“That was what brought us to this place.” Slowly, Vix bowed her head. “When I saw that no place was better than the one I grew up in, I let hate guide me. The same hatred that you and Mireille fell to.”
Salia listened to her. Tense, half in thought, not really paying attention and yet attentive enough to understand that all this had happened before. All those who had had it better had always been against the others. Hostility among themselves. Hatred between the fronts.
If it was fear that bound them together, it needed more of it. More fear to remember when it mattered.
If she destroyed Couvia and all the other kingdoms, if she wiped out all those who weren’t like her, only those who knew how heavy suffering weighed on their shoulders would be left behind.
And life would become more peaceful.
“So you understand that the seas that have never been explored were once seas that were known. It may be a hundred or two years in the past already, but there were times when men dived into the water to know the depths.” Half in thought, Vix leaned back. Stretching her legs, she had reached out in front of the bed. “Today, only those with the courage to explore the seas can gain true knowledge of them.”
“And you think that is what I should do?” Brows raised, Salia pulled her legs closer. The heat inside her was missing. Talking to Vix had brought calm with it, stroking her hair gently. Almost as if everything would be all right again. Behind that, there was nothing more than the story of a mistake and a determination that had only been preserved in Mireille – the siren who had guarded the spear.
“I merely say that there are better things in the world than destruction.” Vix closed her eyes. “It is an eternal cycle that we humans cannot escape. We come and go, laugh, destroy, and go to war. Nothing is sufficient. Nothing is good enough. The end is found at every fork in the road and it is entirely in our hands to break this cycle, by not making the same mistake over and over.”
“But if we don’t, others will.” The tightness in Salia’s chest made her snort; hands clenched into fists. “Why didn’t Mireille do something? She was guarding the spear and surely she could have done more while you were doing nothing.”
“She could have.” Vix’s lips twisted as she opened her eyes again and looked at Salia out of all those black beads. “But as much as she loathes the world up there, she fears the mainland. The six-year-old girl in her never really grew out of her, and as long as I stay in this place with her, she has nothing to fear.” Her lips pressed together. “And I advise you not to get any ideas about involving her in anything.”
Salia swallowed. The coldness of her words settled impressively numb on her shoulders, threatening to wrap around her senses and petrify any desire within her were she not to go her way alone. A very simple wish, made by a woman – a girl – one so much like her she couldn’t disagree.
In the end, Mireille had nothing to offer that would have had any value in those times. She was a siren. A creature of the seas who had no power on land. She couldn’t leave the sea, couldn’t enter Couvia, couldn’t bring the world to its knees. Not as she had once wished.
Salia’s journey remained a path that only she could walk. Alone. Surging with all the rage she could find.
But in those endless seconds, only an exhausted sigh lurked on her lips. A weariness that consumed her insides as if it were food for the bottom of the abyss.
“The spear chose you, but I don’t suppose you heard it speak. Not as I did then,” Vix continued, unperturbed. Her unflinching demeanour shifted the atmosphere between them into a variety of layers, and yet none of them could be clearly put into words.
All Salia perceived as she shook her head was tension. The only thing she had ever noticed had been Mireille’s voice. Caressing and sweet at first, then twistedly odd. Completely different from anything she had embraced in the darkness.
And perhaps in those very seconds lay the difference.
Perhaps she had heard the spear, had heard the whisper of someone other than the siren, before her consciousness had returned and everything else had slipped into the background.
But being honest with Vix, telling her what she had sensed, was out of the question. She didn’t support the feeling, was against revenge, and was against doing what was right. Nothing in her had cared to do anything for all the years Salia’s people had suffered. She sought peace in a world where there was no freedom because of wishful thoughts that could hardly have been more naïve.
“Perhaps it isn’t too late then.” Lips pursed, Vix brought herself to an upright position. Her eyes hung in the distance, seeming to pursue a muse Salia couldn’t grasp. “That’s good. If you slowly learn to hear the whisper of the sea, you can get more used to it. It won’t wash over you as it did with me and Mireille back then. And then you can go your own peaceful way.” Without further ado, she gave Salia a smile. “I have good faith you will find peace in Aywotoc.”
The sweat in Salia’s hands made it almost impossible to open them. Her fingers were so tense that the bones ached and her puny muscles shrieked softly, while the numb fingertips carried a damp burning sensation.
She didn’t want to find peace.
No matter how dull the flames inside her blazed in those seconds, no matter how hopefully peaceful the sea seemed – at the bottom, the corpses of her people rested. The bodies of other people who had been cast into the sea as misfits. Beasts that had been set on fire. Demons who were to blame for everything.
Every breath she took was a crime she hadn’t chosen, and if there was one thing she couldn’t get involved in, it was peace.
Only the thought of sitting back while others were hunted to death with pitchforks made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Hiding and letting the world shatter was no solution. It merely shifted the responsibility to someone else’s shoes.
Responsibility that Salia could no longer pass on.
The sea had spared her life. It had given her the possibility of a second chance. It had left her hatred and sheltered her body from the calm waves of death to stand up for her people. To let that gift go would be the end.
Who knew when the next time would be for anyone to hear the whisper of the sea?
“I can’t stay,” Salia stated in a whisper. She had to leave. She had to grab the spear and go.
“You still want to go back to the surface and try to sort it all out?”
“I won’t try. I will.” She pushed her back through and for the first time Salia dared to stare down the little eyes in Vix’s face all one by one – despite them all being blind.
“Then don’t reach for the spear.” Vix took a heavy breath. “I am in no position to stop you should you choose otherwise. I gave up on the mainland long ago. I don’t know how the world has changed up there, so I don’t mind if it breaks. But I can tell you that people often come to regret what they’ve done.”
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“What then?”
“You saw the shield?”
Salia’s nod was barely noticeable.
“Take it. It will always protect you. You and all those you wish to guard. With it, you will have the chance to negotiate peacefully and tell the people about what once happened.” Vix’s eyes held a gleam, its hope beading off Salia.
She was expected to defend herself. That she would go on the defensive and allow them to punch her until they were worn out so that they would finally listen to a few words.
Words that had no meaning at all.
No one cared about what had once been, nor about the truth, when what they taught was much more convenient. If even one of them believed it wasn’t God who had divided them up, but a demon whose rage had taken over, the response would be the same as it already was. They would simply be hunted down for another reason.
Shaking her head, Salia finally straightened her legs, feeling the stiff ache in her limbs, and pushed herself to her feet. Vix watched her go, following every step she took.
“I’m not reaching for the shield,” she then started. “I’m tired of running away and talking when no one is listening.” She shrugged. “All that helps up there is power. You don’t know what it looks like up there, you don’t know what the people are like either. So you have to believe me when I say talking isn’t an option.”
Vix’s eyelids lowered. Her body seemed to slump a little, robbed of the hope that peace was within her grasp. Probably she had truly believed that the world had changed – for the better. But the reality was different. It was becoming more miserable, worse and more depraved with each passing year for all those who longed for nothing but an idyllic life.
“Maybe not yet,” Vix put in again, “but maybe if you give it all a little more time.”
“Time doesn’t help me.” Salia’s gaze wandered around the bubble, the space that held her captive. Yet there was a world to save – her race, her species, anyone who possessed a bit of the same misfortune that had caught up with her.
“You can just step through.” Again the voice emerged, nestling velvety against her ears, inviting her to follow. A faint glow of certainty that Salia wanted to trust.
In the end, that voice didn’t get in the way.
Regardless of the sharp breeze Vix brought over her, Salia approached the shallow pearly glow of the bubble. With the flat of her hand, she felt the shallow dampness, sensed the vibration from outside, and, in the very next moment, snuggled tightly against the unusual skin.
This time, Vix didn’t bother to stop her. Instead, she remained in the background, forgotten and left behind with ideals that no longer touched anyone.
In the next breath, Salia slipped out with a plop.
The water enveloped her like an old friend and the darkness, gently pushed aside by the colourful shapes of the sea, showed her a path straight into nothingness.
Although there was still a part of her that had succumbed to slight fatigue and exhaustion between body and mind, Salia ventured a few swims ahead. Only when the bubble was some distance behind her did she turn around.
Leaving Vix behind just like that didn’t form the most pleasant feeling inside her. Not even for the clothes had she really thanked her. Everything that had left her lips had been unkind. Rude enough to make her regret the interaction.
But perhaps it was better that way. For Vix and also for herself.
Again, Salia turned to the path in front of her. In firm strokes, she made her way through the wetness that was by now a permanent part of her. The sea had engulfed her, had made her an unexplored object for all those outside.
“Follow me,” the voice in the background instructed her. It seemed to be a constant companion, possessing the same knowledge that had once been passed on to Mireille.
Salia had no choice but to obey. Her gaze darted over the world around her. Fish danced further up, plants gathered below her, and ruins rose in between.
Old rocks tried to tell endless stories and yet produced only mute remains. Salia absorbed it, exploring the few places that drew her in.
Rough surfaces were protected by soft moss, cracks tugged at her thin skin and it was only when she spotted half a sunken building that she paused.
It was reminiscent of a council house, pompous and somehow frightening, although there were always the same faces hiding behind the doors – people who had somehow already been forgotten.
On an upper sign, someone had put letters. Words from ancient times that had been lost over the years. Salia could neither read nor interpret them. All that remained was silent admiration for a sight that proved nothing other than that it had all been there before. Similar to a cycle, a spiral that always carried them down.
Humans were incorrigible.
“Exciting, exciting!”
In the background, the words of a stranger nestled against Salia. Followed by the giggle of two other voices, the slight vibration of strange figures travelled over her skin. It grazed her senses, giving her the opportunity to close her eyes and scan the surroundings with senses that were not hers.
Still, she sensed the strangers’ stirrings and turned when it was certain they had arrived.
When Salia opened her eyes and her own hair had cleared the view, there were three women looking at her. All with flawless faces and upper bodies, it were only the lower bodies of predatory fish that bathed them in a classic image of underwater demons.
“Mermaids,” added the voice in her head. “They charm, enchant, and lie until the sky turns red with shame.”
Salia’s eyelids lowered. These beings were little different from Couvia’s royal guard when they gave long lectures about how infectious demons were. Simultaneously, it almost seemed like a skill one had to have in the world in order to survive.
People stacked lies on top of lies and balanced their lives on them.
She didn’t know much about it, had overcome it all with lacklustre honesty. Not even in the face of Vix had she found a few kind words. The world of shenanigans was no home for her.
“We heard a new heroine had appeared,” one mermaid began out of nowhere. Her glossy black hair looked like the shallows of the sea and yet reminded Salia only of charred skin. Her pallor had the same tone as the guards and nobles wore, and the smile on her lips devoured all goodwill.
“Or even a warlord, depending on whose side she takes,” added a second – her hair as red as the blood that had flowed when the demons were captured. “Tell me, will you rest as Vix does, or fight as Mireille longs?”
The answer rolled over Salia’s lips before she could stop it. “Fight. I can’t sit around like my people aren’t dying up there.”
“See, I told you, she’s stupid.” With a dismissive wave of her hand, the third mermaid spoke up. The brash look on her round face pierced Salia before she brushed her frizzy hair back with both hands. “If you want to survive, you need to act wisely and not like a peasant child.” Her dark brown skin brought the white of her eyes to the fore. “You want to survive, don’t you?”
Without further ado, Salia opened her mouth, only to close it again. She was ready to give hate anything it asked for. Survival was just one of those words that had no place in a war like this.
“I want revenge,” she thus brought upon herself. “No matter the cost.”
“Stupid thing.” Sighing, the redhead shrugged. “Forget about revenge.”
“Right, right!” The first of them also agreed and clapped her hands. “Take the spear and bring it to the king. Then you, a doomed woman, will be seen as the new heroine of the world.”
“You can have whatever you want.” Cautiously, the second of them came closer, the flaming red hair like a warning that made Salia flinch. “You could even marry the princess and acquire a harem of men as concubines – if that’s what they’re called.” She spread her arms. “Everything could be yours and you could make a place for all of us because then you’d be in charge.”
It sounded like the smart solution. If she did what was suggested, then she would be able to give her people a normal life.
“And you will never notice when people don’t follow your rules. There was a time when it was forbidden to rob animals of their fur to wear. So people did it secretly and lied about the inscription.” The voice in her head started up again, soft and bitter. “The easy way is always more charming than the truth. Will you stifle anger and watch our kind build on false hope? Watch them kill you and despise you when you are supposed to be the heroine?”
Lips pressed into a line, Salia clenched her fists. The heat inside grew.
There was no peace above the water. No real calm. All that was found was pretence, madness and fear of the real story – fear of the real deeds that Vix and Mireille had done to protect themselves.
“I will never get what I want if I become one of them.” It was the only truth that resonated in her mind. The only words that seemed real and conformed to that strangely insistent voice in her head. “I can’t look away any longer.” She had done that all her life. “I have to do something.”
Because no one else had the power but her.
She was alone with her gift.
And though she wanted to give in to the hate, the certainty weighed a little heavier. She didn’t pave her way, didn’t possess the same conscience that Vix had, but it narrowed every breath.
Her freedom seemed dear all at once.
“In that case,” the redhead shrugged listlessly, “perhaps we should see that you disappear.”
Salia’s brow furrowed. The words on her tongue didn’t loosen.
“We don’t need a war,” the dark-skinned one continued. “We need an alternative, and if you can’t bring it, it’s better to wait for the next Chosen One or hope Vix takes heart.”
They all glued their eyes to her gaunt body. Each of these mermaids threatened to pierce her body solely with their gaze as the sharp claws of their hands lifted and their tails whipped in the water.
Not even in this place was she welcome.