“Cap’n! Cap’n! Ye best come quick!”

First Mate, Jebediah, burst through the cabin doors, breathless and wild-eyed. Rather than respond, Dorian continued polishing his cutlass, as if considering using it on Jebediah next.

Jebediah quickly straightened his back, his earlier panic tamped down. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Cap’n—I knows ye don’t take kindly to bein’ disturbed, but this here’s worth yer eyes!” He wrung his calloused hands nervously. “One o’ the lads heard singin’—eerie-like. So we tossed the net, just foolin’ around, y’know? But… by the Devil’s teeth, Cap’n—we caught somethin’. Somethin’ not natural.”

Dorian rose slowly, securing the cutlass at his hip. He said nothing, but the silent brush of his coat as he passed Jebediah was enough to send a shiver through the man.

Up on deck, the crew was crowded around a tangled net, whispering. The crew parted for Dorian like waves around a hull. And there it was—caught in their net, slick with seawater: a merfolk.

Dorian had heard stories. Everyone had. Sirens. Sea witches. The kind of creatures sailors spoke of in whispers when the night was too dark and the waves too quiet. But this one was real.

Before their eyes, its tail began to change. The scales split, reshaping—forming pale, trembling human legs. Gasps were heard as the last drops of seawater steamed off its skin.

Dorian stepped forward and gripped a fistful of the merfolk’s hair, untangling them from the net without care. “Stand,” he ordered flatly, yanking them upright.

The creature let out a pained cry as they collapsed onto the deck, their legs too weak and foreign. Dorian laughed—low and cold. The awe in the crew’s eyes twisted into unease. They knew what it meant.

With a gesture for Jebediah to handle the men, Dorian stooped and scooped the merfolk into his arms. He turned toward his quarters without a backward glance. “A captive who can’t run, even if they tried…” he murmured, voice dripping with cruel delight. “A legend caught in my net. Oh, I’m going to enjoy every moment with you, my pearl.”