Chapter 7

"Am I dead?"I whisper, the words barely escaping my lips as I entertain the horrible thought that I might now be a ghost, awakened in the depths of the ocean, doomed to roam my watery grave for eternity. I recall the moment I gave in to exhaustion, silently praying that someone would eventually find my body and return it to my parents. The thought of them clinging to hope, spending their lives in an endless search for me, is the last thing I want. I hoped for closure, for their sake, to spare them that prolonged agony.

"No, silly, you're not dead. You're in Mirinthia, the Otherworld kingdom of King Egon," a fair-haired woman explains as she swims behind me, adjusting a pillow and humming a tune in a high-pitched, somewhat grating voice.

I blink rapidly, my vision surprisingly clear under the salt water. Disbelief grips me as I spot her long blue mermaid tail swishing gracefully through the water. Am I hallucinating? The clarity of my sight underwater and the surreal appearance of this mermaid fill me with wonder and a tinge of confusion.

"Mirinthia? Am I dreaming? You"re a mermaid—how can any of this be real?" I stutter, my feet flailing as I try to orient myself and take in my surroundings. Despite breathing and speaking underwater, I feel no water enter my nostrils or pass my lips. It all seems utterly impossible. A creeping realization dawns on me—I must be dead, and this is purgatory for people who die at sea, for nothing else could explain this bewildering experience.

"Can"t you trust your own eyes, sweetheart?" A red-haired mermaid quips as she glides effortlessly toward me, gracefully shimmying onto the bed that seems to have been placed here for me—a bed that defies physics with its opulent design. This isn"t just a bed, it"s part of a grand, futuristic underwater palace teeming with life and vibrancy. What I thought was my watery grave turns out to be a magical home beneath the sea.

"What"s so special about her anyway? Why is Papa so anxious? He's just outside the door, pacing back and forth, waiting for her to wake up." A white-haired mermaid circles me skeptically, her expression tinged with resentment. She pouts, leaning closer to scrutinize me, her eyes narrowing. "She doesn"t even have a tail," she huffs dismissively, and with a flip of her own tail, she glides away, her movements exaggerated and showy, clearly intent on making a point with her dramatic departure.

"Papa?" I echo, as my eyes dart from side to side, puzzled as to why that girl"s father would be so concerned about my well-being. Could he be the one who rescued me? I recall flashes of a white beard framing a rugged, sun-kissed face with eyes bluer than the deepest sea, but I had dismissed that vision as a figment of a dying dream. Now, I"m beginning to wonder if it was more than just a hallucination.

The first mermaid who visited me sweeps across the small room, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in evident disapproval. "Ignore her, darling. Nixie is just jealous that you're capturing the attention of the man she dreams about. Despite his protests, she continues to call him papa, hoping he's into that kind of thing. She's half siren, you see, and they don't have fated mates like we do. Sirens rely on their songs to lure and seduce unmated men, but despite her efforts, the King has remained thoroughly unimpressed by her melodies." Her tone is a mix of sympathy and amusement as she divulges these undercurrents of palace intrigue.

"Hush up, Misty. King Egon might protest, but I know better—I can read his emotions, and deep down, he relishes the attention. He"s well aware of his allure—that distinguished gray hair, the beard, those Herculean muscles, and let"s not forget, those multijointed tentacles. I bet he enjoys the thrill of driving us sirens mad with desire—me included. Papa doesn't need a mate. He could command a harem if he wished," Nixie retorts, her words swirling with a mix of defiance and yearning.

Her comments only deepen my confusion. Tentacles? A harem? My mind races as I try to piece together the reality of my situation. Who exactly has tentacles? And where in the world—or perhaps, where out of this world—am I?

The red-haired mermaid whirls around, returning to the conversation with decisive clarity. "Listen, Nixie, this isn"t just any mortal. She"s Marine"s daughter and King Dariel's granddaughter. She"s more than suitable for the King of Mirinthia." Her gaze then softens as she turns to me, introducing herself, "My name is Beryl, and I knew your mother. You bear such a striking resemblance to her. Will she be joining you here?"

Bewildered by her words, I demand answers. "My mother? What's happening? I don't understand any of this. Can you assure me I'm alive? How can I possibly breathe underwater? And how do you know my mother?" I grasp Misty's forearm, the urgency of my questions mirrored in my tight grip. My eyes desperately seek hers, pleading for some explanation to make sense of the surreal situation unfolding around me.

Misty bows her head and offers a reassuring smile. "I think our king prefers to explain everything to you personally, but I"ll give you enough information to ease your mind. We need to keep you calm—it"s better for your breathing," she explains gently. Extending her hand, she helps me out of bed and begins teaching me how to maneuver in the water. Moving gracefully without fins is not straightforward, but her guidance makes it feel more manageable.

"Is this place real?" I ask, feeling awkward and ignorant. I never considered myself a skeptical person, but my new surroundings are a bit hard to swallow.

Misty nods with a silent understanding, her movements as fluid as water. She gracefully floats behind me, her hands gently gathering the unruly curls of my hair that dance like sea foam in the weightlessness around us. With skilled fingers, she twists my locks, artfully pinning them away from my shoulders. Her touch, light and reassuring, coaxes a smile onto my lips—my first since I fell off the ship.

"You are alive and well, Nerissa," she whispers, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos of my thoughts. "You're in the Otherworld, a realm adjacent to your own, a sanctuary for beings like us. Here, we are hidden from the prying eyes and potential violence of mortals. Your arrival here is no mere coincidence. The gods themselves have guided you to this fate. Now, it is for you to choose whether to embrace the path they have set before you."

"Fate? I don't believe in fate," I protest, shaking my head and trying to dispel the fog of disbelief that clouds my thoughts.

Misty's smile only widens at my denial, her eyes twinkling with a mix of wisdom and mischief. "Many have echoed your disbelief," she replies, her tone laced with amusement. "Yet, those very skeptics often find themselves recanting their words once they stand face-to-face with their fated mate. Which, incidentally, brings us to King Egon. He's waiting to see you."