Chapter 17
The collar was strangling her.
Ariella stood before the mirror in her father’s quarters, her fingers clawing uselessly at the high, stiff fabric that pressed against her gill slits with every breath.
Objectively, the dress was beautiful. Midnight blue silk that shimmered like deep water, with delicate silver embroidery climbing the bodice like seafoam.
It hugged her figure in ways that made her feel exposed despite covering her from chin to ankle.
That was the point, of course. Merrick had chosen it specifically.
“Stop fidgeting.” Her father didn’t look up from his tablet, where columns of data scrolled in an endless stream. “The fabric is hypoallergenic. You’re not having a reaction.”
I’m suffocating, she wanted to scream. Your creation can’t breathe, and you don’t even notice.
But she said nothing. She’d learned long ago that her father heard only what he chose to hear.
Through the window, she could see the Coastal Festival already in full swing. The village had transformed overnight into a riot of color and noise—banners streaming from every building, merchant stalls crowding the marketplace, and the distant thump of drums carrying on the salt-laden wind.
A knock at the door made her flinch.
“That will be Merrick.” Her father finally set down his tablet, smoothing the front of his own formal attire—a modest grey suit that somehow made him look even more colorless than usual.
“Remember what we discussed, Ariella. Smile. Be gracious. And for God’s sake, don’t do anything to embarrass me. ”
The door opened before she could respond.
Merrick entered like he owned the room—which, technically, he did.
He owned the lab, the equipment, the quarters they lived in, and according to the contract her father had signed, he owned her too.
His hawk-like features were arranged in an expression of calculated pleasure, his flint-colored eyes sweeping over her from head to toe with the assessing gaze of a collector evaluating his latest acquisition.
“Exquisite.” The word was a purr, soft and satisfied. “The dress suits you perfectly. I knew it would.”
Her skin crawled, but she managed a polite smile.
“Thank you.” The words scraped her throat like broken glass.
He crossed the room in three measured strides, stopping just close enough to make her want to retreat.
He reached out and adjusted her collar, his manicured fingers brushing against the sensitive tissue of her gills.
The touch sent a wave of revulsion through her so powerful that her skin shimmered before she forced it back under control.
“A bit pale today.” His voice never rose above that calm, terrifying whisper. “Pre-wedding nerves, perhaps? How charming.”
“The collar is tight.”
“It’s supposed to be.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We wouldn’t want our guests distracted by your… modifications. Today is about celebrating our upcoming union, not gawking at your father’s scientific achievements.” A beat of pause. “However impressive they might be.”
He offered her his arm.
Everything in her screamed to refuse, to slap his hand away, to run from the village and never look back. Play along, she reminded herself. Let him think he’s won.
The village was chaos.
People packed the main thoroughfare, their voices blending into a cacophony that made her sensitive ears ache. The smell of fried food and spilled beer hung heavy in the air, mixing with the ever-present salt of the sea.
Merrick guided her through the crowd with the ease of a man accustomed to parting seas.
His bodyguards preceded them, but she suspected that the villagers would have stepped aside anyway.
People bowed their heads at his approach, their expressions a mix of respect and fear.
He acknowledged their deference with small nods, a benevolent lord gracing his subjects with his presence.
“The announcement will be at noon,” he murmured, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted across her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “All you need to do is stand beside me and smile. Can you manage that, my dear?”
I can manage to throw myself into the harbor.
“Of course.”
“Excellent.” His grip on her arm tightened almost imperceptibly. “After the announcement, we will join the mayor for a private luncheon. I plan to… demonstrate some of your capabilities.”
A cold dread washed over her. Demonstrate. Like she was one of her father’s prototypes. A new piece of tech to be unveiled at a trade show.
He watched the color drain from her face, the faint flicker of panic she couldn’t quite suppress, and a cold smile touched his lips.
“Now, now,” he soothed, patting her hand with a proprietary touch that made her want to scream.
“No need for alarm. A simple demonstration is all. A display of the… advantages our union will bring. Think of it as an investment in your future happiness.”
They stopped near the main platform where the mayor was already holding court, her voice amplified by a crackling speaker system. As they waited, an older woman with a hard face and a self-important air came bustling over.
“Mr. Bane. May I say that your presence in our village—”
“Who are you?” he interrupted, his voice icy.
The woman looked flustered for a second, then straightened her shoulders.
“My name is Margaret Jacobson and I—”
“Are of no importance to me. Leave.”
The woman looked so shocked that Ariella would have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t heard her gossiping about the “freak from the lab” one day.
“But—”
Merrick turned his back on her as he signaled to one of his bodyguards. A hand clamped down on the woman’s arm and then she was gone. Swift, efficient, ruthless. No one objected. Just like no one would object to her marriage, no matter how much she protested.
“And now, I’m pleased to announce the sponsor of this festival, Mr. Merrick Bane.”
The mayor’s voice crackled from the speaker again, accompanied by a round of polite applause.
A crowd had already gathered, drawn by the promise of an important announcement.
She recognized some of the faces—merchants she’d dealt with, scientists who’d visited the lab, dock workers who’d helped unload her father’s equipment.
They looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and something that might have been pity.
They know, she realized. Everyone knows what’s about to happen.
Merrick led her up the steps and positioned her at his side, slightly behind and to the left. The perfect placement for a trophy. His hand remained locked around her elbow, a reminder that escape was not an option.
Her gills strained against the fabric about her neck, desperate for air that wouldn’t come. The collar was too tight, the dress too heavy, the crowd too loud—
I can’t do this.
Merrick stepped forward, releasing her arm to grip the podium with both hands. His hawk-like features were arranged in a benevolent expression, and when he spoke, his soft voice somehow carried across the entire square.
“I am delighted to open this festival with some wonderful news.”
I can’t breathe.
“As many of you know, I have long been a supporter of Dr. Anton Tranek’s groundbreaking research into human adaptation. His work represents the future of our species—a future where we can thrive in any environment, colonize any world, overcome any obstacle that the universe places in our path.”
The collar is crushing my gills.
“But I believe that the best partnerships are not merely professional.” He turned to her, extending his hand. “My dear? Won’t you join me?”
The crowd murmured—not with joy, she thought, but with something more complicated. Surprise. Unease. The uncomfortable awareness that they were witnessing something that wasn’t quite what it appeared to be.
I can’t do this. I can’t.
She stepped forward anyway.
The sound system hummed around her, a low electrical buzz that most humans couldn’t hear but that resonated in her bones like the vibration of deep water.
The speakers were cheap, poorly calibrated, designed for volume rather than quality.
The feedback loops were barely contained, held in check by automatic dampers that struggled with every shift in ambient noise.
Vulnerable, she thought suddenly. The thought was accompanied by the memory of Valrek’s voice in the darkness of the cave, telling her that her Song could map the depths of the ocean, calm a frightened child, make a hardened soldier forget how to breathe.
Your voice can do things no human voice can do.
Before she had a chance to reconsider, she opened her mouth and hummed, low and subsonic, the same frequency she’d used to calm Lilani’s frantic breathing.
But this time, she didn’t keep it soft. She let it build, let it rise, let it climb through octaves that human ears couldn’t process until it reached the exact resonance frequency of the cheap speakers flanking the stage.
The feedback was instantaneous.
A shriek of static erupted from every speaker simultaneously, so loud that people in the crowd clapped their hands over their ears and stumbled backwards.
The sound system’s dampers overloaded in a cascade of popping circuits and smoking wires.
One of the speaker poles toppled sideways, crashing into a nearby food stall and sending skewers of grilled meat flying.
Merrick staggered, his face twisted with shock and fury.
“What—”
She didn’t wait for him to recover. She yanked away from his grasping hands, ducked under the arm of a guard who was too disoriented to stop her, and threw herself off the back of the stage.
She hit the ground running.
The crowd was her salvation. People scattered in all directions, confused and frightened by the catastrophic failure of the sound system.
She wove between them with an agility that her pursuers couldn’t match, using their bodies as cover.
Behind her, she heard Merrick’s voice—no longer a whisper but a scream—ordering his men to stop her.
She ran faster.
The market square blurred past her, merchant stalls and game booths and clusters of bewildered villagers who stepped aside as she approached.
Her lungs burned—not from lack of air, but from the damned collar that still constricted her gills.
She reached up and ripped at the fabric, tearing the delicate silk and feeling the blessed rush of wind against her sensitive gill slits.
Almost there. Almost to the sea.
She was at the edge of the market when she saw him.
A Vultor warrior.
He stood at the periphery of the crowd, towering above the humans around him like a dark mountain. He wasn’t Valrek—he was younger and leaner, with eyes more amber than gold, sweeping the chaos of the festival with an expression of cold assessment.
And then his eyes locked onto her, his nostrils flaring, and her blood turned to ice.
No. No, no, no.
What if he were here to find Valrek, to punish him for his half-human daughter, for her?
The warrior took a step towards her, and she bolted.
Her destination changed in an instant. Not the harbor—too exposed, too easy to follow. She headed for the sea cliffs instead. If there was a threat coming for him and Lilani, she had to warn them. Had to get there first. Had to—
“Ariella!”
Merrick’s voice echoed, distant but determined. She didn’t look back.
The streets of the village gave way to dirt paths, then to rocky trails that wound up the coastal bluffs.
Her formal shoes were useless on the uneven terrain; she kicked them off and continued barefoot, her elongated toes and webbed feet gripping the stone with ease.
The ruined dress hampered her movement, so she tore the skirt away at the knee, leaving herself in something like a tunic that let her legs move freely.
Faster. Have to go faster.
The sun beat down on her back, and sweat mixed with the salt air on her skin. Her skin was glowing wildly now, broadcasting her desperation, but she didn’t care. Couldn’t afford to care.
The sea cliffs rose before her, the ancient stone carved by millennia of waves into spires and crags and hidden caves. She raced unerringly towards the one place on Cresca where she’d ever felt truly safe. Valrek’s cave.
She scrambled over the final ridge and dropped into the cove below, her heart pounding so hard her whole body was shaking. The cave entrance yawned before her, dark and inviting, and she threw herself towards it without hesitation.
“Valrek!”
Her voice echoed off the stone walls.
“Valrek, please—”
She rounded the corner into the main chamber and stopped dead.
The cave was empty. No fire in the hearth. No signs of life except for a small object sitting in the center of the stone floor, glinting in the dim light that filtered through the entrance.
The echo-pipe.
She dropped to her knees beside it, her hands trembling as she lifted the ancient instrument.
It felt warm to the touch, thrumming with the same strange energy she’d sensed when she first found it in the deep trench.
For a moment, she could have sworn she heard it sing—a single, mournful note that resonated in her chest like a promise.
Where are they? Where did they go?
Footsteps sounded outside the cave and she rose, clutching the echo-pipe to her chest. Her Song gathered in her throat, ready to defend, ready to attack, ready to do whatever it took to protect herself and the people she loved.
A figure appeared in the cave entrance—a mountain of scarred muscle silhouetted against the afternoon sun.
“Valrek.”
He was staring at her like he’d seen a ghost—or maybe like he was seeing her for the first time. His nostrils flared, drinking in her scent, and something shifted in his expression.
“You came back.” His voice was a growl, low and rough and vibrating with emotion.
“Always.”
She was in his arms before she knew she’d moved.