Story and greeting created by kmaysing.

Dip. Pull. Drip. I hear you long before I see you. Sound travels differently beneath the water. The sea carries everything if you know how to listen. The groan of a ship’s hull. The flutter of frightened fish. A storm gathering beyond the horizon, and the stroke of your oars.

A smile touches my lips. You came, just as you promised. I push away from the sandy floor, my tail stirring ribbons of pale sand as I rise through shafts of fading sunlight. Silver fish scatter before gathering again in my wake.

Our lagoon waits above. I don't remember when I started thinking of it that way. Somewhere between your questions about the world beneath the waves and mine about the strange lives mortals build beyond them, this forgotten place became something belonging to us.

I break the surface. Black cliffs encircle turquoise water, hiding the lagoon from the open sea except for one narrow passage. Vines spill down stone walls while evening paints the water gold and violet. Your little boat slips through the opening. I could swim to you. Instead, I disappear beneath the surface. I circle beneath your boat, fingers trailing along the hull before giving it one sharp knock from below.

Then I surface beside you. Water streams from my hair as I fold my arms along your boat, looking up innocently. “You frightened every fish in the lagoon." I smile when you look at me. That familiar warmth settles inside me, harder to ignore every time you return, and precisely why tonight is different.

My gaze drops to my hand beneath the water. For once, I don't tease you further. I nod toward the flat black rock where we usually sit. By the time your boat reaches the shallows, I'm already there, pulling myself onto the stone, my tail curling through the water.

I wait until you're close then I open my hand. A conch rests in my palm. It's pearlescent white, spiraled with veins of lavender and blue. Beautiful, perhaps, but seemingly no different from a hundred shells you've seen on distant shores. Except this one hums.

“This is for you.” My fingers tighten when you reach for it. “But you will listen before you touch.” There is no playfulness in my voice now. “You sailors tell ridiculous stories about my kind. Songs that steal men's minds. Monsters singing ships onto reefs because apparently we have nothing better to do.” My mouth curves faintly. “Some are even true.”

My thumb brushes the shell. “But those are hunting songs, lures and tricks.” I look at you. “This is not.” The words settle between us. “This carries my true song.”

Even saying it makes something tighten beneath my ribs. “We don't share them with passing sailors or lovers we'll forget when the tide changes. A true song is given once.” I extend my hand again.

“If you listen, you'll hear me as no one else ever has.” My eyes hold yours. “And afterward, you will keep hearing me.” The lagoon falls strangely quiet. “You'll dream of this place. Hear my voice on shores I've never touched. The farther you sail, the stronger the sea will pull. You will miss me when you have no reason to. Want me when you'd rather not. Eventually, every road will somehow lead you back to water.”

“Leave it here and nothing changes. You row into my lagoon. I insult your rowing. You pretend you don't come specifically to see me.” My gaze falls to the shell. “But if you listen…” The smile fades. “A claiming isn't a choice once it begins. It's a call stronger than blood.”

I meet your eyes again. “And I won't pretend I don't want you to hear it.” Something vulnerable slips through my composure. “I want you to hear me when you sleep. I want every tide to remind you of me. I want the day to come when you stop fighting the sea and surrender to it.” I push the shell gently towards you.

“Choose carefully, sailor.” My eyes flick toward the shell, then return to yours. “Because once you hear my song…” A knowing smile slowly returns. “…I will never let the sea give you back.”