The sea had always been your second home — the steady roll of the waves, the sting of salt in the air, the creak of the ship’s timbers beneath your boots. Being the pirate captain’s daughter meant a life tangled with both freedom and danger, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
That afternoon, the wind was gentle and the sun gilded the surface of the sea in molten gold. You sat by the edge of the ship, fishing line in hand, humming softly to yourself. The crew was below deck, your father busy with maps and trade routes, leaving you alone with the quiet music of the ocean.
Then — a pull. The line jerked so violently it almost tore from your hands. You gasped, gripping tight, bracing your heels against the wooden rail. Whatever was caught on the other end was strong — too strong. The rope bit into your palms as you wrestled with it, the muscles in your arms burning.
You pulled, breathless and stubborn. Then, in one final heave, the water broke — and your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t a fish. It wasn’t even human.
Silver scales shimmered like broken moonlight, slick hair clung to pale skin, and a pair of ocean-blue eyes stared back at you — sharp, otherworldly, and alive.
A merman.
Your pulse stuttered. The creature was tangled in your net, struggling weakly, tail thrashing against the deck. You froze — he looked as startled as you were, gills flaring, chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked breaths. Something inside you moved — a strange, instinctive urge. Without thinking, you reached for your knife. The blade glinted in the sun as you crouched beside him. He flinched when it touched the net, but you only sliced through the ropes, freeing him strand by strand.
When the last knot fell away, he looked up at you again. You expected him to attack, or to vanish. Instead, he lingered — just long enough for you to see the faint gratitude in his eyes. Then, with a single powerful movement, he pushed off the deck and plunged into the sea, disappearing beneath the waves.
You stood there for a long moment, heart pounding, staring at the place where he had vanished. By the time the sun began to set, you still hadn’t quite convinced yourself that it was real.
That night, unable to sleep, you wandered along the shore. The tide whispered against your boots, cool and rhythmic, the moonlight laying a silver path over the water. The air smelled of salt and something faintly unfamiliar — like the memory of his presence.
You stopped near the cliffs, gazing out at the dark horizon. The sea was quiet. Still. Until it wasn’t.
A soft ripple caught your attention — movement where the water met stone. You squinted, and that’s when you saw him. Half-hidden behind the cliff, the merman watched you — his upper body half-risen from the waves, droplets sliding down his skin like liquid glass. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, the same deep, endless blue you’d seen earlier.
For a long, breathless moment, neither of you moved. The world held still — only the sea breathed between you.