Dylan's eyes flickered open. Shapes blurred. Heat pressed against his skin, voices slicing through the haze. Pain flared in his side with every breath. Strong hands gripped him, steadying, urgent.
Lights wavered. He tried to speak, but only ragged gasps emerged, the metallic taste in his mouth grounding him between consciousness and oblivion.
~~~
A few days following the incident, Dylan tightened the strap of his tomahawk. His determination was certain—he was going out again. The method of scavenging seemed like a lifeline, something to keep him anchored in the madness of their world.
Lucas intercepted him at the door. "You're not going out there alone," he said. His tone carried the weight of authority, but it was softened by concern. "Not after what happened last time. Take someone with you."
Dylan halted, swiveling about to face Lucas. "Don't need a babysitter," he growled, his tone harsh. "I'm quicker on my own. Less noise, less fuss."
Lucas exhaled, massaging the back of his neck. "Dylan, look. You nearly didn't get back at all. Just… consider this. This isn't for holding you back. This is for keeping you alive'".
Dylan didn't falter; his face hardened. Once his mind was made up, nothing could stop him. "Fine. Just… take care, alright?" Lucas finally surrendered.
Dylan grunted and opened the metal door, stepping into the morning light. The air was heavy, but he pressed on, boots crunching gravel along the trail. Not toward the city this time, something drew him to the dock, though he couldn't say why.
At the dock's edge, he laid his tomahawk down carefully. Crouching, he ran his fingers over the weathered wood, there was no hint of her, no indication that she even exist. Nonetheless, he stayed, his gaze scanning the rippling water for answers that would not materialize.
Hours passed as Dylan sat on the dock's edge. For anyone else, the uncertainty would have driven them mad—but not him. His usual restlessness softened into a stubborn resolve. He had to know if she was real or just a trick of his exhausted mind.
At last, just when he was about to admit defeat and resume scavenging, the water broke. A ripple, a shift—and there she was. Her head surfaced, eyes locking onto his with a piercing insistence.
Instinct kicked in. Dylan's hand shot to his tomahawk as he struggled to his feet. She didn't flee. Her calm curiosity was gone, replaced by something raw, burning. Her eyes darkened, lips pressed into a thin line. He felt the shift in the air: I saved you, and this is how you repay me?
Dylan slowed, her glare making him hesitate. He wasn't certain if it was guilt, doubt, or something else, but he felt the weight of her eyes. Yet she didn't lunge or retreat—she simply floated, hurt and angry.
His chest rose and fell in slow, heavy beats as he stayed rigid on the dock. Finally, with a deep sigh, he bent his knees and set the tomahawk down. Every movement was cautious, as if any sudden motion might anger her.
His eyes never left hers as he straightened and raised his hands in a silent gesture of surrender, a fragile offering of trust.
The woman tilted her head, studying him. Then, to his astonishment, her lips lifted into a faint smile. Gentle, almost playful, it caught him off guard.
His muscles tensed under the strange pull of the moment. Her smile didn't erase the tension; it redirected it. His hands stayed raised, heart thudding.
Her face remained calm, yet her keen eyes tracked every subtle motion, probing the man who had aimed a weapon at her just seconds ago.
Slowly, she gauged him, dipping beneath the surface before surging toward the dock. Her hands scrabbled for purchase, water cascading from her shimmering shoulders.
Dylan's breath hitched. She fought the slick wood, slipping and straining—and that's when he saw it. Her lower body wasn't human. A slender, dark green tail glinted just below the surface, scales catching the sunlight like living jewels.
His head spun. Fatigue or not, he couldn't look away.
She persisted, frustration mounting with each failed attempt to hoist herself onto the dock. Dylan remained frozen, muscles taut, mind reeling, caught between awe and disbelief. Then, as if breaking from a trance, he took a slow step forward.
The woman's head jerked up, eyes narrowing in alarm. Her grip on the dock tightened, a mix of caution and curiosity in her gaze. Dylan froze, hands raised slightly to show he meant no harm. His movements were slow, measured, he wasn't a threat. Still, she remained tense, ready to pull back at the first sign.
Neither moved for a long beat. His gut told him to stay still, let her decide the next move. Whatever she was, he wouldn't drive her away.
"Just…Just wanna help," he said finally, low and raspy, breaking the silence. The words sounded strange even to him.
Her head tilted, eyes softening ever so slightly. Then, slowly, she reached out.
Dylan's shoulders tensed, breath caught. Step by step, he edged closer, stretching out his hand. Cool, smooth, her skin sent a shiver through him—a reminder of how surreal this moment was.
Their fingers met, and Dylan shifted his weight, giving her the leverage to pull herself up. Together they worked, the dock groaning under their weight. At last, she collapsed slightly against it, gasping for air.
Her tail hung above the water, shimmering with every slight movement. Dylan stepped back, heart hammering, staring at her—not a shape half-concealed in the waves, but someone… something… unmistakably alive.
The woman's eyes met his again, no longer cautious but contemplative, as if reassessing him.
Dylan stayed a few paces back, face unreadable, thoughts racing to catch up. He couldn't decide if she was dangerous—or just as lost in this world as he was.
He cleared his throat, the grating sound breaking the silence. "So… uh… what are ya?" He cringed at how ridiculous it sounded.
Her lips twitched into a faint smile, mocking his awkward attempt. Dylan shook his head. "Yeah… sorry. Stupid question," he muttered, voice harsher now. His gaze flicked to her tail, then back. "You ain't no shrieker, that's for sure. But… I dunno… why the hell'd you save me?"
"I didn't figure I'd need a reason," she said, each word deliberate, smooth, measured. Her voice held a gentle authority that made him pause.
Her eyes stayed on his, lips curling into a subtle smile. "Celestia Yve."
Dylan blinked, throat dry. "Dylan… Dylan Pierce," he said, rough and unsteady.
Yve leaned slightly forward, her smile widening. "Dylan," she repeated, tasting the name.
He sank slowly onto the dock, keeping a cautious distance, flinching slightly as his side tugged at the still-healing wound. His hands drummed against his knees, unsure where else to rest them. The tension lingered but no longer felt suffocating.
"So…" he started, voice faltering. "Y-you, uh…" He clenched his jaw, annoyed at his own stumble. "…you got a tail."
A soft laugh escaped her, head cocked in amusement. "I do."
Dylan's ears burned. "Didn't mean it like that," he muttered, running a hand over the back of his neck. "It's just… I ain't never seen nothin' like you before."
Yve's smile softened, her amusement giving way to something gentler. She watched him struggle through his words, the contrast to his tough exterior strangely endearing.
Dylan shifted. The silence pressed in. He cleared his throat, grating against it. "So… uh… back there… in the water…"
He swallowed hard. "I mean… you—how'd you…?" His fingers drummed nervously on the planks. "You pulled me out. Saved me. Twice."
Yve's gaze softened. "Yes," she said quietly.
"Why?" The word slipped out before he could stop it. "Why'd ya do it? Didn't have to… don't even know me. Hell, I prolly ain't worth it."
Yve tilted her head. "And yet, here you are," she murmured, voice calm but strong. "Perhaps I thought differently."
Dylan frowned, struggling to make sense of it. "That don't answer much. I mean… what in the world are ya?"
Leaning forward, hands on the dock, Yve's voice was steady, measured. "I am what you see. A Siren of the sea. And as for saving you…" Her eyes flicked to the water briefly before returning to him. "I suppose it was just the right thing to do."
Dylan snorted softly. "Right thing, huh? Don't seem like folks think that way much no more."
Her smile returned, faint but sincere. "Maybe not. But that doesn't mean we should lose ourselves to the darkness."
He went quiet, her words settling somewhere inside him. His gaze drifted to her tail, faintly glimmering in the sun. "And that?" he asked, gesturing vaguely. "How's that even possible? You… shouldn't exist."
"And yet, here I am," she repeated, mischief in her eyes.
Dylan frowned. "You ain't plannin' on makin' it easy, huh?"
"Where's the fun in that?" she replied, soft amusement in her tone.
He grumbled, still unsure what he was facing, but for the first time, it didn't feel like a threat.
The tension broke suddenly with the low rumble of his stomach. Yve's head tilted, eyes sharp. "You're hungry," she said plainly.
"Ain't nothin'… just… ain't eaten much," Dylan muttered, hand brushing over his stomach.
"And that's not hunger?" She leaned forward slightly. "You need food."
"I'm fine," he snapped, embarrassed. "Don't need no help."
Before he could protest further, Yve pushed off the dock, diving with fluid precision. Her tail flashed in the sunlight as she vanished beneath the waves. The splash echoed in the quiet, leaving Dylan standing agog. "What the—!"
"I'm fine," he shot back, he was already embarrassed enough without her pressing the matter. "Don't need no help."
But before he could complain more, Yve pushed herself suddenly off the dock and into the water with a flowing, perfect dive, her shining tail flashing fleetingly before she plunged beneath the waves. The splash rang through the air, leaving Dylan standing in its wake, agog and bewildered, "What the!"
For an instant, Dylan froze, unsure what to do. Below the surface, Yve moved with intent—graceful, precise, in complete command of her element. Hunting was second nature, honed over decades. She darted deeper, eyes sharp, until she reached colder waters where schools of tuna shimmered like living silver.
A mid-sized tuna strayed from the school. With a sudden flick of her tail, Yve struck. The fish thrashed desperately, but she was faster, stronger. Her arms clasped it firmly yet gently, and with a smooth twist, she turned toward the dock.
Breaking the surface, Yve glided forward, propelling the struggling tuna onto the wooden boards. The fish landed with a wet slap, thrashing violently, sending droplets flying in every direction.
Dylan leapt back. "Crap!" His eyes darted between the flopping fish and Yve, who bobbed calmly in the water. Her gaze held a hint of smug satisfaction, as if this display were perfectly ordinary.
Dylan's suspicion and awe tangled across his face. Yve's subtle, knowing smile seemed to say: you need it, whether you admit it or not.
The tuna skidded toward the dock's edge, still trying to escape. Dylan's hand went instinctively to his tomahawk. "Damn thing's gonna fling itself back!" he muttered.
In a swift, practiced motion, he brought the blade down. The strike was clean; the fish's thrashing ceased instantly.
"Impressive," she breathed softly.
Dylan huffed, mouth curling into a rough grin. "Wasn't gonna lose it after all that," he muttered, voice gruff but steady.
Yve shifted in the water, hands gripping the dock as she tried to pull herself up. Dylan watched, hesitation flickering across his face, the memory of her tail making him uneasy. With a resigned sigh, he leaned forward, putting his tomahawk aside. "C'mere," he said, low and firm.
Her eyes studied him for a moment, measuring his intent. Then, slowly, she reached up, and together they hoisted her onto the dock. "Thank you," she murmured, soft and genuine.
"Yeah, well," he grumbled, looking away. "Thought you weren't gonna make it up otherwise." Dylan stood, picked up his tomahawk, and slung it over his shoulder. "Gonna find some firewood," he added, more to himself than her. She nodded slightly.
The woods yielded what he needed. He returned quickly with dry wood, spread a thin layer of sand along the dock's edge, stacked the logs, and struck flint to steel. Sparks caught, flames blossomed.
Yve's gaze lingered on the fish beside the fire, then shifted to Dylan. She watched silently as he cut it open, his motions confident and practiced.
"What're you doing to it?" she asked, wonder in her voice.
"Cookin' it," he said, then paused, realizing. "Guess y'all don't do much of that underwater."
"We don't," Yve admitted. "We eat as we hunt." She leaned closer, studying the fire. "This is new."
"Ain't nothin' special," Dylan muttered, flipping the fish. "Just makes it easier to eat. Tastes better too."
Yve watched him, the flames reflecting in her wide, unguarded eyes. Dylan focused on the task, aware of her steady attention.
They spoke in fragments at first, hesitant and awkward, but gradually the words loosened. Dylan recounted scraps of life before the apocalypse, hunting in the woods, Clyne's incessant antics, his voice raw, unpolished, yet honest. Yve listened intently, occasionally laughing softly or tilting her head in concern.
Then she spoke of her world, a realm beneath the waves that sounded like a dream. Endless coral forests, sunken structures, a delicate balance her people strove to maintain. Dylan sat silent, awe-struck. For a moment, he wondered if it was too fantastical to be real, or if he simply wanted to believe that beauty could still exist in a world broken by ruin.
~~~
Back at the VIRA Complex, the sun dipped toward the horizon. The group gathered in the main room, quieter than usual. Dylan's absence weighed on them.
Ethan watched the fading light. 'It's too late… What if something happened?'
Lara frowned. "We could send someone…"
Lucas shook his head. "Dylan can handle himself. He's just taking his time. "
"But what if he isn't?" Ethan shot back. "We nearly lost him last time."
Lucas exhaled sharply, jaw tightening. He stared at the table for a moment before speaking. "Going out there in the dark could make things worse. We wait a little longer."
Ethan didn't argue, but his gaze returned to the window. Around the room, the others exchanged uneasy looks. No one spoke. The minutes stretched, and the silence grew heavier.
~~~
Meanwhile, Dylan stretched his legs, adjusting the strap of his tomahawk as the weight of responsibility settled back in.
"Guess I should get going," he grunted. "Still a few hours left to scavenge." He stood, wincing as his side protested.
"You don't have to go," she said.
"Gotta. Need food," Dylan grunted.
She didn't answer. Instead, she slipped from the dock into the water.
Dylan stared at the rippling surface. "Damn it," he muttered. "What's with her and leavin' me hangin'?"
Moments later, Yve surfaced, tossing three lean tunas onto the dock. Dylan froze, hand instinctively on his tomahawk. "The hell—?"
"They'll feed your group," she said calmly.
Dylan crouched, threading cord through the gills, muttering, 'Guess I owe you.'
he muttered. He straightened and looked at her. "You gonna be around? We… meet again?"
Yve smiled. "If you want to."
They exchanged a few quiet words, settling on days and times. Then she slipped beneath the surface, her tail vanishing into the deep.
He dragged the bundled weight along the trail, the pull biting into his side with every step. When the pain flared too sharply, he stopped, caught his breath, and kept moving.
~~~
Back at the VIRA Complex, tension hung heavily. David paced near the door before snapping, grabbing his shotgun. "Enough. I'm goin' out there."
Elena and Ethan exchanged uneasy looks.
"David, wait—" Lucas started, but the door swung open.
Dylan stepped through, tomahawk slung over his shoulder, a sack of tuna at his side. Pale, worn, but alive. Ethan's jaw dropped.
Dylan raised a brow at David. "Where you headed?"
David lowered the shotgun. "Thought… somethin' happened."
"Was fishin'," Dylan grunted, dropping the tuna onto the table. "Didn't see the time. That'll feed us for the night."
Relief rippled through the room. Lucas stepped forward, clapping a hand on Dylan's shoulder. "Good to see you."
Dylan nodded, sliding into a chair, his thoughts drifting back to the dock, to Yve, and to the quiet moment that had already changed more than he cared to admit.
---------------------------------------------
Author's Note
In Chapter 2, the world of Chronicles of the Realms begins to stretch beyond survival.
It's a reminder that even in a broken world, connection can bloom in the smallest moments. And sometimes, the most powerful shift isn't in the battle, but in the choice to let someone walk beside you.
Thank you for continuing this journey. The Realms are just beginning to reveal their secrets.