I dreamed of water.
Not the gentle, crystal-clear kind you see in tourist brochures. No, this was wild and alive—teal waves crashing, deep blue shadows curling around my body like arms. I could breathe in it. Hear songs hidden in the tides. Feel... home.
But I wasn't home.
I woke up tangled in a scratchy ship-issue blanket on the narrow bunk of our submarine. My skin was damp with sweat—or seawater? I couldn't tell anymore.
The last few days had blurred into one long reel of pressure, pressure, pressure. Of strange encounters and unspoken truths.
And him.
Isaac.
His words, that night in the observation bay, still echoed in my head: You're not supposed to be here.
But why?
And what the hell was that thing I saw near the wreckage? Those eyes. That voice—not in words, but something ancient curling in my ears like music.
It had called me daughter of the tide.
What did that even mean?
I sat up and reached for the worn journal tucked beneath my mattress. It wasn't mine—it was my mom's. I'd found it by accident in one of Dad's old crates the night before we set sail. And I'd been too scared to really read it.
Until now.
The leather cover was water-warped, the pages smelling like salt and lavender. Her handwriting swirled like seaweed—elegant and looping. I flipped past the first few pages, which were mostly entries from her college days. Then… something changed.
> August 11th
The currents are speaking to me again.
I feel them in my blood. In my bones. When I dive too deep, they whisper things no human should understand.
I swallowed.
> Cassian doesn't believe me. He says I'm dehydrated or anxious. But I know the difference between madness and memory. The water remembers me. I just… forgot it first.
Cassian.
That was Dad.
I kept reading.
> There's a place I found. Deep below the Mariana ledge. Glowing stones. Spiraling towers. A figure in the dark. He didn't hurt me. He just watched.
I don't think I'm meant to be on land forever.
My heart pounded.
What the hell was this?
> If something happens to me… tell Lila she was born of both worlds. And she'll have to choose.
I stared at the sentence for a long time.
Born of both worlds.
I closed the journal slowly, my fingers shaking.
It explained nothing, and everything.
A soft knock pulled me out of the spiral.
"Lila? We're surfacing in five."
It was Raj, the technician.
I forced myself to get dressed and stumble up toward the control deck, the journal clutched tight under my coat. When I climbed the steel ladder to the observation platform, the sky outside was bruised purple, streaked with orange. Dawn. The sea was calm—too calm.
Isaac stood at the far end, staring out like he belonged to it.
I approached, quiet.
He didn't turn. "You found her journal."
I froze. "How do you—?"
"I felt the shift in you."
My voice was tight. "What are you?"
Finally, he looked at me.
His eyes were sharper in this light, like liquid mercury. "What you're becoming."
I stepped back. "No. No, you don't get to speak in riddles anymore."
He studied me for a long moment. Then… he pulled off his glove.
And I gasped.
His fingers were webbed. Faintly glowing. The edges shimmered with sapphire-blue energy.
"I'm not like the others here," he said. "Neither are you."
"I'm human."
"You're half of something more."
I laughed bitterly. "So what, I'm a Disney reject now? Half-mermaid, with a dead mom and a scientist dad who can't look me in the eye?"
Isaac's face hardened. "Cassian Voss is not your real father."
My world dropped out from under me.
"You're lying."
"I wish I was."
He stepped forward, gently pulling the journal from my hand and flipping it open to the back page. There, in my mother's handwriting, were words I'd never noticed.
> Isaac was right. He saved me once. Now I leave her in his world, hoping he can protect her when I'm gone.
"I found your mother once," he said. "When she was drowning. She was different—curious, brave, and wild. But she chose your world. For you."
I was shaking. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I need your help."
He turned toward the ocean.
"They took something from us. Something sacred. And the sea is dying without it. I can't fix it alone."
I didn't want to believe him. I didn't want to be a part of this. But some part of me—some deep, tidal current in my blood—knew he was telling the truth.
"What do you need?" I asked.
His eyes met mine.
"Dive with me."
---
End of Chapter 7