Chapter 2 The Memory Singer

The reef greeted me like an old lover-cool, familiar, and silent with unspoken tension. Even the colors seemed dimmer as I swam deeper, passing coral spires that had once pulsed with vibrant pinks and golds. Now they looked weary. Sickened and I knew why.

The storm above had left more than just scars on the air. The imbalance was growing stronger, bleeding into the water, stealing its song. The current hummed low and discordant, like a harp with broken strings.

I slowed near the mouth of the Temple of Tides, heart beating faster than I liked. I shouldn't have watched him.

I shouldn't have felt anything but the image of the winged boy-Aeron-still shimmered behind my eyes. That look in his gaze as he lay broken on the cliff. It wasn't just pain. It was recognition. As if some part of him had heard my song and maybe... some part of me wanted him to.

I shook the thought off and slid into the temple. The currents parted for me automatically, revealing the carved pillars wrapped in glowing sea vines. This was the sacred place of memory, where only Maelora singers were permitted. I had come here countless times as a child, never fully understanding the weight of the gift I carried.

Now, every visit felt heavier. I drifted toward the central basin where the water pulsed with a glow of stored memory. It was alive with old songs-echoes of grief, triumph, birth, and betrayal. I took a slow breath and placed my palm to the surface.

A hum responded. My voice was soft at first, barely more than a whisper.

"Memories of tide and truth... let me see."

The basin lit up.

Images swirled-moments pulled from deep history. A mer-child laughing with a sea lion. A war between flame and wave. The shattering of the elemental seal and then-him.

Wings outstretched, hair soaked in stormlight, eyes like sharpened silver.

Aeron.

The water remembered him.

Not just from tonight.

From long, long ago.

I staggered back, gasping.

"How is that possible?"

"Because he's part of it now," said a voice behind me.

I turned to see Lira, the eldest of our Songkeepers. Her white hair flowed like seafoam, and her skin shimmered with deep emerald hues. She wore the coral circlet of the Council, but her expression was softer than usual.

"You saw him too?" I asked, straightening.

She nodded. "The sea spoke of him before your birth, Isolde. A winged one who would fall from the sky, carrying echoes of the broken song."

"Then he's..."

"He's a thread." Lira's gaze sharpened. "But whether he repairs the tapestry or tears it further-we don't know." I looked down at my hands. They trembled.

"What if I made a mistake? What if my presence awakened the storm elemental?" Lira stepped forward, placing a cool hand on my cheek.

"You didn't awaken it. The world did. The balance has been slipping for years. We've just been too afraid to name it." I swallowed hard. "And now?"

"Now... we can no longer afford fear."

She gestured for me to follow, and I swam with her into the Council chamber-a circle of open-shell thrones surrounded by glowing jellylight. The others were already gathered. Twelve Maelora elders, each older than memory itself.

As I entered, their eyes fixed on me. I tried not to let my fear show.

"Isolde," said Elder Corin, his voice rough as crushed stone. "You broke protocol. You revealed yourself to an airborn."

"He was already there," I said firmly. "Fighting the storm elemental alone. He nearly died."

"And you nearly invited a second catastrophe," snapped Elder Faelen. "Do you forget what happened the last time our kind meddled with fairies?"

"No," I said, louder than I intended. "I remember every time I sing."

The silence that followed was thick with tension. Lira didn't stop me, so I continued. "He's part of the prophecy. The sea remembers him. It called his name. I didn't choose to see him. I was drawn to him-because something ancient wants us to connect."

Corin scowled. "And what does the sea want? Another broken world? Another sacrifice?"

"No," I whispered. "A different ending."

That silenced them again. I felt my pulse thudding in my ears. I had never defied the council before. Not like this.

But something in me had changed when I looked into his eyes. It wasn't just curiosity or pity. It was a pull-deep and magnetic. As if the space between us had always been waiting to collapse.

Lira finally spoke.

"We must acknowledge that the storm elemental retreated when Isolde sang. And that the water holds his name in memory. That is not coincidence. It is design."

Elder Faelen crossed his arms. "So what now? You'd have us trust a fairy boy to hold part of our fate?"

"No," I said. "But I think we have to meet him again."

A sharp murmur broke through the chamber.

Lira turned to me. "You're proposing contact."

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"I have to. He doesn't know what he's carrying."

"And what do you hope to gain?" Corin asked. I looked at them all. My voice didn't shake.

"The truth. And maybe... a chance to rewrite what was broken."

Lira smiled faintly. "Then so be it. But tread carefully, Isolde. The sea remembers more than songs. It remembers betrayal too."

I nodded and as I left the chamber, I felt it again-that faint tug. Like a forgotten melody caught in the back of my throat.

Aeron.

His name was already becoming part of me and though I wasn't ready to admit it aloud, I knew this much:

This story-whatever it would become-was ours now.