The mermaid fled. She tore through broken hull and stone, tail burning as she pushed harder than she should have. The white sirens followed, their cries scraping against the cloud, warping distance and sound. They hunted by confusion as much as speed. She dove into the green cloud where sight failed and instincts screamed, but it was too late.
The sirens closed in, driving her toward the rock wall until she spotted a narrow break barely wide enough for her shoulders. She forced herself through just as the sirens slammed after her, bodies cracking against stone. Their arms stretched through the gap, fingers scraping wildly. One claw caught her side. She screamed with nothing else to hear her over the sirens.
Something hit the sirens from the side at that moment. Hard. Bodies flew, bones snapped, and two of them didn't move again. The rest scattered instantly from the sudden danger.
Conch hovered where the cloud thinned, massive and still, eyes bright and focused. He didn't chase. He didn't need to as he had enough for now. He gathered the bodies without hurry and swam away. His attention never finding the mermaid he inadvertently saved.
From her hiding place, the mermaid watched him disappear toward the upper gorge, toward another figure waiting above. Coral's colors flared the moment he saw the bodies, excitement radiating off him.
The mermaid didn't wait to see more. She fled.
Night settled over the deeper waters by the time Coral and Conch reached their home wreck far from the gorge. They ate quickly, it's been a long time since they had a full meal.
Coral
Siren meat! Siren meat!
He tore into it with unfiltered joy, posture loose and satisfied.
Conch
It's my kill.
Coral
You could've gotten more. I'd wait.
Conch
If I'd brought my shell.
Coral winced.
Coral
Right. My fault.
Conch waved it off.
Conch
You brought back something better.
Coral grinned, already distracted by the last bite. Later, Coral drifted off to rest.
Conch returned to his workspace. He unwrapped the pearl letting it glow softly, the light filling the room without touching the walls. Objects trembled faintly as the pearl brightened, then a crack formed, star-shaped and slow.
Conch stiffened. The pearl pulsed, beckoning him to move closer. The crack widened, revealing a cloudy interior. Small bubbles formed and burst gently, like breath. One bubble grew large enough to fill the opening.
Inside it, a city appeared. Atlas. Merfolk, seafolk, fishfolk moving together in slow, constant motion. Alive and balanced. Conch's chest tightened. Not the surface but a home he didn't belong to.
He pulled away sharply. The image faded. The pearl dimmed. He didn't tell Coral. He couldn't.
Months passed as Conch studied the pearl obsessively. It taught him when he focused on Coral, but when Coral was gone, hunting or trading, the pearl drifted toward other images of Atlas again.
Conch learned the pattern. The pearl followed his intent, so he anchored himself to Coral. Soon, his craft was complete. The pearl produced a bottle, then replaced it with a smaller one. The label read simply: pour.
Coral wasn't there. Conch hesitated, then tested a drop on his wrist in an open pocket of air in the ship. His skin lightened, turning pale and smooth. Another drop on a stinger, It stiffened, darkened, softened. It fell over his shoulder like a fan. Hair. soft colorful, brown hair. He hid it before Coral returned and made him follow him to the surface.
On a small island above their wreck, Conch poured the potion over Coral's tentacles. They fused, reshaped, hardened into legs. Coral stood, wobbled, laughed, fell, stood again. He ran, jumped, danced and fell over and over until he got it right.
Coral
I'm a man!
Conch laughed with him, but his eyes drifted to his own arm. The color faded as it dried. It was temporary.
Back below, the pearl opened again. This time, it offered a larger bottle. The label read: For land and sea. Lord and friend.
Conch
Lord?
Something crashed nearby. Conch turned instantly and headed for the noise. The pantry was wrecked, shelves broken, and supplies scattered.
Beneath the rubble lay a flash of gold and pearl. A tattered fin, a small arm and a gentle groan from pain. A mermaid.
Conch froze. not out of fear for himself. Fear for Coral.
The mermaid stared up at him, heart racing. She recognized the blue of his skin, the gold eyes. The heavy stillness. This was the one who saved her. She was trapped, and she knew she was in serious trouble.