna enable you. Go home and deal with it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? Let me guess,” he held up a hand, stopping Nyel from speaking. “Your mother or father told you to do something, and you don’t want to do it. So, instead of handling it like an adult, you ran. Am I in the ballpark?”

Nyel didn’t know what a ballpark was, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this stranger talk to him like that.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it isn’t.” Atreus rolled his eyes. Treating Nyel like a whiny child.

“You have no idea what you’re asking me to do!” Nyel shouted.

“And you don’t know how good you have it!” Atreus recoiled at his own words. “I-I…” he stuttered, but nothing came out.

A look of instant regret crossed Atreus’s features, and that’s when Nyel felt like an intruder—not for being in the tower but for uncovering something Atreus wanted to keep hidden. A truth that, judging by the expression on his face, he didn't want to reveal .

“I’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Nyel said a moment later, sparing Atreus the need to explain himself.

Nyel wouldn’t go home, though. Despite Atreus’s words stinging his insides like the quill of a lionfish, he wasn’t about to surrender so easily. He’d finally found the strength to stand up for himself and take control of his life. He wasn’t about to back down now. He’d figure out where to go in the morning.

“Take the mattress,” Atreus said, arranging his lumpy blankets beside the fire.

“The what?”

“The white soft thing over there,” he gestured without looking. “It smells like smoke, but it’s clean otherwise.”

Careful not to irritate his newly bandaged foot, Nyel walked to the rectangular shape. It was soft and…jumpy? He didn’t know how to explain it, but there was a definite bounce as he lay on the mattress’s surface. It did smell like smoke. Smoke and… something else. Like the storm raging outside, only softer. It carried a gentle hint of melancholy. Nyel pressed his face into the springy surface, letting this strange scent lull him into a pleasant calm as exhaustion crept in. The maelstrom of emotions Nyel had endured left him utterly drained. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired.

The last thought that drifted behind his closing lids was of abalone shells glistening in firelight.