Chapter 8 Between Beast and Boy

"Some say love tames the monster. But more often, it shows how much was the monster to begin with."

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It began with Merbel's back pain.

She thought at first it was the cold or the merciless earth beneath her sleeping mat in the sculpted cliffface cave. But pain blossomed-spreading upward through her bones like fire up a tree. She shrieked and clutched her abdomen, doubling over, her breath sliced by the searing heat developing under her flesh.

"Anacobal," she rasped.

He was beside her in an instant, his expression already transforming from sleep to alarm. "What is it?"

"I don't. know. It burns. Inside. Like something's. breaking."

A crack echoed through the cave, not from the outside, but from inside her. Her shoulders twitched and her jaw locked. The whites of her eyes glowed faintly, moonlit.

"Merbel, look at me," he commanded, taking her gaze. "Has this ever happened before?"

She shook her head, silent.

Then came the first change. Her fingernails extended, thickened like claws. The shadows clung to her skin, dark and moist. Gills slit open along her neck. Her voice shattered into a rough cry not quite human.

Anacobal recoiled, his heart pounding. This was no mere change. This was awakening.

The stories he had learned in the coral crypts spoke of Moonblood-a uncommon lineage whereby sea and earth magics struggled for dominance. It skipped generations now and then. Now and then it favored bloody expression. And when it did express itself, it needed love to ground it.

"Merbel, listen," he said, low but compelling, calling on old cadences. His hands danced a liquid rhythm. A song-a binding, not a lullabye or a dirge, but a binding.

A song sung long ago to calm the Leviathan.

Water shone in his hands, weaving threads of tide-light into the air. He moved closer. Her eyes were wild now-black and silver, girl and monster. Her breath was snarls.

She struck.

He did not flinch. Instead, he wrapped her in the sound, in the rhythm of the ocean's pulse, in the warmth of his magic. The snarl died halfway. Her clawed hand trembled inches from his chest.

"I see you," he whispered. "You are not your blood. You are not the madness. You are you."

Tears streamed from her shining eyes.

She fell into him.

For long minutes, they sat entwined. Her body started to settle-fingers shortening, gills closing, skin warming up. The worst of the storm was over, but it left her drained and shaking.

"What was that?" she whispered into his shoulder.

"Your inheritance," he said. "The monster in the blood."

They lay together as silence reclaimed the cave. Outside, the waves whispered.

"Tell me the truth," she said after a time. "You knew this might happen. Didn't you?"

He nodded, slowly. "The first I heard you speak to the river like a friend, I suspected. When the gull healed under your hands, I knew. You carry both worlds inside you, Merbel. But not all bloods blend in peace."

She closed her eyes. "I was going to kill you."

"No," he said. "You were lost. But you came back."

Her voice shook. "What if next time I don't?"

He leaned forward and touched her face, gently. "Then I'll return you. Over and over. Until you recall who you are."

There was nothing but the sound of breathing, of closeness, for a space.

Then she asked, "Why did you leave your people? Truly?"

His silence grew thicker. Then he spoke.

"Because I fell in love with the surface before I knew you. With the stories, the imperfections, the hope. But mostly because I saw what the Deep Court did to those who doubted them. My brother, Edrik, once told me doubt was the first betrayal. But I thought doubt could lead to truer truths. They called me traitor. I barely escaped with my life."

She laid her head against him. "You were not the only one who questioned their world."

The wind outside grew stronger. Indoors, their hands sought each other's. Flesh on flesh. Not out of need. But recognition.

"Will you be with me?" she asked.

"Until the tide forgets the shore."

They slept like that, wrapped in each other, moonlight on their skin, the ocean singing lullabies older than war. Together, they would meet whatever was approaching.

She sat up, the chilly cave air brushing over her damp skin. Anacobal slept beside her, his face peaceful in the faint light.

She rose quietly, making her way out of the cave. The sky was brushed with soft hues, the sun barely rising above the horizon. Before her was the sea, calm and limitless.

Merbel walked to the cliff's edge, the wind tugging at her hair. She closed her eyes, listening to the waves' rhythmic thunder below.

She was startled by a splash. She opened her eyes to see a form emerging from the water-a woman with long hair and eyes that shone like the sea.

"Merbel," the woman whispered.

"Who are you?" Merbel asked, stepping backward.

"I am Nerida, a messenger from the Deep Court," the woman replied. "I come bearing a warning."

Merbel's heart was pounding. "What warning?"

"The earth and sea balance is shifting. Your awakening Moonblood has not gone unnoticed. There are those who fear what you are."

Merbel's fists clenched. "I didn't ask for this."

"Perhaps not," Nerida said. "But you must choose what to do with it. The tides are rising, and with them, the old powers wake."

Merbel took a deep breath, the weight of destiny pressing down upon her. "Tell them I am not afraid."

Nerida bowed her head. "Then prepare yourself. The storm is upon us."

And with that, the sea reclaimed her, and Merbel was left alone on the cliff, the wind whispering secrets in a tongue known only to her.

She returned to the cave, her eyes ablaze with resolve. Anacobal stirred, sensing the change in her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We have work to do," she said. "The sea is calling, and I intend to answer."

They stood side by side, gazing out at the horizon, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

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