The temperature of the water changed from boiling to frozen as Tara sped across the border. Within milliseconds, she had long passed the Screaming Sea. Her skin prickled in the presence of these new waters; but it barely unnerved her. She was familiar with the way the currents changed, the way the impenetrable strength influenced even her – the fastest mermaid in the Sea. But her virtue was that she could find the current, and use it to her advantage; something the other mermaids failed to do. Her gaze fixed ahead to a point in the distance she could only see in her mind’s eye, and her hands remained stiff by her side, not with rigidity, but with a force that drove her forward. The length of her body flapped rapidly behind her, adding to her speed. She would have disrupted the ocean had she not been this fast; there was barely enough time for the molecules to shift before she had sliced through them.

It was not long since she entered the Rusalk territory, The Knoset Sea, when she sensed other mermaids. She disregarded them. They couldn’t do anything to stop her, even if they used all their power combined. She would be gone before they even tried. What power, anyway? They barely deserved to be called mermaids. More fitting was to refer to them as zombies. No – perhaps even zombies were an understatement.

Tara sensed more of them, building up closely together, hugging the seabed. She didn’t turn her head to see the creatures, and she knew this angered them. She sped past them, but she didn’t sense their energies fading away. Then Tara heard their raspy voices, speaking the language of the undead. A dozen of them attempted to swim with her, mimicking her movements, all the while still laying low, where the current was weaker, and slashing their teeth at Tara.

She looked at them, moving only her eyes, and felt the pride bubble in her. She caught the gaze of a Rusalk, hollow eyes carved into its crudely shaped skull while its bony tail flitted desperately behind it, trying to keep up the speed. Poor thing.

Tara lifted her lips at the corner, and kicked her tail violently. Then she was gone, and the Rusalks were left behind. Ribs tangled into each other. No hope of catching up.

The water changed again. The ice coldness that preserved the dead Rusalks was replaced by something more comforting. It had a welcoming warmth to it, a mildness that made her skin prickle yet again. Tara could feel the current lose its grip, so she expertly chose another invisible path to follow. It was closer to the surface, and stronger than any other. She liked this part. The current grabbed her, but she preferred to think that she captured it, and just like that her speed increased alarmingly.

She knew why this current was so strong, and she knew that it was as if she had triggered off an alarm. The Moya would sense her arrival very soon. She kept swimming, head fixed ahead, but her eyes took in her surroundings. If she could to choose to occupy any other territory other than The Screaming Sea, she would choose this.

The Treasure Sea.

She would choose it for the strong currents, and the way the water seemed as if to be made of gold. She would choose it for the sunlight that dripped through, like honey syrup. She would choose it for the pleasurable company, the mermaids that spoiled you with riches if you treated them well. And Tara was fond of gems. Emeralds, rubies, diamonds … she wanted it all.

As she had predicted, her arrival had woken the Moya. She could see one waiting for her, several yards away. Objects in her hair, around her ankles, wrists and tail, sparkled furiously. They weren’t jewelry. It was part of her body, etched into her ebony skin like the barnacles on a rock. Something else glittered in her cupped hands, and it made Tara smile.

“Is it me, or are you a bit slow today?” Mbali challenged. She had the heavy accent of the Southern Ocean; light on the s, rough on the t’s.

Tara’s smile broadened as she slowed to a halt. “How long have you been waiting?”

Mbali thought for a moment, measuring the time. “Fifty-two seconds.” She said mockingly. “That’s forever.”

“Aneya must think I decided to stay here.”

“Sorry, this is a Moya only zone.”

Tara’s eyes flickered briefly to Mbali’s cupped hands, and the gems that glittered in it.

“Choose one.” Mbali held her hand towards Tara. The gems caught the light, and they sparkled like stars.

“Only one?” Tara was torn.

“I’m saving some for Shaka. He’s going to be the chief soon. I want to make a crown for him.”

Tara nodded in understanding, despite the disappointment. She picked the diamond, leaving behind prettier ones for the new chief.

“Take one for your mother,” Mbali said.

Tara pursed her lips. “Thessa doesn’t need these.”

Mbali frowned.

Sensing that she had insulted a Moya’s honor – particularly since the Moya was gifting her beloved jewels – Tara changed her sentence. “Although, Cayiya would like one. She fancies the topaz.”

Mbali held her hand out again, and Tara picked out the gem. It was the color of an orange sunset.

“Pass my greeting to the Agni,” Mbali said, somewhat satisfied, “your mother and Cayiya especially.”

“Thessa.” Tara corrected.

“Your mother.” Mbali’s gaze was hard. She turned and swam away. Tara watched her until the last of her golden tail disappeared.

“Thessa,” Tara mumbled.

She sped off.

*

“Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds!”

Aneya’s voice echoed loudly across the Screaming Sea as Tara drifted to a slow, free swim, not stopping completely. Aneya followed behind quickly, punching the water in triumph.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Faster than yesterday?” Tara asked, still swimming.

“Faster than yesterday,” Aneya confirmed, looking at the watch they had found ashore.

“Good,” Tara said. “Tomorrow I’ll be faster.”

“Did you have any trouble with the Rusalks?”

They entered a dark cave, save for some silver light that illuminated the writing on the rocks.

“No,” Tara was annoyed by the question, but she didn’t show it. How could she have trouble with something like a Rusalk?

“Brillant,” Aneya went on, “What about the Kappa?”

“Nem said hi.”

Aneya’s eyes widened. “Did he, really?”

Tara observed the shadowed cave, searching. “No,” she told Aneya. “His actual words were ‘Bug yot, kig int’.”

Aneya’s shoulder’s slumped. “He still hasn’t learnt any words.”

Tara didn’t look at her. Of course, he won’t. You should give up, Aneya. His brain is too small. “Don’t worry about it,” she comforted her friend, “I’m sure he’ll come around some time.” Never.

Aneya said nothing.

Tara’s eyes hovered over the dozens of caves, looking for some sign of movement. The only movement she noticed was the graceful swishes of the sea weed and kelp. Then, she spotted a flicker of light in her peripheral vision. It was gone when she turned her gaze towards the cave.

She swam into it.

The cave smelt of the something foul; Tara couldn’t identify what the odor was exactly. Nothing from the Sea had such a vulgar smell attached to it.

“Brought a topaz for me, eh?” Cayiya was facing the other way, yet somehow, she always knew when someone had entered her caves. She had eyes all over the place, and ears in the minds of others. “Aneya, darling, don’t worry about Nem. He’s still a baby. Kappa’s learn slowly.” Cayiya did not turn. She was hunched over a cauldron. Her tail waved excitedly. White hair floated around her like clouds.

Tara had stopped asking what Cayiya was up to a long time ago. Mostly because the answer was the most bizarre things she had ever heard, and Cayiya didn’t explain further. But Tara did not stop being inquisitive. When Cayiya spoke in riddles, Tara’s mind buzzed for days trying figure out what she meant.

“You can leave the topaz right there, seashell,” Cayiya’s voice echoed from the cauldron. She had shoved her head right into it. “Aw, Mbali is a lovely mermaid, isn’t she? Always so thoughtful. Tomorrow, you can tell her I wouldn’t mind attending Shaka’s ceremony. He’s going to be chief, can you imagine that? I remember when he was just a little throbbing fish …”

Tara squirmed at the gruesome picture. Cayiya was old, so old, that she had memories of every mermaid as a baby. Shaka was approximately one hundred years older than Tara.

“What are you doing, Cayiya?” Aneya was the one who never stopped asking.

“I’m thinking about birds,” Cayiya’s voice echoed, her head still in the cauldron.

Aneya looked at Tara, who shook her head.

“Are there birds in the cauldron?” Aneya pursued.

Cayiya removed her head, and turned to face them for the first time since they entered. Her skin was pink at her cheeks, and a dark red dot was on the tip of her nose. She seemed to not notice. “Birds are beautiful, eh? They fly, and fly, and fly, so high in the sky … Thank you for bringing the topaz, seashell, I’ll give it to your mother right away.”

Tara clenched her teeth. “I brought it for you.”

Cayiya giggled. It was odd to see an old woman such as her giggle like a little girl. But Cayiya couldn’t care less, and Tara had gotten used to it. “Your mother would love it. Where do you think you inherited your fondness for gems, eh? Besides, I would just crush it to powder and use it in a potion. Such a present from a Moya used in that way is disrespectful.”

There was no arguing with Cayiya. So, Tara remained silent.

*

The mermaids are never aware when night falls. But Tara knows what it’s like; the quietness with all the humans asleep and the slow, gentle waves of the sea are something of a comfort to her, like speeding around the Cortex. But the highlight of the night are the glistening pearls that become visible in the sky.

Tonight was a brightly lit, constellation filled, night. Tara wanted to observe the stars alone. Aneya would have tagged along as usual, but she quickly got bored staring at the sky. For her, there was nothing interesting to see. She saw with her eyes, and the sight didn’t settle further than her retina.

Tara could see the sky even if she shut her eyes so tight, that everything was black. But there was nothing like feeling the sky. There was nothing like laying on the rocks of Cayiya’s cave, above the surface, breathing in oxygen – oxygen that wasn’t attached to anything else. Oxygen that flowed through her nostrils and through her lungs, filling her alveoli the way the stars filled the sky. Pure, tasty, oxygen, not through her gills.

There was nothing like the yearning Tara felt towards the stars. The gems that Mbali gave her were beautiful, but could they be compared to the gems in the sky? Did they make Tara feel as if she was nothing, as if she was merely another organism in the universes? As insignificant as a dot, that too, smudged by the water? No, it was incomparable.

How ironic that a mermaid who could not even dream of being close to the sky, let alone touching it, have a name such as Tara. Tara meant star. Stars belonged to the sky. But this Tara was confined to the sea. Mermaids were forbidden from going to the sky. It was the Fae Territory, a sworn enemy, a lower creature. Tara’s inquisitiveness spurred a yearning to break this rule, however possible it may seem.

Perhaps it explained the hatred towards her mother. Naming her child Tara as if taunting her.

Or perhaps Tara hated her mother because of her father. Her human father. But could she blame Thessa for that? There were no male Agni, and mating with another breed of mermaids was an unspeakable deed. That usually left the Agni with one choice: find a human mate.

And find a human mate she did.

Tara clicked her tongue, thinking about how that turned out. Of course the human and mermaid could not last long. Humans were such … Tara couldn’t find an appropriate word. Fragile? Emotional? Close-minded? They lived such short lives, too. If Tara could find it in her, she would almost pity them.

And then there was that boy. Her father had found a human mate shortly after Thessa left him. Had a son. He turned seventeen recently. Tara remembered spying on him at his party. They were on a yacht, and he always had his hands on a human girl. The humans drank a lot, made plenty of noise, and stayed awake through the entire night. In the morning, all their dirt was scattered in the sea. Tara wanted to scatter them in the Rusalk territory.

Tara gazed at the sky, inhaling like she had never inhaled before. Unconsciously, her tail fluttered, sending a similar feeling to her heart.

The Imprint.

She did not want that night to arrive. Not until she had made a proper decision about the mark she wanted. She’d be turning one-hundred-and-eighteen in a few weeks, the transforming age in the life of an Agni. Cayiya had her imprint some millenia ago, and the mark was still fresh on her skin. Black ink spiraled and curved around each other, to form the intricate design of a sea turtle. Why would any mermaid want to transform into a turtle?

Even Thessa had her imprint. She became an Angelfish. It was a beautiful fish indeed, but Tara couldn’t put herself in the mind of one, couldn’t imagine herself as one.

Aneya’s imprint was recent. Cayiya had given her a long talk, advised her to take her time thinking about this big decision. When the night arrived, Aneya was jittery with nervousness. Tara remembered swimming with her to Cayiya’s cave, where the imprint would be done, and waiting outside until morning. No one was to enter the cave and no one was to disturb Cayiya as she was performing the most important task in Aneya’s life. When morning came, Aneya emerged from the cave glowing like a crystal. She showed Tara her bare back where the mark was carefully handcrafted. Tara remembered thinking, a dolphin?

She couldn’t understand why Aneya would want to transform from the most powerful breed of mermaids – the invincible predators of the Sea, the Agni – to something that could so easily be devoured by another creature. Something so childish, so friendly.

Aneya was ecstatic. She remained as a dolphin for hours on end. That was a year ago. Now it was Tara’s turn, and Tara was clueless. On nights like these, while drifting into the stars, she wondered what kind of imprint she would have.

What sea creature was more powerful than an Agni? She couldn’t find an answer to that. So, she asked herself another question: what other sea creature would she be satisfied transforming to? What other sea creature could give her something she never had as an Agni? Try as she might, Tara couldn’t conjure an answer.

The stars twinkled.