A few weeks passed in obvious tension.
The sea, once generous, had turned barren. The shoals that used to glitter just beyond the reefs were gone, and the usual abundance of fish had thinned to almost nothing. The Islanders still had their fruits, grains, and root crops, and their harvests came in strong enough to share with the Thalriss. They even offered them a pair of small islands for shelter.
It was enough to keep them alive, but not enough to make them content.
The Thalriss had always thrived on a diet of fish, squid, and other creatures of the sea. To live off land food was foreign to them, tolerable only as necessity. And though they abided by the pact — to leave the Islanders' kin untouched, the dolphins, the turtles, the whales, the mantas — it forced them farther and farther out in their hunts.
Farther out, into deeper waters.
And each week, fewer and fewer hunting parties returned. Sometimes boats drifted back empty, the hulls scarred as though torn by coral. More often, nothing returned at all.
Rowan couldn't understand it. There were no predators left — not since the corruption had scoured these waters. How could experienced hunters, warriors of the sea, simply vanish?
He asked Mira once, but she only shook her head.
"It isn't the sea I know anymore," she whispered. "It doesn't breathe right."
Then came the day the Thalriss chief strode ashore. His guards spread across the sand like a tide of spears, scaled armor gleaming in the morning light. His face was carved from stone, but his eyes were a storm.
"My son," the chief announced, voice carrying across the beach. "He went with his hunting party two days past. None have returned. Tell me, Islanders — what have you done with him?"
The beach fell into silence. Islanders stiffened, hands tightening on fishing spears and knives. Mothers drew children back. Murmurs of outrage rippled through the crowd.
An Islander elder stepped forward, his weathered face lined with fury. "We are not butchers, Thalriss. You know the pact. We gave you shelter and food. Why would we betray it now?"
The chief's lip curled. "Because desperation rots the heart. Because I have seen how your young men look at our hunters with envy. Perhaps you wish to thin us before you strike."
A fisherwoman spat in the sand. "You insult us on our own shores!"
"You insult yourselves," one of the Thalriss guards snarled, hand closing on his trident. "Return the prince, or we will take him by force."
Anger surged. Islanders pressed forward, steel rasping from sheaths, the air thick with the promise of blood.
Rowan felt Midg, his Soulkin minnow, thrash at his hip inside the small globe of water he carried. The tiny creature battered madly against the glass, fins flashing. Beside him, Mira startled. Todd, her own minnow Soulkin, swam frantic circles around her ankles, silver tail striking the surf like a warning.
Rowan's gut twisted. The Soulkin weren't afraid of Islanders or Thalriss. They were afraid of something else.
Before the first blade could swing, he stepped forward.
"Hang on!" Rowan shouted. His voice cracked like a whip, and for a heartbeat both sides faltered, eyes turning toward him. "We've given you food. Water. Shelter. Things we didn't have to give. Your people didn't starve because of the Islanders' generosity. Why in the world would we turn around and kill your people?"
The chief's gaze snapped to him. "You are neither Islander nor Thalriss. Why do you speak for them?"
"Because I can see what's happening!" Rowan shot back, louder. "You're ready to start a war when you don't even know what you're fighting. Hunting parties vanish without a trace. You think that's Islanders? I think something else is going on."
Mira stepped to his side, salt spray clinging to her hair. "He's right. No Islander has reason to harm your son. But something is in the water. I can feel it. Todd feels it too."
The minnow flicked frantic silver in the waves, circling her feet as if urging her away.
The Islanders muttered uneasily. Even a few of the Thalriss shifted, doubt clouding their fury.
Rowan pressed on, seizing the moment. "How about this. Five of your people. Five Islanders. And my team. We search the reefs together. If your son's alive, we bring him home. If he's not…" His throat tightened. "At least you'll know the truth."
The chief's silence stretched long, the tide hissing around his boots. Finally, he inclined his head by the barest fraction. "Five and five," he said. "And you."
Rowan nodded. "And me."
But the debate wasn't over.
The Islanders bristled. "We'll drown if we follow them into the depths!" one cried. "You'll have us march to our deaths while the Thalriss swim free?"
A Thalriss guard scoffed. "Then stay on your boats and keep your nets. The sea is ours."
The Islanders roared back, ready to fight again. Rowan exhaled hard, then spoke above the clamor. "Not all of us need nets."
He looked to Mira. She gave the smallest nod.
Rowan stepped to the surf, holding Midg's globe close. The minnow darted wildly, then flickered — and in a rush of light, vanished into him. Power flooded his veins. His chest expanded; his lungs filled not with air but with cold water, and yet he breathed it as though it were life itself. Vision sharpened. The sea sang inside him.
Beside him, Mira let Todd merge into her. Silver shimmer rippled across her skin like scales. Her eyes gleamed with a strange light. Without hesitation, she plunged into the water. A streak of silver tore through the waves as she vanished beneath.
Gasps rippled from Islanders and Thalriss alike.
Rowan dove after her, body moving with a speed no human should possess. The sea wrapped him like silk, and he saw Mira darting ahead with dolphin grace. He turned sharply, feeling Midg inside him like a pulse — guiding, pushing. He shot upward, bursting back through the surface in a spray of foam.
Rowan grinned, water running down his face. "So no," he said to the chief. "We won't drown."
The beach was stunned into silence. The Thalriss looked unsettled, the Islanders shocked.
The chief's expression hardened, but he gave the barest nod. "Then it is decided. Five of mine, five of yours. And you two."
"I'll come as well," Luna said suddenly, stepping forward. Her dark hair caught the light, her expression firm. "My light will carry in the depths."
Darin frowned. "You'll need me more above water. If you find captives, someone must pull them to safety. Lyra should stay with me. She…" He hesitated, glancing at Lyra's pale face. "…she doesn't belong in the depths."
Lyra's lips pressed thin, but she nodded. "I'll see from above what the sea won't show you below."
Rowan gave her a grateful look. Then he turned back to the crowd. "That's the balance. Thalriss and Islanders side by side, above and below. We go together."
Reluctant murmurs. Uneasy agreement.
By late afternoon, two boats were pushed to the tide. Islanders gripped oars stiffly, glaring at Thalriss who slipped into the waves alongside them. Rowan sat at the bow, the sea already humming in his veins, Midg's pulse inside him like a second heartbeat. Mira trailed her hand in the water, Todd's energy guiding her strokes.
Darin and Lyra sat in the second boat with four Islanders, their faces grim. Lyra's eyes never left the horizon.
"The sea doesn't want us today," she murmured, almost too soft to hear.
Rowan shivered. He thought of the missing prince and knew, with a certainty that chilled him, that they would not only find answers in the reefs.
They would find something worse.