They woke to a squeal in the morning.
Rowan jolted upright, Midg darting frantic circles at his bedside. The sound was sharp, high-pitched, scraping against his ears. Not human. He stumbled to the window, shoved the mat aside, and stared.
On the beach below stood a single figure.
At first glance it looked like a man, but its skin gleamed faint green, scales glimmering across its arms. Its hair streamed wet like seaweed, fins jutted from its ribs, and its eyes shone dark and unblinking. A coral spear rested in its hands, held downward in a gesture Rowan couldn't read.
"A Thalriss," Rowan breathed.
The creature let out another cry, high and strange. Islanders poured from their huts, voices rising. Mothers pulled children back, men reached for spears, elders pressed forward with grim faces.
Luna appeared at Rowan's side, her dolphin Soulkin flickering faintly beside her. "He comes alone," she murmured. "To speak."
The Thalriss raised one hand slowly, palm outward. His voice carried, liquid and heavy with strange inflections, but Rowan caught the words.
"No fight. Chiefs. Speak."
The Islanders muttered uneasily. Luna's father, the chief, strode forward, his lined face carved with suspicion. He studied the lone figure for a long time, then gave a single nod.
"They want parley," Luna said softly.
The word rippled through the crowd like a stone dropped into still water.
---
The parley was set for that afternoon, on a rocky shoal where tide met cliff.
The Islanders gathered on one side, the chief at their head, Luna at his right. Rowan stood with Lyra further back, close enough to hear. The air was heavy, the hiss of waves loud in the silence.
The Thalriss came in a small group of five, gliding through the water like predators. Their leader strode forward — taller than the rest, his body lean, his eyes luminous. He carried no spear, only a blackened coral staff etched with markings that pulsed faintly like veins of light.
They faced each other across the shoal, two peoples bound by the same sea yet divided as if by an abyss.
The Thalriss leader spoke first. His voice was deep, resonant, strange to Rowan's ear but clear enough.
"We have no food. The deep is gone. Our kin vanish. The sea starves us."
The Islanders hissed with anger. One elder stepped forward, his voice thick with fury. "And so you butcher our kin? Dolphins cut in their mothers' sight? Whales left to rot? You call that survival?"
The Thalriss leader's jaw tightened. "We hunt because we must. The currents carry nothing. The dark swallows our children. We vanish by hundreds. Better blood in the water than empty bellies."
The words cut like knives. Rowan glanced at Luna — her face was still, but her hands trembled faintly at her sides.
The Islanders roared in outrage. Some cried for war. Others wept openly. The chief raised his hand and silence fell, though the fury burned still.
"You speak of hunger," the chief said coldly. "But hunger does not excuse sacrilege. The ocean is our mother. Our kin. You cut her flesh. You break her bones. You spit on her song."
The Thalriss leader's eyes burned. "And what do you call it when your mother lets her children starve? When the sea turns barren, when your young vanish into shadow? We begged the deep to hold us. It betrayed us. Now we climb upward to live."
He leaned forward, voice rising. "You do not understand. You weep for three calves. We bury thousands."
The words struck like a wave breaking. The Islanders fell into a stunned silence.
Rowan felt the breath leave his lungs. Thousands?
The Thalriss leader's gaze swept over them, lingering briefly on Rowan. His eyes narrowed, curious, then moved on.
At last the Islander chief spoke, voice like stone. "There can be no peace while you slaughter what is sacred. Leave our waters or drown in them."
The Thalriss leader gripped his staff tighter. "And there can be no trust while you turn from our plight. If we starve, so will you. The sea does not choose sides."
For a long, terrible moment, they stared across the shoal.
Then, without another word, the Thalriss turned and slid into the sea. Their forms melted into the waves, leaving only ripples behind.
"No peace," the chief muttered.
"No trust," Rowan whispered.
The words echoed in his chest like stones sinking into the deep.
---
Back at camp, the argument began almost before they sat.
Callen paced furiously, his fists clenched, his voice hot. "You heard him! They'll keep killing, keep butchering until the sea's empty. If we don't strike back, we'll be next."
Mira rose, her eyes blazing, Todd shimmering faintly above her. "Didn't you listen? They've lost everything. Their children vanish, their homes are gone. They raid because they have no choice."
"And that excuses slaughter?" Callen snapped. "That excuses tearing calves from their mothers?"
Mira's voice cracked. "What would you do if it were us? If it were Todd? If it were me?"
Callen faltered, rage still burning but words stumbling.
Darin finally spoke, his voice low, contemplative. "I saw their faces. Not hatred. Desperation. And something else."
Rowan turned. "Something else?"
Darin's brow furrowed. "Fear."
Silence fell.
Lyra crossed her arms, her tone sharp but quieter than usual. "Starving or afraid, it doesn't matter. Spears still kill. Mercy doesn't fill nets. Hope doesn't heal wounds. We can't pity them into peace."
Callen slammed his fist into the sand. "She's right."
Mira's eyes filled with tears. "And I say you're blind. They're not our enemy. Something else is. Can't you hear it? They're vanishing. Thousands. That's not hunger. That's something deeper."
The fire crackled between them.
Rowan stared into the flames, the weight pressing on his chest until he could barely breathe. He thought of the hymn at the funeral, the dolphins carried into the tide. He thought of Luna's words: They are of the sea, as we are. He thought of the Thalriss leader's voice, breaking when he spoke of children swallowed by the dark.
He thought of Brenner's laugh, Ari's calm, Ashwyn's scolding, Nyx's quiet, Toren's hope. He wished they were here to tell him what to do.
But they weren't.
And the tide was rising.