Chapter 3 The Boy on the Cliff

I found him again just after sunset.

The sky had quieted, but the storm hadn't truly left. It lingered in the air like a ghost, stitched into the clouds and breathing through the waves. Even the gulls were quiet, as if they, too, knew something was watching.

I broke the surface slowly, barely disturbing the water. The rocks loomed ahead, jagged and uneven, and there he was-half-slumped against the stone like a broken-winged relic from a forgotten war.

Aeron.

He looked worse than I remembered. His wings, once sleek and dangerous, were tattered like they'd been shredded by the sky itself. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. One of his hands was curled tightly into the gravel like he'd tried to anchor himself to something-anything-before unconsciousness stole him.

I shouldn't have come. The Council had warned me. They always did but the pull was stronger tonight. The tide remembered him, and so did I and maybe... I just needed to know if I'd imagined the way he'd looked at me.

I swam closer, letting my fingers skim the water's surface. Just enough for the air to shimmer. Just enough to send a soft current curling around his bare feet.

He stirred.

I froze.

His head rolled to the side, and a groan escaped his throat-hoarse, pained. But when his eyes blinked open, the silver in them was sharp.

And it found me instantly.

"...You," he rasped.

His voice was rough, threaded with exhaustion. But there was something else beneath it-wonder, or maybe disbelief. Like I wasn't supposed to be real. I rose higher in the water, letting my shoulders break the surface. My hair floated around me like sea threads, and I met his gaze without flinching.

"You shouldn't be awake," I said softly.

He tried to sit up and failed, groaning as pain flared across his face.

"You shouldn't be here," he countered. His arrogance was thinly veiled beneath blood and bruises. But it didn't annoy me. It intrigued me. It meant he was still strong enough to fight, even when his body had clearly given up.

"Neither of us seem particularly good at following rules," I replied. He smirked at that, then winced.

"What are you?" he asked after a moment. "Some kind of sea spirit?"

"Mermaid." He blinked. "Those exist?"

"I'm right in front of you." He gave a rough laugh that turned into a cough. "Sorry. It's just... I thought you were a hallucination. I hit my head."

"You hit several things, actually. A rock, a wave, a particularly angry gust of wind."

"Thanks for the recap." I swam a little closer, just enough to get a better look. His face was pale, but his eyes were sharp-calculating. Not unkind.

"You were fighting a storm elemental."

"I know," he said. "It wasn't supposed to be awake."

"None of them are." A silence fell between us. Heavy. Loaded.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me.

"You knew it was coming, didn't you?"

"No," I admitted. "But I felt it. The sea felt it."

"And it told you to come here?"

"Yes."

"And did it tell you who I am?"

"No," I lied.

He narrowed his eyes, like he could tell. "Then why are you really here?" I hesitated because the sea whispered your name like a forgotten verse because your pain echoed through the current like a warning. Because when I saw you fall, it felt like watching something ancient break all over again.

But I didn't say any of that.

Instead, I answered simply, "Because you're part of something bigger than you realize."

His eyes darkened. "You mean the prophecy."

I didn't move.

"So you know," he said.

"I know enough."

"Then you know why I can't afford to fail."

"Even if it kills you?"

He smiled grimly. "Especially if it kills me."

My chest tightened.

There was something maddening about his certainty. About the way he bore the weight of the world without hesitation. Like he believed sacrifice was the only way forward. "You sound like someone I've heard about in the songs," I said quietly.

"What songs?"

"The sad ones."

His gaze softened. Just for a moment.

Then he looked out at the sea, silent for a long breath.

"I wasn't supposed to be the one they sent," he said finally. "But they chose me. Maybe because I'm reckless enough to try. Or because I'm the only one who hasn't given up."

"The storm nearly killed you."

He glanced back at me. "Did you come here to lecture me?"

"No. I came here to decide."

"Decide what?"

"If you're worth helping." That surprised him. I saw it in the twitch of his mouth, the flicker of pride flaring behind his exhaustion.

"And?" he asked.

"I haven't decided yet."

He let out a soft chuckle. "You're not what I expected."

"Neither are you."

Another silence.

A wave crashed against the rocks beside him, and I saw him flinch. Not from fear. From something else-fatigue, maybe. Grief.

"You need healing," I said.

"I need the next piece of the prophecy."

I narrowed my eyes. "You won't find it bleeding on a cliff."

"Is that an invitation?" I didn't smile. "It's a warning."

He held my gaze, then said quietly, "You know where it is, don't you?" I didn't answer because yes-I did.

The sea had sung of it just last night. A melody buried in the bones of a drowned temple. A fragment carved into the walls of an ancient trench only my kind remembered. But I couldn't give it to him.

Not yet.

Not until I was sure.

Not until I understood what it would cost.

Aeron sighed, letting his head rest back against the rock.

"I don't expect you to trust me."

"Good. I don't."

"But I think you know I'm not the enemy."

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you'd rather save the world," I said, "or burn with it."

He didn't answer and I didn't stay. I dove back into the water, letting the current swallow me whole. My heart beat faster than it should have. I could still feel his eyes on me, even after I vanished beneath the waves.

He was reckless.

Stubborn.

Dangerous.

But the sea remembered him and now, so did I.