The sky had never felt so wide.
It stretched endlessly above her, grey and indifferent, as if it had grown tired of being looked at.
Elara stood on the edge of the school rooftop, arms wrapped around herself. The cold wind whipped her damp uniform against her skin, but she barely noticed. Her fingers were curled too tightly into her sleeves—not from the cold, but to hold herself together.
No one had followed her.
No one ever did.
Below, the courtyard echoed faintly with the laughter of classmates — soft, distant, and unkind. It didn't reach her. It never had.
The voices in her world were always muffled, like she'd been living underwater long before she actually drowned.
She wasn't supposed to be up here.
But she wasn't supposed to be anywhere, really.
She just… existed. A shadow that filled the spaces between others.
Sometimes, she wished someone would look her in the eye and say her name like it meant something.
Today wasn't one of those days.
Today, someone had written her name on a locker.
But it wasn't a message. It was a joke. A cruel one — in thick red letters that bled down like paint and accusation:
Freak.
She didn't cry. Elara had long since run out of tears.
Instead, she climbed the stairs no one used, up to the place where silence lived.
And silence greeted her kindly.
She sat down, legs drawn in, forehead pressed to her knees. The sky rumbled above — soft, distant thunder. Rain would come soon.
Maybe it already had.
Time passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours.
Then — something shifted.
A sound. Not thunder. Not wind.
Glass?
She lifted her head slowly.
Behind her, the rooftop door creaked. Footsteps — light, hesitant.
"Elara?" a voice called.
It was the girl from her literature class.
She had never said Elara's name before.
Elara blinked.
The girl stepped closer — too close.
There was something strange in her eyes. Hesitation. Guilt.
Behind her… more figures.
"Elara, come here for a sec. We wanna show you something."
Elara stood.
The wind caught her hair. Rain began to fall.
She turned toward them — slowly.
That's when it happened.
A shove.
A scream.
Her feet slipped on the rain-slick edge.
Wind roared in her ears—
Then silence.
She plummeted from the rooftop, past the broken guardrail, down the cliffside path behind the school.
Crashing through branches, stone, and light—
—until the ocean swallowed her whole.
She fell.
The wind tore past her ears, a scream caught in her throat but never released.
A blur of grey sky. Of rock. Of rain.
Then — silence.
A second of stillness before the world cracked open.
She hit the surface of the sea with a soundless shatter, like glass giving way beneath the weight of sorrow.
Cold swallowed her.
Darkness clung like oil.
She sank.
Down.
And down.
At first, there was panic.
Her arms flailed. Her lungs burned. Her heart screamed not like this.
But the water did not punish her.
It cradled her.
Drew her deeper — not with force, but with… longing.
The deeper she sank, the quieter everything became.
Then... light.
Not from above, but from within.
A faint glow began to shimmer beneath her skin — at the curve of her left shoulder.
A mark, hidden for all her life, now pulsing like it had been waiting.
The sea around her responded.
Currents curled around her like ribboned arms.
Tiny lights blinked awake in the deep — jellyfish, drifting stars, memories of things that no longer had names.
And somewhere... far below...
A sound.
Not a voice. Not words.
A note.
Low. Soft. Ancient.
Like someone humming a lullaby that only the sea could remember.
Elara's eyes fluttered open.
She should have been choking. Dying.
But she breathed.
Not air — not exactly. But something else.
Something old. Something sacred.
Her clothes — soaked and torn — began to shift.
Not fall away, but transform.
The fabric rippled, stitched itself into something new.
Silken threads of sea-glow wove around her arms, her legs. Her body shimmered with magic she didn't understand — a dress she had never seen, soft and clinging and radiant like moonlight through water.
Her hair fanned around her, now longer, heavier — glowing faint mint like it had borrowed light from something divine.
Her eyes… they weren't brown anymore.
They shone like rose-gold pearls — glowing faintly in the dark.
And still, she sank.
But now… it felt like floating.
Like being carried home.
Above her, the storm raged.
Below her, the ocean opened.
And far off, in the shadows of a forgotten reef, something watched.
Eyes like dusk.
Hair like frozen flame.
A voice that did not speak — but felt.
He saw the mark before she did.
And for the first time in a hundred years, the guardian who had fallen whispered—
"She returned..."
The words slipped from him before he knew why.
The ache in his chest had no name — only memory, and a shadow of something long lost.
✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧
The sea held her like it remembered.
Elara awoke slowly, her body weightless, cradled in an endless warmth that didn't burn. Light rippled through the water above her, silver and gold weaving together like threads of a dream. For a moment, she didn't move. She didn't speak.
She simply floated.
Her limbs drifted gently, like leaves caught in soft current. Her long mint green hair—longer now than she remembered—swayed around her, glowing faintly in the filtered sunlight. And her eyes, once dulled by sorrow, shimmered pink with a light they had never known.
Was this death?
Or something else?
She glanced at her shoulder.
There, etched in pale silver, was a strange, intricate mark. At its base, a shell — spiraled and delicate. Wings curled from the center like those of a forest moth. A flicker of flame rose at the top, and vines wove through it all, binding each symbol together.
It didn't glow.
It didn't pulse.
It simply waited.
Elara swam forward.
Or perhaps the water moved with her. It felt... aware. Guiding her. All around her, the sea shimmered like a living painting. Coral arches rose like cathedrals. Glowing fronds swayed in liquid rhythm. Strange, beautiful creatures passed by, some gazing with curious eyes. None approached.
But none turned away.
She drifted into a marketplace alive with soft currents and glowing colours. Floating stalls carved from shell and glass hovered along a ribbon of light. Vendors sold scale-dust paints, whispering pearls, silk spun from sea threads, and jars of captured songlight.
Merfolk drifted between the stalls, their shimmering tails catching flashes of light with every movement. Some had translucent fins like flowing silk, others scaled armor woven into their skin. They moved with elegance — like the sea belonged to them.
Elara, still human in shape, felt every difference. She had no fin. No shimmer. Just bare legs, pale skin, and a mark none of them had seen in lifetimes.
Their voices reached her clearly. Words she shouldn't have understood... but somehow did.
As if the sea itself was translating for her.
A group of children giggled as a performer shaped glowing water into sea creatures that danced through the current. One of the creatures fluttered close to Elara, brushing her arm with gentle warmth.
Then they noticed her.
"That mark..." a voice whispered.
"It hasn't been seen in generations."
Elara froze.
The music stopped. Laughter quieted. Some vendors pulled their curtains. Others simply stared.
Their gazes weren't cruel. But they weren't kind.
They weren't afraid of her — they were afraid of what she might mean.
"She bears the forgotten sigil..."
"Like the ones in the old stories."
"But that bloodline was lost... it couldn't have survived."
Elara kept moving.
Wrapped in a gown that floated like mist, barefoot in a world that looked too magical to hold pain, she said nothing. But her heart pounded louder than it ever had on land.
She was not invisible here.
But she wasn't welcome either.
She wandered to the edge of the reefline and sat on a smooth ledge of glowing coral. Below her, the sea faded into twilight.
Beside her curled a small creature — no larger than her forearm — with a softly glowing body and translucent fins that shimmered like silk in the current. It had followed her since she'd awakened. Now it floated close, its head resting gently against her wrist.
She smiled faintly, a tear slipping free.
"You're still here," she whispered.
"You're the only one who hasn't looked at me like I don't belong."
She reached out and brushed her fingers against its fin. The creature hummed softly in response — a sound like warmth.
"Kaelen," she whispered, choosing the name like a secret.
"If I'm going to be lost... then I need something that's mine."
The creature blinked once, then pressed closer — as if it understood.
For the first time, she let herself breathe.
Maybe she wasn't dead.
Maybe... she had survived something worse.
And high above — hovering at the edge of a coral spire — a figure watched her.
He did not speak.
He did not move.
His hair caught the faint light.
His eyes shimmered with quiet intensity.
He simply watched.
Dravion.
But she did not know his name.
Not yet.
She only felt the chill of being seen.
And somewhere deep beneath the sea, something ancient turned its gaze toward her.
✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧