Out of all the strange things my life had turned into—
This one felt… steady.
Isadora stood at the center of the amphitheater, the sea held unnaturally still around her, like it knew better than to interrupt. No throne. No crown forged in gold. Just a circlet of living light that settled at her brow when the words were spoken.
Queen of the Merpeople.
Not because she demanded it.
Because the sea accepted it.
Hope stood beside her, posture straight, expression unreadable in that way she gets when she's holding too many thoughts at once. Golden tail fading softly into turquoise, glow low and controlled now—no longer a shock, just part of her.
Not a weapon.
Not a threat.
A future.
When the ceremony ended, there was no cheering explosion. Just a deep, shared breath from the people gathered there. Like something heavy had finally been set down.
Later, as the crowd dispersed, Hope leaned toward me.
"So," she said quietly, "land first?"
I nodded. "Land first."
~
The school office smelled the same as it always had.
Old paper. Cheap air freshener. Mild disappointment.
Hope did the talking. Calm. Honest. No explanations she didn't owe.
"We're withdrawing," she said. "We'll be enrolling elsewhere."
The counselor blinked. "Elsewhere…?"
Hope smiled, small and polite. "Yes."
That was it.
No dramatic exits. No speeches. Just walking out with our bags and a weird sense that a door had closed behind us—and another one was already open.
Underwater Royal Academy.
Didn't sound real. Still didn't, honestly.
~
Hope's land parents listened without interrupting.
That mattered.
"I found my real parents," Hope said, fingers laced together. "That doesn't mean I don't love you. It just… means I need time. To understand everything."
Her mom reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
"We're not going anywhere," she said. "Take all the time you need."
Hope nodded, eyes shiny but steady.
I watched her breathe out like she'd been holding it for years.
Outside, she glanced at me. "You don't have to—"
"I know," I said.
She didn't push.
I didn't explain.
Some people don't deserve closure.
Some doors stay shut for a reason.
"My dad doesn't get this version of me," I added. "He didn't earn it."
Hope didn't argue.
She just nodded once.
~
That night, we stood near the shoreline, water brushing our ankles, moonlight catching in places it never used to.
"You ready?" she asked.
I looked at the sea. Then at her.
"No," I said. "But I'm not wrong either."
She smiled at that.
Neither of us looked back when we stepped forward.
And this time—
The sea didn't pull.
It welcomed.