Chapter 2
Luzia
A flick of the tail propelled swift movement through the maze of coral and shimmering kelp forests that adorned the underwater castle that was home to our kind. Arms, sleek and strong, tucked tightly against my sides, guided the way through familiar currents and well-worn paths.
I didn’t wait to be announced. Driven by a desperate urgency, I pushed through the shimmering curtain of kelp that veiled the entrance to the Throne Room.
Two guards, their dolphin skin flashing silver then pink in the filtered moonlight that reached these depths, turned sharply, their tridents raised in alarm as they swam after me.
The Throne Room was a vast, circular cavern, the walls lined with luminous anemones that pulsed with a soft, ethereal light.
At the center, raised on a dais of polished coral, sat the iridescent throne.
Polished pearls and shells embedded in its surface caught the light and scattered it across the cavern floor like a thousand tiny stars.
The queen, regal and composed, sat upon her throne as her tail swayed rhythmically. Attendants hovered in the water behind, ready to assist her when asked. Her gaze met mine, unwavering.
I bowed low before the throne. A jolt of shock, sharp as a sudden shift in the current, rippled through the chamber at my insolence, stirring a visible reaction among the gathered Encantados. I didn’t care. My sister’s life was more important than courtly etiquette.
My voice, though trembling, rang with desperate clarity. “Your Majesty,” I began, my gaze fixed on the queen’s serene face. “My sister, Inaiá, is dying. A sickness grips her, one that Elder Nahla cannot cure.”
The queen leaned forward, her ornate trident tipped with a luminous pearl, pointing down at me as if she were about to attack. “I’m well aware,” she responded, her voice a low, resonant hum. “It doesn’t give you permission to barge in here like you have.”
“Please, I’m begging you,” I pleaded, my voice thick with desperation. “I need to be allowed to leave and go to the land to find a cure.”
“No,” Nerina stated flatly. “There is nothing but death on the land. We keep to our river.”
“But there might be a cure for her there.”
“Might,” the queen echoed, her voice laced with skepticism. “You don’t know for sure. It is not worth the risk.”
“But she’s a female,” I argued, my voice rising in pitch. “She can continue our legacy. We can’t risk losing her.”
“So are you,” Nerina countered, her gaze sharp and unwavering. “And you are of breeding age. I don’t want to lose you.”
The queen’s words caused a tightening in my chest. Our clan’s numbers were diminishing because of increased pollution and human activities on the River.
We needed to breed or face extinction. But I didn’t care.
If my sister died, it would be as if I had died too.
I had already lost my parents. I couldn’t face any more death other than my own.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. “What if more of us get sick?”
“You don’t know if that will happen,” the queen replied, her tone softening slightly.
“You don’t know that it won’t happen,” I argued, my desperation giving me reckless courage.
Gasps sounded in the chamber at my defiance.
I shouldn’t have come.
Instead, I should have just left and gone to the land. I was stupid to think I would get permission for something forbidden.
“Your life is too precious,” Nerina repeated, her voice laced with concern.
“What… my sister’s isn’t?” I flicked my tail angrily, the movement sharp and defiant. I had to make the queen listen to me.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to speak calmly. “There is a flower,” I explained. “The Flor da Lua.”
She put up her hand, and I stopped talking. “I’ve heard of it.”
“Imagine how helpful that would be for all of us if I could bring it back.”
“What makes you so sure you will bring it back?” Nerina challenged, her eyes narrowed. “The full moon is in three days. You don’t have much time.”
“I have nothing to lose,” I responded, my voice ringing with conviction. “So I will do what is needed to get the flower.”
“Your courage is commendable, Luzia,” she said, her voice resonating with a newfound respect.
Then, turning her gaze to the assembled clan, her voice rose, filling the chamber with its power.
“Who among you will join Luzia on this perilous quest? Who will brave the dangers of the human world to aid their sister in need? Who will go to the Glade of Whispers to find the Flor da Lua, which might not even exist?”
Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence descended upon the cavern, broken only by the soft, rhythmic pulsing of the anemones. The water crackled with tension.
I looked around, my heart plummeting with each averted gaze.
Eyes darted away, and fins fidgeted. Fear, thick and intense as the silt that sometimes clouded the riverbed, hung in the water.
No one moved. No one spoke. The human world, with its unknown terrors, held them captive in a net of fear, a fear I no longer had the luxury to feel.
A wave of despair washed over me, cold and suffocating. Am I truly alone in this?
Queen Nerina’s gaze returned to me, her expression a mixture of sympathy and resignation. “See, Luzia,” she said softly, her voice laced with regret. “This is how doomed your quest is before you’ve even begun.”
“Please…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, the last embers of hope flickering desperately within me. “I’ll go alone. Just… please, let me go.”
The queen regarded me for a long moment, her emerald eyes searching mine. Finally, she sighed, a sound like the rustling of kelp in a strong current.
“Fine,” she conceded, her voice heavy with the weight of her decision. “But you have three days, the time of the full moon, to bring the Flor da Lua back. No more.”
Relief, sharp and sudden as a jolt of electricity, surged through me. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” I released a breath, bowing my head in gratitude. I turned to leave, my tail flicking powerfully, sending a flurry of bubbles swirling around me in my haste.
“But…” Nerina’s voice, sharp and commanding, stopped me in my tracks.
I turned back slowly, the sound of my heart a heavy drumbeat in my ears. Dread coiled in my stomach. I didn’t want to hear any ‘buts.’
“Luzia,” Nerina’s voice turned cold, the previous softness vanishing like a ripple in the water. Her eyes held mine, sharp and piercing. “You know why interaction with humans is forbidden. But you, of all my subjects, should understand the true cost. You carry her name, after all.”
The weight of her words settled upon me, heavy and cold—my great-aunt.
“I remember your namesake,” the Queen continued, her voice a low, bitter current. “She had the same fire in her eyes that I see in yours. The same reckless heart. She, too, thought she could bridge our worlds. She fell in love with a human.”
The Queen’s gaze became distant, clearly lost in a painful memory.
“She chose him. She chose the land. And when she left, she did not go empty-handed. She took our most sacred artifacts with her, the Seolais and Sussuron. The Seolais, the one true key that unlocks our ancient magic, and the Sussuron, the vessel that holds our history… our maps, our songs, our deepest knowledge. One is useless without the other. She stole our heritage and left it fractured, leaving us powerless to reclaim it.”
Her eyes snapped back to me, the fury returning. “That is the true scar of betrayal. It is not just that humans hunt us. It is that we can be tempted to forget who we are. Do not make her mistake. Do not let a human heart poison yours.”
I stood frozen, the story a chilling revelation. “I understand, Your Majesty,” I replied, my voice steady though my insides trembled.
“Whether or not you find the flower, you are to return here by the dawn after the full moon. Otherwise, this is no longer your home. You will not be allowed to enter… ever,” she warned, her voice low and dangerous.
“I will find it.” I had to, and I would. I didn’t care if the queen didn’t believe I could do it or if the others here were too gutless to come with me.
“Promise me, Luzia,” Nerina insisted, her gaze piercing.
I placed my hand on my heart, bowing my head in a gesture of solemn commitment. “I promise, Your Majesty.”
“May the energy of the river keep you safe,” the queen said, her voice softening once more. “And may I see you again in three days, either with or without the flower?”
I bowed one last time, then turned and swam quickly away, the queen’s warning echoing in my mind, no longer a simple rule, but a chilling, personal reminder of the stakes of my quest.