Morana's POV
I couldn't stop thinking about his eyes.
Two days after escaping the palace, I was hiding in Lyria's cave, and all I could see in my mind were those storm-gray eyes staring at me. The Siren Slayer. Captain Theron Ashcroft. The man who'd invaded my father's palace, who'd hunted my people for years.
The man who'd lowered his weapon and asked me to trust him.
"You saved him." Lyria's voice cut through my thoughts. "Why did you save him?"
"I don't know." I pressed my hands against my eyes, trying to stop seeing his face. "He was about to die and I just... reacted."
"You reacted by protecting the most dangerous mer-hunter alive. Morana, do you know how crazy that sounds?"
"Yes! I know! I don't understand it either!" I dropped my hands and looked at her. "There was something about him. Something different. He didn't seem like a monster."
"Monsters never do. That's how they get you."
She was right. She had to be right. Theron Ashcroft hunted merfolk. He'd probably killed dozens. Maybe hundreds. Just because he had nice eyes and spoke softly didn't change what he was.
So why did my chest ache when I thought about never seeing him again?
A knock on the cave entrance made us both jump. Lyria grabbed a knife. "Who's there?"
"It's Marcus. Morana's father. I need to speak with her. Please."
My heart stopped. My father was here? In exile territory? If anyone saw him—if Sereia found out—
"Let him in," I said quietly.
Lyria moved the rock aside. My father swam in quickly, looking exhausted and scared. He'd aged since I'd seen him two days ago. The poison was working fast.
"Morana." He reached for me but I stepped back. His hand dropped. "Thank you for seeing me."
"What do you want? I already told Father everything at the palace—" I stopped. "Wait. You're not supposed to leave the kingdom. If Sereia finds out you're here—"
"She's already found out. She sent guards after me. I barely escaped." He glanced at the entrance nervously. "I don't have much time. The King sent me because there's more you need to know about the mission."
"I never agreed to a mission."
"Please, just listen." He pulled out a waterproof pouch and opened it. Inside were drawings—sketches of the destroyed settlements.
I wished he hadn't shown me.
The drawings showed everything. Bodies floating in poisoned water. A mother clutching her dead child. A young mer-boy, maybe six years old, frozen in his final moment of terror.
"Shell Haven," Marcus said quietly, pointing to one drawing. "This was little Coral. Remember her? She used to bring you shells when you first arrived in exile. She thought you were the prettiest mermaid she'd ever seen."
I remembered. Sweet little Coral with her gap-toothed smile and her collection of colorful shells. She'd been so kind to me when everyone else saw me as cursed.
"She died?" My voice cracked.
"Along with her whole family. Forty-seven exiles total in Shell Haven. The other settlements lost hundreds more." Marcus's eyes filled with tears. "They're killing the weakest first, Morana. The exiles, the elderly, the children. Because they know nobody will fight for them."
I turned away, my chest tight. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because I need you to understand what's at stake. This isn't about saving the kingdom that hurt you. This is about saving innocent people who never did anything wrong."
"And you think I can stop it? Me? The wolfless, powerless, exiled princess?"
"You're not powerless. You just don't know what you're capable of yet." Marcus moved closer. "The prophecy says only the exiled royal and the compass bearer can end this war. You've already met him. Captain Ashcroft."
My stomach flipped at hearing his name. "He's the enemy."
"Is he? You saved his life. Why would you do that if he was truly your enemy?"
"I made a mistake."
"Or maybe your instincts know something your mind doesn't." Marcus pulled out another scroll. "The Tidecaller Compass isn't just a navigation tool. It's an ancient artifact that can locate and destroy Morgessa's weapon. But only someone with royal mer-blood can activate it."
"Then why doesn't Father use it?"
"Because it has to be combined with mer-blood—held by a human but activated by mer-magic." Marcus looked at me intently. "You and Captain Ashcroft are the only ones who can make it work. Together."
The word "together" made my heart do something strange. "That's impossible. He hunts merfolk. I hate humans. We could never—"
"You already did. You worked together in the palace. You protected each other."
"That was survival instinct, not teamwork!"
"Was it?" Marcus's eyes were knowing. Too knowing. "Then why can't you stop thinking about him?"
I felt my face heat. "I'm not—that's not—"
"Morana." My father's voice turned gentle. "I know this is hard. I know we've given you every reason to hate us. But those children in those drawings? They're dying because of a war they didn't start. And you're the only one who can save them."
I looked at the drawings again. At little Coral's frozen face. At all the innocent dead.
"What would I have to do?" I whispered.
Relief flooded Marcus's features. "Transform into human form. Go to Stormhaven Port where Ashcroft's ship docks. Get close to him. Earn his trust. And steal the compass."
"Steal from him? You want me to betray him?"
"I want you to save thousands of lives. Whatever it takes."
My stomach churned. "How long would I have?"
"The transformation lasts three months maximum. After that, you'll revert to mer-form whether you want to or not. And Morana..." He hesitated. "The transformation is going to hurt. A lot. Your body isn't meant to have legs. With your magic sealed by the curse, it'll be even worse."
"How much worse?"
"Like dying slowly. But you'll survive it."
I wanted to refuse. Wanted to tell him to find someone else. But I kept seeing those drawings. Those dead children. Those families torn apart.
"If I do this," I said slowly, "I want something in return."
"Anything."
"When this is over, I want Sereia exposed. Publicly. I want everyone to know what she did to me. And I want her punished."
"Done. The King already agreed to that."
I took a deep breath. "When do we start?"
"Tonight. We'll do the transformation ritual at midnight. You'll leave for Stormhaven at dawn."
"That's not enough time to prepare!"
"There is no time. Every day we wait, more people die." Marcus grabbed my hands. "I know I'm asking the impossible. But you're my daughter, and I've always known you were capable of impossible things."
Tears stung my eyes. "You chose the kingdom over me three years ago."
"I know. And I've regretted it every single day since." His voice broke. "Let me help you now. Let me make it right."
I wanted to push him away. Wanted to hold onto my anger. But looking at his face—seeing how much pain he carried—I couldn't.
"Fine," I said. "But I'm doing this my way. If I think Captain Ashcroft is dangerous, I'm leaving. I won't sacrifice myself for people who threw me away."
"Fair enough." Marcus pulled me into a hug. I let him, even though part of me was still angry. "Thank you, Morana. Thank you."
After he left to prepare the ritual, Lyria turned to me with worried eyes. "Are you sure about this?"
"No. But what choice do I have?"
"You could run. Disappear. Let them fight their own war."
"And let more children die?" I shook my head. "I can't. Even if the kingdom doesn't deserve saving, the innocent people do."
"Then I'm coming with you."
"Lyria, no—"
"I can pass for human easily. I'll be your backup, your contact, your escape plan if things go wrong." She grabbed my shoulders. "You're not doing this alone. I won't let you."
I hugged her tight, grateful for the one person who'd never abandoned me.
That night, as Marcus prepared the transformation ritual, I stood at the edge of the reef and looked up at the surface. Somewhere up there was Stormhaven Port. And somewhere in that city was Captain Theron Ashcroft.
The man I was supposed to deceive. To use. To steal from.
The man whose eyes I couldn't stop seeing.
"Are you ready?" Marcus called.
No. I wasn't ready. I'd never be ready for this.
But I nodded anyway.
The ritual began. Marcus chanted in the old language while Lyria held my hand. Magic swirled around me—painful magic that felt like fire in my veins.
My tail started to split.
I screamed.
The pain was worse than anything I'd ever felt. Worse than the curse. Worse than exile. Worse than heartbreak. My bones were breaking and reforming. My scales were tearing away. My gills were closing.
I was dying. I had to be dying because nothing living could hurt this much.
Through the pain, I heard Lyria crying. Heard Marcus chanting faster. Heard myself begging for it to stop.
But it didn't stop. It went on and on until I was sure I'd go mad from the agony.
And then, finally, it was over.
I lay gasping on the ocean floor, my body trembling. Marcus and Lyria pulled me upright.
I had legs. Two human legs where my tail used to be.
"It worked," Marcus breathed. "Morana, it worked!"
I tried to speak but my voice wouldn't come. Everything hurt. Everything.
"The pain will fade in a few hours," Marcus promised. "Then you'll be able to walk, to breathe air, to pass for human. You'll be perfect."
Perfect. Right.
I looked down at my new human body and felt nothing but dread.
In the morning, I'd swim to the surface. I'd leave the ocean behind. I'd enter a world that hated my kind and try to steal from the one man who might be able to help end the war.
And if I failed?
Thousands more would die.
No pressure.
Lyria helped me to our cave where I'd rest until dawn. As I lay there, hurting and scared and alone, I made myself a promise.
I would get that compass. Whatever it took. Whoever I had to become.
Even if it meant betraying the man with the storm-gray eyes.
Even if it meant breaking my own heart in the process.
But as I finally drifted into an exhausted sleep, one thought kept echoing through my mind:
What if Captain Ashcroft wasn't the monster I needed him to be?
What if he was something far more dangerous?
What if he was good?