Elara sat in the quiet corner of the temple chamber, knees drawn close, Kaelen curled beside her like a tired shadow.
The echoes of the Sealorn's song—and Dalila's laughter—still lingered in her mind.
She hadn't spoken much since. Words felt strange in her throat.
A soft shimmer broke the silence.
An elder seer, older than coral itself, floated forward carrying a small sealed chest that shimmered faintly with sigil light.
"My name is Kira. You must've seen me in the ceremony the other day," the woman said gently, offering Elara the box.
"My son does trade with the lands—heat-crystals, dried herbs, woven fabrics. I thought you might... like a taste of home."
Elara opened it slowly—and stopped.
Inside, steam coiled upward in gentle threads. Real steam. Not the kind conjured through spells, but warmth—real and honest.
Something smelled faintly of spiced rice and beef curry.
Her throat tightened. "I haven't had human food since... since I fell. How is it still warm?"
The old seer smiled, touching the glowing crystal nestled beside the container.
"The lands call them 'flare-gems'. We call them sun-hearts. They hold warmth for days. And with a little sea-magic to keep the wet away, it's almost as good as fresh."
Elara blinked hard, the taste of memory already blooming behind her tongue.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice hoarse. "I didn't realise how much I missed this."
Kaelen sniffed the box and sneezed dramatically.
"Smells like steamed sky-fish and ancient human sadness."
She laughed—truly laughed—for the first time in days.
The warmth lingered long after the seer had gone... a warmth that stayed in her heart because of the kindness given.
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Elara leaned back slightly, brushing the sides of the empty shell-bowl in her hands.
"I miss home…" she whispered, voice barely more than a thread of sound in the water.
"Not the house. Not the city skyline.
But the little things."
My grandmother's hands moving in rhythm, dusting flour over dumpling dough while humming something always off-key.
The burnt edges of toast on exam mornings. Street stalls crackling with oil, the spicy scent of something fried chasing her through alleyways.
Laughter over cheap noodles, cold wind, tired shoes… and warmth found in places that had nothing to do with magic.
And now, here I am—at the bottom of an ocean no map ever named—missing burnt toast.
Kaelen stirred gently near her shoulder but didn't speak. He sensed that kind of silence meant don't ask.
Elara blinked, shaking herself from it.
"Sorry," she said, nudging him gently. "No use sulking under a thousand leagues of sea."
"She said her son trades with the land," Elara added quietly. "I didn't even know land existed in this world."
"It does. The land exists. It always has."
"But I thought… everything was under the sea. The temples, the cities, the realms… I didn't think there was anything beyond."
"There's more," Kaelen said simply. "Above the waters, humans live in cities. Far beyond that—deeper inland—there are forest realms where the elves dwell."
Elara hugged her knees. "And the merfolk? Do they go there?"
"Sometimes. Quietly. Mostly for trade… and royals go for political treaties."
"But not all can stay long. Most use tidegems—enchanted stones worn on belts or bangles. They help them shift form and walk for a while. Without them, the sea calls their bodies back."
"A few with strong old blood can walk longer, even days. But it's rare."
"I should've asked the seer more," Elara muttered. "How her son trades, how the food stayed hot. I didn't want to look like an idiot."
"Asking doesn't make you foolish, Elara. Not asking does."
"Thanks for the wisdom, oracle," she shot back.
"You're welcome," he replied, deadpan.
"The Niraya…" she said softly. "There were more like me once, weren't there?"
Kaelen hesitated, then nodded.
"They were powerful. Each carried two powers from two realms… but the Leviathan King killed them all."
"Why and who is this king everybody keeps talking about?"
"Well his real name is Vaelros and he is feared by all realms, and they named him The Leviathan king after he destroyed the race of Niraya and this made his name a taboo. No one knows for sure why he killed them. Some say… he was once a powerful seer, but jealous of their gifts. So he destroyed them all."
A pause.
"Then can I go to the land? Will you take me? I want to feel the sun."
"No," Kaelen said firmly. "You're being watched. Protected, yes—but also monitored. Too many still remember the Niraya and how they died. And you might be more than any of them. "They also fear that if Vaelros comes for you, the danger will reach them too. Yet... they protect you anyway. No one knows why."
"Then wouldn't the land be safer?"
"No. Vaelros walks all three realms. He grows legs without gems. His terror reaches everywhere. The realms have signed peace treaties just to fight his Hadalborn and Veland'ir shadows."
"What are Hadalborn? And Velandir shadows?"
"Hadalborn are monstrous creatures Vaelros creates—beasts of chaos. Velandir shadows are corrupted beings from each realm who now follow him."
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A ripple shimmered through the temple.
"By the waves! Is this the right place? Don't tell me I swam past it—oh wait, never mind! Found it!"
The voice came first.
Then—with a dramatic swirl and trail of glittering sand—a rosy-pink dolphin darted into the temple hall.
She wore straps of starlit seaweed, studded with little starfish. A glowing jellyfish pouch swung from her side, and atop her head—a tilted drift-crystal beret.
"Messenger from the royal currents reporting! Piphi at your glorious and stunning service!"
She twirled.
"Who's the surface beauty I'm dazzling with this message?"
Elara blinked. "Um. Yes. I'm Elara. And… you are?"
"Piphi! Spiritlight Dolphin. Certified high-current messenger, second only to the Coral Courier Guild's champion speed-swimmer.
And a part-time heartbreaker. But don't tell the crabs."
Her eyes landed on Kaelen.
"Wait—are you… a Selkyn? A real one?"
"Vanished? Please," Kaelen sniffed. "We just stopped entertaining gossip-hungry dolphins."
"So the stories were true!" Piphi squeaked. "My aunt said she met one near the trench, but everyone called her barnacle-brained!"
Kaelen smirked. "Clearly, she had better taste in companions."
"I like you," Piphi beamed. "But you've got seaweed stuck to your scales."
"It's relic moss. Refined."
"Sure, fins-for-brains."
Elara burst into laughter.
"Kaelen, behave. Piphi—don't provoke him. He bites."
"Don't tempt me," Kaelen muttered.
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With a little dramatic spin, Piphi pulled out something thin and leaf-like from her pouch.
"Message for the marked one. Straight from the royal currents."
"What is that?" Elara asked.
"A Pagefin. Very rare. Very official. These creatures shed their skin—imbued with ink. The text vanishes once read. Sea records here are alive—never static."
Elara leaned close.
The Pagefin shimmered. Words bloomed across its skin.
> The royal sea palace summons the tide-marked child.
Prepare for journey. An escort shall be sent.
Do not delay.
"You've been summoned by the king and queen themselves," Piphi whispered.
Elara's heart twisted. "Why would they want to see me?"
"Something about omens, marks, whispers. I don't know exactly."
Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "Why now?"
"I am just the messenger, don't shoot the dolphin," Piphi chirped.
"How will I get there?"
"Oh, don't worry! The palace sent a ride just for you," Piphi said with a dramatic twirl, fins catching sparkles of drifting plankton. "A Seaglider. Enormous jellyfish—soft as seafoam, warm as sunlit tidepools. You just step inside and it floats along the current highways like a dream.
Elara blinked. "You mean… I ride inside a jellyfish?"
"Mhm!" Piphi nodded proudly. "Think of it like a moving lounge—squishy seats, gentle bobbing, no seasickness. They're trained to avoid predators and bad currents. Very polite. And very expensive." She waggled her fins. "Even the royals use them. Usually."
Elara opened her mouth to reply, but Piphi dove into her pouch with a flourish.
"Anyway! I also brought you something fabulous for your royal audience!" She emerged holding a folded gown—woven from sea-silk, a luminous blend of storm-grey and midnight blue. Pearls lined the sleeves like constellations, and delicate runes shimmered faintly along the hem.
"A formal dress. Fused with sea-magic, so it won't float weird, cling, or go soggy like land clothes. Bit old-fashioned, maybe—but breathable and stunning! Don't rip it. It took three jelly-weavers and one grumpy crab tailor to finish."
"You'll look so pretty, they might forget you're cursed and weird."
Kaelen growled. "You dare—!"
"Shhh, proud-fins," Piphi hummed upside-down.
"How did that fit in your jellyfish bag?" Elara asked.
"They're like void pouches. Endless space. Like humans use space rings."
Elara held the fabric close. "Thank you. This is… beautiful."
She looked at Kaelen. Then Piphi. Then the Pagefin maid waiting near the doorway with an awkward bow.
"Alright," she said softly. "Let's meet the royals."
But as she stepped behind the coral divider to change, the truth settled quietly in her chest: she had no idea how to wear this kind of outfit. There were no sleeves. No zippers. Just loops and drapes and flowing folds she didn't want to tear by accident.
A few minutes later, her voice called out from behind the coral. "Okay… I give up."
Piphi giggled. "Told you."
She clapped twice. "Quillix!"
A figure swirled into the chamber with flair and confidence only a seasoned stylist—or an overly dramatic octopus—could manage. With polished rings on each of his eight limbs and a pair of tiny coral goggles fixed on his domed head, the octopus floated in like he owned the place.
"I was told there was a wardrobe emergency," he said with grave seriousness. "I live for these."
Elara peeked around the divider. "You brought… an octopus?"
"Not just any octopus," Piphi said proudly. "Quillix is the royal stylist of the Eastern Reef. He works with nobles, pirates, and once even a possessed sea witch—but she doesn't count."
Quillix glided past her and tugged the fabric from Elara's arms. "Hmm. Not hopeless. Just tragic." Three limbs got to work draping the folds over her shoulders. One adjusted her posture. Another re-twisted her braid. Two more wove a line of silver beads down the side of her hair, while the last flicked Kaelen's ear as he tried to snort in protest.
"Hey!" Kaelen snapped.
"You'll survive," Quillix muttered.
Elara stared as he moved around her in a flurry of coordinated limbs. "You do this every day?"
"Every day? I dream about it," he said. "Now hold still, darling. You're one flick of the fin away from looking like an ancient prophecy. And we can't have that."
Quillix gave a final spin and a dramatic bow, Elara stepped forward toward the mirror coral. Her reflection stared back—braid neatly tucked, beads shimmering along her crown, silk wrapped smoothly across her form like it belonged.
She didn't feel powerful. But she looked ready.
"If my grandma could see me right now," she muttered, "she'd make me pose for five hours and cry the whole time."
"She'd be right to cry," Quillix said. "You're a vision."
Elara smiled at him, then at Piphi. "Thanks. Both of you."
"Now go," Quillix said, floating backward like a stage manager. "Make some royals regret underestimating you."
Outside, the Seaglider waited patiently—floating gently in the current, like a dream ready to carry her into the next tide of destiny.
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