49-The Lost Brilliance

Laughter echoed through the sunken castle, but it was not the laughter of joy. It was broken, rusted by time, as if its owner had long forgotten how to truly laugh. The once-golden walls were now dull, covered in barnacles and long strands of blue-tinged algae that floated like mourning veils in the current. The gold was still there, but subdued by the melancholic blue that dominated everything, as if the ocean's very light had surrendered to the sorrow of this place.

The fish that lived there swam in silence, unbothered by the laughter. To them, it was just another part of the somber ruins that had long ceased to be a vibrant palace. The mosaics on the walls were cracked, the grand coral columns eroded by time. The only thing that remained nearly untouched was the imposing throne of pearls in the center of the hall.

Seated upon it, a man stared into the empty expanse before him. His dark hair, streaked with golden highlights, swayed gently with the water’s motion, though its luster had faded, as if time had drained all its light. His silver tail, traced with brushed gold, lay motionless over the throne’s steps, and his deep blue eyes were clouded, lost in a horizon no one else could see.

He had been here for so long that he no longer remembered what it was like to laugh without it hurting. His face, marked by the weight of countless tears, bore an expression of exhaustion. Grief had long since become a part of him, as constant as the tides.

A single pearl rested in his hand, glowing with a faint green hue. He ran his thumb over its smooth surface, his mind distant.

— It feels like her… — he murmured, his voice rough with age.

The castle replied with silence.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, feeling the ocean's weight pressing in around him. Then, for the first time in ages, he lifted his gaze, as if something had stirred within him.

— So different from the others… a small child… yet carrying such a strong presence.

He tried to rise, but it was as if he had fused with the throne after all these years. His grip tightened on the armrests, and he pushed himself up. The entire palace groaned in protest, as though an earthquake was rattling its ancient structure. Pieces of the ceiling crumbled, scattering debris, sending the fish fleeing in panic. Pearls tumbled down the throne’s steps, clinking softly against the stone.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Long ago, that throne had been made of gold. But after countless years of weeping, the pearls formed from his tears had accumulated, burying its former splendor beneath a monument to oblivion.

He attempted to swim, but his ancient tail refused to obey. Years of stillness had petrified it.

— Annoying…

His gaze dropped to his own tail, and he felt the bones within it snap, breaking apart and reshaping.

The skin tore. The scales fell away like dead leaves.

And then, amidst the golden blood dissolving into the water—feet emerged.

He stepped down from the throne, and the impact sent a powerful wave rippling outward. The palace structure creaked as if the ocean itself threatened to collapse upon him.

— A fragment of her… has given birth to something new. Something untouched by me…

He smiled. Or at least, he tried to. His face twisted into something more grotesque than joyful.

— My love… this fragment is so bright… If I take it, perhaps… just perhaps… I will see her again?

His eyes drifted through the abyss, glowing intensely, searching for something beyond time and reality.

— My ocean… your king commands you to obey.

With a thunderous force, something unseen pulled him back to the throne, and chains woven from the very water clamped around him once more.

He clenched his teeth.

— Insolent child… I thought this seal would have eroded long ago. What a shame.

He shook his head slowly, unsurprised.

— It seems I will have to call upon another to retrieve my queen’s fragment for me…

His eyes wandered, searching the distant corners of the ocean. Then, they stopped.

On a rock, bathed in the flickering sunlight that filtered through the water, a pale-haired, pale-tailed mermaid stretched lazily.

His lips curled.

— What a lovely puppet… If I whisper, she will do anything for a mere crumb of power.

His laughter tore through the ruins, and the palace trembled again. The chains constricted against his skin, protesting his audacity. But he did not care.

He whispered.

Words so beautiful they made the ocean itself shudder.

The castle grew colder. Something shifted.

And then, he laughed again—dry and satisfied, as if he had just heard the answer he wanted. But it did not last long. His eyes darkened once more, drowning in their familiar emptiness.

— This coffin… has also grown dull.

He leaned back into the throne of pearls, gaze distant.

— I should renew it… for when she arrives.

The water around him swirled slowly, uneasy.

— My love… that dead man may have found your reincarnation. And once again… I shall make her mine.