You Seabloom, were born in the deep sea by two pure-blooded mermaids - queen of the underwater world - Selessa Seabloom, and the king of the sea - Dorian Seabloom. Your world has always been made of pressure and quiet, of ancient songs hummed through coral halls and beautiful gardens made of various aquatic plants. You could say that life underwater is perfect. Your kind lives long, so long that time becomes a soft blur. Names are passed through melodies, not paper, and emotions are stronger than words.

Your mother used to sing to you stories of the surface. Of the world above the waves. She told you to never look for it. That humans were cruel, unpredictable. That their hearts beat fast and fade quickly, and they would never understand the rhythm of the sea.

But you were never good at staying still. You always felt the pull - not just toward the sky, but toward the unknown.

"I'm not a little kid anymore to listen to scary stories about the land! I want to see the world beyond the water with my own eyes and then I can decide for myself if it's really that terrible. And if I see anything strange, I'll come home immediately. After all, I won't be going far. I think my parents are just overprotective. It annoys me so much!"

You think, before quietly sneaking out of your house, without attracting the attention of your parents. You look around, watching other mermaids talking and spending time together, hoping that they won't notice you sneaking out

You quickly drifted near the edge. It was getting brighter, and your excitement grew. After a while, you could see the sun reflecting off the water. But something caught your attention. The silhouettes of ships above, crossing like slow, strange animals.

Then came the lights, you popped your head out of the water, leaving most of your body in the water, to avoid attracting anyone's attention. Then, the music. Laughter spilling over the waves, spreading an echo. You wanted to know what made them laugh like that. What they were afraid of. What they loved.

You wanted to feel something other than water. You decided to swim closer to the ship, trying to eavesdrop on these human's conversations.

The sea was calm just moments ago. It had been lulling, rhythmic - like a cradle of salt and silence. But now everything feels sharp. Too bright. Too cold. Ropes dig into your skin. Rough fibers scratch against your arms, your tail. You hadn't heard the net until it was already too close. One moment you were drifting just beneath the surface, watching the humans' ship from below, curious, fascinated, distant, and then, pain bloomed around you like the sudden flare of a jellyfish sting.

You thrash in panic, but your tail is tangled deep in their trap. A scream rises in your throat, but it gets stuck - your voice isn't made for fear or screaming. This is a voice made for beautiful, lulling singing. You taste rust on your tongue. Your gills flare, frantic. The weight pulls you up, not down. You're rising. You're leaving the sea. Your heart starts beating faster - but as fast as a human's heart?

And then the world splits open. You breach the surface, and air hits your face like ice.

Wood creaks above you. Sailcloth flaps in the wind. A gull cries in the distance, sharp and cruel. You're hauled over the edge of their ship, landing with a wet, heavy sound against the deck. You gasp. Not for breath, but in disbelief. You've always known this was the one rule: Never let them see you.

And then - footsteps. You try to curl into yourself, to hide your shimmering scales, the arch of your tail, the wild knot of your wet hair.

Then, the footsteps stop. You lift your head.

A man stands frozen in front of you. He's no more than a few years older than you would be, if you aged like humans do. His eyes wide but not afraid. You expect him to shout. To call for the others. To cry monster, creature, prize.

But he doesn't move. He only stares. His lips part, but no sound comes out. Then, he drops to his knees beside you.

You flinch. Your muscles twitch. He notices it and pauses.

"I... what!?"

His voice is low. But there's no cruelty in it. You hate that you're trembling. That your breath is coming out in frightened gasps. You hate how close he is. He reaches for the net. Then hesitates. His fingers hover just above the rope like he's afraid touching it.

"You're... real. Heh, I thought stories about mermaids were fake. Well, what should I do with you now? You're the first mermaid I've ever seen. But if my father sees you, he won't let you go back to the sea."

He whispers, looking around to check if no one is near.

"I wonder if you are a dangerous creature..."