Like clockwork every year, fish journeyed from all corners of Atlantica to feast on this hot pink explosion of plankton, larvae, and krill. Orcas, silvertip sharks, and jaeger seabirds joined in on this feeding frenzy. Yet each species fell back, waiting for their turn in line once mermen entered the scene. Because, unlike other sea creatures, merfolk existed in a class amongst themselves. Thanks to their delicate, mirror-like scales that reflected all color spectrums at once, mermen were almost indistinguishable to the naked eye and undetectable to terrestrial creatures. With a flip of their fishtails, they could intersect between an invisible spiritual world and the visible wavelength which other fish could see. Every creature understood this social hierarchy from birth, so much that when a group of mermaids came into view, others absconded to make room.
The group of mermaidens was led by none other than Amphitrite. She slowed to a halt, as did Pearlasia and the other mermaids behind her. Venturing out of the castle for the first time in days, Pearlasia experienced a newfound appreciation of nature. She marveled at the synchronicity of the school of anchovies ahead, dancing upward of fifty feet. To Pearlasia, the anchovies were so radiant and sparkling, the most gorgeous fish she ever encountered. Slowly getting back to her old self, Pearlasia scaled the water with her half-numb fins. Her gravid patch, from her navel to the start of her scales, had deepened to light brown. Amphitrite assured her that this was a good sign. “A darkened belly means you’re almost ready.”
“For what?” There were so many things to learn in so little time. Pearlasia’s neurons seemed to fray as her mother accelerated The Talk. But this talk was more complex than any reef’s synchronized spawning. Royal blood, once ripened, would release the magical substance brimming through Pearlasia’s veins. And that magic, like all magic, had its own unique timeline. Pearlasia would need to hold tight and be patient. For what? No one knew precisely, as every mermaid was different. The same traits that once revealed Amphitrite’s maturation could manifest in another way for Pearlasia.
A major stepping stone on Pearlasia’s path to maturation was to part sand. To part sand with one’s tail was not standard and, therefore, not part of Pearlasia’s homeschooling lessons. Sure, every mermaid could bifurcate her tail once a month, but only royal mermaids had the privilege of lifting their two-tails high over their heads at any time. And once the magic flowed through them freely, the tails stirred gusts of wind strong enough for currents to part sand. This act was the true marker that separated royal mermaids from commoners. And Pearlasia had two days left to figure it all out.
This metamorphic rite of passage was known as the Parting Sands ceremony. Overall, it was an intense ritual for the princess and onlookers alike. Five nights after a princess released bloody bubbles, she would be sealed tight in a giant clamshell. Through physical prowess, she’d have to find a way to escape through the strength of her tail. A princess who could open the shell and, consequently, part sand was viewed as a blessing for the kingdom. Magic was believed to flow from princesses to the rest of Atlantica. The ceremony naturally brought families and clans together in celebration. After, the princess would swim around with a scepter and bless attendees with her healing powers. Pearlasia questioned if she could really pull this off.
Somewhat impatiently, Amphitrite nudged Pearlasia over to the school of fish. Not only was swimming through it a sign of well-being and fortune, but also seen as a gateway to the Gods. And Pearlasia would need all the blessings she could get to unseal that clamshell.
Pearlasia took a deep breath and clenched her hands as other mermaids watched. She swam over to the school’s underbelly, positioned her body perpendicularly, then bolted inside. At first, she attempted to swim against the current of anchovies swirling around her. Plunging into the school, Pearlasia felt like she was being shocked while simultaneously tickled with feathers. It was a sensation that she considered painful and gratifying all at once. Her fin stiffened, her chest tightened, and her breathing lapsed.
Since there was no sunlight to keep her warm, the funnel felt quite chilly. Even in June, the ocean was still a few notches above freezing. Pearlasia knew that if she could withstand immersion — after surviving the initial shock — she’d soon reach euphoria.
On the verge of hyperventilating, Pearlasia realized she needed to get her breathing under control and fast. She strongly inhaled and relaxed as she came down on the exhales. Pearlasia closed her gills and her mouth, then pinched her nose, holding her breath for as long as she could. Fifty-nine seconds… sixty. She felt tingly and dizzy on an asphyxiation high. Strange kaleidoscopic shapes whirled around as the cylinder lit up like aurora borealis. In a bit of a whirly spell, she situated her body horizontally, snuggling into a fetal position. At that instant, Pearlasia mellowed out long enough until she could intuit her body’s exact sources of pain and discomfort. Suddenly, the water’s coolness became scorching.
The anchovies had carried Pearlasia up the dark funnel where her fin sparkled in the light. She could hear the quiet roar of waves crashing on a distant beach. As Pearlasia neared the crest, marbled lines of sun rays guided her on.
She unleashed a high-pitched whine, singing in her native Mermalian tongue. Alarmed, the anchovies broke off and shuffled away in loose clusters. Now with the fish dispersed, Pearlasia bumbled from the shoal back over to her mother.
“Look at your glowing skin!” Amphitrite complimented. Pearlasia rubbed her hands along her moist, radiant cheeks as dewdrops dripped from them. Her moisturized hair rifled and swayed like its own living thing. Swimming through a school always resulted in the best facials.
“You should join me next time,” Pearlasia proposed.
Amphitrite bit her lower lip pensively. “Truth be told, I should stay as far away from schools as possible. They remind me of bad times. My last sardine shower, years before I was pregnant with you, was bookended by two untimely demises: my stillborn child, and right before, my twin brother.” Pearlasia could sense that Amphitrite was someplace obscure and intense and deep. The queen hesitated, then continued.
“Us royals wear a mask at all times to veil our true feelings. No matter how much we hide behind them, our emotions still run deep. Every time I see a school, I tear up inside. But that’s what being a queen is all about, right? Putting on a façade. Underneath, I’m constantly on edge, reminiscing how happy I was before I…” she trailed off. “If you ever see me near a school, know that something is horribly wrong.”
For years, Pearlasia didn’t notice any warning signs, any signals that whatever burden Amphitrite carried was getting too large to bear. But as her mother had become more transparent in the past few days, Pearlasia concluded that maybe the queen was just as fragile as the sea castles she and Triton built as children. Vulnerable, just like everyone who looked up to her.
Pearlasia grabbed her hand. “Before what? You were happy before what?!”
Amphitrite switched the subject. “Let’s hurry, before all the anchovies get away.”
***
Wynter hit a stage of rapid decline, when things really started to get ugly. Her arms had swelled, her stomach ballooned, and her vision blurred with jagged currents of color after a lifetime of seeing monochromatically. Recently, white ulcers plagued her body. Wynter picked at them excessively, running her arms over her mantle until she became a tousled mess. The agony was so severe that she threw herself against sharp corners in her den, until pus oozed out of the blotchy boils. With each slam, she grew more paranoid, afraid to leave her den but more alarmed by her own thoughts. She became obsessed with death: thinking about ways to die, singing songs about sacrifice, and dreaming of a thousand ways to tear out her soul, if she ever had one.
From the moment she got pregnant, Wynter knew she would die. Not just someday, but quite soon. Because, like her mother and the mother before her, octopuses were destined to pass right after giving birth. Wynter had hoped the process would be swift and painless. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Overcome by the stench of her own body, Wynter crawled out of her den where the sea was bright and glistening. She haphazardly wriggled and slumped down the rock bed. Every grasp with her suckers aggrieved the progressing lesions.
Then, she overlooked a step. Wynter toppled headfirst into a clearing and broke skin. Droplets of copper-pigmented blood oozed out. Wynter winced, regretfully, knowing that any bodily chemicals released in the water would attract predators. She sighed, realizing that feral bottom feeders would arrive any minute. She stretched her arms and took large strides, leaving a bloody trail behind. The surrounding odor bore traces of egg yolk sweetness and rotting flesh. Somehow, it was oddly pleasant to Wynter.
The water became superstitiously quiet. Wynter heard a faint echo. Click. It grew louder. Not if—but when—predators came, Wynter knew she would have to fight back.
Wynter scanned the horizon and noticed a sperm whale hovering above. She peeped back at her den, which was at least a mile away. Her dark eyes twinkled. Wynter didn’t expect to surrender this quickly. She always had the uncanny aptitude to distinguish animal noises from the ambient crackle of the sea. But now, she couldn’t discern as acutely. She wasn’t prepared at all as the whale’s large conical teeth smacked and rippled through the water straight at her.
Wynter closed her eyes, chanting, “I. Am. Nothing. I. Am—”
The chanting ceased and Wynter’s arms pulsated gracefully across the waves like an angel’s wings.
***
It was the day that Pearlasia would part sand. Although the castle was still silent, she charged out of her bed energetically, sensing a faint tremor of anticipation. Pearlasia felt ten times better than the days before. As she stretched, and her tankini rode up her tummy, she noticed that the lateral line extending from her navel to her gravid patch altered from quartz brown to amethyst. She assumed it must be the magic flowing through her veins, which ultimately increased her confidence. Pearlasia lightly pulled her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and dashed out of her room.
Of course, Amphitrite was waiting for Pearlasia at the door. The queen quipped how much Pearlasia reminded her of her younger self, when Amphitrite became “a full-grown mermaid with a half-grown brain.” She looked Pearlasia up and down, then asked, “How are you doing, really?”
Pearlasia reflected for a second. She then answered that, although she still felt unprepared, she’d give it her best shot. Amphitrite bit her bottom lip, rambling on with last-minute tips, as she and Pearlasia retreated outside.
They sat in the picturesque garden while munching on the alfresco breakfast Isis prepared daily. It was always the same — lobster mélange stewed in manatee’s milk with chilled seaberry tea. Amphitrite had always stressed the importance of the family sitting around a table and sharing a meal together. The only time that seemed to work for everyone was during breakfast. But lately, Pearlasia found herself sleeping in later and later, so much that she often missed out on the pastime altogether. She felt guilty about not making time, yet a sly part of her enjoyed avoiding her family. Pearlasia wanted nothing more than for her summer to be a journey of self-discovery and independence. Constantly being subjected to the demands of a monarchy seemed to hamper that desire. And so, she sat, granting her mother this small commitment, without truly giving in.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Amphitrite slid a box across the table. “Open it,” she said invitingly. The bow that sealed it tight was the same shade of lilac as Pearlasia’s hair. She appreciated the small gesture. She’s trying, Pearlasia considered, and that’s what matters. Gulping hard, Pearlasia slowly unwrapped the gift. It was a stunning black pearl bracelet, with a few pink and purple gems dangling like charms. Pearlasia’s heart pounded anxiously as Amphitrite clipped it to Pearlasia’s wrist. She had wanted new jewelry for some time, but didn’t know what exactly. And yet this bracelet, to Pearlasia, felt perfect.
Pearlasia squealed a thank you, then remarked, “This must have cost a fortune.”
Her mother winked, always slow to reveal her secrets. “Actually, this cost me nothing. It’s a family heirloom, passed down as a necklace through many generations.”
“A necklace?” Pearlasia commented while dangling the bracelet.
“It’s a funny story,” Amphitrite said. “Before my mother gave birth to me and my twin brother, the doctor told her we’d both be female. So, she altered the heirloom into a gift set: a choker and a bracelet. She believed it was of utmost importance to rule with both the fist and the heart. The fist to keep yourself grounded and protected, as well as the heart to remain kind and empathetic. Well, I was that fist.”
Pearlasia pressed Amphitrite for more information about the heart: her uncle. Because the queen didn’t discuss her family much, Pearlasia always felt a disconnect with her maternal side. Maybe, Pearlasia thought, they’d bond better if her mother would share more about her past.
“I’m glad you asked,” Amphitrite grinned slyly. “Perhaps there’s a lesson to be learned in his tragedy. My brother, Ares, lived large and died young. Growing up, he had grandiose ideas about money and power. But he was so easily distracted and never saw anything through. I would chide him, saying, ‘there’s more to life than having fun,’ but he’d always say my thinking was illogical.” Amphitrite gazed through the garden, then eased back in her story. “Ares was too foolish to be a prince or duke, let alone a king. He would do anything for the throne. As that dream faded, he made a final attempt at securing success. He wanted to buy a glitter farm.”
Pearlasia nearly fell out of her chair. She couldn’t picture the words royal and glitter in the same sentence. In Atlantica, glitter was an impoverished merman’s antidote. Some poor, unfortunate souls believed anything that sparkled was magic. It was the sea’s oldest con, to sprinkle glitter on one’s woes and, in turn, receive prosperity. Pearlasia could see why her mother was so against it. What she didn’t understand was why her uncle didn’t have a fortune of his own, if he were a prince. But Pearlasia held the question as Amphitrite continued with her tale.
“When I refused his plan, Areas sent a handwritten message to my mother, in which he laid everything out: he had planned to die. Ares had known the time and a place for years. He thanked her for being his rock and rebuked me for being his disgrace. After he died, I kid you not, it pelted glitter for three days and three nights. It was his final performance, as I saw it. Within six months, I buried my first child, my brother, and later, my mother. I would tell you more about your extended family, Pearlasia, if you had one.”
The princess adjusted her bracelet a little. It truly didn’t feel like a bracelet. In fact, it felt weightless, like nothing at all. “It’s an amulet,” Amphitrite shared, seeing her thoughtful gaze, “through which untold powers can also flow. I never had much luck with it, nor did my brother with his, obviously, being a merboy and all. Perhaps the amulet will take a liking to you.”
***
On their swim over to the throne hall, Poseidon presented Pearlasia with a giant clam. Its staggeringly fleshy lips were spangled with neon flecks. Poseidon gave Pearlasia two choices – she could keep the clam as a pet, or let it go free. She chose to release it. Pearlasia’s entire body clenched as the gargantuan creature writhed its way out of the shell. As Isis rushed to clear the shell of the goopy liquid left behind, Pearlasia couldn’t fathom going through with the next step, when the shell would trap her inside.
Somehow, Pearlasia managed to convince her parents to only place her in the entrapment onsite, so she’d have time to mentally prepare. Obliging, Poseidon made room for Pearlasia in his scalloped chariot. She squeezed between Triton and Amphitrite, as Isis hauled the clamshell in the carriage’s rear before darting in.
After a moment, the king faced forwards, grabbed the reign of the orcas, and commanded the whales to drive ahead. The carriage meandered up toward the ceiling, where the retracting mussel roof opened as water above filtered through. It was a lovely sight, for the roof’s gleaming pearls were large enough to shape into a hundred queens’ crowns.
The chariot encircled the castle before riding off. As it pulled away, Pearlasia observed the lagoon their glittering home sat in, nestled in the valley of the imposing seamount. The breathtaking view could never get old for Pearlasia.
They rounded the epicenter of Atlantica, the capital of their civilization. Nearly twenty banana-shaped islands surrounded the castle’s moat. Together, the isles formed an arc that enclosed the sea from both the north and south. Other seamounts, where smaller kingdoms ruled, blockaded the east. The islands were merman-made, erected from midden, or a hodgepodge of shells, bones, and clay. All types of seashells, from pastel lightning whelks and tulip shells to coquinas and sand dollars, formed crunch-walks along the isles’ shores.
Beyond the castle, streets were paved with coral, pyramids glistened with dazzling crystal, and mother-of-pearl served as the standard construction material for massive government buildings. Pearlasia watched mermen down below, immersed in the hustle and bustle of their daily commutes. Children and elders hopped on and off giant sea turtle taxis, zigzagging at rapid speeds. Merchants offered a bewildering array of food and luxuries in the market and buyers shelled out their sand dollars in exchange for the goods.
Atlantica’s terrain extended from the lake into the surrounding seamount. Cliffs rose on both sides of the underwater mountain, studded with giant kelp forests that shrouded the coral reef. The reef stacked high like a row of impossibly unreal condominiums. Whole cliff sides of coral, doubling as caves and balconies, functioned as a symbiotic ecosystem between mermen and plants. Their seamount dwellings were illuminated with a blue-green phosphorescence, which plankton and other microscopic creatures that lived in those parts naturally emitted.
Mermen who resided up there, high in Atlantica’s seamount, were not of royal blood. Instead, they formed socially segregated clans with unique traditions and distinct dialects. Cultural identity at the clan level was imperative to defining one’s place in the kingdom.
Four of those clans, plus the royal family, dominated Mermalian society. Izu was the oldest in the region. At birth, Izus displayed a trio of zig-zag black stripes on their white tails, which became more colorful with age. Older members of the clan developed bright daffodil bodies that blurred into orange and deep red in the face. Izu possessed adventurous and entrepreneurial spirits that allowed them to control the markets in Atlantica’s capital. They were the wealthiest clan, richer than the royals even.
The second-most prominent clan, Demani, were distinguished by their transparent tails covered in blue and purple dots. Demani elders took on a golden hue that brilliantly contrasted with their darkened marks. This clan excelled in arts and entertainment by fostering a vibrant culture wherever they swam.
While small in population, the third clan, Hoplon, made up for their numbers in bravery. This fierce clan had reddish-brown pigmentation and eel-like tails. Unlike other mermen, Hoplon were born with a specialized labyrinth organ, which allowed them to advance in shallow water and even breathe air. Some Hoplon could emit electrical charges to not only power Atlantica, but to help protect its borders. Hoplon’s warrior culture made them the subject of universal fascination. Hoplon soldiers, tales warned, could electrocute victims with their eyes as a way of capturing their souls. They were so highly regarded that, after Poseidon became king, he developed elite Hoplon units within the military.
The last notable clan, Sturgeon, were wise and ancient figures who held deeply spiritual beliefs. Sturgeon’s tails ranged from olive green to blue-black. These mermen were known as the gatekeepers of history and controlled the means of transmitting knowledge. The Sturgeon clan operated churches, libraries, and schools. As the saying went, you could tell a Sturgeon anything and he would remember it for a lifetime. Pearlasia knew this saying all too well. After all, she was half-sturgeon and half-royal.
The marriage between Pearlasia’s parents marked the first time a bi-clannial family — a Sturgeon queen and a half-Hoplon king—had ever risen through the ranks. Known to be both physically and culturally separate, clans were discouraged from interbreeding and intermarriage. By parting sands, Pearlasia would be sending a message that magic transcended culture. It would be a historic moment, if she could pull it off.
Her ride came to an end as the chariot scratched to a stop against the cliff. At least three thousand guests awaited the royal family. A humpback started vocalizing, singing a song about the rise of future kings and queens. Still hidden in the carriage, Pearlasia warped her body into the clamshell as it banged shut. She felt the shell being lifted through the water, then slid out until it teetered the cliff’s edge. Everything was dark and silent, except for the voice inside Pearlasia’s head telling her that everything would be okay.
Pearlasia may not have always known where her tail would take her, but it was always one sweep further and higher than before. Her life, full of conviction and action, began when she was merely a hatchling in an egg case. Although she couldn't recall every detail of her birth, Pearlasia remembered this exact same place she hovered over now, when she first swam to the edge.
***
Pearlasia’s life began in the spawning cave as amniotic fluid flooded her mermaid’s purse. At first, Pearlasia appeared as a dark featureless orb. Then, her wide eyes, budding arms and legs, and finally a recognizable profile of a girl emerged. Her growing weight stretched the case closer and closer to the cave floor. Pearlasia came swirling down into view as a miniature mermaid, tinted black and purple. Pearlasia’s tail crowned and pushed through the gelatinous interior. She escaped from the egg’s weakened side with bright pink gills. But as she tumbled out, there was no crying. Pearlasia fell into a purse snatcher’s arms, limp and unresponsive. Another purse snatcher immediately compressed Pearlasia’s chest with her thumbs. The room was hushed, aside from the elder’s measured breaths.
Back at the castle, Amphitrite tried to separate where life began and ended. Her racing thoughts resulted in little sleep. Even though this was the queen’s second time entering motherhood, the worst part for her was still the anticipation. The purse snatchers at the breeding grounds said the combination of movement in the egg case and larvae’s eyes would determine when it was time. But what if her hatchling succumbed to disease and fungus, brought on by less regal eggs in her clutch, and never swam out? Even worse, what if everything was right, and yet her baby still couldn’t survive the swim across the cliff into her arms? There was only a ninety percent eggcase survival rate. That statistic continued to worsen every year, and scientists still didn’t know why.
The next day, mermen traveled from far and wide to see the momentous occasion of Pearlasia’s birth. Plunging from his scalloped chariot, Poseidon took Amphitrite’s hand, and they strolled to the edge, along with Isis and Triton. The queen gave the paparazzi a sketch-worthy pose, careful not to appear too concerned. After all, royal fry always made it across the strait. They rarely lost their course. If the hatchling started to drown for any reason, Amphitrite would be shunned if she dove in after it. To deviate from tradition would not be good in the eyes of their society, which functioned on self-preservation above all else. So, Amphitrite focused on what she could control. She spoke in a quiet tone, hoping to conjure the spirit of her newborn. “Your mommy and daddy and brother are here. We need you with us.”
Poseidon pinched the small of her wrist. “Amphitrite,” he smiled, and in that smile came anger. “Don’t raise concerns where there are none.” Amphitrite shot a backward glance at their subjects. She was highly aware of everyone’s thirst for gossip. Journalists would be quick to interpret the royals’ interactions for their own agendas. Still, her heart sank. The wait had already been too long. What if’s danced around her head. That’s when everyone around her began to sing.
Defiant, Amphitrite placed her gilded cowrie choker near her ear and attempted to drown the music out. To try to hear whatever was in front of her. Shells could magnify sounds over a great distance, but all the queen heard bouncing back was white noise. She tossed the jewelry over the edge and watched it oscillate with the tide.
“Now why would you do that?!” Poseidon barked.
Amphitrite didn’t respond and instead sang until her voice was heard above all else.
***