The lagoon was quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a soft blanket. The water looked almost glassy, glimmering with hints of teal and silver as if it were calling me in.
I dipped my feet into it and sighed. It was cool, pure, and so refreshing it felt like the water itself was trying to wash away more than just slime and exhaustion.
I slipped off my goo-covered clothes, scrubbed them clean, and washed every bit of muck out of my hair and skin. The lagoon reflected the shifting light above us; schools of tiny glowing fish swam beneath the surface, weaving patterns of light around my legs. This world—no matter how terrifying or confusing—never stopped being breathtaking.
For the first time in what felt like forever, no one bothered me. No kids screaming, no mermen yelling, no king teasing me. Just me and the water.
By the time I went back inside the palace, I felt clean—but not calm. The halls were quiet, Theo still fast asleep and snoring softly like we weren't technically prisoners. I lay beside him, staring at the glittering ceiling.
My thoughts spiraled.
Did I really try everything?
Did I do my best?
Why am I failing so miserably with these kids?
I wanted to believe I'd tried hard… but had I tried right?
I wanted them to listen. Respect me. Respond the way kids back home did. As I watched Theo's peaceful face, a pang hit my chest.
I wish the kids here were like him. Cheerful. Trusting. Obedient.
I sighed. Then it hit me.
I was doing everything wrong.
I was treating these kids like the ones from my world. Comparing them. Expecting them to react the same way. But they weren't like my library kids, or the students from school visits. These children were different. Their world was harsher. Their reality harsher still.
I remembered an anti-bullying seminar I once attended. The speaker had said something that stuck with me:
There's always a reason. Bullies don't just appear. Find the cause, understand it, and work around it.
That's what I hadn't done here. I was trying to discipline them, correct them, get them to behave—without really understanding why they were acting that way.
That would change now.
If I wanted to help them, I needed to know them. See them. Learn what hurt them.
And I would need one more thing in abundance: patience.
Lots and lots of patience.
⸻
The next day, the streets were oddly quiet. No kids waiting to ambush me. No slime buckets. No water balloons. Just a few mermen hunched over piles of treasure, polishing gems and coins like their lives depended on it.
I wandered through the floating city, searching.
A cluster of voices drifted from a narrow passage ahead—small, shaky voices. Kids.
I followed the sound and stopped just before the entrance, pressing my back against the wall and peeking around the corner.
A group of older teenage mermen were gathered there—leaner, taller, harder. One of them stood in the center, clearly the leader. His body was sleek and slender, with mottled greenish skin and sharp yellow eyes. His jawline was human, but his slicked-back hair and neck gills made him look like a moray eel.
Maron.
He radiated cold.
"Hey, Maron!" Pietri's small voice piped up. He stepped forward, clutching a handful of trinkets. "I stole these from an old merman. That should be enough payment… so did you see my parents? How is my mom? Did she say she misses me?"
My heart cracked.
Maron snatched the treasures and barely glanced at them.
"I won't tell you," he said flatly. "This isn't enough. I told you—I need something worthy to present to the King. You all had one job. You failed."
"You tricked us!" another child shouted, tears in his eyes. "You promised that if we scavenged and got you treasures, you'd tell us how our parents are, if they miss us!"
A couple of kids started crying outright, their small shoulders shaking.
"Shut up!" Maron snapped. "All of you are worthless. If you want me to do my part, work harder. Don't bring me scraps. I want richer, bigger, shinier, heavier treasures than anything."
Pietri wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"No," he choked. "We won't do it anymore. We'll tell the King! He made me a leader. I'm important now!"
Maron moved so fast I almost didn't see it.
He slapped Pietri across the face, then shoved him to the ground. "What did you say, kid? Close to the King?" he sneered. "What a joke. So what if you are?"
He stepped on Pietri's chest and kicked him again and again.
Rage roared through me.
Not. On. My. Watch.
I stepped out from my hiding place.
"Hey!" I shouted, voice shaking but loud. "What do you think you're doing to my kids?! Get off him. Right. Now."
The younger children scurried behind me, clutching at my clothes. Maron stopped kicking, but his expression didn't soften.
"And who are you supposed to be?" he asked lazily. "You're no mermaid I've ever seen."
"I'm your worst nightmare," I snapped, even though my knees were trembling. "And their guardian. You don't get to lay a finger on them. Ever."
He laughed and took a step forward.
I instinctively stepped back, but Pietri dragged himself in front of him, arms open.
"Not her!" he cried. "You can hurt me, but don't touch her! You'll be in big trouble!"
Maron smacked him aside like he was nothing, and something inside me broke.
"Why did you do that?!" I screamed, tears burning my eyes—not from fear, but from pure anger. "Oh, you've really done it now. You are going to regret this."
I launched at him.
I don't know what possessed me, but I punched, kicked, shoved, bit—anything. The other half-breed mermen rushed in to restrain me, struggling to hold me back.
"What is with this girl?!" one of them yelled as I thrashed. "She's insane!"
Maron summoned a sword, water forming and solidifying into a blade in his hand.
"You will regret attacking me," he snarled.
My rage peaked.
Heat exploded under my skin. Flames engulfed my arms, glowing bright and wild. The mermen yelped and let go, stumbling back as the water around us simmered.
Maron charged.
I grabbed his sword with my flaming hand. The blade evaporated—the metal dissolving into steam and mist between us.
Every step I took melted the ground beneath my feet. I could feel the fire surging, no longer listening to me, wanting more.
"Kids, run!" I shouted. "Now!"
They fled in all directions. My body shook, caught between burning fury and the desperate need to calm down before I hurt someone I didn't mean to.
I fought my own power, trying to breathe, trying to think. Somewhere in the chaos, the world blurred. Shadows moved. A figure appeared—but I couldn't make out who. Were the kids safe? Had I hurt Maron?
The last thing I felt was something cool and calming wrap around me—like water soothing fire. A presence that felt protective, familiar in a strange new way.
Then everything went dark.
⸻
When I woke up, I was lying on the ground.
Dozens of wide, worried eyes hovered over me. Kids. My kids. They flinched back as soon as I stirred, as if afraid I might ignite again.
"Wait!" I said quickly, holding up my hands. "Don't come too close. I don't want you getting hurt."
I checked my skin. No flames. No heat. Just me.
I exhaled shakily. "It's okay. You can come here."
The hesitation broke; they surged forward and wrapped their small arms around me. I hugged them tight, crying in relief.
"Where's Pietri?" I asked, heart thudding.
He sat in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, head down—tiny shoulders shaking. I opened my arms.
"Pietri," I called gently. "Come here."
He hesitated… then ran into my embrace and clung to me, finally letting himself sob fully. I held him, stroking his hair.
"I'm so sorry," he cried. "I'm sorry we were so mean. I'm sorry about everything."
The other children joined in, their apologies tumbling over each other, tears mixing with my own.
"Oh, guys… don't cry." I sniffed, pulling back just enough to look at them. "If you really want to make it up to me, then let's do this right."
They stared at me.
"First," I said, smiling through my tears, "call me Ms. Sienna. And second… let's start all over again."
A few of them giggled. One or two tried out the name.
"Ms. Sienna…"
"Miss… Sienna?"
I laughed softly. "There you go."
As I hugged them again, feeling their little hearts beating against mine, I lifted my head—and saw him.
Rocco.
He stood a short distance away, arms crossed—but his expression wasn't mocking or cold.
His gray eyes were warm. Soft. Almost… proud.
He said nothing.
He just watched us, silently, as the tides inside his kingdom—and maybe inside himself—began to change.