For Ruth
One thousand years before the Old Gods return,
the Moon Goddess reigns supreme.
And by her side...
the Stars shine glorious and bright.
In the undersea city of Stelune, a mermaid tried to wish her mother farewell.
“I’ll be fine,” Tallora insisted, placing a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek. “What can the storm do? Drown me?”
Her mother caught her hands, worry etched into her features. “There’re no stars out tonight, my Tallora. What if you’re swept away? You won’t find your way home. The king’s guards even spoke of a ship on the horizon—what if you’re seen?”
“Then I’ll wave or sing a song like the sirens they think we are.” Tallora laughed, though a glimmer of regret panged in her heart at her mother’s obvious worry. “Not that I can sing.”
“Perhaps, but Goddess Staella will understand if the weather is too dangerous.”
“Mother—” Tallora cut herself off, guilt filling her at those apprehensive eyes. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her mother’s torso and held her tight, her pearlescent skin familiar and warm. “I have to do this. I made a mistake, and this is my penance.”
Her mother kissed her hair and silently nodded.
“I’ll return in an hour. No need to worry.” With those final words, Tallora swam out of their little shared home.
The city of Stelune was a beacon of light, her beloved home, but the dark sky held its own wonders. As she swam higher, the waters grew turbulent, but not wilder than she could master with her powerful tail. She clutched the string of beaded sea stars and pearls around her neck, the sigils of her goddess reassuring her of her safety.
Water sprayed as she breached the surface, both from the waves and the pelting rain. Lightning tore across the sky, illuminating a distant ship struggling against the storm. Black clouds hung low, blocking any view of the stars, but they were ever-present all the same.
Last night, the dark moon had reigned, no light cast from its silver mass. It had been a clear sky, the night the stars shone brightest, a perfect time for worshippers of the Goddess of Stars to pray and bask in her love and light. Priestesses-in-training were required to attend, lest they lose their vestments, and Tallora was nearing the end.
But she had been absent.
As she lay upon the tossing sea’s surface, she thought fondly of the beautiful girl she’d met—not that she ever cared to see her again. She hadn’t meant to get so carried away, but she’d always been weak for charming smiles and full lips and had spent the night admiring them.
And so, after begging the high priestess for a second chance . . . or a tenth . . . she had been told to perform her prayers tonight instead.
Tallora’s body rose and fell with the turbulent waves, and though she would have preferred to perform her small ritual on a peaceful night, she laid on her back and steadied her breath. With each influx of air, the waves became a lull in her mind, and Tallora finally whispered the first words of her prayer: “Blessed Stars who bring us light—”
Thunder rumbled across the sky, the bellowing roar assaulting her concentration. When Tallora opened her eyes, she floated in the shadow of the approaching ship. Blinding light struck the mast; fire burst from the wood, despite the wind and rain.
Tallora’s sensitive eyes saw stars and spots. In her panicked daze, she dove beneath the water. Her powerful tail kept her steady despite the tumultuous waves—
A human plunged into the sea.
A trail of bubbles followed the rapid descent. Tallora barely dodged, then watched fear and shock flash across the mortal’s face. This was a woman, Tallora realized, a lengthy braid of hair floating beside her, trousers covering the slight curve of her hips. The human’s body suddenly stiffened, and she did what all mortals did when plunged beneath the waves at night—swim the wrong way.
Humans were feared, yet this woman was helpless, having fallen into Tallora’s domain. She dove, wondering if there was any salvation she could bring. Perhaps this had been her purpose this night—not to pray, but to deliver the mercy her goddess always preached of.
When Tallora grabbed her, the woman fought, shaking in her grasp. She spared a moment to smooth the woman’s hair, touch her face, emphatically scream: I have you, you’re safe . . .
In the dark waters, the woman’s eyes followed the necklace of sea stars floating among Tallora’s locks of hair. Realization flashed through her features. She clutched Tallora, and Tallora swam.
The woman gasped for breath once the water broke, only to be splattered by ripping waves and a spray of foam. She coughed over Tallora’s shoulder, her gloved hands rough against her slick skin. Tallora swam toward the ship, and the woman at her shoulder yelled, “Lower a rope!”
Amidst the spray and the thunderous rumbling of the sky, her voice was a drop in a bucket. Tallora held her tight, her own mind frantically weighing options, when from the woman’s hand burst a flash of silver light. Startled, she nearly released her, but the light combusted into flame, shooting up into the air as a vibrant beacon.
Within seconds, a knotted rope fell into the water, its damp fibers clinging to the ancient wood of the ship. Was this woman some kind of sorcerer? The concept of silver fire rang somewhere in her memory, but Tallora’s focus rested in the moment. She swam to the rope, even helped the woman grasp it—
Who wrapped the rope around Tallora’s core, expertly tying it into a knot. Tallora heaved when she was forcibly dragged into the air. As she struggled, a strong hand gripped her hair—
And slammed her head against the side of the ship.
Stars flew across Tallora’s vision. She hung limply, rope digging into her stomach as darkness threatened to steal her sight. With all her waning will power, she fought to stay awake, but next she knew she toppled against the deck.
Her body smacked against the damp wood. The woman’s hold released; Tallora whimpered and curled into a ball, clinging to her sleek, scaled tail.
Footsteps sounded amidst the rain. Tallora’s hair splayed across the deck, the stark white locks greyed in the dank atmosphere. Her head ached, but when a gloved hand clutched the string of stars and pearls around her neck and yanked, it broke apart.
Suddenly alert, she dared to look up and saw an array of sea-faring men, drenched and exhausted from the storm, and her captor inspecting the religious sigils. The fire on the mast still smoked.
“We thought we’d lost you, princess,” said one—an old man who wore not the breeches of the men daring the storm but opulent robes of purple and gold. He spoke Solviran Common, and Tallora understood him well enough—their languages hailed from the common root of Celestière.
The woman scoffed, standing tall amidst the winds, silhouetted by a distant flash of lightning. “Magister, the gods wouldn’t dare.” Her braided hair clung to her face in matted, salt-drenched loops, like dried seaweed. Tallora had heard of uplander princesses, known in stories for their legendary beauty and ostentatious tastes in clothes and jewels. Instead, the woman wore boots and a tunic dirtied from the salty spray, no finery on her person, her skin tanned and cracked from the sun.
The princess tucked the broken necklace into her trouser pocket and knelt, her gaze matching Tallora’s. “You are an unexpected bit of luck, mermaid,” she continued, her eyes calculating as they studied every curve and scale of Tallora’s body. She stiffened, curling tighter into her protective ball. “My name is Dauriel Solviraes, eldest daughter of Empress Vahla. You are now property of the Solviran Empire.”