The room reeked of dying flowers and wine, a combination that made Neria’s stomach churn. The sweet scent of the roses scattered around the ballroom mixed with the sharp smell of alcohol, creating something that felt suffocating.
It made her miss the sea. She missed the clean scent of saltwater, the currents brushing against her skin and the silence that existed beneath the waves.
From the moment she entered the room, she had become the center of attention.
Landwalkers dressed in expensive silks and glittering jewels gathered around her, their eyes roaming over her as if she was some rare treasure they had never seen before. They whispered behind their hands, laughed amongst themselves, and asked questions she had no desire to answer.
Some of them even touched her.
More than necessary.
The worst were the ones who looked like bloated pufferfish, their round faces red from too much wine and too little shame. Their chubby fingers had traced over her legs, squeezing the unfamiliar limbs as they laughed about how strange it was that a Calypso could walk on land.
They treated her like a creature in a cage
Neria’s nails dug into her palm as she sat at the center of the ballroom, exactly where the Emperor wanted her. A perfect view for every noble in the room. A perfect reminder that she was nothing less than a pet.
She hated them.
Every single one of them.
A servant approached with a silver pitcher, his head lowered as he poured wine into the glasses of the nobles surrounding her. Neria barely paid attention to him until his hand shifted.
The next moment, cold liquid spilled across her shoulder.
The water soaked through the fabric of her dress, running down her skin and dripping onto the polished floor beneath her. Neria froze for a moment, her fingers tightening against the fabric as the sudden chill spread across her body.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Standing before her was a woman with lips painted a shade of red that looked unnatural, almost like blood smeared across her mouth. She held an empty glass in her hand, a disappointed sneer twisting her elegant features as she handed it to a passing servant.
"I was hoping she would get her tail back," the woman said, her voice filled with mock pity. "At least then she would be more interesting."
The ballroom erupted into laughter.
The sound echoed around her, louder than the music playing in the background.
They laughed as if this was normal.
As if humiliating a living being was nothing more than a small amusement to pass the time.
Neria remained still, her body tense as anger burned beneath her skin. Deep inside she was trembling, these people dressed in their expensive fabrics and sparkling jewels, managed to disgust her more than the beasts of the sea.
Her gaze moved through the crowd until it landed on him.
The Grand Duke now stood beside the Emperor, his hands clasped behind his back and his expression unreadable. Unlike the others, he wasn’t laughing. He didn’t look entertained or amused by what had happened.
But he didn’t stop it either.
And that was enough.
To Neria, there was no difference.
A landwalker who enjoyed her suffering and a landwalker who watched it happen were both still the same breed of horrid landwalkers.
Her fingers slowly closed around the shell necklace resting against her chest.
The only thing she had left.
Neria closed her eyes, feeling the shell between her fingers as she tried to steady herself. She refused to fall in front of these monsters. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Then she heard hands clapping.
Her eyes lifted toward the Emperor. He wore a cruel, smug smile as his gaze settled on Neria. He raised one hand and snapped his fingers.
"A delicacy from the sea," he announced.
Neria frowned as servants began moving through the room with trays in their hands. Her neck stretched slightly as she tried to see what they were carrying. Whispers spread through the room, and the landwalkers suddenly seemed even more excited than they had been moments before.
One of the servants approached her.
He looked down at her coldly before lowering the tray. There was a plate of thinly sliced fish resting upon it.
Something about it made Neria immediately frown.
Her eyes shifted back toward the Emperor, then toward the Duke beside him. His brows had already creased together as another servant knelt before him and offered him a piece of the strange delicacy.
"Calypsos’ meat, everyone!"
Neria immediately paled.
The room erupted into applause.
She stared down at the plate in sheer horror, her heart pounding heavily against her chest. Her fingers tightened around the shell necklace hanging against her throat, and her lips began to quiver.
Calypsos..... Meat?
She couldn’t breathe.
That wasn’t fish.
That was one of her people.
Neria slowly rose from her seat still unable to breathe, ignoring the curious looks that followed her. "I... need some air," she muttered, not caring whether anyone believed her or not.
One of the ladies let out a small laugh. "The poor thing looks overwhelmed."
"Don’t want to wait for dinner love?" another replied, lifting her glass. The comment earned another wave of amusement from the surrounding nobles.
Erik merely waved a dismissive hand.
"Mm... Sure" he said, not even sparing her a proper glance. "Just don’t wander too far. I’d hate to have to send hunters after you again."
The ballroom erupted into laughter.
Neria lowered her head and walked away before the rage boiling inside her spilled onto the polished marble beneath her feet.
Fiona who had joined them as her caretaker hurried after her, nearly tripping over the hem of her own dress. "Neria, wait!" she called, struggling to keep up. "You shouldn’t be wandering around the palace by yourself."
"I just need to breathe." Her hands were trembling.
"I can stay with you."
"No." The firmness in her voice made Fiona hesitate. "I’ll only be a moment."
The maid bit her lip before nodding reluctantly. "I’ll wait right here then."
Neria didn’t answer.
She continued down the corridor until the music from the ballroom became little more than a distant murmur. The laughter faded with every step she took, replaced by silence so complete she could hear the pounding of her own heart.
Then she stopped.
This wasn’t far enough but at least she was away from them.
How could they! How could they be such savages!
A choked sob erupted from her throat. That could have been from her pod, a friend... Or a child.
How could they...
Her gaze wandered across the corridor until it settled on a ceremonial display mounted upon the wall. Resting upon a crimson cushion was a beautifully crafted dagger.
Her blue eyes settled on it with a sort of finality.
Neria stepped closer and lifted the dagger from its stand. The metal felt strangely warm in her hand.
She stared at her reflection in the blade. For a fleeting moment, she saw not herself...
But Nerissa.
The way her body had disappeared into the endless blue while Neria screamed until her throat burned.
A tear rolled silently down her cheek.
"They’re horrible.." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Then she turned the blade toward her palm. The edge sliced cleanly through her skin. Pain bloomed instantly, hot and sharp, but she didn’t flinch.
With practiced movements taught only to Calypso daughters, she drew the star ancient symbol into her flesh. Blood welled from the carved lines, dripping onto the marble one crimson drop at a time.
"What do we have here..."
Neria’s head snapped up.
A few steps away stood two drunken nobles stumbling in her direction, their faces flushed crimson from too much wine. One struggled to keep hold of the bottle dangling from his fingers while the other leaned heavily against the wall, both of them grinning in a way that made her stomach turn.
"Such a pretty little thing," one of them slurred, pushing himself upright. "No wonder His Majesty brought you."
The other laughed loudly. "Why don’t you give us a little performance?"
Neria didn’t answer.
Her gaze dropped to the fresh cut across her palm. Blood gathered between the carved lines. She drew in a slow breath.
"O di maris... audite me..."
The words rolled effortlessly from her tongue, ancient and melodic.
"Iustitia anima mea serviatur..."
The two men burst into another fit of drunken laughter.
It lasted only a heartbeat.
The first note escaped her lips.
"Hear me..."
It floated through the corridor like a gentle tide, beautiful enough to make the hairs on the back of one’s neck stand. The melody wrapped itself around the silence, soft and haunting, carrying with it an ancient sorrow that did not belong to the palace.
The laughter died.
Both men fell unnaturally still.
Their unfocused eyes slowly lost what little clarity they possessed, becoming distant as though they were no longer looking at the corridor, but at something only they could see.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither of them blinked.
The one with untidy red hair was the first to move.
His movements were stiff and uneven, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled by unfamiliar hands. He took one slow step forward, then another, before his gaze settled upon the ceremonial dagger lying where Neria had dropped it.
Without hesitation, he bent down and picked it up.
The red-haired noble smiled. Then, with frightening calmness, he drew the blade across his own neck.
A warm spray of blood splattered across Neria’s cheek before the man crumpled soundlessly onto the marble floor.
____
Darian noticed her absence long before anyone else did.
At first, it was nothing more than an empty chair.
The Calypso had been seated near the center of the ballroom, exactly where Erik wanted her for all to admire. Somewhere between another tedious conversation about trade routes and a lord complaining about taxes, the chair had become vacant.
He frowned.
His gaze swept across the room.
No Neria.
He searched for Fiona next.
The young maid stood beside the near refreshments table, within every second looked at the doors for someone, probably Neria.
A cold feeling settled in Darian’s chest.
He quietly set his untouched wine glass onto a passing servant’s tray before making his way toward the ballroom doors.
"Leaving already?" Erik’s amused voice drifted after him.
Darian paused only long enough to glance over his shoulder.
"The girl isn’t back yet."
Erik merely lifted his goblet. "I’m sure she’ll turn up."
Darian didn’t answer.
He stepped into the corridor, the music from the ballroom becoming muffled the instant the doors shut behind him. The palace stretched ahead in perfect silence, lit only by rows of flickering lanterns mounted against marble walls.
His boots struck the polished floor in measured strides as he searched each corridor, every empty room making the unease in his chest grow heavier.
Then...
He heard it.
A voice.
Soft.
So soft it almost disappeared beneath the silence.
He stopped walking.
It wasn’t a language he recognized.
The melody drifted through the corridor like a distant tide, hauntingly beautiful, every note smoother than the last.
His body instinctively leaned toward it.
One step.
Then another.
His brows furrowed.
No.
Something wasn’t right.
It wasn’t the song that disturbed him.
It was the feeling.
It wrapped around his thoughts with unsettling gentleness, inviting him closer
Darian’s eyes widened.
Without hesitation, he clamped both hands over his ears.
The pressure in his mind eased instantly.
"...Sirens?" he muttered.
He abandoned caution and broke into a run. The singing grew louder with every turn he took.
Then he rounded the final corner.
His steps came to an abrupt halt.
The corridor had become a slaughterhouse.
Blood streaked across the marble floor.
A servant lay motionless beside the wall, his vacant eyes fixed upon the ceiling while a smile remained frozen across his face. Darius recognized him as the servant who had offered Neria that tray.
Not far away, another palace maid slowly dragged a broken shard of glass across her own throat as though she felt no pain at all.
She smiled.
A guard drove his sword through another without the slightest hesitation before calmly turning the blade upon himself.
They didn’t scream or beg.
His eyes roamed the room.
And at the center of it all...
Stood Neria.
Blood-stained tears streamed silently down her cheeks, tracing crimson lines over her face as she continued to sing.