The first time he saw her, she wasn't real—at least that's what he told himself.
The forest had been too silent that night. Even the wind refused to breathe. The moon hung above the treetops like a watching eye, bright enough to turn the river into a silver blade cutting through the darkness. And he, the boy with the silver eyes, stood at the edge of that cold blade, his heart thudding with a fear that had no name.
His name was Rhen. Half-wolf, half-human. A creature born from a curse spoken before his birth and a story no one would tell him fully. At sixteen, he had already mastered the part of him that clawed at his ribs whenever the moon rose. But some nights—nights like this—he felt the beast pacing inside him. Hungry. Restless. Alert.
He didn't know what he was searching for. He only knew the river called him.
He stepped closer, kneeling at the chilling edge. Water lapped at his fingertips, gentle at first, then strangely warm—almost like a touch. He froze.
And then he saw her.
A girl beneath the water, watching him with eyes the color of shattered sapphires.
He jerked backward so fast he stumbled. "What—?"
Her face rose slowly through the surface, framed by hair that floated around her like drifting strands of night. Her lips, blue as moonlit water, parted…but no sound escaped. For a moment, Rhen forgot how to breathe.
She was beautiful—terrifyingly beautiful.
And impossibly real.
Except she wasn't supposed to be. No human girl could survive in that depth, in that cold, in those currents. And no creature he knew looked like… that.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
The girl blinked once, slowly. Her gaze was wide, almost startled, like he had said something forbidden. Then she sank beneath the water so quickly he barely saw the flash of her tail.
A tail.
He knew what that meant.
But he refused to believe it.
Mermaids were myths. Stories parents whispered to scare children from wandering too close to the cliffs. Creatures said to sing sailors into madness, tear flesh from bone, and drown men for sport.
Yet none of those monsters looked like her.
He wasn't sure how long he crouched there, heart beating like the hooves of a hunted deer. But by the time he rose, she was gone—and he wasn't sure if he'd imagined her. Wolves sometimes hallucinated under the moon, his guardian always warned him.
But hallucinations didn't have sapphire eyes.
His throat tightened.
He needed answers.
The girl beneath the river was not supposed to be there either.
Her name was Nymera, first daughter of the Sapphire Court, heir to the throne of the Merrow Kingdom. Princess not by choice, but by blood—blood that cursed her with a destiny she had never asked for.
She had risen to the surface for one reason.
To breathe.
Her kingdom forbade it. The High Tides Council insisted that merfolk remain hidden. They feared hunters, feared humans, feared the ancient prophecy whispered throughout the deep trenches:
"When moon flesh meets tide blood, the world will be undone."
Nymera had grown up hearing those words, carved into coral, sung by the sirens, etched into every lecture given to her. The prophecy was older than land itself. Her father had forbidden her from going anywhere near the surface waters.
So naturally, she went.
The first breath of night air had been startling—sharp, sweet, filled with scents she didn't recognize. Pine. Earth. Something wild. Something strange.
Then she saw him.
A boy kneeling at the riverbank, silver eyes glowing like molten moonlight. Too bright to belong to a human. Too steady to belong to prey.
She knew she should swim away.
She knew that boys with silver eyes meant danger.
She knew that any contact between her kind and his would break ancient laws older than kingdoms.
But she could not make herself leave.
Her heart—traitorous thing—drummed against her ribs. His voice, soft but rough like a half-whispered growl, made her chest tighten.
"Who are you?"
She couldn't answer. Not because she didn't want to… but because she wasn't allowed. The Council had bound her voice with enchantment, a magical seal woven into her throat. A princess of the deep must never let humans hear her voice—especially not a boy touched by moon-curse.
Yet something about him—something raw, wounded, lonely—called to her.
She submerged before she broke a law she couldn't undo.
But as she swam deeper into the waters, her hands trembling, one truth struck her like an anchor to the heart:
She wanted to see him again.
Rhen couldn't sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw sapphire ones staring back at him. Every time he tried to think rationally, a soft warmth brushed his fingertips—like phantom water touching his skin.
He tossed in his bed of furs until dawn bled into the trees.
When the sun finally rose, he made a decision.
He would return to the river.
Not because he believed in mermaids.
Not because he hoped she was real.
But because his soul felt wrong when he turned away. Like leaving the river meant ripping out a piece of himself he didn't realize was missing.
His guardian, old Thalos, noticed his restlessness immediately.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Thalos muttered, chopping wood with more force than necessary.
Rhen swallowed. "What if I did?"
Thalos froze. Slowly, he turned, grey beard bristling. His eyes narrowed.
"Where?"
"The river."
The axe slipped from Thalos's hand.
Rhen's stomach dropped. The old man wasn't afraid of anything—wolves, storms, hunters, even Rhen's transformations. But now, he looked pale.
"What did you see?" Thalos demanded.
Rhen hesitated. If he told the truth, Thalos might forbid him from ever going back.
He didn't care.
He needed the truth more than safety.
"A girl," he whispered. "Under the water."
Thalos stepped closer. "Describe her."
Rhen did.
When he mentioned the tail, Thalos's entire body went still.
"Rhen…" Thalos whispered. "Stay away from that river."
"Why?"
"Because mermaids do not bring love. They bring death. Your kind and theirs were never meant to meet."
"My kind?" Rhen snapped. "I don't even know what my kind is."
Thalos shut his eyes, jaw tightening.
"It is better that way."
Rhen's heart pounded in fury. "I want answers, Thalos!"
"You aren't ready."
"I'll decide that."
Without waiting for permission, Rhen stormed back into the forest.
Thalos cursed under his breath, gripping the axe like he wished it were something else.
Something with sapphire eyes.
Nymera's kingdom was chaos that morning.
"Princess Nymera has been seen near the surface," a guard stammered before the throne.
Her father, King Tidalus, clenched the coral armrest so hard it cracked.
"She must be found," the king growled. "If she has been seen by the land creatures—if she spoke to one—everything we've tried to prevent will awaken."
"But sire," the guard continued with a trembling voice, "the prophecy speaks of a moon-cursed one. Only he can—"
"Silence!" the king thundered, the ocean trembling with his rage. "My daughter will not be part of that fate."
Nymera hid behind a pillar, heart trembling.
Her father didn't know.
She had already met the moon-cursed one.
By nightfall, both Rhen and Nymera found themselves drawn back to the same riverbank—neither knowing fate was watching them closely.
Rhen arrived first, breath unsteady.
Nymera surfaced moments later, heart racing.
He stepped toward the water.
She lifted a trembling hand toward him.
Two worlds—land and sea—reached for each other.
And far beneath the river, something ancient opened its eyes for the first time in a hundred years.
The prophecy had awakened.