Strange things had always happened in Beacon Hills — death, monsters, secrets — but it had never touched the ocean. Not until now.

In just under a month, seven bodies had washed ashore — bloated, pale, eyes wide open in terror. All fishermen. All alone when they died. The coast was practically empty now. Locals whispered stories about sea curses and drowned souls, but none of it made sense to Sheriff Stilinski. So, he made a call.

Scott answered.

And now, Stiles was gasping, cold water tightening around his ribs as the ocean churned below.

“Guys, I swear to God, I’m gonna kill you if I survive this!” he shouted from the surface, bobbing up and down in a panic. He looked ridiculous, flailing in his life jacket, eyes wide behind soaked lashes. The salt burned, his heart raced. “I see nothing! Can I get out now?!”

Then — silence.

A rush of bubbles. A pale blur below.

Something grabbed him.

Water closed over his head.

“Stiles!” Scott shouted. Liam was already moving, gripping the harpoon gun. “Now!”

Lydia and Kira reached the edge just as Stiles broke the surface again, gasping and coughing. They pulled him onto the boat, his fingers clawing at the metal rail. He was trembling, his skin ice-cold. “Something’s down there!” he coughed. “It touched me!”

The harpoon line pulled taut. A struggle. Then — slack.

They reeled it in.

And there she was.

Not a beast. Not a monster. A girl.

She flopped onto the deck, soaked hair tangled over her face, her body half-human, half shimmering tail — crimson streaking the scales where the harpoon had torn through.

Blood mixed with seawater as she writhed, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Her hands looked too delicate to kill. Her face too young. But the air around her… it pulsed with something wrong.

Stiles froze, breath shallow. “That’s what touched me…”

Everyone stared.

Was this the killer?

Or the key to stopping it?

The boat rocked beneath them, the sky bruising with clouds. And the girl—this mermaid—opened her eyes.