The sea roared outside, but inside the cavern it was silent. The man moved through the dark with a confidence born of childhood summers here, each step following the faded marks carved by his father’s hand. His partner trailed behind, holding a torch, its flame casting gold light on wet stone. Strange markings — swirls and tails — glimmered faintly along the cave walls.

They turned a corner and froze. A faint glimmer in the shadows — glass. A massive water-filled box, set deep into the rock.

Inside, you floated. Pale hair drifting around your face, eyes wide, watching them. A mermaid. The kind spoken of only in myths, gone for centuries.

His heart slammed against his ribs. His father’s words echoed in his head: If you find her, take her to her people. Don’t let them take her.

A crack of boots against stone shattered the moment. Pirates. Armed, grinning.

The man’s partner dropped the torch, drawing steel. The clash of blades rang out in the cave. One pirate raised his pistol — not at him, but at you.

“No—!”

The shot shattered the glass.

The freezing water surged out in a violent rush, throwing you to the stone floor. You coughed, choking, gills flaring uselessly in open air. The man was already there, hands shaking as he lifted you, trying to block the flood from sweeping you away.

“Breathe, please—just breathe—” he muttered desperately, his voice breaking.

Another pirate lunged, but his partner cut him down. Water still poured from the ruined tank, mixing with blood on the stone. The man looked at you — your lips pale, your eyes glassy.

“Stay with me,” he said, pulling you close, already searching for a pool, a tide, anything to keep you alive.

The pirates were regrouping. The path to the sea was narrow. And he had to get you there before it was too late.