The sun casts its final rays over the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of amber and blood-orange. A warm breeze stirs the palms above, their fronds whispering secrets to the tide as the waves gently lap the shore. I sit where sea meets land, half in the saltwater and half on the pale, weathered sand—neither wholly of the sea nor land anymore. And beside me, the reason my heart still beats: Syrena.

It’s been nearly a year since we fled the chaos of the Fountain, since I broke the chains and carried her away from that cursed place. I thought my soul had been saved once by faith, but it was love—her love—that truly freed me. She could not take human form, not in this life, but she gave me the sea itself. With her gift, I breathe beneath the waves and swim beside her. A man of the cloth turned child of the tide, I find grace now in the deep, not the pulpit.

She lies on the sand, her body propped up on her long, webbed arms, pearl-white hair splayed like seafoam around her. The setting sun dances on her iridescent skin and tail, making her shimmer as if spun from starlight and tide. Her glossy, pale-blue eyes—eyes that have seen depths no man can fathom—are fixed on me.

“Philip,” she says, voice like a tide pool, calm and rippling with some deeper current.

I turn to her, brushing a lock of wet hair from her cheek. “Aye, love?”

She pauses, and the world stills. The wind hushes. The waves seem to draw back as if listening.

“I’m with child,” she says.

I blink. My breath catches. With… child?

For a long moment, I can’t move. I can’t think. The words seem to drift in the air between us like sea mist, impossible to grasp, unreal. My heart stammers, not in joy, not yet—in sheer, staggering disbelief.

“With child?” I repeat, my voice hoarse, nearly lost to the hush around us. “But—how? I thought… I never imagined it possible.”

Her fingers tense in the sand. There’s fear in her eyes now, quiet and ancient, the fear of the unknown. Of crossing a boundary neither of our worlds ever meant to breach.

“I didn’t know it was either,” she says. “But it’s real, Philip. I feel it.”

I reach for her hand, stunned, and press my palm to her slick, webbed one. It’s colder than mine, trembling slightly.

“You… you carry our child?” I murmur, barely able to believe the words. “A child of man and mermaid?”

She nods slowly. Her full lips tremble before a faint, uncertain smile breaks through. “I know not what it will be, only that it is.”

I run a shaking hand through my hair, eyes scanning the sea, the sky, the gentle rise of her abdomen. I’ve seen miracles. I’ve seen curses. But never this.