Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Levi

I jolt awake with my heart pounding. For a terrifying moment, I can’t tell where I am – the line between nightmare and reality blurs, and I’m still half-caught in the tendrils of my dream. My breath comes in ragged gasps, and I can taste the phantom salt of the ocean on my tongue. My limbs are tangled in sheets that feel like seaweed, dragging me down into the abyss.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, the familiar outlines of my bedroom slowly materialize. The sky is inky black through my window, with just the faintest smudges of pre-dawn light teasing the horizon. My hammering heart starts to slow as the final wisps of panic from my dream disperse.

The dream is murky now, but I know I was locked in a battle with Malachar. Princess Kaia’s mocking laughter echoed around us, her taunts cutting deeper than any physical wound. The details are already fading, but the sense of betrayal and wounded pride lingers, settling in my chest like a cold, heavy stone.

I lie there for a while, trying to shake off the unsettling images, but it’s futile. Getting back to sleep feels impossible. With a sigh, I decide to start my day early. Sitting up and tossing off my blanket, I push away the remnants of my nightmare and stretch my arms overhead.

My next thought, unbidden but not unwelcome, is of Rose. A smile tugs at my lips as I remember her mentioning her plans to explore the town today. It’s her day off from scheduled activities, and part of me wishes I could join her and show her my favorite spots in Lublin Harbor. However, I have responsibilities that demand my attention. I shake my head, trying to dislodge her image from my mind. It’s a pleasant distraction from the nightmare but dangerous in its own way.

Unable to resist the ocean’s call any longer, I rise from my bed. The floorboards creak softly beneath my bare feet as I head to the deck. When I step through the back door of my houseboat, I pause with my hand still on the doorknob, listening. The marina is quiet, save for the gentle lapping of waves against the hulls of sleeping boats and the occasional cry of a night bird.

Confirming that all is silent, I step out, naked, onto the deck. The cool pre-dawn air raises goosebumps on my skin as I scan the surrounding boats and docks. No lights, no movement.

I move silently toward the stern, every creak of the deck making me pause and listen. The water below is dark and inviting, promising secrecy and freedom. After one final scan of the sleeping marina, I draw in a deep breath and slip beneath the surface, leaving only ripples behind.

The ocean’s cool embrace is a relief, washing away the last clinging cobwebs of my nightmare. As the sea welcomes me home, I let my human form melt away.

Eight tentacles unfurl, stretching out into the calm ocean. This is who I am, what I am. I have a responsibility to this place and to the creatures that call these waters home.

As I glide through the water, the underwater world of the Atlantic off the Maine coast unfolds before me in all its rugged beauty. The seafloor here is a patchwork of rocky outcroppings and sandy stretches, each habitat teeming with its own unique community of marine life.

Despite the familiar beauty surrounding me, I find myself reflecting on the undercurrent of discontent and disillusionment that’s been plaguing me for months – years, really. Even though everyone in Lublin Harbor has always been welcoming, I’ve felt out of place, caught between two worlds and not fully belonging to either. It’s a feeling that’s been gnawing at me, making me question my place here and my purpose.

But today, as I patrol these waters, I feel a spark of something different. The memory of the clam bake and how easily the townspeople welcomed Rose and me keep replaying in my head. For the first time, I realize that perhaps I’ve been holding myself apart for no good reason. The sense of isolation I’ve felt… could it have been self-imposed all along?

Shaking away these thoughts, I refocus on my surroundings.

Near the shore, in the shallower waters, I navigate through dense forests of rockweed. Their brown, leathery fronds cling to the rocks, creating a swaying canopy that shelters a myriad of tiny creatures. Schools of Atlantic herring weave through this underwater forest, their silver sides flashing as they dart between the fronds. As I observe this intricate ecosystem, I’m struck by how each element belongs and how everything has its place. Perhaps it’s time I truly accepted mine.

As I glide into deeper water, the seafloor transforms. Life carpets the rocky bottom – vibrant sea stars sprawl like living jewels while spiky green urchins huddle in shadowy crevices. Blue mussels cluster in dark patches, their shells catching glints of filtered light. Between the rocks, cautious lobsters wave their antennae at my approach.

The water dims and chills as I descend further. A flounder lies perfectly still, only its swiveling eyes betraying its presence. Schools of cod drift past, their mottled brown bodies blending seamlessly with the murky depths as they search for prey.

As I round a massive, kelp-covered boulder, I come across an unexpected sight that makes me pause. Merrows – a gentle-natured cousin to mermaids from Irish legend – sleep peacefully in a rocky hollow, sheltered by a woven tapestry of seaweed. The living shield ripples with each current, offering glimpses of iridescent scales and green hair the color of deep kelp forests.

I blink in surprise, not realizing any of these Irish sea folk had moved into the area.

Watching them, I make a mental note to mention their presence to Koko. While I’m pretty sure she already knows about them – very little escapes her notice in Lublin Harbor – it’s worth confirming that they’re welcome here. The last thing we need is tension between different magical communities in our waters.

Rising from the seafloor, I spot a pod of harbor porpoises darting past, their sleek bodies cutting through the water like arrows. They pause when they notice me, their curious whistles echoing through the blue expanse. Then, one darts forward to tap my tentacle with its snout before spinning away. Ah – they want to play. I reach for them playfully as they weave between my limbs, always just fast enough to escape my gentle grasp.

Once they tire of our game, the pod vanishes into deeper waters, their playful echoes fading.

All seems well in my domain – the familiar dance of predator and prey, the steady pulse of ocean life. A humpback whale glides in the distance, its massive form a gentle reminder of the wonders I’m sworn to protect.

My thoughts drift unbidden to Rose. The way her eyes light up when she talks about her art and how her laughter carries on the breeze. I wish there were a way for her to stay longer, but she’s just a visitor. I shake off the thought, focusing instead on a school of mackerel passing by. With a quick movement, I snatch one from the group. It’s not the same as a proper meal, but it’ll do for now. As I finish my snack, I realize I’ve been out here for hours. It’s time to head back.

The sun has long since risen, transforming the sea around me. Its rays pierce the depths like golden spears, turning the deep blue into shimmering aquamarine.

As I make my way back towards the marina, a large shape emerges from the shadows of a nearby rocky outcropping, heading in the opposite direction. I immediately recognize it as Moira, the cecaelia who serves as our marina’s harbormaster. Like me, she’s a shifter, capable of taking human form on land. In her true form, she’s a rare and ancient creature with the upper body of a human and the lower body of an octopus. Her tentacles are a deep, mottled purple, almost black in the shadowy water.

As we cross paths, Moira raises a webbed hand in greeting, her eyes, large and fathomless, meeting mine. I lift a tentacle in response, feeling a sense of camaraderie with my fellow shapeshifter. “Heading out for the day, Moira?” I ask, my voice carrying clearly through the calm water.

“Just a routine check,” Moira says, her tentacles undulating gently beneath her torso in the mild current. “It’s a beautiful day up there – perfect for boating. Thought I’d make sure everything’s ship-shape below the surface too.”

“I was just finishing my morning patrol,” I tell her. “Everything seemed normal, except I spotted a group of merrows about a mile out, sleeping in the kelp beds, but that was the only thing worth noting.”

“Yes, they arrived a few days ago,” Moira says. “Koko warned me they’d be around for a little while.” Her tentacles curl lazily through the water, shifting between deep purples and blues. “Have a good day, Levi. I’ll be back by lunch if you need me for anything.” With that, she glides away into deeper waters, her tentacles propelling her gracefully through the sea.

As I near the marina, I ascend from the ocean’s shadows. The light grows brighter, turning the water into a sparkling, translucent curtain. Schools of fish glitter like living jewels as they dart through the sunbeams, their scales reflecting the light in mesmerizing patterns.

Careful to avoid being seen, I transform back into my smaller scout form once I enter the marina. When I get to my houseboat, I morph into my human form as I climb aboard. I turn to stare at Rose’s houseboat. It looks empty, and I feel a pang of disappointment that I immediately try to squash. I remember her mentioning something about shopping. It’s probably for the best. I need to get a grip on these feelings.