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mocha-n-ghost · 5 months

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My Friend’s Fanfic, very good. <3

House of Ghosts

Cyno x Mermaid Reader

Word count: 12.8k

Summary: We all wish for more time, don't we? A universal sentiment for all when the present regrets the past. Unfortunately, fate plays a bitter game we are forced to participate in.

Includes: (SFW) Cyno x reader, mermaid reader, heavy angst, slowburn , childhood friends to lovers, female reader (usage of daughter and “she” for reader), slight ooc!Cyno, brief mention of Tighnari and Collei, !Trigger warning!: near-death trauma, emotional distancing/avoidance, family death PTSD, manic-like episode, terminal illness, depression, slight body dysphoria (being inhuman), lifespan dysphoria(?), astraphobia (fear of thunderstorms), mentions of thalassophobia (fear of the ocean), pessimistic.

A/N: I released a teaser bit of this on my old account before I deleted it on accident, so here's the full thing. It might be bad writing since this is longest work I've ever written. I didn't get a lot of people to proofread before I finished sadly. Feel free to give me some feedback. !!!To help with reading, the horizontal lines mean the start/end of a scene while the "..." mean the start/end of a flashback!!!

As the warm sand gently cards your feet left by the setting afternoon sun, you breathe in the salty breeze of the ocean. The waters gently hug and caress the shore while you sit in the peaceful silence. You feel a sense of dysphoria wash over you as you observe the waves brushing the shoreline. It was an empty cove off of Port Ormos where you liked to sit.

You were very attached to this beach. You weren't exactly sure why you kept coming back here on occasions. Maybe it’s because of the amount of hours spent simply observing the horizon here. Maybe it’s because of the times you sat down here and observed the brilliant night sky, glimmering with stars like your dark scales. Or maybe because it was the exact place you were left at when you opened your eyes to a battered body and frazzled mind that was almost lost to the sea.

A sigh escaped your throat as you thought back to those moments. Yes, you seemed to have survived a near fatal accident, but should you have felt grateful? You could vividly distinguish the blurriness, muffled shrieks, and the unforgiving tides in the incident. The sounds of quaint chirping and restless waters seemed to coo at your mild distress, trying to soothe your anxieties.

The silence of hours ticked by until the late afternoon became a deep evening. The sun dipped below the horizon line, signaling the end of the day. The waters were now murkier. The evening sky was now littered with specks of light and glimmer from the stars, covering the rich night. The tides gently lapped at the sands, beckoning you to jump into the dense, abyssal depths– a great contrast to the past.

In that moment, your hands slowly push yourself off of the ground. You begin to walk towards the waters, kicking sand up from the earth. As you stepped into ankle-deep tides, the waters seemed to reach out to pull you closer to the seas. The moonlight reflected on the surface of the glistening, dark surface, coating you in an ethereal sheen of gentle light.

You humored the sea’s calls and strided through the waves of water, reaching deeper and deeper into the depths until your toes couldn’t touch the seafloor anymore. The ocean lulled and held you like you were fragile porcelain. The seas were gentle today. You floated up and took one last look at the starry night. The stars twinkled like small pearls. Tiny beauties.

You finally submerged yourself beneath the tides, tail effortlessly carding through the weighty water. Under the moonlight, your scales briefly glittered before quickly disappearing like a swift torrent under the seafoam and into the dark sea.

The ocean is intimidating. The curves and waves that gently brush the sandy beaches are only a friendly fraction. Explorers may boast all they want about having conquered the seas, yet the dark crevices of such a vast body will remain untouched by mankind. Many ancient civilizations have been lost to time and erosion and to other stronger societies– their stories to never be told again. Any remnants that hide below the obscured waters’ surface will most likely never be found– at least for a millennia or more. Just as the throne in the sky that was not reserved for them, the secrets that bury itself beneath the waves are to not be spoken for human greed.

For Akademiya scholars, the impending loom of consequences never swayed the greed and curiosity of them. But their attempts to continue are usually futile compared to the treacherous tsunamis and stubborn density of the sea. Not even light can penetrate much of the deepest waters.

For you it only meant to wear your heart on your cheek, keeping the true secrets privy to only you. Yet you have yet to find another like yourself. So until another will reveal themself, you will remain hidden in the shadowing crowds of humanity as you walk amongst them in pretend. That is what you believe while you sit and mull over such an off-topic discussion within the bed of your mind as you sit in the security of a corner in a bookstore with a hand frozen in place from turning the page. You blink yourself out of the trance. Ah, you’ve strayed your thoughts from the book. Gently snapping the book shut, a sigh respired the remaining sobriety back into your head. Eyes lifted their burning train from the neglected book to the windows. The sun had reached the peak of her hour, showering her adoring patrons in golden radiance as if giving Sumeru a last hurrah for the day before the shy moon peeks out of her cloudy curtains.

With this, you surmised it was already the late afternoon. Tsk. Just how long did you space out for? You glanced down at the cover of the book you were holding. As you were droning in and out of your stupor, the bookstore was soon to close– evident by the young and anxious keeper at the front of the desk, glancing subtly at you from the corner of his eye occasionally. Recalling how Wednesdays had earlier closing times, a rise of conscience stung at you.

Better Wednesday than a Monday. You thought.

It would be rude to simply browse for a while but not purchase anything. Swiftly, you swiped a couple books off of their shelves, not paying attention to whichever hardcovers you haphazardly picked out. Best to leave these discussions in the safety of your home and bathtub. Placing mora on the counter of the grateful clerk, you uttered an apology to the shopkeeper, who jumped up at the sound of your voice breaking the silence. You shuffled out of the quaint atmosphere and away from the scent of fresh and worn pages and burnt out candles into the golden streets of Sumeru city, graciously granted by the star in the sky. Letting out a burdensome sigh as you stepped back into the muggy air that you had previously escaped to take refuge in the bookshop away from the taunting licks of humidity on your skin. Thankfully, her grand highness in the sky relinquished the earlier, dreadful heat from her citizens and bestowed a slight coolness at this hour. You were certain that if you stayed out in those conditions for any longer, your skin would start to melt off. Perhaps your scales would too. You began your tread back to your cramped and reclusive home. Hands smoothing over your books, you examine your hasty purchases. Your eyes catch the cover of an old and thinly-spined book, soiled by the progression of time. The golden inked letters shimmered brightly, illuminated by the sun’s gaze.

The Little Mermaid. Ah, an old classic beloved by many children and cherished by authors. It was now in your hands thanks to the lack of organizational effort from the bookkeeper, not bothering to properly separate the children’s section from the rest. Though, you supposed it was partially your fault for not paying attention to which hardcover you swiped.

Mermaids is what most scholars and writers call you. Beings of many stories and tales known to have enchanting voices and otherworldly beauty, luring bewitched humans into the abyssal depths of the sea where their bones will remain forever after they are devoured. Some storytellers twist them to seem like a monster of sorts in many tales or beautiful maidens of the sea being whisked away by their human lovers.

For how beloved the beautiful mermaiden was in those stories, it sure didn’t stop the greed of humanity and gods alike from attempting to plunder the seas to excavate such “exotic” creatures for power, curiosity, and sport as you later learned. The curiosity and covetous natures perhaps were too strong to resist trying to claim them, commercializing their existence to the world.

And where were these merfolk now? Indeed, “where” is the right word. As the maidens from the stories seemed to have disappeared from the realm of the world’s reach, turning mythical beings into an actual myth. No matter the shiny, glossy finish of many over romanticized and melodramatic depictions in novels, the truth was lonelier and uglier as time went on.

The little mermaid was a fool for throwing her old life away for a lover that would never hold or gaze at her like one. Yes, quite a fool.

The soles of your shoes felt the change from smooth concrete roads to scattered and cracked stone paths as you continue to ruminate over the old tale. The maiden’s troubles seem to all start when she dragged that boy she was so infatuated with onto the safety of a beach.

If she had simply ignored the prince– left him to the hands of fate– she would’ve suffered less. At least the only pain she would have is the one in her heart instead of the sharp stinging at the soles of her feet. Or the pain of her tongue being sliced off, taking her beautiful voice along with it. She would have suffered less. She could have suffered less.

Perhaps you were just bitter, resenting the day that ruined your normalcy– forcing you to resign to your fate of never truly being human again.

Even despite the clear naivety that followed the little mermaid throughout the story, deep down you couldn’t help but feel a sense of kindredness to the innocent girl who lost her longed beau and her family, voluntarily throwing herself into the torture of dangling the prince’s love in front of her famished soul. All the while, she knew he would never look at her like that. Nostalgia crept up from behind to encroach you in a bittersweet embrace. The world around you continued on, turning like gears that were carefully placed into their positions as the chain reaction causes the rest to follow in the world– all the while, you were still stuck in yours.

You could feel the gentle whispers of memories you’ve tried to bury dig themselves up again and latch themselves on you. They burned their imprint on your body and mind, gnawing at the scars that were still tender in your recollections. Those moments always slipped past the cracks within your stronghold.

...

You nibbled on your tooth-rotting sweets before plopping a couple candies in your mouth. You sat atop a chair, a jar of fruit candies in your hand and legs dangling off of the ground, while you watched your mother speak to the librarian of the House of Daena as she would every Monday.

You memorized her routine like the back of your hand. She would usually come here to return books and casually confab with the librarians, resulting in long discussions of various research topics. Having two researchers as parents granted you a free tour and access to a plethora of books from the heart of Sumeru– quite the assortment for a nosy thing like you.

In the corner of your eye, a wisp of white passed by the corridor. You turned to peer at the confusing sight, squinting and leering. The specter disappeared as quickly as it came. A puzzled expression was painted on your face.

A sharp cough rang out and drew your attention back to your surroundings. You looked up at your mother as a string of coughs came out from her throat. The concerned librarian patted her back as your mother apologized for the disruption through wheezed words. “Mama?” Your tiny voice piped up with worry. Your mother turned to face you with a familiar, reassuring smile, walking to you to kneel down.

She spoke elegantly, taking your small hands in her warm palm, “Your mother is alright. She’s right here.” Her other hand softly patted the top of your head. “Why don’t you go sit at a desk and read your book, okay? Mama and baba will make tachin for you when we get home.”

You nodded obediently like a good child, not wanting to question your mother. However instead of a desk you would designate yourself to, you would find your curiosity drawn to the strange wisp from earlier

Hopping out of your seat, your attention was fixated on the strange ghostly figure who was perusing the halls. You slid your selected thinly-spined story book off of the table, tucking it under your arm. Walking towards the corridors, you turned to look back at your mother who was still chatting quietly with the librarian before your small figure turned and gradually disappeared from her able line of sight. Your footsteps echoed along the grand halls of the Akydemia, the world’s most prestigious school. Your beady eyes marveled at the intricate designs that scaled the walls to the ceiling. However, your focus was not on the elaborately woven halls that would have driven the most talented architects mad but rather the ghost that roamed such halls.

A sense of thrill and excitement coursed through you. It was the first time you had wandered off without the supervision of your parents, yet your child mind had already found yourself trapped in a maze of passageways. Standing at a loss of what to do, you gazed around the winding corridors.

Momentarily, you caught what you presumed was a small, ivory figure striding through a pair of doors. “Ah.” Your short legs chased after the figure who was steadily disappearing from your sight. The jar of candies jostled with the book in your arms as you sprinted after the mysterious individual.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, you found yourself bursting into a small garden, panting and sweating. Your bright eyes gazed around in search of the ghostly wraith. But instead of a specter, you found an ivory-haired child standing with his back to you.

The two figures stood as statues in a stalemate. You approached the child slowly until he spoke up, breaking the silent stalemate. “Why were you following me?” Questioned a sharp voice directed at you, making you flinch mildly. Carmine irises turned to meet your inquisitive ones that swiftly ducked away and fixed their gaze to the ground below. You had followed him purely out of curiosity, believing the boy to be some sort of ghost, but these words would’ve sounded strange even to a child. You had to come up with an explanation quickly. “Uhm…” You hesitantly began, fidgeting with the jar of candies.

A sudden breeze blew by the garden as if pushing you with encouragement, streaking through the shady garden space. The tiny gale lifted up the boy’s long hair, flying like an elegant dancer. “Well, I like your hair!” You declared confidently, not wanting to admit you were playing detective in the largest educational institute in the world, much to the child’s confusion. “You have really pretty hair. It looks nice…and shiny…” You affirmed in a smaller voice, looking away in a flush of embarrassment by your outburst. The tips of your ears grew redder with each syllable, matching the boy’s eyes. The ivory-haired boy simply stared at you dumbfoundedly in a way that was eerily calm coming from a child.

In an attempt to divert the conversation, you stuck your hand in your candy jar and came closer to give the boy a Zaytun peach flavored candy.

“Here! Take this!” You chirped, dropping the piece of pink paper-wrapped candy into the bronze palms of the little boy. He glanced at you in silent stupefaction. Oh dear Archons, come strike me down now!

When the embarrassment reached its peak, your mother’s distressed voice called through the air. Oh mother, my savior!

Your mother rushed towards your two figures with worry. When she reached within arms length, you were immediately swept off of your feet and into a tight embrace– a great contrast to the scalding hot lecture you were bound to receive. You had never felt more relieved to be scolded Releasing you from the suffocating hug, your mother glanced down at the boy with a gentle and apologetic smile. “You must be the Spantamad Sage’s child. Cyno, right?” You perked up when hearing the name. Cyno nodded with a calm expression. So Cyno was his name. The name rolled off the tongue comfortably. “I’m so sorry if my daughter has caused you any trouble. She is an honest and nice girl,” Your mother spoke tenderly. You hugged your book closer to your chest and let out a huff, causing your mother to shoot you a silent glare.

Cyno reassured that there were no qualms with your peculiar interaction. Your mother sighed in relief as she bid goodbye to the little boy, flicking you on the forehead hard as she strided away with you in tow.

“Come now, we have to go see Dr. Zakariya.” You whined, dreading of the impending, routine visit to the doctor as your mother dragged you away with a scorching chide ready on her tongue. The lively sounds of jostling candies and grumbles could be heard growing more distant.

Cyno’s ruby eyes stared at your figures blankly, observing the exchange with a curious expression. His small hand– still holding the piece of candy you gave him.

...

The memory ended like a worn down film roll, blurred and eroded in some sections but clear and vivid in others. The projector in your mind clicked and stopped, concluding the scenes that had just played.

You placed the small bag containing your prescription on the table. The bag from the pharmacy at Bimarstan seemed to have been delivered by a thoughtful mailman, evidenced by how you found it tucked in a corner on your front porch. You would have to thank Dr. Zakariya for his consideration of your health.

You weren't sure when you had finally reached home– how long it took to walk down the solitary halls, decorated with lonely doctorates.

You turned to face the warm tub of water. Shedding your clothes, you dipped yourself into the large tub of warmth and pulled yourself under the surface. Here in this space, you were at your most vulnerable, but you were also at your most peace. The icy marble against your skin grew numb as a dark tail replaced legs. Cold scales instead of warm skin. Monster instead of human. Head and body encased in water in your cramped tub, you watched the air bubbles race with each other to the top, your lungs breathing in the heavy water that was overflowing and spilling from the tub where your tail hung off. Your scales glared back like black rhinestones. How unsightly.

A pair of scarlet eyes brushed past a couple off-task matra away from their post, catching a small glimpse of their wide eyes and now straightened posture. Cyno strided past their dumbfounded gazes and redundant excuses. He would have to reprimand them later, but the sun’s unyielding beams during golden hour that could cause the most resilient matra to fold made Cyno save that lambaste for another time.

Sights of mixed fruits and spices wafted around the vendors. The smell of Sumeru roses and padisarahs brought solace to Cyno. Strolling down the streets of Sumeru City, the jackal headdress caught the eyes of many vendors. A couple spirited voices briefly paused from the sudden entrance of the General Mahamatra before returning to their customers. The kind of looks and gestures Cyno had grown used to. The steadfast matra had just taken a day off to visit close friends residing in the verdant Gandharva Ville.

The sun rose up her full glory, yet the shimmering rays of light were anything but benevolent to humans below. Many figures could be seen taking refuge under shacks, trees, or anything that casted a moderate amount of shade to soothe their burning skin. Thankfully for the forest people of Sumeru, this would be the last week the scorching summer had to offer.

Passing the Bimarstan, a familiar figure dressed in robes spotted the ivory-haired matra and approached with an expression that spelled something important. Dr. Zakariya sauntered towards Cyno, offering him a formal smile and sweat on his brow. “Ah, General Mahamatra. It’s good to see you in great health.” Cyno nodded, rubies gazing at the doctor of Bimarstan with regard. Cyno’s sharp eyes flitted down to the brown paper bag held in the doctor’s hands, presuming it to be part of the reason for the unscheduled doctor’s visit.

“Likewise,” Cyno replied politely, “Was there something you needed to discuss with me?” Straightforward is what he preferred, wanting to dive into the point.

The doctor chuckled sheepishly to the stoic-faced matra. “Yes, if I may.” The paper bag crinkled under his hands. Zakariya held up the brown package with a familiar name written across the paper material. A name Cyno hasn’t heard from in ages. “Could I trouble you to deliver this? She has not visited for a routine check-up in months nor a refill of her prescription.”

“I have grown increasingly more worried for her health over these months,” The doctor confessed, “I was told that you were a close friend of hers, so I wanted to request you deliver this to the woman.” Cyno glanced at the black inked letters that splayed out your name while the sun beat down on his skin.

There was an uneasy churn of worry in his stomach. He knew about your family history with a particular ailment. A hereditary ailment that you worked tirelessly to find cures for. An ailment that claimed many lives, including your mother’s. An ailment that was soon to claim yours if there was not a remedy produced in time.

Perhaps a reunion between old friends was overdue.

...

In front of you, your inquisitive eyes watched as the ivory-haired boy was attempting to read from the small story book you lent to him. His brows scrunched up in concentration while you observed his focused expression with interest. It had slowly become a routine to see each other on Mondays. Cyno would often be at the Akademiya due to the influence and work of his adoptive father, Cyrus. Today you and your mother’s weekly book entourage was joined by your father as well.

After your mortifying encounter with Cyno, you would often see a wisp of white shyly peeking at you from the corner at the House of Daena. It was often you who approached the bashful boy and initiated any activities, strung along by the awkwardly forward encouragements from your mother and blithesome laughter of your father.

Cyno quietly sounded out a word from the book that was stuping him. You later learned that Cyno was a desert-born child, evidenced by his bronze complexion. There was also the fact he had a harder time reading and writing. Many educational resources such as books were often inaccessible and limited in the desert, so the boy had a harder time catching up to his forest-born peers.

“Do you need help?” Your voice piped up, much to the embarrassment of the little boy. Cyno looked up at you sheepishly before nodding. You smiled and kicked out of your chair, the hind legs scraping the floor as you bounded over beside the ivory-haired child. You gingerly took the book from his hands as Cyno pointed at the word that had left him dumbfounded.

Your index finger pointed at the words on the text. “Exquisite.” Your languid voice echoed. Cyno tilted his head at you.

“What does ex…” His voice trailed.

“-quisite,” you finished the string of lexicons, “it means something of fine or very good quality, exquisite like the little mermaid’s voice. Or exquisite like your hair.”

You smiled at the great interest shown from Cyno’s eyes as you read the words aloud.

“ ‘You have the most exquisite voice of anyone here in the sea. You think that you’ll be able to charm him with it, but you’re going to give that voice to me. The price of my precious drink is the finest thing you possess. For I shall have to put some of my own blood into it, to make it as sharp as a two-edged sword.’ ”

As you finished the paragraphs on the page, you looked over to see Cyno’s expression. You found an intense grimace on his face, evidencing how engrossed he was in the story.

“But that sea witch was tricking her. Why would she ever accept?” You were pleasantly surprised to find a certain passion in his voice.

You answered calmly, “Because the mermaid loves the prince so much that she is willing to give up her most treasured quality.”

An expression of sadness overcame the ruby-eyed boy. You tilted your head, uncertain how to handle his mild despondence. Your hands dug into the pockets of your shorts before fishing out a candy wrapped in pink-paper. You offered the candy to Cyno with a smile.

“Don’t worry too much about this. You did well following along. Eat this instead.” You dropped the peachy-wrapped candy into Cyno’s open palms. “It will make all your bitter feelings better.”

You popped one of the candies into your tongue with a lighthearted expression. Your anticipating eyes watched Cyno unwrap the candy and ate it. His eyes seemed to brighten considerably from the sweet taste of Zaytun peach melting on the tongue. You smiled and patted the top of his head, feeling the softness of his pearly-white hair. Your eyes failed to notice the brief flush of pink decorating the boy’s face.

Cyno pointed to the wrapper, mumbling, “I a-peach-ciate you.” Your smile fades to a deadpan at the boy’s proud expression. Your fingers left Cyno’s hair to pinch his cheek as he yammered from the sharp crimp.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see your mother with a serene expression. You could see your father’s hand softly brushing your mother's knuckles as they whispered to each other. You almost wished you could capture and frame the two overlapping moments with your parents and new friend. Placid and tranquil.

Sharp cough cut through the idyllic ambience, breaking the picturesque moment. The serene expression disappeared. Your mother leaned over to her side, coughing profusely, while your father gently ushered her up and themselves away from your line of sight.

...

“How is she doing?” Ruby eyes looked up from his hands to the voice of an ebony-haired male he had been waiting for, knowing exactly who he was referring to. The legs of the chair scraped against the hardwood as Tighnari sat down adjacent to his friend. Collei heard the call of her name from a forest ranger outside, excusing herself with a rueful smile to go attend to her task and leaving the two alone.

The chief forest ranger had just finished his shift early, and Cyno was free today, leaving enough time for the pair to chat about whatever they desire and momentarily free from the constraints of their duties. “I’m worried for her.”

Cyno nodded. “I have not talked with her for a while,” he answered curtly. A frown crossed Tighnari’s features. Cyno could hear the rustling of lush and verdurous forest being softly brushed by a gentle breeze. The fireflies flit around bashfully, gently lighting up the darkened evening with starry-like imitations. “Why is that?” questioned the forest ranger in a flat tone. There was only the faint chirps of insects and the soughing of luxuriant leaves that replied back. Tighnari let out an irritated sigh, crossing his arms as he stared at his companion.

Cyno could not find the answer to this question. He had an idea, but in his mind he already knew what the outcome would be– an envelope with no reply from the recipient and a door left with only one side ready to answer. You despised him. You wanted nothing to do with him, and Cyno couldn’t do anything but respect the unfamiliar walls you enclosed yourself, hoping one day you will come out.

Tighnari seemed to almost read his mind as he narrowed his brows at his friend. He sighed, vexed by both you and Cyno’s behaviors.

“What a mess…” he muttered under his breath as a quiet curtain fell upon the two men. Tighnari remembered you as his senior classmate he shared his darshan with while you were both still attending the Akademiya as students. There was not a day either you or Cyno could be seen without the other attached to their hip. He understood why his friend would put great honor with your boundaries. However…

Tighnari finally spoke up, breaking the strange silence, “This can’t go on forever. ”

“I can’t force her to talk to me,” Cyno muttered in reply to the ebony-haired forest ranger.

Tighnari clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Ah, you’re hopeless.” The topic was dropped for now as the two engrossed themselves in other subjects.

...

The General Mahamatra ended the film of the visit to his friend in his head, gears turning in his head to project the movies of your old interactions now as he walks along a familiar cobbled path to your home. His tanned hands clutched the paper bag, carrying your medicine close to his chest.

His footsteps greeted the chirping of crickets in the bushes and the calm whistle of the wind nearby. Though this delivery was meant to be a brusque trip, Cyno couldn’t help but feel his heart was squeezing itself with joy after depriving itself of your presence for such a cruel period of time. No interrogation or mission could send his nerves into a fray like this one.

Cyno knew you still lived in your parent’s house after their deaths. Was this simply an excuse or means to reconnect with you? Perhaps. But there was a voice that gnawed at the back of his mind. How would you react to his sudden appearance in front of your doorstep after these three years? Would you be angry? Disappointed? Relieved?

After the fifth or sixth visit to your home with no response from the other side, Cyno stopped visiting. Either because you were not home or because you simply wanted to be left alone– Cyno figured it was the latter.

Cyno couldn’t help but delude himself briefly, feeding the starving man inside his heart. He couldn’t help but imagine your overjoyed expression upon seeing the matra, ushering him inside your parent’s home with comforting arms and delighted demeanor like old times– imagining your parent’s gleeful faces as they tended to their bountiful garden of tall padisarahs and bushy shrubs while you and Cyno chatted like two teens having a sleepover in the welcoming atmosphere of your home. Did you ever miss his presence?

The view of your old home came into view. However this time, there were no tall stalks of flowers that would draw in butterflies. There were no friendly shrubs. There were no lively chortles of your parents, plucking out weeds or ripe tomatoes from the garden. There was no chirping from the bird feeder. It was silent. Deathly.

Cyno approached your house, stepping on the mossy, cobblestoned path. A leer of gloom seemed to emit from the residence. The padisarahs at the front had long since died and the shrubbery had dried up. There were unsightly weeds and thorns that grew from the once immaculate flowerbeds. The quaint tree in your front yard had grown sinister talons that stretched across branches due to the lack of pruning.

Crimson irises returned their gaze back to the entrance of your residence. Marching up the front steps of your former picturesque house, Cyno raised his knuckle to the wooden frame. He paused for a moment. What would he say to you if you did answer the door? After all this time? What would you say? The ivory-haired male shook the claws of the shadowing thoughts away from his conscience. There was no need to overthink now. He was already at your door. Cyno’s knuckle met the dark wood of your door firmly, reverberating a knock through the air.

Cyno waited for a few moments in the silence, save for the shrills of cicadas and other insects. There was no answer. He knocked again– this time louder. He felt the swelling in his chest start to deflate. He sighed in the expected defeat.

The house was completely still. Cyno could not even hear the creaks of floorboards or shuffling of footsteps. Were you out? The early evening had started to set in, evident by the remaining embellishment of the leftover golden hour and violet hues in the skies. If Cyno’s memory served him correctly, you preferred to be home no later than midafternoon to finish the rest of your work there as your social battery tends to deplete after lunchtime.

Perhaps your research had caught you up in something. You were always very diligent in your practice of medicine. Did you find something noteworthy? Cyno’s shoulders slackened in disappointment. Ruby eyes scanned your doorstep. You hadn’t bothered to replace the worn down doorknob of your front, indicative from the scratches and blemishes that littered the handle. To any average passerby, they would first assume a ghost would live here rather than a human. Where were you?

Cyno crouched down to his knees, gingerly placing the paper bag with your prescription inside down on the porch. He carefully unfolded the opening before digging into his pocket. Calloused hands pulled out a freshly sold piece of Zaytun peach flavored candy, wrapped in a familiar tint of pink paper.

Cyno hoped the sweetness of the candy could soothe bitterness on the tongue brought by the medicine. He dropped the candy in the bag and tucked it in a safe but visible corner.

Your hand raised the cup of coffee to your lips. The warm, bitter liquid was a great shock to your taste buds, making you recoil from the flavor. The familiar bite of pungency that made you cringe resonated with certain sterile medications you used to take on the daily and nightly. Now that those prescriptions were needless, your palate shifted their inclination away from the bitterness. You tilted the cup over the sink with an unimpressed grimace, watching the hot drink dribble down the drain.

You hastily poured yourself a cup of water to neutralize the dreadful taste, spitting out the lingering pungency into the sink. Wiping your mouth, you sighed in disappointment. Despite your disdain for such beverages many saw as a luxury, the coffee had done its job in jolting your mind awake. It didn’t matter now. There was something else more important to attend to.

Holding a newly published medical article from the Bimarstan, the impassive figure sluggishly treaded down the ghostly halls, adorned with old photos and shared memories of a family of three. Now they were all just phantoms locked in confining frames you didn’t bear to spare another glance at. You retreated back into your study.

Your study office was a scattered mess of books and research materials. Shutting the door behind you, you escaped the invisible whispers in your halls and sat yourself at your desk. Sharp eyes scaled over the reported findings, analyzing every measured number and detail with great attentiveness.

Eleazar was a hereditary disease that plagued families in a stochastic manner with some members of the affected family having no symptoms while others showed it heavily. The ailment was unpredictable, laying dormant in some until adulthood or immediately appearing active in others at birth. A person could tell the moment they see the skin of the diseased, littered with rough, almost scale-like patches of painful calluses. Removing these spots is akin to trying to remove a deep layer of your own skin.

There were five stages of Eleazar. With the progression of each stage, the patient would feel more and more of their nerve endings shutting down as they are encrusted with gray scales all over their body until the ailment penetrates the central nervous system. Eleazar would eat away at the nerve tissue and cartilage, damaging sensory motor skills.

At stage four, the person can barely move without sharp pains in their joints accompanying them along with the scarce feeling in their limbs. By stage five, one would begin to prepare a funeral for them with courtesy granted by the reaper who awaited at the end of their bed as the afflicted person ponders if this is their last night. They can barely move, barely feel, and barely speak while they wait for their central nervous system to completely degenerate. Then finally– death.

You gripped the edges of the report tightly, pressing creases into the freshly inked papers before sighing and loosening your hold. You dropped the papers on your desk as you sat back in your seat to think.

The only successful medicine was derived from a rare flower called Nilotpala Lotuses, found hanging on the side of cliffs in vines of small clusters. However, this medicament could only assuage and prolong, not cure. What a tragedy. Years of dedication from researchers, scientists, and doctors alike all amounted to extending the years of such torturous illness. Years of your father’s hard work with plant and marine life. Only for the article to finally determine the remedy to be unlikely found or made, sealing the label of terminal illness.

You turned your eyes elsewhere, the sour taste of disappointment from the article on your tongue overwhelming the previous bitter taste. Your gaze landed upon your own forearm. There upon the skin laid the aftermath of your fight. A patch of gray, black scale-like dermis. It reminded you of your own tail. You nearly laughed from the absurdity. A hasty hand pulled down the sleeve of your shirt to cover up the scars. Was this a joke? The mocking thought stayed in your head as old ones seeped in.

...

“Did you know there’s a myth that the origin of Eleazar was a curse from mermaids?” The question turned the neck of your best friend. Cyno tilted his head curiously at your sudden insight. You smiled in return, gleeful and lively. The pleasant wind whistled through your hairs while the two of you sat together, enjoying a leisure time in your parents’ garden after strenuous classes.

“Many centuries ago, human intentions between the merfolk grew more covetous, often pursuing them for their scales that shined like diamonds and ethereal beauty that seduced even the most stoic humans,” you carefully narrated the tale recounted from your father. Cyno remained silent, not daring to interrupt your voice.

“One day, the mermaids disappeared from the world but left behind a nasty retribution for humanity, bestowing them the scales they so desired that would cover their bodies until death.”

The seafolk that lamented human intrusion would cast a vengeful ramification to the greed of mankind that dared to think plundering the tide’s throne. To the eyes of proud humans, they were just another form of a monster that their arrogance led them to think they could assert themselves above. The conquestors would steer away from their domain lest they face devastating storms and waves that can crush Sumeru City under their weight.

Listening intently, Cyno regarded you with a soft and attentive gaze. “An interesting tale.” The breeze passed through the warm garden, teeming with an idyllic mood and bushing gently on the padisarahs. Your grin seemed to become brighter at your successful storytelling. There a silence befell them again.

But Cyno seems to read you like a book better these days. “What are you thinking?” He requested for a slice of your mind, a piece of your thoughts. If there was anything you could hide from your friend, it was your secrets.

You smiled at your best friend’s inquiry, facing away from him and at the brilliant violet and ivory flowers instead. “What would you do if I suddenly disappeared?”

Cyno froze, processing the question you nonchalantly tossed out. Despite knowing you the longest, Cyno always found you the most enigmatic. You were so remarkably carefree amidst the untimely demise hanging over your head like a menacing guillotine, yet you were so happy.

He couldn’t understand you. Did this optimism follow others like you? Was this how you coped? The quietness was answered only with the humming gale that caressed the shrubs that bundled around them.

You opened your mouth to add on, but Cyno interrupted. “I will wait for you to come back,” He briskly responded, “And if you don’t, I will come looking for you.”

You peered at him curiously. Cyno knew exactly what the underlying meaning was, but he’d rather not think about it. The weight of the actualization would cripple him, so for now ignorance was his blessing.

Perspective eyes caught his, but you smiled to break the pensive atmosphere. Your tender hands took his tanned ones and clasped them together. Cyno didn’t flinch away from you. His warm hands melded into yours, bringing a quiet comfort to each other. Cyno could feel the brush of a rough texture, contrasting to your softer skin. The small patch of gray scales felt like sandpaper, but his thumb still rubbed over them like smooth porcelain.

“Don’t go anywhere I can’t reach.”

The impending day would remain the same, but it wasn’t today, so you let yourselves bask in the naivete of the afternoon. Your smile got wider as you laughed softly.

“Okay.”

...

You cried into your father’s coat, heels planted firmly on the docks. “Oh please do not leave! What if you never come back? What if the seas sweep you away from us?” You were two years enrolled into the Akademiya and one of the top students of your year, yet you still felt like a toddler clinging onto their parents.

Your father ruffled your hair into wild tufts while onlookers smiled and laughed fondly, amused by your clingy behavior.

He knelt down and looked up at you. “Don’t be so glum, dear!” your father chuckled, “No storm or monster can take me away from you or from finding medicine for you and your mom! Now, be a good girl and go home. Your mom is very sick today. There is soup in the pot, okay?”

He leaned up from his kneeling position to kiss your forehead. “Come now, you’re a big girl. When I get back home, I’ll tell you all about those pretty corals and tales about those mermaids you adore so much.”

Your hands that were tightly clenched around your father’s sleeve reluctantly loosened. He gave your hair a final ruffle before he took his gear and docked the ship. You should’ve begged your father more. The memory felt fresh on the projector. The old film roll seemed so clean. The turning gear in the wheel with only a thin layer of rust.

Even now you could remember the guilty and solemn faces of each rescued sailor and researcher on the expedition. None of them matched the one you were waiting for. The one that would sweep you off of your anxiously tapping feet and pinch your nose, spelling out an “I told you so!” in a jovial voice. The one that would walk with you in hand, singing of the sights and promising discoveries that were soon to be shared with the sickly wife at home over a nice bowl of hot soup. But none such came. The research crew had packed up their gear to leave with their findings as a few of them gave you sympathetic looks, recognizing the features of your face to match the man now resting in an early, colorful coral grave. Cyno was beside you, tugging away at your arm to usher you away from the pitying gazes of the people around you. “Let’s leave.” But your paralyzed body wished to stay put, glaring at the distant storm with a hundred-yard stare.

...

You opened your eyes in the cold sweat, the salty breeze already drying the stinging tears from your eyes. The ocean was better at assuaging your anxieties than any king-sized bathtub ever could. The space felt near limitless. Here, you could swim faster than any sportsman and more subtle than any high-profile agent. Here you could outspeed your nightmares and anxieties. Ironic how your most detested subject has become your comfort.

The cold splashes of saltwater lapped at your face as you floated atop the surface alone, sobering you from your nightmares. Occasionally, a few fishes would swim by to observe and nip gently at your protruding fins. You had your own personal planetarium out at sea, watching the stars twinkle in manner with their lunar madam as she gazed back at you shyly. She gently kissed away the residual sunburns left by her overwhelmingly dazzling sister, casting a silver lambency over your cold skin and smooth scales. She embraced you like the tenderhearted lover you never had.

The dark body of water that carried you like a feather hushed your unspoken distress, caring for you like the mother you had. Like you were still a naive girl enthusiastically popping sugar from the pantry into your mouth. The secrets buried deep within your chest and mind didn’t have to be voiced here. They were already understood.

And where was the father? Indeed, “where” is the right word. But this time, you already knew. The father rests somewhere below the mother sea– undisturbed forever. You could still remember the anxious pleading you groveled as an attempt to persuade your father to stay instead of journeying out to sea for a rumored cure to your affliction.

You remembered your desperate words so loud and clear from your paranoid teen-self.

You remembered how your father would laugh and ruffled your hair with sturdy reassurance. “No storm or monster can take me away from you or from finding medicine for you and your mother!”

You dipped your head beneath the surface. Oh, poor father. If you knew of our fates then, would you still endeavor out to the corals to find us a cure that may never exist? Were the sights of the reefs pretty? I hope they would be.

Perhaps it was foolish to entrust something as fickle as fate to care for your father as he adventures out in a desperate attempt to find something that will remedy his wife and child. No matter how hard you were to take and perform destiny into your own hands like the naive, little mermaid, the fates will always have the last laugh from a spectator’s box while they puppeteer your lives through the dirt until they are satisfied.

But none such came. The research crew had packed up to leave with their findings as a few of them gave you sympathetic looks, recognizing the features of your face to match the man now resting in an early, colorful coral grave. Cyno was beside you, tugging away at your arm to usher you away from the pitying gazes of the people around you. “Let’s leave.” But your body wished to stay put, glaring at the stormy ocean with a hundred-yard stare.

You could still recall the muffled sobs and retching of your mother from your room at the darkest hour of the night as the monsoon poured down on your roofs. Your father’s unprecedentedly faux promises ended up being your last memory of him. No final words could ever be crueler.

Your lips parted, letting the remaining air bubbles in your lungs escape to the surface. How amusing. You came out here to escape a nightmare just to find yourself in a different one. How deplorably pitiful.

...

When you decided to take part in research projects, you would avoid any for the ones that required oceanic studies at all costs. You remembered how Cyno would frown with worry, looking at you and crossing his arms at your resistance to certain fields of Amurta. Marine biology was always your father’s specialty, but it seemed his passion that influenced you has all disappeared and now reappeared as taboo.

As such, when the Akydemia personally assigned you and a handful of other scholars to an oceanic expedition, you thought they were either inane to your preferences or simply uncaring for it. Despite the handsome sum of mora that was offered by the Akademiya, what truly was the initiator for your reluctant agreement with the expedition were the profound and fleeting words from a conversation with your bed-ridden mother some years ago.

“Your father loved you and the ocean. I know you still despise the sea, but promise me you will do whatever you need to heal from these wounds. Promise me one day you may walk on the sandy shore with relief rather than anguish. Forgive yourself, my dear.”

So how did you awaken to this carnage? Eyes blown wide while your fists pounded at the door of your cabin as dark water slowly began filling the room. The sky roared, striking down in a blinding white flash like an angry god. A journal, containing your mission’s documentation, slid off the desk and into the dark curtain of waters like a forgotten toy as the ship tossed and turned. The oil lamp that provided the only source of light in your encumbered cabin shattered against the hardwood, shooting shards of glass in all directions. Coming here was a mistake.

There were distressed shouts of commands and panic among the crewmates outside the cabins while the thunderstorm raged on. You slammed backwards with a shriek as the seas played tug-of-war with the hull of the ship. You could feel the sickening, taunting licks of saltwater above your knees, gnawing chills through your bones, as the room continued to fill with water. The hardwood and glass was unrelenting to your pleas of mercy. Your mind was blanking in and out with fear.

You begged. You pleaded. But what were you in the eyes of fate? Fate who have seen loudest, anguished cries from mankind. You were still simply another gear in the machine that will eventually be replaced. Your nails scratched helplessly into the wood, lodging splitters in your nail beds while the downward force tossed you around like a ragdoll. Loud and hoarse sobs escaped you through your hysteria.

Your fists pummeled futility against the door, screaming out all the air in your lungs until your throat would tear. You shook like a leaf in a storm. A leaf helpless to the sharp turns and floods of the powerful storm. A heavy wave smashed against the ship, tipping it over your side and taking the remaining slivers of light shown from the windows down beneath the pitch black waves.

Delirious with pain and fear as you smacked into your door, your mind and chest are cramped with inescapable fear and realization. No. None would hear you. None would see you. Others may escape this terrifying incident from the sea, but you were to never leave this behind. Your skin was cold. Terrified screams faded into muffled whimpers, desperately missing the familiar, tanned embrace from the boy with ivory hair and eyes like gemstones. If only you go back for one last hug and take back every stalemate you had with him.

The approaching seawater sank their icy maws around your waist as you shivered. This was some twisted joke, wasn’t it? The promising sense of peace and safety that brewed in the beginning was extinguished to a sad lump in your throat. You were suddenly a child again, fearfully shouting out the names of your parents after a bad dream as you cried big, wet patches into their clothes.

The obscured waters swallowed your form and the unspoken words underneath. No pretty coral reefs to decorate your unnamed tomb. No layered blankets to shield you away from the biting chill that threatened to invade your bones. The seawater reached above your chin as you battled to keep head above the surface. Oh mother and father, I’m scared. I don’t wanna die here.

As if your wishes had been answered, fate secured an even crueler fate for you, laughing at your naivety.

Cyno couldn’t help but stop by again, curiosity eating his focus away from the papers stacked on his desk at the matra's office. One visit was enough to kickstart the avaricious heart inside to want more. The restless tapping of his pen seemed to agree with this sentiment, so here he was now– in front of your house again after a few days ago.

You had definitely noticed the paper bag, indicated by the now empty corner where the bag sat. It was a breezy afternoon. The sun’s lengthy and arduous performance for the summer had begun to dissipate, leaving behind a cool and partially cloudy afternoon. You will be home soon.

It was honestly quite childish in retrospect, wasting work hours to stubbornly plot himself on your front porch while he waits for your return. Cyno should’ve been examining the profiles of suspicious individuals and presumptuous scholars who were pushing the line of Akademiya’s patience thin. It almost felt intrusive for him to be here, but there was not a bone in his body that wanted to leave.

Cyno rubbed the stems of the padisarahs as he waited tirelessly. Your mother loved padisarahs. She was a kind woman. Your family was not much different from his, caring and fond. Your family’s love for botany would always bring him subtle smiles when Cyno passes a garden. The twitches on his lips whenever he sees Tighnari teaching Collei about certain herbs. He could still remember eating padisarah puddings with you for the first time in your parents’ garden. The taste of warm autumn on his tongue that no other comfort could match.

...

A few years had passed since your father never returned from that voyage. Ever since that day, your head would always be stuck in a textbook. Perhaps this was your way of coping.

Whatever it was, it was no problem to the professors of your classes who were overjoyed by your studious behavior and quick wits, often deeming you as a genius. Your work was always top-notch and done very swiftly. But they wouldn’t know of the late nights on sleepovers spent studying with him and Tighnari. The concerning number of all-nighters you’ve pulled worried your sick mother to no end.

The meetings every monday that extended from your childhood to Akademiya years began to grow shorter and shorter. You saw Cyno less frequently outside of those meetings due to your busier schedule. Cyno knew you had to be home quickly to tend to your grieving mother.

Her condition had been progressively getting worse these days with no effective antidote in sight. The woman could no longer walk properly, struggling to move her limbs as her central nervous system slowly deteriorates. The painkillers and medications given the woman have only mildly slowed the effects and soothed some aches.

Cyno watched with a soft gaze as you delved deeply into your textbooks with a pen between your fingers and a journal next to you, not bothering to meet his eyes. His hands fidgeted with a candy wrapper. The thunderheads roared violently outside the House of Daena. When a sharp crack of a bolt whipped through the air, you nearly jumped out of your skin. He knew how you hated thunderstorms. They were loud and disruptive to you, pulling the focused mind into interruptions of brief petrification.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you rested your pen on the side, gently snapping the journal shut. You extended your arms up to stretch, groaning from the stiffness in your muscles. The bags under your eyes seem to be growing darker as the days go by.

A deep frown tugged at Cyno’s lips. “You need to take a break.” His sharp words broke the ambience. You finally turned to face your ivory-haired companion, giving him a relaxed smile.

“Thanks for your concern, Cyno.” You patted him on the head, lightly tousling his hair. “But I’m doing better, so there’s no need for worry.” His frown deepened. Ah, why do you still think of him like a bashful child? Cyno lightly swatted your hand away from ruffling his hair, watching you chuckle sheepishly in response.

“You’re lying,” Cyno asserted flatly. This seemed to irk at your nerves as seen by the fading smile on your face. You didn’t respond to his remark. A tense silence befell the two students.

You sighed in pause before beginning to gather your items together to leave. That’s right, you said you needed to get your mother her medicine before the rain got heavy. You got out of your chair, pushing it in to start walking away while Cyno observed.

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” A straightforward question spoken in a softer tone was posed at you, stopping you in your tracks. He was worried. “Why don’t you talk to me?”

There was a period of sound that only carried the humming of lights from the House of Daena as your back was faced to Cyno. He noticed your shoulders stiffening, but he did not perceive the red tint of embarrassment on your ears. “Sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” He knew that but…

“You haven’t spoken a word to me outside of these meetings for a month. What is happening?”

Cyno stood up from his chair to approach you, but you stepped away from his reach. His brows narrowed in confusion. “Sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” Cyno gripped your arm firmly, holding you back. You grunted, brows knitting together with irritation. Neither of you were sure what exactly transpired at that moment or what was exchanged. The feelings are tipping over the pot as they reach their boiling point, the steaming foam leaking from the top of the lid.

“Why can’t you understand I just don’t want to talk?!” You raised your voice at him, ripping your hand out of his hold.

Cyno returned your sharp glares with a stern favor. “Because I’m worried for you.”

You gritted your teeth. “I don’t wanna hear it! I don’t wanna hear it no more! You just leave me alone!” A tsunami of emotions poured out of you on the verge of a manic episode.

The librarian of the House of Daena strode over to you two with a scalding remonstration, kicking you both out for disturbing the quietly working students and scholars.

When the doors to the House of Daena were slammed behind, you immediately began wordlessly walking away. Cyno could only watch while he burned holes in the back of your skull. He sighed to himself, knowing that he only drove you further away. The opposite of what he wished to do.

As Cyno reflected over his words, his companion was disappearing farther into the halls. The phantom watched as the other specter was fading from his sight, vanishing almost instantly into the misty rain. A tense lump was stuck in his throat. He tried to reassure his quietly panicking mind that he will apologize when he sees you again. But you, the true ghost, never reappeared for the rest of that week. Not in class. Not when he knocked on your front door. Not when another Monday passed at the House of Daena.

Cyno later learned that rainy night– your mother fell into a deep slumber and never awoke to comfort her brilliant daughter crying wet patches into her sleeve beside her bed.

Her final days. That was what you didn’t wish to discuss. The tremendous weight that was suffocating you as you watched your mother slowly get worse by the day while she serenely smiles at you. She would rest peacefully while you would ruminate over the “if only”.

Cyno would arrive early to her funeral as other former classmates and peers of your parents comforted you, offering bouquets of flowers to the grave. They spoke praises of your renowned late mother and father for their brilliant minds and kind hearts. You would remain with a composed and impassive expression. But when the procession was over and the attendees resigned for the day, they left two ghosts in the funeral hall– one slowly dying and the other dead. Two ghosts and Cyno in the funeral hall.

Your mother’s body was buried the next day. Cyno was beside you as her casket was lowered into the ground. Not a word was exchanged between the two. Words were unnecessary at this moment. They only needed each other’s presence as if for the last time. Two souls would not touch physically yet embrace through the silence, knowing Mondays would get blander.

...

It was a nice Monday afternoon, but Cyno wished the sun would finish her golden hour quickly, so she could bring you home. For the time with you that was stolen by the unfeeling clutches of his own undoing, Cyno held his patience this time.

In those dull three years, Cyno realized something. Still, you would slip through the cracks of his fingers like a wisp and into the side of the ocean he couldn’t reach for many decades longer. Three years was enough to starve him of your colors. A lifetime without you would spread a famine.

A surprised gasp in the ambient quietude pulled Cyno out of his thoughts. He whipped around to see a familiar face a few meters away. You stood with a baffled expression and a matching bouquet of padisarahs in your arms. Cyno knew he wouldn't be able to explain the thought process that got him to this point.

You couldn’t understand what thoughts led Cyno to your front porch. Your eyes were locked in an impasse.

For the first time, you were faced with the notion of reunion right at your doorstep. A pang of guilt gnawed deep within you. All those years spent trying to keep away from him, adamantly digging your heel into the dirt. Why you never responded to his letters– the same letters stashed away in a locked drawer because you were unable to bring yourself to toss them away.

Cyno seemed to notice your hesitance and took a small step forward, testing the waters around you. You flinched backwards, but his legs were eating up the distance between you. Like second nature, you turned around to once again leave your old friend behind.

“Wait.” His voice called after you. You grimaced as the lump in your throat cramped painfully, matching the bleeding heart in your chest. You feared if you stopped, much less turned to look at him, you wouldn’t be able to stop the pitiful tears from running down your face and ruining your makeup. “Please. Don’t leave please.” An uncannily familiar and soft tone was directed at you, causing your steps to falter.

Cyno reached within arm’s length, but you leaned away and winced– sunburned by his presence. There were no jokes. No lingering glances or touches. Today was reserved for the dead.

“I was planning to visit your mother’s grave this evening,” Cyno said gently, “Would you like to accompany me?”

You glanced at the bouquet of padisarahs in his hands. Your mouth opened and closed, unable to force out the word you wished to speak in this longed for moment. Rejecting your old friend would be awkward. Instead, you opted to nod, fearing your strained throat may break your voice into pieces.

So here you were, standing in front of the tomb. The granite was spotless of any impurities, and the shrubs that grew beside the stone stayed immaculate just as the day they were first planted– granted by the diligence of the daughter to her late-mother. It was a stark contrast to the shriveled up garden of your home.

Placing down the padisarahs after you, Cyno stood beside you in solitude. No words were voiced here. This somber sanctum was for silence.

When the sun grew saddened by the solemn sight in front of her, she dipped herself under the horizon as she left ornaments of cheerless violet. Cyno looked up to the entrance of the moon. The shy maiden peeked out from her shadows as a crescent.

Cyno turned to you. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you home.”

The stubborn part of you wished to refuse and reaffirm your state of reclusion, but the desolate heart pleaded desperately to you. The sky wafted black clouds over the light speckles that dotted their dark canvas accompanied with the dazzle of the moon. That night, one fool and one ghost walked home together.

In the tale of The Little Mermaid, the merfolk have abundant lifespans of hundreds of years until they dissipate to sea foam into the great tides. The young mermaid speaks that if given the chance, she would exchange the hundreds of her years to be human for a day. Just one day was enough for the wishful girl.

To the average person, this idea would sound absurd. Trading centuries of time away for a day to walk the ground like mankind. You could never understand why the little mermaid would choose to barter away her old life with her own family and choose a life of unreciprocated confessions that would never be spoken.

Fate, much like the old sea witch, would lay the dice one would deal. For the little mermaid, she failed to use her other means to make the prince fall in love with her. He would forever unknowingly deceive himself into thinking he found and married his savior while the little mermaid would sit back and smile painfully as she watches the love of her life slowly stray further away from her grasp.

But now you understand. You understand the pain of watching those you love slip between your fingers like fine sand while you stood as a lone survivor. Your father would pinch your nose and call you a silly thing for such thoughts. When he passed the only comfort you could hold onto was knowing you still had time with your mother before she would join your father.

Often there were nights when Cyno would catch you crying quietly in your room. On those nights, there would be an unoccupied shoulder to lean on and a warm hand in your hair. But you pushed him away. You shunned the one person who was beside you through your losses.

When the night of the incident came, you could only think how much you had regretted in those moments. Your lungs would fill with the salty seawater while your thoughts swirled all the possibilities that never happened. You thought you could finally lay in peace, but the world plays in a cruel theater, and you were currently their favorite actor.

Fate dealt you a new dice. One that was crueler than any death could offer as they took away your humanity, dooming you to an eternity by yourself– never to reveal your monstrous secret to anyone else. Decades will pass like days for you. While your peers will grow old together, have children together, and die in close years together.

With the free, advancing healthcare in Sumeru, the average life expectancy for a human would range from sixty to seventy years old. But you would die at a staggering three hundred years old. The fear of your ailment claiming your life was gone, and a new one was in place.

Avoiding Cyno was a very voluntary decision. You were not really busy like those excuses you set up in front of others, finding the remedy that you soon learned would never come to pass. It was a simple strategy on paper. To close your heart off from one person you knew that could make you yield in just a heartbeat. You would spare yourself the heartbreak by tearing it to pieces, so no one else could collect you wholly.

So why is it that you’ve allowed yourself to waver from your resolution? As you stood and contemplated inside your bathroom, Cyno sat in your living room to wait for your return. After you returned to your house from your annual visit to your mother’s grave, you found yourself letting him inside your home out of courtesy whilst you hoped the opposite, much to your chagrin.

A distant rumble of thunder cracked in the distance. A storm was approaching. When you walked out from the bathroom, your eyes landed on Cyno with a book in his hands. He noticed your stare and gazed back at you, holding the storybook of The Little Mermaid.

“I never knew you were still into fairy tales,” Cyno voiced, looking back at the hardcover. You looked away and sighed.

“I swiped it by accident,” you replied impassively with a shrug. From the corner of his eye, Cyno spotted the brown paper bag left forgotten on the coffee table. The lamp in the room illuminated your figures with a comfortable, warm glow.

“I heard you haven’t been visiting the doctor lately.” Your hands picked up the bag while you nodded, again not facing Cyno.

“Yeah. I’ve been doing fine though,” You muttered in return, swallowing that uncomfortable lump in your throat. This moment felt surreal. If you let one crack in your voice slip, Cyno would know immediately what you’ve been holding in.

Your body language was not missed by Cyno who peered at you with softening brows. “You’re not fine.” He braced himself for another sardonic remark, but none came. Instead, a quiet sob pushed past your lips. Cyno was taken aback momentarily before he walked closer to your trembling figure.

Hesitating briefly, Cyno’s arms pulled your shaking form close into a secure embrace. That was the final catalyst. The leaking dam holding the flood collapsed from its foundations built upon a heavy denial. You wept pathetically, burying your face into his shoulder as he quietly caressed your hair.

Cyno felt his heart shatter into splinters as he watched you sob and clutch onto him like a raft at sea. His brows pinched in sadness. He didn’t know anything of how you were or how you felt over those three years in his absence. Your thoughts were his enigma, but now he knew. He felt like a fool. The biggest fool. You were drowning. You were drowning, and he left you to fend for yourself amidst your strife. The optimistic companion was truly just a picturesque façade. All of his former suppositions were thrown away, and only a shell of a guilty man with a heavy heart was left.

Your cries rose louder as you held onto your only lifejacket in the thunderstorm, desperate eyes staring ahead at the only lighthouse that still guided you above the cold depths. Your nails dug into Cyno’s shoulders while he held you in solace. You babbled incoherent apologies between your ugly sobs. All the while, he held you like you were his finest porcelain.

Oh, don’t look at me like this! But gentle, ruby eyes never drifted their gaze off of you, but you couldn’t even hold yours without breaking into pieces.

Tears stained Cyno’s copper skin, continuing to escape your eyes like an endless waterfall and ruining your makeup. Time seemed to pass slower at this moment. The flooding dam seemed to never end.

As your sobs grew fainter, a tiny flame was stoked in your chest. One you haven’t seen for ages. Cyno’s hand rubbed your back in soothing circles. You were just as naive as the little mermaid, tossing away her only chance of escape into the sea. She knew there was never a chance she could hurt the prince she grew to love. You voluntarily threw yourself back into your most dreaded outcome, knowing it will only be a matter of time until that delusion wore away and the only thing that would be left was yourself in tatters.

You felt Cyno leaning to move something. Raising your head, you look to see a familiar pink wrapped candy and the paper bag opened. He smiled at you.

“Here. Eat this.” He unwrapped the pastel paper, revealing a Zaytun peach flavored candy. Your lips parted as you stared at him in silence. Suddenly a small, breathy laugh escaped you, surprising yourself. Shaky hands popped the candy into your mouth. It tasted sweet. So unbelievably sweet. The storm felt miles away.

Perhaps you would let this play go on for a little longer– let the rolls of film run until the other stopped. This delusion was simply too sweet to let go. In the solitude, you could at least hang onto your raft until the lighthouse in the distance dims. When the lights go out, you know you will be cruelly left alone at sea again, waiting until the day your vessel finally touches land and you join everyone at the shores on the other side.

But for now, you only thank the father of the rich night for extending the nighttime hours while you stayed in Cyno’s embrace– fools, both of you. He would forever stay a fool to your secrets, and you would forever be the fool that chose to live in sweetly wrapped torture from just three words. There were now two ghosts wandering in the home, bringing life to the empty residence if only for a moment. Maybe in another time, fate could be kinder.

“I love you,” whispered the fool. I know. Thought the ghost. I’m sorry.

ENDNOTES:

To clear up some confusion, I purposefully did not elaborate too much on how the reader became a mermaid. I do have a prelude to this that will add bits to the lore behind the transformation. Most of this is based off of fairy tale logic, so I’m trying to make some sense through that.

The reader will go through a series of tragedies that progressively eat away at her stability until she has to distance herself away from everyone. She copes by burying herself away from the world in studies, even pushing away her closest friend. The stress doubled down when she argued with Cyno and went home to realize she wasn’t there to see her mother as she passed away alone in her sleep. In her mind, she lost both her mother and best friend. I use the euphemism of the sea being her mother and the moon being her lover to show the result from lacking these components is a cycle of preferring comfort of inanimate objects because the inanimate objects do not die like people or pets.

As for whether or not Cyno will ever know about the reader being a mermaid, that will be left open-ended (the miscommunication and trust issues is going hard fr). Cyno knows he will never be fully privy to your thoughts, but that’s okay to him. For once, he realizes the truth never felt more comforting than your presence. Until I ever decide to continue that topic, the secret will continue to rot away in the reader’s chest.

For such a story, it started as just a passing concept that I was growing more fond of as it sat in my brain. Soon, I decided to solidify a base foundation– just to see how it ends up. After several attempts and discarded drafts, I settled on a body of a story that I liked enough.

Although now I realize a lot of the nooks that I missed, I have no intention of changing the plot too much. I will simply adjust and let it be. It felt a little rushed in retrospect, but I still like how it turned out. I'll probably only come edit some other time if I find a grammar error.

For the tale of The Little Mermaid, I actually did not use the original material despite having it in hand. Instead, I used a different translation from the original in a book called, Hans Christian Anderson’s Fairy Tales, retold by Naomi Lewis. It was the hardcover I had with me. I grew up reading Anderson’s fairy tales, and it was a big part of my childhood, so this work was very fun to write.

Here’s the end of my rambling. Even if the writing wasn’t your cup of tea, I hope the reading was at least enjoyable or entertaining.

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