BENEATH THE STORM
The first thing I notice is the silence.
Not true silence—the grotto hums with the same low, living frequency it always has. But the crushing roar of the storm above feels distant now, muffled by layers of ocean and the steady beat of Va’thar’s heart against my back.
I float on my stomach in the pool, arms dangling. My hair fans out around me like seaweed, strands catching the grotto’s blue-green glow. The water isn’t water anymore, not really. It moves with me, parting when I exhale, curling around my fingers like a loyal hound.
*Bond perks,* I think, smirking.
Va’thar’s tentacle flicks my ankle in reprimand. *“You mock sacred magic.”*
“You’re reading my thoughts again.”
*“They’re loud.”* He’s lounging on the slab, one arm behind his head. The bioluminescent markings along his ribs pulse lazily. *“And incorrect. The bond is not a ‘perk.’ It is a merging.”*
“Same difference.” I kick gently, propelling myself backward until I bump into his legs. “Still getting used to the whole…” I wiggle my toes. The webbing between them glimmers faintly.
He sits up, trailing a claw down my spine. *“Does it trouble you?”*
“The gills? The night vision? The fact that I can hold my breath for an hour?” I roll onto my back, looking up at him. “Nah. Just makes skinny-dipping more fun.”
His snort vibrates through the water. The sound still startles me sometimes—how human it is. How *normal*.
Lightning flashes far above, fracturing through the pool’s surface. I tense instinctively. Va’thar’s tentacle wraps around my waist, pulling me against his chest.
*“It’s time,”* he says quietly.
I don’t need to ask. The sea thrums with it—the ritual’s pull, weaker now but still persistent. My fingers curl into his shoulders. “Will they send someone?”
*“Yes.”* His voice hardens. *“But not for long.”*
We rise together, breaking the surface. The grotto’s air feels thick, charged. My lungs adjust seamlessly, drawing oxygen from both water and atmosphere. Another upgrade.
Va’thar hesitates. *“You don’t have to—”*
“I’m coming.”
He exhales through his nose but nods.
---
The village looks smaller from here.
We hover beneath the waves, a stone’s throw from the cliffside altar. Rain pelts the surface above, but the water around us is calm, clear. Va’thar’s arm bands around me, his touch equal parts restraint and reassurance.
*“There,”* he murmurs.
A figure in white stumbles to the cliff’s edge—too small, too young. My stomach drops.
“Elsah?”
Va’thar growls, low and lethal. *“They wouldn’t dare.”*
But they have. The girl struggles against two robed figures, her braids whipping in the wind. Even from here, I hear her screams.
“No.” The word tears from me, raw. “No, they can’t—”
Va’thar is moving before I finish. The water churns as he surges forward, tentacles slicing through the current. I follow, my new instincts guiding me.
We breach the surface just as they shove her.
Elsah plummets, limbs flailing. Va’thar catches her mid-air with a tentacle, cradling her against his chest. She gasps, eyes wide, fingers clutching his scales.
“M-Mira?”
“Hey, little rebel.” My voice cracks. “Miss me?”
She bursts into tears.
---
The elder doesn’t scream when we rise from the waves.
He pales. Stumbles back. Pisses himself, if the dark stain on his robe is any indication. Pathetic.
Va’thar sets Elsah gently on the cliffside, tentacles coiling like live wires. The remaining villagers scatter, but the elder’s too slow. I grab his collar, hauling him to the edge.
“Mira, please—”
“You picked the wrong girl.”
His scream fades as he falls. I don’t watch him hit the rocks.
Va’thar’s tentacle brushes my hand. *“The ritual is broken. The pact dissolved.”*
I turn. Elsah’s staring at us, awe and fear warring on her face.
“You’re… you’re really a sea goddess now?”
I snort. “Nah. Just upgraded.”
Va’thar smirks. *“Goddess is inaccurate. She is…*
“Don’t say mate,” I warn.
*“…Mine,”* he finishes, grinning.
Elsah giggles. The sound loosens something in my chest.
---
We visit the village once more—at night, when the shore is empty. Va’thar waits in the shallows while I slip into my old shack.
The nets are still there, half-rotted. I take one, for nostalgia’s sake, and leave a replacement—indestructible kelp-twine, courtesy of a certain overprotective cephalopod.
Elsah finds the gift at dawn. Finds the food stores replenished, the poisoned wells cleaned. Finds the elder’s ledger pinned to the meeting hall door, every crime detailed in glowing ink.
She’ll be okay.
---
“You’re brooding,” Va’thar says, nuzzling my neck.
We’re tangled in the kelp bed, the grotto dimmed to twilight. His tentacles map familiar territory—the curve of my hip, the scar on my knee, the new gills fluttering at my ribs.
“Not brooding. Thinking.”
*“Dangerous.”*
I elbow him. He laughs, the sound rich and warm.
“Do you miss it?” he asks quietly.
I consider. Miss the stink of fish guts? The distrustful glares? The constant ache of hunger?
“No,” I say. “But I’d like to visit the market sometime. Steal some spices. Maybe a decent hairbrush.”
He stills. *“You wish to return to land?”*
“Occasionally. Briefly.” I twist to face him. “With you.”
His brow furrows. *“I cannot walk among them.”*
“Who said anything about walking?” I trace the shell of his ear. “Think of the chaos. The legends.”
A slow grin spreads across his face.
---
The next storm finds us in the deep, far from the cliffs. Va’thar’s tentacles cradle me as we drift, watching the surface rage impotently above.
*“No more rituals,”* he murmurs. *“No more fear.”*
I press closer. “Just us.”
*“Yes.”* His kiss tastes like forever. *“Just us.”*
The sea sighs, content.
We sink into the dark together.