Brittany Coast, 1892.

The sea whispered promises between the waves, and Malik Kouadio heard every one of them as he pulled in the net, his calloused hands burning with salt and effort. The dawn was gray, the sky hung low, and the scent of the ocean filled his lungs like an ancient hymn. He had been fishing since he was a boy, knew the moods of the waters better than those of people. But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for her.

The mermaid.

The first time he saw her, he thought he was losing his mind. A woman with pearlescent skin and hair dark as the depths, her large silver eyes reflecting the moon. She emerged from the waves like a secret, and when she sang, the world became too small to contain what he felt.

At first, he ran. Pretended he hadn’t seen her. Pretended he didn’t dream of her every night.

But the truth was, he was lost.

One night, sitting at the edge of his boat, staring at the distorted reflection of the stars in the water, he murmured to himself:

"The sea has always called to me... but I never knew it had a name."

The water stirred, and she appeared, silent, her eyes sad.

"And what if the sea cannot give you what you seek?"

He smiled, bitterly.

"Then I am doomed to cast my nets forever, knowing that the one thing I want will never be mine."

The wind blew cold, and for a moment, only the sound of the waves replied.