The room didn't feel like a throne room.
That was the first thing I noticed.
No raised seat. No banners. No symbols carved to glorify a single name. Instead, the space curved inward, tier after tier of smooth stone forming a natural amphitheater. The walls shimmered faintly, not glowing exactly—more like they remembered light.
This wasn't a place where orders were given.
It was a place where voices were meant to be heard.
They came slowly at first.
From side tunnels. From currents I hadn't noticed before. From the darker edges of the chamber, where the water folded into shadow. Mermaids—dozens, then more—arriving not in formation, not with weapons drawn, but cautiously. Curiously.
Ordinary mermaids.
Healers with worn satchels. Scouts with scars along their arms. Elders whose tails moved stiffly with age. None of them wore the king's marks. None of them carried the shine of Elowen's spell.
They looked at me.
Not like subjects.
Like listeners.
My chest tightened. "Why are they—"
"They felt it," Isadora said quietly beside me. "The horn."
A murmur spread through the chamber as more arrived, filling the tiers. No one spoke loudly. They simply gathered, eyes drawn to the place where the shell had sounded.
To me.
One of them stepped forward—an elder, ancient in a way that felt earned. His hair drifted white around his face, his eyes sharp and steady, like he'd seen kingdoms rise and rot.
"The sea has been silent for a long time," he said.
His voice carried without effort.
"We came because it spoke again."
The room stilled.
"You are not crowned," he continued, looking directly at me. "You do not command us. But the shell does not answer lies. It does not answer hunger for power."
My throat felt dry.
"It answered you."
A ripple of agreement moved through the crowd.
I swallowed. "I didn't mean to call anyone."
"That," the elder said gently, "is why it worked."
"You are meant to rule us," He declared.
I felt every eye on me now. Not pressure. Not expectation.
Trust.
Then the elder's gaze sharpened.
He stepped closer, slowly, studying me—not my face, but the way the water curved around my shoulders, the faint glow that hadn't fully faded from my skin.
His breath caught.
"No," he whispered.
The word echoed louder than any shout.
"You are not only merfolk."
Isadora went rigid beside me.
Nova frowned.
The elder straightened, voice trembling—not with fear, but recognition.
"Aurelith," he said.
The room reacted instantly. Gasps. Whispers. A name that had not been spoken aloud in generations.
My heart slammed. How did he know?
Before anyone could respond—
The water split.
A figure surged forward from behind the elder, movement sharp and wrong, carrying the cold weight of the king's authority.
There was no warning.
No speech.
Just a flash of steel.
The elder fell.
The sound his body made as it struck the stone floor was soft. Final.
Silence crashed down like a wave.
The intruder turned slowly, unbothered, eyes sweeping the chamber.
"I bring a message," he said calmly. Too calm for someone who just killed an elderly merman.
From the king.
His voice carried venom wrapped in confidence.
"I do not know how you gathered here," he said. "I do not care."
His gaze landed on Isadora. "You were banished."
On Nova. "You were condemned."
On me. On Xylan. "You do not belong."
A cold smile.
"There will be no place for you in this kingdom. Not now. Not ever."
He straightened.
"I rule with those who remain loyal."
Then he said the name.
"Elowen Lowe."
The world tilted.
Xylan's breath caught beside me. I felt it—felt the exact second it clicked.
Lowe.
My stomach dropped.
The messenger stepped aside.
And Seraphina emerged.
Calm. Unshaken. Eyes steady.
She finished the message herself.
"My mother never lost control of the kingdom," she said evenly. "She only stepped back."
Her gaze locked onto mine.
"You rang a relic meant for legends," she continued. "But legends don't get to return."
The room filled with movement—mermaids retreating, currents tightening, fear snapping through the chamber like a live wire.
I stood frozen.
Not because I didn't understand.
But because I understood too much at once.
Seraphina wasn't just a spy.
She was Elowen's daughter.
And the sea had just declared a side.
From somewhere deep within the tunnels, more footsteps rushed closer.
The gathering hall—once a place of listening—had become a target.
And I knew, with terrifying clarity—
This was no longer a secret.