There was a time when humans and merfolk shared waters.

When we met on sandy beaches to weave vibrant little folktales and sing harmonious songs about life and love.

When merfolk taught human toddlers how to swim and humans taught merfolk their land-born crafting techniques.

When we gazed upon each other with mutual respect and understanding.

But now is not one of those times.

So why is there a human vessel approaching my father's territory?

The sleek black ship gliding seamlessly through the water bears the red and white flag of Anjord—the southern kingdom of men. On deck, humans mill about, calling orders to one another and rushing to fill those commands. Storm clouds gather above them, gray and angry. All around me, the Divine's power pulses. It's a surefire sign that She's just as unhappy about their presence as I am.

Why are they out this far?

"I was kind of wondering the same thing?" Finn says beside me, letting me know I've spoken out loud. He hovers low in the icy water beside me.

"That isn't even a fishing boat, so they can't use the 'we were just gathering food' excuse."

Finn shrugs. "It isn't our problem, Ari."

Ignoring him, I narrow my eyes at the ship. The boundary between our land and theirs lies somewhere between us, an invisible line drawn in the water. How many times has that limit been pushed? Have the humans crossed over without us knowing? Their tendency to push limits is the reason why we have to keep a patrol going at all times.

"How long have they been here?" I muse, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "Where's the guard?"

Finn disappears under the water for a second, and the water pulses with his descent. When he resurfaces, he says, "Just a bit to the east, circling back around the northern border now."

I nod. This late in the day, it makes sense that they'd be off in that direction. Did the humans know they wouldn't be here?

"Let's just go home," Finn whines. I glance back to see his nose scrunched in displeasure. "Your dad said I could stay and eat with you guys tonight. Your sisters always serve the best steamed seaweed. I don't want to miss it."

I roll my eyes and nudge him with my elbow. "Go on, then. I'll meet you there."

"Um, yeah, not happening. Last time I left you unattended with a ship full of humans, you were almost caught and carried off to Anjord. We either go back together or not at all."

"Then I guess you're going to be late, because I'm staying to see where they go."

Finn groans and swims in an angry circle behind me, his hands crossed over his chest. I ignore him as best as I can while my hands fiddle with the bag strapped across my chest. Its metal buckle is starting to tarnish in the salt water, so I'll have to replace it soon. That means trading with the humans in Snejorn, though, and they're never happy to see us. We don't have a history of war with them, thank the Divine, but our conversations are far from pleasant. Maybe I can convince Papa to buy me a new one from the pirates...

Lost in thoughts about my bag, I almost miss the ship turning towards us. If the water hadn't moved slightly, rocking me like a buoy, I might've dismissed the movement and went back to thinking. By the time I look up, she's facing us.

"Finn," I say slowly, drawing my dagger out of my bag.

"Yes?" He stops his nervous-swimming and floats to my side. "Wait, are they...?"

"Looks like it." I squint at the burly shape of a person standing on the bow of the massive ship holding an elongated telescope. He's looking way over our heads, so there's no way he sees us. Not yet.

Instinctively, Finn and I slink further into the water, hidden except for our heads.

"Why are they coming this way?" he asks, fear obvious in the tremble of his voice.

"I don't know."

"It's against the accords!" Finn squeaks.

"I know." The words come out through gritted teeth.

"King Triton will be furious."

A nod is all he gets from me this time. Sometimes it's better to let Finn talk to himself.

"Should we alert the guards?"

"No." All they'd do is go get Papa, and what's he going to do?

"Then who's going to scare them off?"

I don't respond. Not verbally, anyway. Instead, I dive under the water and swim in the humans' direction.

Finn is quick to follow.

"Ari! You cannot do this again! Your father will be furious!"

I roll my eyes. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him, little flounder."

"Don't call me that! I hate it." He swats at my tail but misses. "Please! Let's just go home."

He isn't going to take no for an answer, so I ignore him.

If I leave the humans alone and run for the guard, it'll be too late. Whatever they're here for, they'll have it before we could make it back. I'm here now, so there's no point in pretending that I can't protect my homeland alone.

It's one ship against the two of us.

Well, one of us. Finn would never engage in an altercation alongside me.

But even alone, they don't stand a chance against me.

Here, in the water, us merfolk are nigh invincible. The same magic that flows through the sea around us lives in our souls as well, making us one with the ocean and waves, with the storm clouds and the tsunamis. The Divine has blessed my kind with magic that humans can never obtain.

I won't have to lay a finger on them. The water will do it all for me.

Finn finally stops complaining when the ship's hull looms over us, a massive, oblong, black shadow. "Do we have a plan, or are we feeling extra suicidal today?" he hisses, wringing his hands.

"I have a plan," I mumble. The waves overhead pick up slightly, a sign that the storm is increasing. Good. The Divine is furious.

"Care to share it with me?"

"Sure." I slide my dagger back into my bag, deciding that a non-physical method might be best if I intend to avoid getting caught. Just this once. "Ready?" Finn nods as I hold a finger up. "One, I'm going to go up there and stir up the storm. Two, you're going to stay down here, out of the way."

His eyes widen. "Absolutely not!"

Shaking my head, I start swimming up towards the ship.

"Arielle, don't you dare," he hisses after me.

For a second, I think about backing down. His use of my full first name makes me wince. He's scared, that much is clear. Decisions battle in my head—chase the humans off or calm my frightened friend?

I know the right choice almost instantly.

We merfolk spend most of our daylight hours dodging human ships. We hide and pretend that we don't exist, that we don't have a history with our two-legged relatives, and that we are content being bedtime stories and myths.

I'm sick of being a story

I'm tired of not existing, of hiding and running.

I am a daughter of Triton—King of the Sea, Blessed by the Divine Goddess, Ruler of Vandya. These mere humans should tremble in fear of what I can do.

There are times when running and hiding are adequate responses. There are even times when I would call the guards.

But occasionally, the Divine places an opportunity right in your palm, daring you to take it. It's rude to ignore the Divine.

Decision made, I nod and push away from him. "Yell if you see the guards, okay?"

A long silence answers me, followed by a tiny squeak of "Okay..."

If I look back, I'll give in and swim away with him. So, I don't. I can't.

They're trespassing. It needs to be dealt with. Gritting my teeth, I swim directly below their ship and break out of the water in its shadow.

Guttural yells greet me. Unlike the merfolk, humans have a distinct gravely tone to their voice. They lack all the musicality that comes with our species. It's rougher, more violent, and often deeper. I press my hands against the smoother wood and allow myself to be carried along, listening to the conversations aboard.

"Storm's picking up, Your Majesty," someone says.

Another person grunts in response.

"Are you sure it's safe to go on?"

No response.

Sighing, I focus my eyes on the clouds overhead. They've begun to swirl, and bolts of lightning dance between them, cracking open their blanket like underside. Heavy drops of rain spill over their edges and rhythmically plop into the ocean. I breathe in harmony with the sky's tears, letting warm magic flood my chest.

It's a tiny candle that grows with every inhale and spreads with every exhale. Starting at my chest, under my ribs, it sputters and shivers in the cold. Then, it expands—to my shoulders, then my arms, down to my hands, to my head, and then down to my tail. The flame engulfs me as magic sparks across my skin like tiny bolts of lightning. I keep it dammed back just enough. Without proper control, I could turn this storm into a hurricane, and that's the last thing anyone needs.

Once I've harnessed just enough of my magic, I will the clouds to begin spinning even faster. The wind picks up, whipping my hair across my face. The men aboard the ship start barking out orders, and all around me, footsteps pound the deck. The wind doesn't slow, though; it only increases.

The rain also picks up, and soon, it's pouring down in thick gray sheets. The men swear angrily, and more than once, I hear the heavier thud of a body crashing to the deck.

"We have to turn her around, Captain!" someone yells.

"Not yet."

The voice sends chills down my spine, and for a moment, the magic in me dims. The power, the command, the sheer strength those two words held... Who was that?

I gather a touch of water around my tail and hoist myself up to a break in the ship's railing. The rain beats down, like it's trying to push me back down or talk some sense into me. But there's another, stronger drive in my head.

Curiosity.

Through the chaos that is the ship's deck, one figure looms above the rest. Telescope still aloft, he holds the ship's mainmast in his other massive hand. It doesn't seem to require him any effort at all to maintain his upright position, even as his men flail around like weak-legged babies. Water rolls down his back and plasters his long, onyx hair to his neck and shoulders. Broad shoulders can be easily seen through the rain-soaked white shirt that clings to him. The salt-worn fabric outlines every muscle and tattoo.

But it's his eyes that capture my attention.

They're the color of the ocean itself—of home and a cloudless summer sky.

How dare he. He doesn't deserve to hold the sea in his gaze like that, doesn't deserve the beauty of the water. He's human.

Magic-less.

Weak.

"The hull's filling with water, Prince Eero! We have to turn back! The merfolk don't want us here," the same voice from before warns. My eyes dart over to a shrewd man half Eero's height. He is bent over, and his skin is tan and leathery from sun exposure. Gray hair hangs in soaked knots and mats down his back. He more closely resembles a pirate than a royal sailor.

"They aren't real, Grim. The merfolk you speak of are nothing more than figments of your imagination. This is just a sudden storm. It'll pass. Now, push forward."

The man, Grim, I assume, nearly topples over as he makes his way to the prince. "If they aren't real, then why did we come all this way to find one?"

Eero's eyes flash dangerously. A muscle in his jaw twitches, and even from here, I see his knuckles whiten against the wooden mast. "I don't owe you an explanation," he hisses. "Next time you question me, I'll be sending your head to your family in a burlap sack. Got it?"

His tone makes even me shiver, and I'm used to listening to Papa yell at people. How Grim stands his ground is a mystery to me.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Grim says, "but if we don't head back soon, there won't be a ship left to take us back."

Eero doesn't respond. Instead, he stares out at the raging water. The ship rocks around him as it rides the violent waves, but the man never falters.

The nerve of him, I seethe, to stand there like he owns the place, to be so unaffected and unbothered at our show of force. My temper flares, and a sudden wave of water crashes over the edge of the ship. His eyes barely shift as one of his crewmates slips overboard, lost to the tumult of water.

Still, he doesn't give the command to pull back.

What will it take? What's he waiting for?

Glaring at him, I focus all my power on the energy sparking in the air around me. If the water alone won't run him off, maybe...

I've no sooner finished the thought than a massive peal of lightning tears through the sky. It slams into the mainmast, travels down the wooden pole, and stops centimeters short of his fingertips. As the wood blackens, the said overhead catches fire. Smoke fills the area as both wood and fabric are engulfed. Eero's eyes widen, and for the first time, he moves away from his post.

He searches the ocean wildly for... something. Does he know what caused the lightning? Is he really looking for us?

"Grim!" he barks, his voice vibrating deep in my chest. "Turn us around. Now!"

"Yes, sir," the second man replies. He scrambles away, repeating their captain's orders to the drenched crew members.

I slip down the side of the ship and disappear beneath the water. The storm doesn't fade, though. What's left of my anger and confusion fuels the wind and water for another few minutes. By the time I resurface, the prince's ship is mid-turn and most of the crew members have their back to me.

But the prince doesn't.

He leans over the edge of his ship and is staring directly at me. Our eyes meet, and he smirks slightly. My stomach shudders; my face contorts in rage. First, he comes into our territory, and now he smiles at me? Like that?

Once again, I'm appalled by his nerve.

His people, his ancestors, ruined our lives. They slaughtered our warriors in battle, chased us to the far end of the kingdom, and bound us behind swords and threats. The Great War continues to be a black spot in our history, the darkest decade we've ever experienced.

It may not have happened in his lifetime, or even his father's lifetime, but it did happen in mine. I'm cursed to live through the memories of Papa returning from battles a broken man, of Mama discussing war tactics across the dinner table, of heated arguments and desperate tears. The grief of hundreds of women whose husbands never returned home, of my best friend's family being demolished—it all sits on my shoulders. The shame of packing up all of our belongings and running for safety is something I know well.

Merfolk. Running.

The thought alone is absurd.

It was all their fault.

No, his fault. He's the prince. Like I hold responsibility for my people's pain, he holds responsibility for his ancestors' actions.

My hands tremble from the fury building in my chest. For a moment, I consider losing it. Opening up the sky would be easy. My people wouldn't even feel a ship-crushing tsunami. Retaliating would make me no better than them, though.

So, I glare daggers back at him. He blinks in shock and takes a step back. Can he feel the fire in my eyes? Does it burn him?

Good.

I flick my wrist in his direction, and a spout of water slams into him. By the time he's recovered, I'm long gone, chasing after Finn's retreating tail.