18. 18
eighteen
Sarah
Stone scrapes against my shoulder as my tail sends me sideways into another pillar.
This tail, a fucking tail, was attached to my body.
I envisioned swimming with this tail would be like that of diver fins.
But I was wrong. My body crashes into the pillars all the way down the spiral way to the main corridor, realizing every crash echoes throughout the palace.
My legs? Gone. Sanity? Hanging by a thread.
The phantom feeling of my legs lingers, my mind still trying to move them, to bend knees that no longer exist. Every instinct I have fires in the wrong direction.
The tail responds late, or not at all, swinging away from my thoughts as if it belongs to someone else.
I understand the basics of swimming with joined legs.
That knowledge means nothing when my body refuses to listen. Why is this so much harder?
Last night, when I used the magic to shift, I thought I’d end up in the same form I had during the meeting. Instead, I got some miniature replica of Orion.
My gaze drifts to the runes winding over my left arm before spilling across my upper chest. Most are nothing more than elegant swirls and sharp, intersecting lines, beautiful in their simplicity.
But one mark dominates the others, stretching across the upper half of my chest. Its strokes twist together like conjoined letters from a language I can't read.
Neither can Orion.
Ever since he told me what they were, I've caught myself tracing them absentmindedly whenever my thoughts begin to wander.
They look etched into my skin, yet my fingertips glide over them without catching, as if they'd always been a part of me.
It's strange, considering I still remember the agony that birthed them.
The searing heat. The way every inch of my body felt ready to split apart, convinced I would burn alive the moment I surrendered to my magic and shifted.
My fingers linger over the largest rune for another heartbeat before I let my hand fall.
Orion was unusually quiet when he got up this morning, like he was trying not to wake me.
Unfortunately, I was already awake. Out of everything I’ve experienced since being here, gaining a tail was not on my trauma bingo card. The weight alone is exhausting—and paired with little to no sleep, it’s a miracle I made it down the spiral way at all.
It’s not like I didn’t try to sleep. After that final shift, Orion said it was best to rest. Between transforming in the middle of a meeting, my scales apparently drying out in my room, and then shifting two more times with him, my body was on the verge of quitting.
I lay there, but my tail twitched and thrashed all night, mimicking everything going on in my brain.
Unsettled. Chaotic. Unresolved. But, surprisingly, it wasn’t the tail that threw me off.
It was him.
Orion looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. He called me beautiful, and it wasn’t sarcastic. He meant it. My mind is spiraling with so many questions I can't answer as I make my way to locate Orion.
Why did he compliment me? How do I get this tail to do what I need it to? And why did the runes burn my skin as they appeared?
I drift through nearly every open doorway on the lower level of the palace, my movements clumsy and slow.
I know better than this. I know propulsion doesn’t come from bent knees and flattened feet, but my body keeps reaching for them anyway, grasping at habits it no longer can use.
The tail moves out of sync with my thoughts, turning every correction into a fight.
I fumble near another doorway when I see them, Orion and his general, standing near a wide window cut into the coral-stone wall, marilume light washing over them.
My gaze drifts over the rest of the room as I carefully swim inside.
It’s bare, almost stark, save for the circle in the center with two other rings that deepen into it, forming stairs that go all the way around.
At the far end, a throne rests, silent and imposing.
They’re deep in conversation, voices too low to catch from where I am, and I hesitate, uncertain whether to announce myself or stay hidden.
Maybe he’s telling her about my new form. About how I didn’t know what I was doing. About how the tail won’t stop twitching like it has a mind of its own. But the second I get close enough to hear them, they stop talking, and they turn toward me.
Orion says nothing. He looks at me, and something about his focus makes my chest ache. No polite nod, no flicker of amusement—only the same look from last night, like he’s caught between wanting to understand me and fearing that he already knows the answer.
General Nyxalene, on the other hand, doesn’t bother hiding her thoughts. She glares at me, using a sharp blade of cold, silver judgment. Her eyes say everything her mouth doesn’t:
You don’t belong here. You never will.
And she’s right. I feel it in every movement, every breath. I don’t belong in this world, and she’s making damn sure I never forget it.
“I figured you would still be tangled up in that tail," Orion says, his eyes still assessing every movement. "At least you are moving, if this qualifies as such.”
“Believe it or not, nothing will stop me,” I say, surprised by the confidence in my own voice. The words slip out without hesitation, but they feel right. “It might be a different experience, but I’m determined to figure this out.”
Nyxalene lets out a quiet laugh. “Well, you are a land-dweller, so I doubt that.”
Orion’s entire body shifts. He snaps his gaze toward her with such force that it makes my stomach flip. The slight warmth from a moment ago vanishes as his tone drops, quiet but commanding.
“Nyx,” he says, eyes narrowing, “you are here because your battle strategy is valuable to her training. But if you cannot learn to get along with her, I will remove you.”
Nyxalene stiffens. I've seen their height difference before, but never from this perspective.
In the dining hall, when I first arrived in Virellan, they weren't close enough for me to understand the full contrast. Now, with my own tail curled beneath me and my own body closer to Orion's size, I finally see it.
His presence towers over her, his shadow stretching beneath the glow of the marilume above, making his authority feel even more imposing.
“My apologies, Orion,” she says, her tone clipped and formal. “I meant no disrespect.” She bows her head, but I can feel her eyes on me, like I’m some parasite clinging to power I haven’t earned.
“Let us begin. Lord Zevrin will be joining us shortly,” Orion says, all business now. “While we await his arrival, we will start with simple exercises. Focusing on strength, balance, and agility. Especially now that you've shifted into your full form.”
He says it like it changes everything, as if this new form rewrote his entire training plan overnight.
Which honestly it probably did. It's not every day someone goes from living a completely ordinary human life to discovering magic exists, being able to breath underwater without a single piece of equipment, and transforming into something that belongs in a storybook about mythical sea monsters. That's not exactly a normal Tuesday.
A few weeks ago, I was joking with Leo about how I used to swim around as a kid pretending to have a mermaid tail, never once imagining it would become my reality. So, no I'm not surprised this changes things. I'm just trying to understand how much.
I narrow my eyes. “Were you planning on training me differently before I took this form?” There’s a brief pause, but the answer is clear.
“The original plan was to focus on magic alone,” Orion says carefully.
“But given your . . ." His gaze briefly drops to the tail I keep coiling as tightly as possible, hoping I can somehow make it disappear, before returning to my face.
". . . sudden transformation, we will need to train your stability in serpent form as well. Magic goes hand in hand with being able to hold your own in battle.”
He offers it like it’s just logistics, but I am learning to understand him better.
This isn't about how I'll adjust to this temporary life beneath the waves.
It's about giving himself something he can fix, something he can prepare for, when so much remains uncertain.
It's another reminder that neither of us knows what comes next.
Nyxalene shifts slightly beside him, crossing her arms, observing me intently. She doesn’t speak. Her silence seems to be its own kind of statement. After Orion’s warning, she doesn’t push further, but the distrust in her posture is hard to miss.
“Fine,” I say, lifting my chin. “Let’s get on with it.”
If she wants proof, I’ll give her plenty.