Morning did not come gently. The cove remained shrouded in thick clouds, and the sky held the bruised colors of a storm that hadn't yet passed. Kael woke to the warmth of Lyra's body beside him, half-buried in the damp sand and tangled seaweed. For a moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath with them.
But the stillness didn't last.
Kael blinked up at the pale sky, the glow of dawn fractured behind cloud cover. His body ached—not from discomfort, but from something deeper. He could still feel the shape of her against him, the echo of her voice in his mouth. But more than that, he felt something pulsing at the base of his spine.
Power.
And memory.
He sat up slowly, trying not to wake her. But Lyra stirred anyway, lashes fluttering before her ocean eyes opened. She didn't speak right away. Neither did he.
Everything had changed.
Her fingers reached up to brush against the golden mark pulsing faintly on his chest.
"It stayed," she whispered.
Kael nodded, his voice rough. "I feel him. Still. But I'm not him. I'm still me."
Lyra's eyes closed for a beat. "You were never just Kael."
"And you were never just a curse."
Their gazes locked. But whatever intimacy had flowered in the dark had now curled under the cold light of morning.
Lyra sat up, her hair sticking to her shoulders and neck. The breeze had picked up, pushing the mist inland, and with it came a scent Kael didn't like.
Brine.
Rot.
"Something's coming," she said quietly, eyes narrowing toward the horizon.
The village bell rang once—then twice, low and slow.
Warning.
By the time Kael and Lyra reached the tree line overlooking the cliffs, the fog had thickened again, roiling and unnatural. Lyra clutched the edge of a tree, her knuckles white.
"It's too soon," she murmured. "They shouldn't have awakened yet."
Kael frowned. "Who?"
But she didn't answer. She was already sprinting down the slope.
The villagers had gathered in tight clusters near the water. Miri stood among them, her bright eyes watching the waves with eerie calm. Elli wasn't there.
Kael pushed through the crowd. "What's going on?"
Miri turned her head slowly, too slowly. "You should go back. It isn't safe here now."
"What do you mean? What's out there?"
She smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "The ones who remember."
Before Kael could question her, a sound split the air—a keening, high and sorrowful, like something ancient calling for blood. Lyra stiffened beside him.
Out in the sea, silhouettes began to emerge.
Not boats.
Not fish.
Shapes that moved with grace but shimmered with power. Tails of obsidian and silver. Eyes like tidepools, black and deep.
Merfolk.
But not like Lyra. Not soft. Not conflicted. These were the old ones, the sea-guardians, the curse-bringers.
Thalen was among them.
Lyra swore. "They know. They felt the bond."
"What bond?" Kael asked, heart pounding.
"You took me," she said, voice flat. "Fully. The sea recognizes us now."
Kael stepped in front of her. "What does that mean?"
"It means they'll try to take you back. Or destroy you."
The next hour passed in chaos. The villagers were ushered inland by Elli—who had finally appeared, flanked by two older women Kael didn't recognize. They wore beads around their throats, shells and teeth threaded into their braids.
Priestesses.
Lyra and Kael remained behind. She refused to hide. He refused to leave her.
"They'll speak first," she said, standing at the edge of the rocks. "But only once. If we don't answer correctly—"
"Then what?"
"Then they take us both under."
The first of them approached at dusk.
Vaelen.
But this time, his presence wasn't silent or protective. His power was on full display, scales gleaming like armor, eyes lit with blue fire.
"You have no right," he said, voice echoing. "You were meant to fade, Lyra. Not bond."
Lyra stepped forward. "He chose me. He remembers."
Vaelen snarled. "So did Aeren. And we all saw how that ended."
Kael moved beside her. "I'm not him. And I'm not afraid of you."
Vaelen's expression shifted slightly. Not respect. But... calculation.
"Then let the sea test you."
Lyra froze. "No. That's—"
"Tradition," Vaelen said. "Trial by tide."
Kael looked between them. "What is that?"
"A fight," Lyra said tightly. "But not just of strength. Of memory. Of will. The sea shows you what you fear."
"Then let it."
Vaelen's grin was sharp. "So be it."
The sea opened beneath Kael's feet.
He fell.
Not into water, not into darkness, but into himself. Into Aeren.
He saw Lyra—singing on a rock, her eyes softer, her hair longer. He saw the way he once loved her—openly, foolishly. He saw his betrayal. The moment he had chosen land over her. The war that followed.
Kael cried out, but the memory dragged him deeper.
He saw his father's crown. Blood. Fire. The moment he left his kingdom. The loneliness. The guilt.
Then—Lyra again. But now. The way she touched him. The way she whispered his name.
Aeren.
No.
"I am Kael."
He stood inside the storm, inside the memory, and broke it.
Light exploded.
He surfaced, gasping, arms trembling.
The sea was calm again.
Vaelen hovered above the tide, watching him in silence.
Then, slowly, he dipped his head.
Respect.
Acknowledgment.
"You are not Aeren. But you carry his weight well."
Kael looked to Lyra. She was crying.
He stepped to her and took her hand. "No more tests. No more running. We write our own ending now."
And for the first time, the sea didn't protest.