2. Topside
Bioluminescent lights glowed along the lane and lit their path into the darkness beyond the kingdom. She couldn’t help herself. Lyra stole yet another glance behind her. The spires of the castle shimmered a muted gold. It was beautiful in the way the architects deemed it should be.
All that glittering gold; it veils the rotting within.
Marina hummed as they continued. Her black scales shimmered in the glow of the luminescence.
Seraphina was a few paces ahead of them, conversing with the other mermaids, her shock of white hair shifting into shades of pink or green depending on which light she passed.
Lyra’s ears pricked at snippets of their conversations. Some were nervous about what they would find on land. Others were so delighted about the promise of the tithe that it bordered on pain.
But almost too quietly to be heard were the murmurs about those who had not returned from past tithes.
There was always one who did not have the stomach to complete the ritual and became cursed.
However, one out of thirteen was forgettable.
A fear not worthy of being acknowledged.
They were never spoken of, the maidens who had failed, not even by their own families.
But a twinge of excitement stabbed between Lyra’s ribs.
The taste of a human heart was second to none. Something about the life force in their blood that sates the cruel loneliness that dwells within each mermaid. And the gratification of supplying more magic to their realm, specifically to the fertility magic that had dwindled.
Magic in general had diminished. There were tales of mighty mermen that could sink ships with a wave of their hand centuries ago.
Now, only mermaids retained any semblance of magic, but it was dull in comparison to what it had been.
Ranging from foretelling better fishing grounds, bewitching small items, or the gift of song.
Marina slowed, sidling up beside Lyra. “The tide will run crimson this night.”
“I suppose it will.” Lyra flashed a semblance of a smile to Marina.
She was unusual for a mermaid. Probably because her father was doting. Marina couldn’t do anything wrong, even if she tried, which is probably why she enjoyed Lyra’s antics so much. Marina had nothing to fear.
“Do you think the humans who butchered your mother are still alive?”
Her question brought Lyra up short.
A flash of a kind smile sprang to her mind, and nausea took hold. She never knew her mother.
The foolish woman had begged and pleaded with King Auris to spare their daughter from his plans. He had her bound and dragged to shore. Mermaids weren’t allowed to disobey their husbands.
Her mother’s fate was unknown. But if Lyra knew anything about the humans from the books she had read, then it was not hard to imagine her tail as a trophy on a wall somewhere.
Lyra choked on a snarl at the thought. “Doubt it.”
Marina glanced sidelong at her. “At least no one speaks of her. That would be distressing.”
Seraphina interrupted, “Coral’s older sister said that we should go to Briton instead of Danes. They’re a bit larger, and their diet makes the heart less appetizing.”
“Fine. That’s fine,” Lyra replied, placing Seraphina between her and Marina.
Seraphina’s family had fallen out of favor, and thus her father had more to concern himself with than his daughter's whereabouts. It was obvious he rarely thought of her at all, which was apparent in Seraphina’s desire for attention at all times.
But Lyra didn’t mind, especially when it took the attention off her.
And Lyra didn’t know if she could stomach any more questions about her parentage from Marina.
She always seemed to ask pointed questions, the questions that got her thinking. Itching with curiosity and the desire to change things that were out of her control.
Desire strangles you slowly in a world designed to play you.
Lyra raged against the idea that all she had to offer the world was her womb.
She was smart, exceedingly so, and once had dreams. Dreams of making her own way, her own decisions.
And those decisions had nothing to do with how many children she should bear.
But the practicality of achieving those dreams had snuffed them out.
It simply wasn’t possible without using her magic—magic that would only make the suffering worse—and so she killed the very idea of them.
Even now, the ceremony for mermaids and how they increased the magic of the kingdom was guided and controlled by a male.
A lone guard led the procession from Atlantis to the fork between the two landings the maidens could choose from: Briton or Dane. From there, they were on their own.
The guard’s orange tail was a beacon guiding them through the depths. The light from the surface was gone. Only the bioluminescence and their keen eyes allowed them to see.
At the fork, Lyra hesitated.
Her father’s voice echoed through her mind: stick to the two paths. But that just wouldn’t do.
How could she follow directions from a male who only wanted to control her for his gain?
The guard continued, leading the larger group of mermaids down the Briton path. There were two discernible paths. One to the left, to Briton, and the other to the right, to Dane.
But straight ahead, through the darkened kelp forest, were the faint lines of another path. Something about that choice seemed like the first in a long line of decisions that would lead Lyra to her destiny.
Whether she was ready for it or not, it was coming.
“Which path are we taking?” Marina asked, though she knew the answer already.
Lyra swam forward and turned a devilish grin back at them. Marina followed Lyra everywhere, and Seraphina, though not as close, was never far behind.
“Let’s see where this takes us.”
Their swim through the kelp forest was a quick one.
Tall, turbid green spires rose high above their heads, undulating in the current. The water turned cold; the bite was refreshing against the heat building in their veins.
Excitement burned through them, the promise of adventure beckoning from the stairs that rose out of the seabed, along the cliffside, and to the surface. The craggy stone was pockmarked and ancient by the look of it.
“We take the vial at the foot of the stairs. By the time we reach the surface, we’ll be human-ish.” Lyra reiterated the instructions they had been told repeatedly over the last twenty-one years.
Amber the vial,
drink at the foot.
Fare thee well, fins,
welcome your sins.
With a wicked grin, they uncorked their vials and threw back the jelly-textured liquid inside.
Linking arms, they began their ascent. Nothing felt different at first, but after the first ten steps, Lyra noticed a change.
Her scales began prickling, the familiar brush of the water more like the sting of a cut.
Then she felt the weight of it all. Her hair against her scalp, the heft of their arms against hers, and the suffocation of not being able to breathe.
But nothing compared to the slicing of one fin into two legs. So severe, it felt like she was being ripped in half.
In the blink of an eye, with a searing flash of golden light and a gasping breath, they breached the surface and stood on solid ground. It had happened so fast that her head spun and stars danced in her eyes.
It felt strange, heavy almost, but also light.
The air was not oppressive like the water had been. The water now lapped at the stairs below them. She missed its touch.
“Ennosidas’ fins,” she ground out between clenched teeth.
Marina pushed a hand against the riot of curls that fell onto her face. “What is this?”
Seraphina trilled a laugh. “This is life without water. Things sink up here.”
They took the remaining steps at a much slower pace, getting accustomed to moving their feet one after the other. With each step, Lyra felt the jostle through her bones. A thousand needles stabbing into the bottom of her fins—feet.
By the time they reached the top of the stairs of the small cliff, they looked positively abysmal—human, even. Their ethereal nature was subdued.
Viciously sharp teeth were replaced with blunt edges. Pointed fingernails filed to short stubs. And the attire was the worst of all.
“Humans wear this?” Lyra plucked at the yards of fabric clinging to her body.
Layers of skirts and a breath-stealing corset. The only good it had done was to push up the small mounds of her breasts.
“How do they walk in all this?” Marina complained while trying her best to push her ample breasts down from her chin.
Seraphina twirled, her skirts fluttering around her lithe body. A hint of her otherworldly grace was visible under the white light. “Well, I love it.”
The light stole Lyra’s attention. The moon was a giant orb of silver as it shone down on them, and she closed her eyes, basking in its glow. It was as bewitching as she had read it would be.
“Where are we?” Marina asked.
The town was of varying shades of gray. Strums of music floated down the cobblestone street, piquing Lyra’s interest. But it was the air and the moon in the sky that kept tugging on her attention. To see it all in the flesh was overwhelming.
Something stirred within her at the sight of such awe-inspiring beauty. Her lungs filled effortlessly with air, and the feel of the breeze against her skin had her inhaling a large lungful. Reveling in its tender caress.
A tug had her lips curling up.
It was like this land was made for her …
No.
Lyra stomped it down. She was not here to admire.
Clearing her throat, she analyzed the distinct stone buildings and the rolling dark hills in the distance.
“I believe we’re somewhere on the Emerald Coast.”
Her smile turned feral.
That’s where they had left her mother.
Maybe a little revenge was in order.