Morana's POV
The fishing net wrapped around my tail before I could scream.
I thrashed in the dark water, my heart hammering against my ribs as the rough rope burned my scales. Above me, the shadow of a human boat blocked out the moonlight. They were pulling the net up—pulling me up—and if they saw what I really was, I was dead.
No, no, no!
My magic surged inside my chest, begging to break free and slice through the net. Three years ago, I could've torn through these ropes with a flick of my wrist. Three years ago, I was Princess Morana of the Deepwater Kingdom, and my power could control the tides themselves.
But that was before my sister destroyed me. Before my fiancé threw me away like garbage. Before my own father cursed me and cast me out to die.
Now? Now my magic was a prison.
I reached for my power anyway, desperate. The moment I did, white-hot pain exploded through my body like lightning in my veins. I bit down on my tongue so hard I tasted blood, swallowing the scream that wanted to rip from my throat. The curse my father put on me made sure I could barely use even a drop of magic without wanting to die from the pain.
But drowning hurt worse.
I pushed through the agony and felt my magic respond. The net's ropes began to fray, strand by strand. My vision went blurry with tears. My whole body shook. The pain was so bad I could barely think, but I kept pulling at my magic, kept breaking the net, kept fighting—
The rope snapped.
I dropped like a stone, plunging deep into the black water. My lungs burned. My magic flickered and died, leaving me gasping and weak. But I was free.
I swam as fast as my trembling body would let me, diving down into the reef where the human boat couldn't follow. Behind me, I heard muffled shouts from above. They'd realized their net was broken. Maybe they'd seen a flash of my tail. Maybe they thought I was just a big fish.
I didn't wait to find out.
By the time I reached the shore, I could barely move. I dragged myself onto the hidden beach where the exiles lived—the merfolk like me that the kingdom threw away. My whole body felt like it was on fire from the inside. Using magic with the curse always felt like dying slowly.
I lay there in the shallow water, gasping, waiting for the pain to fade. It took forever.
"Are you insane?"
I didn't need to look up to know who it was. Lyria stomped through the water toward me, her face twisted in anger and worry. She was my only friend in this horrible place—a reef scavenger who'd found me half-dead three years ago and decided to keep me alive for some reason.
"Human nets, Morana? Really?" Lyria grabbed my arm and hauled me up. I winced but didn't argue. "You promised me you'd stay in the safe zones!"
"The safe zones don't have black pearls," I muttered, showing her the small bag tied to my wrist. Inside were six perfect pearls I'd spent all night collecting. "And black pearls pay for food."
"Black pearls won't matter if you're dead!" Lyria's voice cracked. She was really scared. That made two of us.
I let her pull me toward the cave we shared, hidden in the rocks where nobody bothered us. My tail was already healing—merfolk recovered fast—but the pain from using magic lingered like a bruise on my soul.
"I'm fine," I lied.
"You're not fine. You're never fine." Lyria shoved me down onto the flat rock we used as a bench. "You take bigger risks every week. It's like you're trying to get caught."
Maybe I was. Maybe some part of me wanted to get caught so this endless, awful existence would just end.
But I didn't say that. Lyria worried enough already.
"I'll be more careful," I promised, even though we both knew it was a lie.
Lyria stared at me for a long moment, then sighed. "I have news."
Something in her voice made my stomach drop. "What kind of news?"
"The bad kind." She sat down beside me, her face grave. "Three settlements were destroyed last night. Human weapons. The kind that poison the water and kill everything in it."
My blood went cold. "Three? Which ones?"
"The Coral Flats. Whisper Bay. And..." Lyria's voice got quieter. "Shell Haven."
Shell Haven. That was where the other exiles lived. People like me—the ones the kingdom decided weren't worth keeping. Children. Families. Merfolk who'd done nothing wrong except be born different or make enemies of the wrong people.
"How many?" I whispered.
"Hundreds. Maybe more." Lyria's hand found mine and squeezed. "They're saying it's the start of a war. The Sea King is calling an emergency council meeting. Everyone's terrified."
I should've felt something—sadness, anger, fear. But all I felt was numb. Hundreds of merfolk dead. People I might've known. People who were suffering just like me.
And I'd been out here risking my life for pearls.
"There's something else," Lyria said carefully. "Your father sent a messenger."
I went very still. "What?"
"He wants to see you. Tonight. He says..." She hesitated. "He says he has a way to end the war. But he needs your help."
I laughed, and it sounded bitter even to my own ears. "My father threw me away three years ago. He cursed me. He let everyone I loved turn their backs on me. And now he needs my help?"
"Morana—"
"No." I stood up, my tail flicking in agitation. "I don't care if the whole kingdom drowns. They made their choice. They can live with it."
But even as I said the words, I saw the faces of the dead in my mind. The children from Shell Haven who'd never hurt anyone. The families just trying to survive.
Lyria stood too, her eyes sad. "The messenger said if you don't come, thousands more will die. He said you're the only one who can stop it."
"That's impossible. I'm nobody. I'm just an exile with broken magic and—"
"He said something else too." Lyria's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "He said there's a prophecy. About you. About the exiled royal and the compass bearer. He said if you don't act, everyone—human and mer—will die in this war."
The world seemed to tilt sideways.
A prophecy? About me?
Before I could ask what that meant, a sound split the night—a horn, long and low and terrible. The warning horn. The one that meant danger was coming.
Lyria and I looked at each other, eyes wide.
"That's coming from the kingdom," she breathed. "They're under attack. Right now."
And in that moment, staring at my only friend while the warning horn wailed and my father's impossible message echoed in my head, I realized something that made my blood turn to ice:
Whatever was coming, whatever this prophecy meant, whatever my father wanted from me—
It was already too late to run from it.
The war had found me anyway.