The silence following Maira’s report did not st.

  Questions erupted almost at once.

  “How reliable are memory relivings under trauma?”“Could the survivor’s fear have distorted what she experienced?”“You said you could not see the creature — how can we base decisions on incomplete vision?”“Are we certain this was not a coordinated attack?”

  Voices overpped, rising into a chaotic swell. Councilors leaned forward, some demanding crification, others openly doubtful. The chamber filled with sharp tones and restless movement.

  Maira flinched.

  Her hands tightened against the edge of the lectern as the noise pressed in from all sides, each question striking faster than she could process. “I—please…” she stammered, voice small against the rising cmor. “Please… calm down. One question at a time—”

  But no one listened.

  The pressure mounted. Accusations blurred together. Doubt. Fear. Urgency.

  Then—

  “Councilors.”

  Chalisse’s voice cut through the chamber like a steady current.

  No one stopped.

  Her gaze hardened.

  “HUSH.”

  She moved forward in one smooth motion, raising both hands. With a controlled, graceful sweep, she guided the surrounding currents outward. A soft wave rippled through the chamber — not violent, not forceful, but disorienting enough to break the momentum of the crowd.

  The water shimmered.

  For a brief moment, bance faltered; voices stumbled into silence as the councilors steadied themselves, blinking as crity returned.

  When the chamber settled, Chalisse stood at the front.

  Maira was already being gently guided back toward her seat by the attendants, relief and exhaustion written pinly across her face.

  Chalisse lowered her hands and faced the assembly. “I understand your concerns,” she said, voice calm but edged with authority. “But disorder will not bring us answers.”

  Her eyes moved across the council, holding each gaze in turn. “If we allow fear to govern us, we weaken ourselves before we even understand the threat we face.”

  The room grew quieter still.

  “What our people require now,” she continued, “is not accusation nor panic — but unity among its leaders.”

  No one spoke.

  The council listened.

  And for the first time since the testimony began, the chamber felt steady again.

  Chalisse allowed the silence to settle before speaking again.

  “We must move forward,” she said, her voice carrying evenly across the chamber. “An unknown threat capable of such devastation cannot remain a matter for our vilge alone.”

  Several councilors straightened at her words. “This matter must be brought before the Realm Protector.”

  A ripple of surprise passed through the assembly.

  “At first light tomorrow,” Chalisse continued, “I will depart to seek audience with the Chieftesses and Chiefs of the neighboring vilges and cities. Together, we will convene and vote on whether this crisis warrants presentation before His Grace.”

  Her gaze swept across the council, leaving no room for interruption. “I will not travel alone. A convoy will accompany me for the journey.”

  She paused briefly, allowing the weight of her next words to settle. “During my absence, leadership of this vilge cannot remain uncertain.”

  Chalisse turned slightly toward the council table.

  “I hereby call upon Master Mercedius to step forward and assume authority over the vilge until my return.”

  A low murmur spread immediately through the chamber.

  “All council members, guards, and citizens alike will heed his command,” she continued firmly. “You will regard him not merely as a temporary steward, but as one of the eldest and wisest among our people.”

  Before the murmurs could fade, a councilor rose abruptly from his seat.

  “Chieftess,” he said, voice respectful but edged with challenge, “why Master Mercedius? Arcenaux is the Under-Chieftain — next in succession by tradition.”

  The chamber grew tense.

  All eyes shifted back to Chalisse.

  She did not hesitate. “Arcenaux possesses strength and promise,” she said evenly. “But he does not yet possess the experience required to guide our people through a crisis of this magnitude.”

  Her tone remained calm, but final.

  “We face an enemy we do not understand — one capable of defying every w known to us. In such times, caution must outweigh tradition.”

  She met the councilor’s gaze directly. “The safety of our people is my foremost responsibility.”

  A brief pause followed.

  “Arcenaux will serve as Master Mercedius’s second-in-command,” she concluded. “He will learn, observe, and support the governance of the vilge while I am away.”

  No argument followed immediately.

  The decision had already been made

  Chalisse let her gaze sweep across the chamber one final time. “Yve,” she said, her voice firm but measured, “finish your full report and have it on my desk before sunset.”

  She turned slightly toward Maira, her tone gentler but still commanding. “And Maira, I need you to draft a Myrren report of your findings. Every detail, every observation — it must be precise.”

  A quiet weight fell over the council as she continued.

  “Furthermore,” Chalisse said, raising a hand, “the vilge gates will now remain locked at all times. No siren, no creature, shall pass without express permission from Master Mercedius, our temporary Chieftain.”

  She allowed the silence to stretch just long enough for her words to settle. Then her voice dropped, carrying a hint of warning. “This concludes today’s council. Be vigint. We may very well be facing a new demon… the first in a thousand years.”

  The chamber fell into tense quiet, every siren processing the gravity of her words.

  ~~~

  Later that evening, Yve opened the front door and saw Ysa in the kitchen, carefully cutting open the fish.

  “You’re home… you alright?” Ysa asked, her voice quiet, cautious.

  Yve gave a small nod. “Fine… just tired. It’s been a long day.”

  Ysa’s hands paused mid-motion. “So… how’s Haugen?”

  Yve’s lips tightened. “I made sure he looked peaceful. Like he was… sleeping.”

  Ysa leaned on the counter, steadying herself. The weight of memories hung in her posture.

  Yve swam closer and pced a gentle hand on her back. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s just… weird,” Ysa murmured, her eyes distant. “He was my first love… we shared a lot of history together…”

  Yve gave a soft sigh. “I know… sit down. Let me take care of preparing the food tonight.”

  “No,” Ysa said quickly, shaking her head. “You lie down… you’ve had a long day.”

  Yve hesitated, then said, “Before Mother leaves, a burial ceremony will be held for Haugen… you should come. It might help… get some closure.”

  Ysa nodded slowly. “Sure… I’ll think about it.”

  A few moments passed, Ysa spoke again, hesitation in her eyes, gncing at Yve. “Uh… can I just ask… do you know how he died?”

  Yve shook her head, a shadow passing over her features. “Oh, sis… I wish I knew the answer to that.”

  “He… he just really looked… scared,” Ysa said softly. “Like he died… scared.”

  Yve’s eyes darkened slightly. “He actually… his body may be dead, but his soul… I think it’s still alive.”

  The words made Ysa’s eyes light up. She leaned closer, searching Yve’s face. “Really? What makes you say that?”

  Startled, Yve hesitated, then expined. “I… I looked through his eyes using the obsidian lens. There were no traces, no fragments of his aura left. Like… his soul was taken completely.”

  “So… you mean?” Ysa asked, voice small.

  “Yeah,” Yve said softly. “I think his soul is still out there… somewhere.”

  Ysa frowned, a shiver running through her. “But… why would someone take his soul on purpose? What would they do with it?”

  Yve’s voice dropped, heavy with thought. “There’s only one reason I can think of…”

  Ysa stared at her for a few seconds, trying to process, and then her eyes widened. She stood abruptly. “No.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s not the case,” Yve said quickly, startled by her sister’s reaction, “but… it’s the only logical reason I can think of, sis. And if I’m right… then he’s better off completely dead than…”

  “Okay, stop. Stop,” Ysa interrupted, waving a hand. “I… I don’t want to hear it. Please… it’s disturbing enough to think about.”

  Yve held up her hands. “Alright, alright… I’ll stop. Sorry.”

  Ysa exhaled slowly, trying to shake the images from her mind.

  Yve stood, brushing off the weight of the day. “I’ll leave you be… I just need to wash off the… toxins in my body.”

  Ysa nodded, still tense. “Yeah… sure. Go ahead. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

  With a small, tired nod, Yve swam away, leaving Ysa alone with the thoughts that refused to let her rest.

  Yve swam toward the deeper part of the house and reached a heavily reinforced door. She tapped a small button lightly, and after a few seconds, a soft bloop echoed. The door slid open.

  Inside y a vast, cave-like chamber. She swam forward, but the water didn’t follow—this room seemed almost suspended, separate from the house’s currents. Pulling herself out of the water, her tail transformed into legs. She stepped carefully onto the soft, yielding floor, each movement causing the bioluminescent algae beneath her feet to glow in pale, shifting patterns.

  At the center of the room y a crystal-clear pool, its water sparkling as if dusted with stars. Yet it made no sound—the gentle rush of water absent—leaving the chamber so silent that Yve could hear only the steady thrum of her own heartbeat.

  She stepped onto the surface of the pool, the algae glowing faintly beneath her touch. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself into the water. As she sank, her legs gave way to her tail once more, and the familiar rhythm of swimming returned.

  As the water enveloped her, Yve felt her scales loosen slightly, almost as if the current itself was breathing through her. She held her breath, letting the process of Vital Cleansing flow around her, resisting the instinct to take in the air she normally drew from the ocean.

  After thirty seconds, she broke the surface, gasping for oxygen, her chest rising as her lungs burned for the familiar oceanic air. As she lingered in the pool, the water that had passed over her darkened, turning nearly bck, as if absorbing the toxins and impurities from her body. Gradually, it lightened, returning to crity—the signs that the poisons were being purged, washed away, leaving her purer with each passing moment.

  With one final inhale, Yve dove beneath the surface, letting the st currents cleanse her. When she finally climbed out of the pool, she exhaled softly and muttered to herself, almost in disbelief, “I feel lighter.”

  ~~~

  At the first light of dawn, the vilge gathered at the graveyard.

  A pale blue glow filtered through the water as morning currents drifted gently across the silent crowd. Sirens filled the stone terraces surrounding the burial grounds, their voices hushed, their movements subdued.

  At the front stood Haugen’s family.

  Flora’s sobs echoed openly through the quiet as she clutched the ceremonial cloth draped over the stone bier. Haugen’s parents stood beside her, their shoulders shaking as grief overtook them. Their only son—gone.

  Behind them, Haugen’s closest companions stood in silence. Hardened Veric warriors who had faced countless dangers now lowered their heads, unable to hide the tears slipping down their faces.

  At the center of the gathering, Master Mercedius floated solemnly beside the grave marker.

  His voice carried steadily through the still water.

  “Haugen of the Veric guard was not merely a defender of this vilge,” he said, his tone calm but heavy with reverence. “He was a son, a friend, a mentor to the young, and a shield to those who slept peacefully under his watch.”

  The crowd listened in silence.

  “His skill in battle was known across our waters,” Mercedius continued. “But it was his heart—his unwavering devotion to our people—that defined the measure of his life.”

  Soft currents stirred the memorial nterns surrounding the grave.

  “And though his life was taken from us too soon, the courage he showed in protecting this vilge will remain part of our history… and part of the waters that carry our legacy forward.”

  The graveyard fell into a deeper silence as the weight of his words settled over the gathering.

  Grief lingered in the currents like a tide that refused to recede.

  When Master Mercedius finished speaking, Chalisse slowly swam forward.

  The gathered sirens parted, allowing their Chieftess to approach the stone bier where Haugen y wrapped in ceremonial cloth.

  Without a word, Chalisse reached down to the tip of her tail. With a careful motion, she plucked a single scale. The small shard shimmered faintly in the morning light.

  She pced it gently upon the cloth covering Haugen’s chest.

  “May my aura guide you on your journey to the afterlife,” she said softly.

  For a moment, the graveyard remained still.

  Then one by one, the vilgers followed her lead.

  Each siren plucked a scale and id it beside the others upon the cloth, whispering the same words in quiet reverence.

  “May my aura guide you on your journey to the afterlife.”

  Soon the cloth glimmered faintly with dozens of scales, each carrying the presence of the one who had offered it.

  When the final blessing was spoken, the Veric guards stepped forward. With solemn care, they lifted Haugen’s body and lowered him into the grave carved into the seabed.

  The crowd parted once more as Chalisse approached.

  This was the final rite.

  She extended her hand into the water, and the currents answered.

  Light gathered along her palm, slowly shaping itself into a bow formed from flowing water. Its limbs shimmered faintly as if woven from the tide itself. As she drew the string back, a slender arrow of pale energy formed between her fingers.

  For a brief moment, her hand lingered there.

  Her scales glowed faintly, reflecting the weight of the moment.

  The entire graveyard remained still.

  Chalisse lowered her voice to a whisper. “Farewell… Haugen.”

  She released the string.

  The arrow streaked forward in a quiet fsh of light and struck gently at the center of Haugen’s chest. Instead of piercing flesh, the energy settled there like a pulse spreading through the water.

  The bow dissolved into rippling currents.

  At once, the scales that had been pced upon the burial cloth stirred. They lifted from the fabric, swirling through the water like a slow-moving current. Drawn toward the arrow’s fading light, they gathered, weaving and yering until they formed a thin mantle of scales that settled across Haugen’s body.

  The arrow dissolved soon after, melting back into water as its energy faded.

  When the st shimmer of light disappeared, Haugen y beneath a quiet cloak of scales — the final gift of the vilge he had sworn to protect.

  No one spoke.

  The currents carried only the stillness of farewell.

  ~~~

  As the crowd slowly dispersed, a convoy of Verics and Haers gathered near the outer current paths, each mounted upon their Pegacampus. The creatures shifted restlessly, fins fluttering as if sensing the tension lingering in the water.

  Chalisse remained at the center of the formation.

  Ysa swam beside her mount, carefully inspecting the Pegacampus for wounds, her hands moving gently along its scaled fnk. Raine hovered near its head, feeding it small strips of kelp while speaking softly.

  “You take care of my aunt, alright, sweetie?”

  The Pegacampus blinked slowly, its rge eyes seeming almost understanding. It released a low, rumbling growl and nudged Raine lightly, earning a faint smile from her.

  Nearby, Yve removed the bracelet from her wrist — the slumbering serpent glinting faintly beneath the morning light. “Mother… take Nierven with you.”

  Chalisse immediately shook her head. “No. I can’t allow that.”

  “Please,” Yve insisted, her voice quieter now.

  Chalisse’s expression softened, but her tone remained firm. “Many Verics will be leaving the vilge. Our defenses will already be weakened. It is wiser for Nierven to remain here.”

  She reached forward, gently closing Yve’s fingers around the bracelet again. “I would be more at peace knowing Nierven guards the gates.”

  Yve hesitated, then sighed, her shoulders lowering in reluctant acceptance. “…Alright. Just come back safe, Mother. We already lost Father. We can’t lose you too.”

  Chalisse’s gaze steadied, carrying both authority and warmth. “I will not allow harm to come to me — or to our people.”

  She descended from her Pegacampus and pulled Ysa and Yve into an embrace, holding them tightly for a brief moment that lingered longer than words allowed.

  Then she extended an arm toward Raine.

  Raine quickly joined them, wrapping herself into the embrace as well, the four of them suspended together in the quiet water — a fragile pause before departure.

  Around them, the convoy waited.

  And beyond the gates, the currents moved toward an uncertain future.