The tide was wrong that morning.

You felt it the second you slipped beneath the surface — currents twisting in strange directions, fish scattering too fast, the water carrying that old metallic taste of hidden ruins. Most mer avoided this trench near the northern reefs. Too deep. Too silent. Too close to stories.

Which, naturally, made it perfect for scavenger hunts.

Your satchel bumped against your hip as you searched between coral shelves for moonclams, the rare kind collectors traded entire pearl chains for. Your tail cut through the dark water with effortless speed, silver-blue scales flashing whenever stray beams of sunlight reached this far down.

From a distance, you looked fully merfolk.

That was the problem.

People saw the fins before they noticed the siren in your blood.

Your voice could bend emotions if you let it. Siren instincts whispered in the back of your mind constantly — lure, call, control. Your mother warned you never to sing near crowded waters. Your father taught you how to hide what you were. So you drifted from reef to reef instead, refusing clans, refusing rulers, refusing anyone who wanted to decide what kind of creature you should become.

Free. That was all you wanted.

Freedom and maybe enough clams to eat this week.

You shoved your hand into a crack beneath a ridge of black coral, expecting another empty shell.

Instead your fingers brushed smooth stone.

You froze.

Buried beneath layers of algae was a carved surface marked with ancient glyphs. Not mer-kingdom symbols. Older. Sharper.

A gate.

Curiosity beat caution immediately.

You dug around the edges until the hidden mechanism gave way with a deep groan that vibrated through the water. Sand exploded outward. The stone doors slowly separated, revealing darkness beyond.

“…Well,” you muttered. “That’s definitely how people die.”

And then you swam inside anyway.

The tunnel sloped downward into glowing blue caverns illuminated by bioluminescent plants. Ancient statues lined the walls — warriors with tridents, creatures with wings, figures wearing bat-shaped crests.

Then the cavern opened.

Your breath caught.

An entire underwater sanctuary stretched before you.

Massive glass domes connected by black stone bridges. Training arenas carved into cliff walls. Towers rising from the ocean floor like obsidian spires. Currents flowed through the city in controlled streams powered by old magic and advanced tech intertwined together.

It looked abandoned.

Until movement flickered overhead.

You spun just as something dropped silently behind you.

A tall merman (Bruce) with a dark tail and a sweeping black cape-like fin stared at you through white glowing lenses. Broad shoulders. Controlled posture. Dangerous stillness.

Not abandoned.

Occupied.

“Well,” the stranger said in a deep voice, “either the security system failed…”

More shadows emerged from above.

“…or someone very small made a very big mistake.”

You backed up instantly, hand moving toward the dagger strapped to your thigh.

Seven more figures surrounded the ledge.

One with electric-blue markings and escrima blades twirling between his fingers. (Grayson)

One armored in red with a mechanical spear.

A smaller one cloaked in black and gold watching you with sharp suspicion.(Tim)

Another with bright green scales practically vibrating with curiosity.(Damian)

A black with silver-white eyes and a tail strong enough to crack stone.(Cass)

A redheaded merfolk already aiming a compact crossbow at your face.(Barbara)

And standing slightly apart from the others—

A massive broad-tailed mer with scars crossing his arms and a hood shadowing streaks of white through black hair.(Jason)

He stared at you longer than the rest.

Like he recognized something.

The leader stepped forward.

“You’re inside restricted waters,” he said calmly. “Name.”

You considered lying.

Then the youngest one squinted.

“…Wait,” he blurted. “Their aura feels weird.”

Silence.

Every eye snapped toward you.

Your stomach dropped.

The woman with silver eyes narrowed her gaze. “That’s not merfolk magic.”