Belle Island 1: The Mermaid That's Sweetest

The ocean is a paradox, softly inviting and brutally lethal.

It welcomes all kinds of creatures.

Soft ones, like mermaids.

Terrible, vile creatures, like erebos, who prey on us.

But even mermaids and vicious erebos can drown.

A swirling whirlpool’s twisted embrace will never let you go once it has its arms wound around you.

Knowing this now changes nothing for the ten-year anniversary of my best friend’s passing.

I was eight when I saw Ery choke on salt water, flailing around before succumbing to the hold and pull of the violent, unstoppable whirlpool.

But even though the endless, gnawing Deep was made for me, I haven’t dipped a finger into the ocean since childhood.

A mermaid who doesn’t swim—that’s what I am.

The ocean always has a Rough season.

I can feel it churning away now, simmering beneath the Calm.

It is almost here, and with it, the erebos will come.

But I’m done being a coward.

No more running. I’m eighteen now. I can’t be on land forever.

I face the ocean, taking a brave step into the cool sand. It innocently swallows my toes. I have a long walk ahead of me to face my greatest fear.

The beach taunts me with its ungovernable, swelling beauty. I pause to recalibrate, looking back at the distant, fading lanterns of the island’s central village. Smoke rises from hearths into the dark night sky. All the other female mermaids and male merkas are back there, if they aren’t in the clan castles by the sea. Even the other darvs are sneaking into the village tonight.

Which gives me privacy.

I turn back to the ocean.

I take another step, and my body aches with growing, stiff tension. My muscles refuse to move me forward any further.

I pry into what little reserves of confidence I have left.

And I have little.

I have no family and only one friend. From birth, I have been an orphan, a darv. My parents are probably alive, but I will never know their names.

I will always be alone because I am guilty of harboring cursed, dark-green scales that are almost as dark as obsidian.

And now I am alone in this fear.

A larger wave rises and crests, white foam crashing down in the surf.

Panic squeezes my thumping heart.

Maybe I can’t touch the water.

I taste bitter fear on my tongue as I run back to the soil and cling to a palm tree.

“Come on, Lily, just touch it, just dip your toe in,” I hiss under my breath, scolding myself.

Tears sting my eyes. My heart doesn’t slow; it only amplifies into palpitations.

I stand there for a good ten minutes, trying to steel my nerves.

“It’s just water, I am made for the water,” I whisper the chant, and I shut my eyes, thinking of something empowering.

In my fractured mind, I spin up the recurring dream I’ve been having every night lately.

My sleep has been infiltrated by a handsome stranger who feels so real.

In the vision, I approach the water just like this, and the apparition emerges behind me.

He reaches but never touches me.

But the feeling is true.

He…he is a friend.

Even if he is an erebos, my natural predator.

I imagine him.

I breathe deep.

I leap from the tree line and land in an awkward squat.

I crawl forward, forcing myself halfway to the water. My breathing is shallow as I force myself closer and closer to the rising roar of the ocean waves.

I sit back on my heels and, with trembling legs, I stand up.

I see a perfect wave, rising, churning—a pathetic whimper escapes from my throat and—

“This way!” a strong and commanding mermaid snaps somewhere behind me.

I jerk and look over my shoulder, heart hammering against my ribs.

There is a line of torches moving in the forest. Someone is running and lighting up the branches—setting the shrubs and trees on fire.

“Force him back into the sea!” another male, a merka, yells.

A twisted thrill runs through me. They’re chasing an erebos.

My dream…my dream might be materializing into reality.

Belle Island has a thing for strangeness.

Suddenly, with a different purpose, I move toward the wet sand and I look behind me.

I look for a sign. In the far distance, I can see a small flame flicker; a chilly night breeze is diminishing its power.

I must be insane, standing out in the open like this, waiting for trouble.

I turn back to the sea as that wave is cresting.

I look down at a rivulet of water rushing toward me.

I stick my toe out. I’m about to submerge it into the cool rush—

A crunch of a stick behind me. A heavy foot—a pause.

But I don’t feel an encouraging presence.

In its place, goosebumps prickle my skin.

A guttural snarl echoes from the palm trees.

My stomach drops, and I scramble backward, falling on my ass when I try to twist and run too fast.

This is not how the dream is supposed to end, with me between an erebos and his escape.

A second snarl echoes behind me, enraged but patient. I shoot a look over my shoulder, my eyes wide as I see the apparition.

A tall man, half covered in blood. His long mane of straight, black hair perfectly frames his face, even though the rest of his naked body is poised for attack…or for escaping?

I am not his dream-friend.

I’m in his fucking way, blocking his path to the sea.

But I can’t.

It is the water or him.

My skin goes clammy, and I start to feel lightheaded.

I do the only thing I can think of. I crawl along the sand to get out of his way, my eyes not leaving his.

His bluer-than-ocean eyes track my movements, perplexed.

When I’ve crawled out of his path, I wait for him to pass.

He limps forward, as if resigning himself to the fact that I’m not going to attack or flee.

Fear and curiosity war inside me.

“You’re an erebos, aren’t you? What’s your name?” I call to him in a hushed whisper. I can’t help myself. I’m frozen on my knees and hands, too terrified to get up—to face him properly.

The yells of mermaids and merkas warning him not to venture back echo from the trees.

He pauses and looks over his shoulder at me. His eyes roam over my dark-green hair before his eyes return to mine with a harsh snap. I swear they almost swirl with power.

I will tell him my name first.

“My name is—”

He hisses, cutting me off.

He looks as if he might lunge forward and drag me into the ocean with him.

I shut my lips, and he shuffles into the water. He drops to his knees, and he transforms into an erebos.

I try to see his black tail in the darkness, but I can’t. And then he’s gone.

I watch the oceans pull back as he disappears and the currents change. It’s happening. I witness the Change as the waters shift from Calm to Rough.

I hold my breath as the water keeps unnaturally retreating out.

“Oh, no,” I squeak. I jump up as a mini tidal wave he created gains height and speed coming back for me.

I sprint full pelt back into the palm trees and see the growing fire.

I can’t go into the smoke and darkness of night only to risk getting lost and being unable to find a way out again to the fresh air. Too risky. I’m stuck in the middle of it all.

A wall of water is crashing toward me. Fire in front.

Palms in the middle.

I scream as I grab onto a palm tree and hug it as tightly as I can.

The water cascades past, dragging sand and shells across my skin. It’s not a tsunami, but it’s a freak wave that completely drenches me.

When it washes back just as quickly as it came in, I control my shaking legs from wanting to turn into my mermaid tail. I reach into my wet hair and pull out a lump of sea grass and throw it to the ground.

I get my breath back, then try to calm my racing thoughts by spending a good few minutes picking up starfish and throwing them back into the ocean, all while wet and shivering.

I am in shock, adrenaline making me shaky.

So, I return to the orphanage, a simple shack by the beach. When I peek into the dark rooms, my fellow orphans aren’t back.

It’s silent, cold, and lonely.

And my empty bed does little to attract me.

But the erebos…he is out there.

Injured.

I am a nurse on Belle Island, too, not just a mermaid who is scared of the ocean.

I can’t shake the man from my thoughts.

The injured always go to rock pools to find space to heal.

So I take a detour… I have a feeling I know where he might be.

I walk through the elevated rock pools.

I climb over one of the biggest boulders to see the healing pods, perfectly shaped pools for the injured—there he is.

The erebos has crawled halfway into his own rock pool, blood seeping into the water. His entire side is bleeding heavily as he lies against the rocks, collapsed and completely limp.

As I gaze carefully, I realize that I am wrong.

He hasn’t crawled. He is bruised from violently crashing into the rocks. He’s used his magic over the water to make a wave to get in.

The water has receded for now, so I tiptoe closer to him. The erebos is unconscious.

When I’m one rock pool away, I pause and wonder if I should just leave him to die. He must have been hunting mermaids and merka after all. However, the thought of abandoning him doesn’t last long.

He is alone here.

So am I.

I may be his only hope, and I can’t repeat past mistakes.

I edge around the boulder and get closer. The erebos has a single wound in his shoulder.

His obsidian tail is much longer than I could have imagined, contrasting with his pale-moon-toned skin. His tail is so long that part of it hangs out of one end of the pool. His fins are soft, draping over the rocks and so unlike the sharp and razor-edged fins I had imagined. I get onto my knees and lean in closer to his face. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily.

But he is too pale.

He needs sustenance, and he only eats and drinks one thing.