Chapter 12
As if conjured out of nothing, a sudden storm erupts, even more violent than the one from yesterday, tossing the ship back and forth between massive waves. Thunder roars like a feral beast, and lightning strikes so quickly and with such force that it appears supernatural.
The storm creates a strobe effect, flashing intermittently between blinding light and oppressive darkness. In one brief flash of light, I can just make out the gaping hole where my cabin door used to be. Splintered wood and twisted metal frame the entrance like jagged teeth.
Stan is nowhere in sight, but I can hear the sounds of shouting coming from the hall, mingling with the howl of the wind and the crash of the sea.
I tumble from my bed, struggling to find my feet. My body feels sluggish, weighed down by fear and exhaustion. I reach for the bedpost, but another bolt of lightning strikes nearby, and the porthole behind me explodes inward, shattering glass across the room.
I lift an arm to ward off the flying shards, hissing when a few pieces embed themselves in my skin. Blood runs down my arm, warm and sticky, mingling with the saltwater spray that fills the air.
The boat suddenly dips, and the floor beneath me is gone, sending me into a momentary freefall. The sensation is disorienting, my stomach lurching as I’m flung across the room. I hit the wall with a bone-jarring thud, cracking my head against the paneling before sliding to the floor. Pain blooms in my skull, sharp and pulsing, as the world tilts and spins.
I try to push myself up, but the ship pitches violently, and I’m thrown back down. The roar of the storm is deafening, the thunder so loud it feels like the sky is tearing apart at the seams. The lights flicker, casting eerie shadows that dance and writhe across the devastation that used to be my cabin. My vision blurs, and I know I’m losing the battle to stay conscious.
As I begin to fade, I see a tall shadow move into the doorway. Humanoid and lumbering, it takes labored, slow steps toward me. Lightning flashes again, illuminating the figure in stark relief. Lumpy, deformed ridges run down its dark legs. I blink, realization hitting me like a punch to the gut—not ridges, but scales, shedding steadily from newly formed legs with every painful step.
He muscles through what must be immense pain to make his way across the furniture-strewn floor, his movements slow and deliberate. The storm rages around us, the wind howling through the broken porthole, sending papers and debris swirling in the air.
A final crack of lightning lights his face, and I see the familiar, otherworldly features of the merman. His eyes, deep and dark, lock onto mine with a mixture of pain and determination.
“It…it’s you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. His eyes hold mine for a moment, filled with an intensity that transcends the chaos around us. The boat rocks violently, and I feel my grip on consciousness slipping away.
He kneels in front of me, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step takes immense effort. His hand, tipped with receding webs and claws, reaches out for me. His touch is cold, a stark contrast to the inferno blazing inside of me.
Who are you? I want so desperately to ask, but my lips don’t move. What do you want from me?
I try to stay awake, to hold onto this moment, but the darkness is relentless, pulling me under. Just before I succumb to unconsciousness, I see him lean closer, his lips moving as if to speak. The storm rages on, the ship creaking and groaning under the assault of the waves. My last thought is of him, the merman who is somehow a merman no more.
And then, there is nothing but darkness.
***
In the oppressive blackness, time loses all meaning. Minutes, hours, days—it’s all a blur. I float in a void, my mind teetering on the edge of awareness. Flashes of light and snippets of sound pierce the darkness, fragments of the storm and the ship’s distress seeping into my consciousness. Echoes of thunder and the howl of the wind mix with the creaking of the ship, creating a disorienting symphony that heightens my sense of isolation.
When I finally begin to wake, it’s to the rhythmic rocking of the ship and the distant, muffled sounds of activity. My head throbs, a dull, persistent ache that pulses in time with my heartbeat. I’m lying on something hard and cold, my limbs heavy and unresponsive. The dampness of the floor seeps into my skin, chilling me to the bone.
I force my eyes open, blinking against the dim light. The room is in shambles, the aftermath of the storm evident in the debris scattered everywhere. The air smells of salt and something else—something musky and unfamiliar. I turn my head slowly, every movement sending a jolt of pain through my skull. Shattered glass, overturned furniture, and damp papers create a chaotic tableau around me.
The merman is still there, sitting beside me. His transformation is astonishing—his legs, though still shedding scales, are fully formed, his thick, muscular tail replaced by smooth, equally sculpted thighs. He looks up as I stir, his obsidian eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and irritation. The flickering emergency light casts an eerie glow over his features, highlighting the otherworldly nature of his transformation.
“You…you saved me,” I croak, my voice raspy and weak. The effort of speaking sends a ripple of pain through my throat, and I wince.
He frowns, “Pho…ebe.”
The unexpected sound of my name on his lips turns my mind to static. His voice is deep, resonant, and carries an unfamiliar accent that sends a shiver down my spine.
As I lie there, I piece together the fragments of memory. The storm, Stan’s intrusion, the merman’s transformation—each detail hitting me harder and harder. The realization hits me with startling clarity: this creature, this man, has crossed unimaginable boundaries to reach me.
Why? All at once, I recall the final question on my mind before passing out—what does he want from me?
A cold, electric fear shocks its way through my nervous system. In this moment when nothing makes sense, I stop thinking and simply react. The instinct to survive, to escape, overrides everything else.
So I run.
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