Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The water splits, white froth at the bow of the boat, parting to let Gem’s ship pass. She’s bent over the side, hands clinging to the worn wood and uncaring as splinters prickle her skin. Staring back at her with wide eyes is her reflection. Her red hair flickers in front of her face as the warm breeze tangles it into knots; not strong knots like the ones they untied at the docks upon departure, but tight enough that it will take a while to comb them out.

The clouds part. Light hits her face, momentarily blinding her, and as she blinks her vision back into existence she realises they’re losing sight of the land they left from. All but gone are the wooden buildings of Boatheim that lean clumsily against each other, disappearing into the hazy horizon. The fresh air stings her nose, in a way that whispers, “You’re finally here, free. How does it feel?”

And it’s amazing. Faint, hearty laughter emits from the boys down below, finding no competition from the quiet splashes of water. They aren’t alone yet; the sails of the ships in the distance remind Gem of an albatross’ wings, wide open, soaring over the open sea, and she needs to feel that same freedom. Maybe she will now, finally, with her crew beside her and a ship of her own. 

She doesn’t notice Skizz appear beside her, too distracted by the gaping sea, but his comforting voice is unmistakable.

“Enjoying the view, Gemstone?”

Although this isn’t a new trip for Skizz – he’s been making the voyage to the Isles longer than Gem has been alive, joining her crew more for friendship than for freedom – there isn’t a drop of sarcasm in his voice. Even if there had been, Gem doesn’t think she would have noticed, too wrapped up in the elation of the open water. She turns to him, beaming.

“It’s—” Her voice fails her. “It’s incredible. It’s leagues better than the tales they pass around at the docks. I can’t even— thank you.”

“Hey, Gems, this was all you. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Still. Thank you for coming.”

Her crew is smaller than advised by the merchant union, but she was adamant that they were capable enough alone: Skizz as first mate, Impulse as boatswain and gunner, Etho as lookout and navigator…

And her, Gem, as captain. The words still feel strange together – Gem and captain, Captain Gem – but they’re real and they’re exhilarating. Years of working up the ranks. Merciless deliveries where she never emerged from below deck, guarding whatever livestock the nobles needed moving. Small journeys that never left the coast, always skirting the cliffs, always staying in sight of land. Sneaking out at night to learn from Skizz’s expertise, darting across the waves in pitch-black, praying they wouldn’t be seen.

Letters of recommendation from her higher ups until finally, finally, she was given her own ship and a route to the Isles. 

They aren’t delivering anything special – five large barrels of pickles, several bolts of cloth, enough salt to season a couple thousand meals – and their ship is barely large enough to pass council regulations. It doesn’t matter. It’s hers, and she's on it. She’s on the open sea with her closest friends, and a ship, and a storage bunker full of merchandise.

Impulse practically has to drag her below deck so Skizz can take over watch. She curls up on her bunk, lulled to sleep by the rocking of the waves, and dreams of sailing.

~•~

The morning is darker than the day before, pale clouds painted on the light grey sky above them. Gem refuses to let this get her mood down, throwing together breakfast in the kitchen before she resumes her position at the helm, one hand resting on the wheel as she nibbles a biscuit. 

“Good morning, Gem!” Etho says, climbing the ladder down from the crow’s nest. “Did you sleep well?”

“I definitely slept better than I thought I’d be able to! I don’t think I’ve stopped buzzing with excitement since we left the harbour.”

Etho’s eye scrunches up in a grin over his mask. Some might think that having a half-blind man – he’s never told anyone how he lost it, but the raised scar and missing eye are pretty hard to miss – as your lookout would be dangerous, yet Gem has always had full faith in him. “Trust me, that feeling never goes away.”

“You get any sleep yourself?”

“Nodded off a few times, but I tried to stay awake. It’d be a shame if your first long-haul voyage crashed within hours of us leaving.”

“Ugh, don’t jinx it. I keep imagining something going so horrendously wrong we have to return to the council with nothing,” Gem groans. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be perfect. You’ve got your trusty, experienced crew with you!”

“My very experienced crew.” Gem pauses, a smirk spreading across her face. “Grandpa.”

Etho is a long-time member of the merchant union. Her whole crew is, actually, and it’s probably part of the reason she was permitted a ship in the first place. Yet Etho, unlike Skizz and Impulse, isn’t willing to admit his years, and he could be anywhere from Gem’s age to twenty years older. He holds himself with the surety of a veteran, but the spark of a newcomer.

“And you’re back to being mean to me. I thought we’d at least make it to our first stop—”

“I’m so–rry,” Gem giggles, drawing out the vowels in that oh-so-quotable way. 

“Are you letting Gem bully you again, Etho?” Impulse climbs up the stairs, leaning against the railing with a smile. “Has he mentioned the fact he lost our bearings almost immediately after you went down below last night?”

Gem turns to Etho, mouth hanging open. “You did what?”

“Hey, hey now, I wouldn’t use the word lost. Just… misplaced them, is all. And we’re back on track so… so there.”

“You have one job, Etho!”

“Actually, I have several jobs and they all require a lot of brainpower, so I’m bound to make a mistake here and there. The important thing is that I got us back on course—”

His rambling has Gem feeling almost bad. “I’m kidding, Etho. We’d get nowhere near the Isles without you.”

He visibly deflates, and Impulse laughs, which only makes him deflate more. Even his white hair droops further over his bandana. “I’m going back up. Come chat if you need something, or just want to mock me more…”

Skizz is coming over now, so Etho scrambles up the rope ladder brisk as a squirrel before another person can board the make-fun-of-Etho train. Gem would be guilty if this wasn’t how they worked; she ribs him good-naturedly, he pretends to be offended by it, and then they go out for drinks at the pub. 

“Morning, Captain,” Skizz says, and Gem can’t help the pride that blossoms in her chest when that word is directed at her. “All caught up on last night?”

“Yes, Skizz, she’s been informed!” Etho calls from above, apparently still within earshot.

Impulse loops an arm around her shoulder. “I filled her in. We should be alright for today. We lost all our company a while ago — this is a pretty obscure destination we’ve been given — and we should make it to our first stop within the week.”

“Providing Etho’s got the course right!”

“Providing Etho’s got the course right,” Skizz confirms after her with a chuckle. “I’m gonna go catch up on some sleep, you’ll be okay up here?”

Rolling her eyes, Gem retorts, “No, I thought I’d run us aground while you were napping. Which one of us is the captain, hmm?” 

“Hearing you loud and clear, Gemstone. Don’t get capsized!” 

(Later, Gem will wish she made him knock on wood.)

The rest of the day is uneventful, as most days this far out are, according to Impulse. Closer to the city, there are rocks and cliffs and tiny skipper boats to stay alert for, but out here, while the weather remains calm, the only things they have to worry about are confined to myth.

Myths are as prevalent a currency as copper back in Boatheim, traded between travellers and locals, elders and children. From the possession of the Boogeyman, turning friends against friends, to stories of alternate dimensions where fire and lava pour like rain, most myths serve as lessons in obedience and morality and nothing more. 

That isn’t to say that there isn’t magic in this world. The potions brewed by clerics are something beyond science. Enchanted runes can be carved into tools to enhance their capabilities. Gem’s own sword had an engraving on the handle to keep the blade from rusting.

But most of the myths are just that: myths. When someone goes missing at sea, the children crow about sirens while the adults shake their heads patronisingly and write ‘freak storm’ on the empty grave.

So. The day is uneventful. They sleep in shifts so Skizz doesn’t have to pull another all-nighter, and Gem checks on their merchandise obsessively, like she’s fearful it will vanish into mid-air. Impulse wrestles with the mop a few times, and Etho descends every so often to eat, and on the rare occasions they’re all in the same place at the same time, they play cards. It’s enough to lure them into a false sense of security.

Because of this, Gem is napping when it happens; when the moon peeks its head over the edge of the ocean, all of a sudden they’re fighting for their lives through a storm.

In Etho’s defence, he didn’t get them lost. And in Gem’s, the storm was a freak of nature, manifesting suddenly from the pale clouds. They deepened to a dark grey near-instantaneously, growing into billowing ink-blots that crackled with lightning.

The rain came shortly, piercing sheets that soaked Gem to the bone and transformed the deck into a slipping hazard. And after the rain came the wind, so strong it forced them to reef their sails or risk becoming prey to the gale’s whims. 

Gem tries to keep their prow facing towards the waves, shouting instructions to her crew over the howling of the wind, but their position is unstable and the water is growing in height. In a last ditch effort to prevent them from going under, she yells at Impulse and Etho to open one of the sails. 

Her arms ache as she heaves the wheel around, turning the boat so they’re pointing downwind, and she has to cling on for dear life as the wind catches. Through droplets on her eyelashes, she can make out the others on the lower deck in similar states, arms wrapped around posts and rope tangled around their wrists.

They lose control of the ship. The storm seems to have a mind of its own, carrying them so far off course Gem dreads to think of the difficulty Etho will have re-orienting them. Eventually, after what feels like hours of adrenalin-fuelled panic, though it was probably mere minutes, the wind gets bored and dies down, spitting them out in an area Gem doesn’t recognise from any of their maps.

There are grey rocks scattered through the water, barnacles visible across their surfaces, and Gem has to recover quickly to steer them clear of the hazards. Here, the water is deathly calm, not a ripple upon its surface, and any moonlight that hits its surface is immediately sucked away. Once they’re far enough from any boulders, Skizz drops the anchor and Gem rushes down the stairs to check on her crew.

“Everyone okay?”

They nod, and it’s a miracle, really, that no one’s seriously harmed. The only injury belongs to Etho, who suffered burns where he wrapped coarse rope around his wrist to stay attached to the boat. 

Even more surprisingly, the ship remained intact. The crow’s nest didn’t collapse, their deck is wet but nothing more, and though the thought of the mess downstairs makes Gem cringe, tidying up can wait. For now, she pulls all three into a hug, grinning ear to ear even as tears prick at her eyes.

“Hey,” Impulse says softly. “Hey, Gem, don’t cry. Everyone’s okay. Etho’ll get us back on course… again.”

Gem sniffles through a laugh, wiping her tears on her soft cotton sleeves.

A pat on her arm – Skizz. “You got us through that storm, Captain— I’m proud of you!”

“Uh, guys,” Etho blurts, the diligent lookout. “I don’t want to alarm you but there’s… a person.”

“A person?” Gem swivels her head around, giving the ship a once-over as if anyone could have blown through, carried by the storm, and landed on deck.

“In the water.”

In the water? That’s a death sentence. How did anyone even get this far out? There are no ships around, no debris— are they alive?

She rushes starboard, where Etho’s looking, leaning out over the sea with her hands supporting her. The other’s join her, scanning the glassy surface to spot what Etho saw.

Sure enough, a little way away, a woman is floating between the rocks. She looks to be unconscious, unmoving, her limbs adrift around her. Thankfully, her face is pointed upwards so she can breathe, but she doesn’t appear close to waking; that is, if she’s even alive…

Gem can’t leave her there.

“Grab some rope. I’m going to get her.”

Skizz’s expression tenses in alarm. “Gem, I trust you and I trust your heart, but you can’t go swimming in open waters like this. Especially not here. Something is… off.”

“Impulse—”

“He’s right,” Impulse interrupts. “I’ve seen you swim, and you’re strong. If we were only off the coast of Boatheim I’d chuck you overboard in a heartbeat but— the water’s too still. We don’t know where we are, and if something happened, I don’t know if we could rescue you.”

Gem chest constricts. “I’m the captain here! If I say grab me some rope, you grab me some rope. I’m going in the water, alright?”

“You are the captain, Gem, and you were amazing getting us out of that storm,” Impulse says, his calm, measured tone grating on Gem’s nerves. “But Skizz and I are fifteen years your senior, with sailing experience you just don’t have. And right now, we’re both telling you: you can’t get in the water.”

“Etho?”

She turns to her lookout, her navigator, with pleading eyes. One person, only one person, on her side, and she might be able to overthrow the others. Every second they waste debating is a second that girl is left in the frigid waters. Every moment she is in the water is a moment closer to death.

Etho hesitates, glancing between the warring parties, then sighs. “I’m with our captain. If she thinks she can do it, I think she can too. Besides, we can’t leave her floating out there. My conscience couldn’t handle it.”

“But—”

“Skizz, I got this! I’ll have the rope so you can pull me back if I need it, and the water’s so peaceful here. It’ll be fine.”

Skizz exchanges a look with Impulse that she doesn’t appreciate. They do this often, share secrets using nothing but their expressions, but right now she needs their agreement, not their silence. “But what if she’s a—”

“We can see her legs from here, Skizz,” Etho points out, and now Gem has lost track of the conversation so quickly she doesn’t even know how to defend her cause. “Gem’ll be in and out, no problem.”

She can see in their body language that they’re about to give in, so she grabs a length of rope and begins to tie it around her waist, fastening it with a well-practised knot. By the time she’s secured, Impulse and Skizz have relented and are double-, triple-, quadruple-checking the quality of the line and the knot.

Before she jumps, she hands her tricorne hat to Etho and breathes. It seems obvious, to breathe before leaping feet-first into the wide open sea, but Gem finds a few deep inhales help to calm her down; one bad experience in a lake when she was younger, and the thought of submerging her head leaves her limbs shaking.

She’s older now, though, has passed the council’s required swim tests, and there’s a woman forty feet away that needs her to pull herself together. She doesn’t think again. She just jumps.

The water is harsh and cold upon impact, swallowing her into its darkness until she shakes off the shock and hauls herself to the surface. Above her, Skizz’s worried face is peeking over the gunwale, so she waves to assure him, then takes off, breaststroke, in the direction of the person.

It’s hard work, pushing through the black water in the dark, even with it lying surreally still. It’s almost enough to make her believe some of the horror stories she’s heard of the magic out here, places outside time and space where ships disappear without a trace. The swim is made even more difficult by her efforts to keep her head above the water.

When she reaches her, the girl shows no sign of sensing her presence, nor the way the water had begun to move around her. Her long brown hair billows through the ocean like spilt ink, the expression on her face perfectly serene. She could be sleeping. Gem hopes she is.

Gem doesn’t waste time checking for a pulse. Looping her arms under the woman’s and clasping her hands across her chest, she yells back to the ship for retrieval, and a moment later she’s being reeled in like a fish on a hook by her crewmates' strong arms. They haul her up the hull of the ship, which hurts, but she never loosens her grip on the unconscious girl. Once they’re pulled over the top, she collapses onto the deck, letting her arms relax and gasping salty air.

“We’ve got a pulse!” Impulse says excitedly after a minute of tension. “It’s weak, but we’ve got one, and she’s breathing!”

Etho rushes over with some blankets, pooling them over Gem and the rescued woman, and she wraps one around herself tightly as she sits up.

The girl is still dead to the world, not shivering despite the cold, though now that they’re out of the water Gem can see the faintest rise and fall of breathing.

“I told you so,” she says, not able to resist the smugness that leaks into her voice. “Imagine if you guys hadn’t let me go after her, hmm? She would have died!”

Skizz sighs, a laugh peeking through his exasperation. “You’re right, Captain. We never should have doubted you.”

“That’s what I thought,” Gem grins. “What now?”

Impulse looks up from where he’s crouched over the women, checking for injuries. “We’ll drop her off at the nearest village, I guess, then try and get back on track. Any chance of you figuring out our location on your maps, Etho?”

Running a hand through his hair, Etho tilts his head like a cat. “Not much I can do with the moon this high in the sky, but once we’ve got daylight again I can try and get our bearings—”

He’s cut off by a yelp from Impulse as the woman whose life Gem saved just moments ago lunges for him, and they go rolling across the deck in a tumble of growls and limbs. Gem’s vision must still be blurry with seawater, because she could swear there are scales, and claws, and fins in the mix as Impulse wrestles with whatever creature she’s pulled out of the ocean.

She doesn’t hesitate when it comes to her crew. She draws her sword and leaps into the fray.

Chapter Text

Gem will be re-evaluating her opinions on myths after this.

Whatever she rescued from the ocean, it’s not human. The legs were a lie. In their place is a fish-like tail, coated in sleek red scales that morph darker towards the creature’s waist, a jagged fin crowning the base.

Despite the tail, it has no difficulty attacking Impulse, scratching at every inch of his skin with sharp black claws, aiming to impale his neck. He’s panicking, and they’re flailing over the slick wooden deck that's still slippery with stormwater, and Etho and Skizz have their hands instinctively on their weapons but are too taken aback to act.

Even Gem, after rushing forwards with her rapier ready, doesn’t quite know where to spear her blade. The creature is fighting furiously, apparently oblivious to the other humans aboard, and it’s well-defended by the simple fact that Gem is too afraid of accidentally hitting Impulse to strike recklessly.

A moment later, the red-tailed creature has Impulse pinned against the side of the boat, a hand around his throat. Hissing, it pulls back its other arm, preparing to plunge those long claws through the soft skin of his neck. Gem can’t risk waiting another second.

She thrusts her sword into the creature’s shoulder, striking not to kill but to incapacitate. At the time, she couldn’t say why, but some innate curiosity possessed her as her arm moved, redirecting her blade’s course somewhere less deadly. The creature spins, pointed teeth bared in a feline snarl, lashing out wildly at its assailant. There is liquid, dark and thick like blood, pouring from the wound and staining the wrappings that cover its chest. 

Within seconds it lays, once again unconscious, at Gem’s feet. She stares in shock. Her sword drops to the floor with a clatter.

“Impulse! Are you alright?”

Skizz runs forwards, giving Gem and the creature a wide berth, and helps drag Impulse to his feet. Gem is relieved to see that he’s mostly unharmed, save for a few deep claw gashes across his cheek and chest, even if his damp clothes cause the blood to blossom into something much more frightening. 

“What is that?” Gem asks over Skizz’s fretting. “What the heck did I pull out of the ocean?”

Impulse and Skizz do their secret-look-thing again, though it’s Etho that answers.

“A siren. The trade route waters are supposed to be clear of them, so we must have been blown badly off course to meet one.”

Gem’s mind spins. Everything the council covered in its orientation courses, hundreds of extra books she scoured in the library, all the stories Skizz had told her about the ocean… And not once did she hear any serious mention of sirens. Not beyond a glancing nod to local myths or historical nautical fears. Now she’s not only seen one, she’s fought one, and it’s lying at her feet, bleeding whatever blood sirens contain onto her deck.

She was just supposed to be delivering a few pickles!

“But… but it had legs!” she pushes back, waving her hands around animatedly. “It was drowning, wasn’t it?”

Impulse chews his lip, studying the blood-red tail that shows no sign of disintegrating back into human limbs. “I had no idea they could do that. They don’t mention it in any of the senior training. Maybe it’s a new thing?”

“The senior training?” Gem says, indignant. “You mean there’s extra information you only get told if you’re old? The existence of magical murder fish-people seems kind of important for everyone to know!”

At Gem’s feet, the siren moves. 

“Maybe we could hash this out when there isn’t one bleeding out on our ship?” interjects Skizz. “What’re we doing with her, Captain Gem?”

Gem stares at him, bewildered. Being captain means directing a crew, steering a ship, not… deciding how to store a monster on board! She wonders for a moment if they can just leave in a locked room and be done with it, but its scales look like they’re drying dangerously already. Mentally running through their options downstairs, she lands on:

“We’ll stick it in a pickle barrel.”

Etho blanches. “A pickle barrel?”

“Yeah! They aren’t full. We can transfer some pickles to the other barrels, then put it in the empty one. It’ll be secure in the storage room— the door can be locked overnight and there’s nothing dangerous in there it could use as a weapon.”

“So – just checking we’re all on the same page – we’re sticking a deadly siren in a pickle barrel. On the same floor as our bunks. And we’re doing… what exactly with her once we get to the Isles?”

Gem brushes him off, already grabbing some spare rope to tie the siren’s wrists. “We can figure that out later.”

“I’ll take Impulse to the med bay to disinfect his cuts – will you and Etho manage to carry her down by yourselves?” Skizz says.

Glancing down, Gem weighs the siren in her mind. It’s difficult, given she doesn’t know the weight of the thick scaled tail, but her and Etho have probably lugged heavier crates around the dock. “Should be okay. We’ll give a shout if we need you.”

“Aye aye, Gemstone! C’mon Impulse, stop being such a big baby.”

“I just got mauled by a siren!”

They disappear below, and Gem is left to deal with the creature. She feels strange. If she looks past the parts that clearly aren’t human, it could just be the woman she pulled from the ocean. Except for the claws, and the tail, and the fang poking over her lip; okay, maybe they’re kind of a challenge to ignore.

Hesitantly, she crouches to tie the siren’s wrists with rope: thinner and less coarse than the one Etho used to secure himself to the ship, so it shouldn’t burn its wrist as badly— And now she’s wondering why she cares about a few rope burns when it almost killed Impulse. Nevertheless, she knots the rope tightly, checking there isn’t too much give, and turns to Etho with question in her eyes. As much as she wants to flaunt the role of captain, she’s been out of her depth since the tail made its appearance.

“Heads or tails?” Etho jokes, deadpan.

Gem stifles a laugh at the absurdity. “Uhh— heads?”

“Alright then, grab her shoulders.”

It turns out that Gem massively underestimated the weight of a siren tail. Even with Etho supporting the fishy end, it’s a struggle to carry the creature below deck, and since Gem offered to be the one to walk backwards, she keeps bashing into walls. Maybe it’s Etho’s lack of depth perception keeping him from warning her, or maybe he just thinks it’s funny, but she’s more bruised than a peach in a loose crate by the time they reach the storage area.

They deposit the siren none-too-gracefully on the wooden floor as they assess the barrels before them. The pickle casks Gem intended to use are plenty big enough – nearly her height – so the only issue they face is emptying them. Grabbing a bucket each, she and Etho transfer the pickles from one barrel to the others, purposefully splashing salty marinade on each other in the process like children doing the washing up.

A few minutes later, they’ve got four slightly-overflowing barrels and one that’s empty save for the remnants of pickle brine. Gem fills it the rest of the way with seawater, and Etho helps her lift the siren up and over the lip. It falls into the water with a loud splash.

“Do you think she’ll be alright if we just leave her here?” Etho asks when the siren doesn’t immediately awaken. 

Gem hops onto her tiptoes to peek into the barrel. “Its shoulder seems to be healing faster now that it’s in the water. See, the flesh is knitting itself back together. There’s barely any blood anymore.”

“I more meant… should we leave her something to eat? She’s probably exhausted after transforming twice and repairing her wounds out of the water.”

“Oh,” says Gem. “Well… we don’t even know what sirens eat other than humans, do we? Unless that’s also covered in the secret senior briefings.” Etho shakes his head. “In that case, we can come back when it’s woken up and ask it. Or… or something. Do sirens speak Common?”

“I assume so. People who’ve survived their calls sometimes report hearing them talk to them, so either their songs are hallucinatory as well as entrancing, or they can communicate with us.”

Gem really wishes this information wasn’t confined to the upper ranks of the union. It’s beyond ridiculous!

“Let’s go check on Impulse, then. We’ll return later.”

“Your call, Captain.”

They lock the door behind them and walk in silence through the ship’s narrow corridors to the med bay. As they walk, Gem tries to map out the future of their journey in her mind. 

They’re miles off-course and off-map, with no defining landmarks around them and a siren in one of their pickle barrels. They’re expected at the Isles in a month, which was cutting it fine even under the best conditions, and Gem refuses to let her crew become just another ‘missing crew’ in the council’s ledgers.

Why didn’t they chuck the siren back into the ocean and be on their way? Why was she so possessed by an urge to discover that she would risk not only the success of a trade, but the lives of her crew? What is it about this creature that she can’t bring to release it without at least talking to it first? If that’s even possible…

When they get to the med bay, Skizz has bandaged Impulse within an inch of his life; he’s more in danger of dying from suffocation than the scratches. He hasn’t made any attempt to take them off though, because Skizz has always been a worrier and sometimes it’s better to let him. 

That doesn’t stop Gem from laughing the second she sees him, and Etho’s grin is visible even below his mask.

“Hey, no laughing! I’m a certified first-aider, and this is standard practice in this situation.”

“It’s standard practice to mummify your patients before they’re even dead?” Gem asks through gasping giggles. “Pretty sure mummification hasn’t been standard anything for several centuries.”

“Well…”

“How’s the siren?” Impulse pipes up, fidgeting with one of the bandages across his chest. “Did she wake at all?”

Etho shakes his head. “Didn’t even stir. I know better than anyone how handy Gem is with a sword, but a simple stab to the shoulder shouldn’t have put her out of commission so badly.”

“Hmm,” considers Skizz. “It’s possible all the effort to maintain human legs drained her magic source, but I’m honestly clueless when it comes to that type of magic. Impulse and I were saying— it’s odd that the council doesn’t have any data on transformations. We’re navigating totally uncharted waters here.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Etho says. “I had a look at one of my maps on the way here, and there’s no mention of a deadzone anywhere on them. Wherever that storm blew us, it hasn’t been recorded by any cartographers. So either we’re so far out no one’s had a chance to explore here, which seems unlikely given how short the travel time was, or…”

We’re somewhere beyond humans – somewhere magical, goes unsaid.

“Well, we can ask the siren all our questions in the morning,” decides Gem, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You think she’ll want to talk?”

“Who says it has to want to talk?”

Her crewmates look uncomfortable at the implication, but no one says anything in argument. She doesn’t understand their hesitation, their unwillingness to act offensively rather than defensively. The creature had tried to kill one of them, and Etho was worrying about its diet!

It’s Impulse who speaks next. “You’re going to sleep then, Captain. You’ve been up longer than any of us, except maybe Etho—”

“And we all know I don’t sleep.”

“Exactly. You must be tired. Skizz’ll handle the ship until morning. Go get some rest.”

Gem’s about to protest, but Skizz and Impulse are doing their stupid dad thing (She’s their superior! They don’t get to ‘dad’ her!) and in all honesty, now that the adrenalin has dissipated, she’s exhausted.

“Fine. Come get me immediately if anything happens – that’s an order, alright?”

“Aye aye, Captain,” they chorus, and Gem slips out of the room.

She meant to go straight to her bunk – really, she did – but her cabin is on the other side of the boat from the med bay, and she has to pass the storage room on her way.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t slow her footsteps as she passed the door. Can’t a girl be curious? When she heard thumping from inside, though, that was all the excuse she needed. 

With a quick glance around her to check the halls were empty, she unhooked her keyring from her belt and turned the largest in the keyhole, waiting for the confirming click before she pushed down on the handle and crept inside. She froze upon seeing the scene before her.

At some point in the past few minutes, the siren woke and attempted to escape, but with its hands bound, there was a limit to what it could do. It overturned the barrel, spilling the water across the floor and tumbling out in an undignified heap.

The struggling has ripped the healing skin on its shoulder, now once again weeping fresh black blood, and, most discomforting of all, there is something like tears streaming from its yellowed eyes. 

Gem doesn’t think, exactly. The scent of misery fills the room so palpably that there isn’t space for anything more than instinct, and she rushes forwards towards the distressed creature.

It growls, but makes no move to attack her, just shrinks back when she crouches beside it. She scoops up some of the remaining seawater in cupped hands, and pours it over the shoulder wound, watching in relief as it repairs itself for a second time.

“Kiqvoj qyr,” the siren forces out, a garbled jumble of hisses that Gem can’t hope to decipher. “Vaziq fpyh.”

The frustrated sound it makes when she stares blankly is so human. It makes her heart ache.

“Do you speak Common?” she whispers, scooping more water over the stab mark.

The creature furrows its eyebrows, screwing up those yellow sclerae in thought, then mutters, “the moon.” It’s as if speaking is painful, so Gem does her best to understand from those few words.

“The moon? Yes it’s night, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Shaking its head, the siren tries again. “The moon demands it.”

“Demands?”

“It wants to drip red with scarlet. The scarlet moon.”

Gem blinks, but she doesn’t get a chance to decode the cryptic message before something clouds over the siren’s face and the yellow sclerae dip into red. It thrashes again, trying to cut the restraining rope with its claws and snapping at Gem with renewed animalism. 

Scrambling backwards, she fumbles towards the door and slips out, slamming it behind her. She leans against it, panting heavily.

“Gem?”

Opening her eyes greets her with Etho, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m going to bed! I’m going. Just don’t… uh— don’t mention this to Skizz or Impulse, please?”

He draws pinched fingers over his lips in the universal sign for ‘my lips are sealed’, and chucks an imaginary key across the corridor.

“See you in the morning, Gem.”

“Night!”

She feels guilty, laying in her bunk later, for leaving the siren strewn on the damp floor like that, but she reasons with herself that there was enough water on the floor to keep it damp overnight. And really, it shouldn’t have lashed out like that! She’d only been trying to help heal the wound she’d created, and learn what it had to say.

She sleeps restlessly. The moon – the scarlet moon – haunts her dreams.

~•~

“Good morning, Captain!” Impulse greets as he pushes open the door to her cabin. She groans, blinking sleep from her eyes. Between the nightmares and general unease, she can’t have gotten more than two hours of rest, but the sunlight streaming through the ocean behind her porthole doesn’t care.

“Ugh. Morning.”

“We’re going to go check on the siren! We were waiting for you, but when you didn’t emerge I thought I’d better come wake you up. You feeling alright?”

Gem nods, tying her hair out of her face with a ribbon. She would return the question, but based on the lack of bandages and the visibly healing cuts across his face, Impulse is doing okay. “I assume everything was well last night then?”

“As quiet and peaceful as we could ask for,” Impulse replies. “Etho’s drawn out a course due north, so hopefully we’ll run into land soon enough and be able to orient ourselves.”

“Amazing! I’ll be up on deck in a couple minutes, just need some time to pull myself together.”

Smiling, Impulse pulls his hand from behind his back to reveal her hat, and tosses across the room to her. “This must have been forgotten in everything that happened yesterday. I thought you’d want it back— what’s a captain without her hat?”

I’ve not been a very good captain so far, Gem thinks to herself, but she can’t voice her self-doubt. Instead, she shoots Impulse a grin and tugs the hat over her curls, letting it tilt at a jaunty angle. 

Impulse leaves, and Gem flops back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. The cryptic message the siren delivered yesterday has spent the night running laps around her mind, but she feels no closer to understanding it. 

The moon ‘demanded it’? Was the moon code for a person, or another siren, or just a mistranslation altogether? Why was it demanding scarlet? Was scarlet a stand-in for blood?

The simplest way to get answers would, of course, be to ask the siren itself. And that thought makes Gem remember that she left it on the floor last night, which fills her with guilt and also panic at the fact that the others might walk in on the same scene she had last night.

‘Pulling herself together’ can wait. She needs to sneak to the storage room and help the siren back into the barrel before the rest of the crew discover what happened.

She yanks her boots on, hurriedly lacing them with a messy double bow, then dashes out of her cabin and down the corridor. Trying not to look like you’re running when you’re… running… is difficult, so she forces herself to slow her pace and lighten her footsteps as she marches towards the storage.

It’s all for nothing, though, because Etho, Skizz and Impulse are already standing outside the door when she arrives.

“Gemstone!” Skizz exclaims when he sees her. “You’re looking less stressed.”

She sure doesn’t feel less stressed, but she accepts the observation with a smile and grabs her key. It goes into the keyhole, but doesn’t turn, because she’s the only one on board with the key and she forgot to lock the door during her panicked retreat last night.

She tries to mask that fact by pretending to turn it anyway, then presses the door open, steeling herself for what’s inside.

But to her surprise, the barrel has been righted and filled, and the siren is cheerfully propped up on the edge. Its hands have been re-tied in front of it. Gem blinks in surprise, biting back a comment, and it isn’t until Etho gives her a secretive nudge that the pieces fall into place.

He must have gone in after she left, finding the door unlocked and the siren writhing on the floor. He must have fixed and re-filled the barrel, and somehow lifted it inside single-handedly. And for some unknown reason, he must have taken pity on it and moved the restraints.

Gem should feel indignant at her orders being disregarded so blatantly, but she’s too busy being grateful that he took initiative and sorted things out in her absence. She nudges him back. Thank you.

“Hyw wie,” the siren says in the same hissing tongue it had spoken the night before, baring its pointed teeth in a grin. “Or good day. Pleased to make your acquaintance—”

Gem strides forward before Skizz or Impulse can respond in kind. “Make our acquaintance? You tried to kill one of us yesterday!”

The siren shrugs. “Night time things. I don’t suppose you’ve got any spare food laying around, have you? I’m starving.”

Skizz holds up a potion bottle, the liquid within glowing red. “No food on me, but I brought a healing potion for your shoulder.” Hold on— they’re planning to heal the siren? The one that tried to kill Impulse?

“Woah, woah. We have a limited supply of those – we can’t just go around giving out free samples!”

“Gem, our stock will last.”

“Well, we don’t know where we are, let alone where the closest apothecary is. What if one of us needs it?”

Skizz sighs. “Look at her shoulder, Gem. It’s not healing properly. We can spare a single potion, trust me. Who’s in charge of inventory? Me. I am.”

“Impulse? Back me up…” Gem tries, seeking agreement from the last person who should be on the siren’s side, even if his injuries are healing. He wrinkles his nose uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry, Captain— if Skizz says we can spare it, we should use it. I’m not suggesting we set her free or anything, but if we want information about whatever magic is around here, we should help the one person who might have answers.”

Gem’s speechless. She wants to research the magic as much as anyone, if not more, but how can they be so willing to sacrifice their resources to a creature that could have cost one of them their life?

“Fine. But I’m asking it the questions. You guys can go get breakfast, or whatever, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen when I’m done. Fair?”

Skizz looks like he’s about to protest, but Impulse holds him back. “Fair. But we’re bringing something back for the siren soon as well. See you in a bit, Gem.” She takes the potion from Skizz, and the three of them leave, Etho unreadably silent.

“Gosh, it’s so strange being talked about like you’re not there when you are, in fact, there,” the siren comments behind her. Gem whirls around, catching eye contact, and stalks over until she’s just out of reach of the sharp black claws. 

“Right then— do you know what a healing potion is?”

It scoffs. “Pfft, do you think I’m an idiot? It’s in the name! Of course, I shouldn’t even need it, but whatever liquid you stuck me in earlier seems to have messed with my own healing. What was that stuff, anyway?”

Gem’s cheeks flush. “Pickle brine. You can’t be complaining though! You’re lucky we didn’t kill you.”

“Ehh. You could have thrown me back in the sea instead. Would save me having to deal with a hole in my arm.”

The way the siren is talking is jokey, sarcastic: completely different from the cryptic riddles it muttered earlier. Far from putting Gem at ease, it only heightens her apprehension.

“Here’s the deal, then. I’ll give you this potion, and you answer my questions about where we found you and the things you said last night. Sound fair?”

The siren hesitates, even dropping its cocky mannerisms when she mentions the night, then shakes itself and says, “Sounds fair to me! Give it here then.”

Gem does so haltingly, her hand brushing the siren’s as she hands over the bottle. Its skin is cold, which shouldn’t be surprising given that it spends most of its time in the frigid ocean, but it’s jarring nonetheless. She doesn’t let her touch linger.

With an unnecessarily loud swallow, the siren finishes the potion and throws the bottle back to Gem, who catches it clumsily. Before she can ask any questions, though, the siren speaks first.

“It.”

Gem startles. “Hmm?”

“Earlier. You called me ‘it’. That’s a term of address that humans reserve for objects or animals, if I’m not mistaken.”

She hadn’t really noticed it, but it’s true. Despite herself, she feels a strange sense of shame now that it’s been pointed out.

“I— Yes, usually.”

“I don’t think I’m an animal. Or an object, for that matter.”

The siren doesn’t sound angry, just curious, like she’s actually interested in human customs and language. Gem bites the inside of her cheek awkwardly. “No. I don’t think so either.”

The siren hums. “You can call me Nhuitv, then. Or in your language, I guess that would be Pearl.”

“Pearl,” Gem tries the name. It suits the siren well. “I’m Gemini, but most people call me Gem.”

“After the stars and the stone,” Pearl comments. “A fitting name for a pirate!”

“Oi, I’m not a pirate!” she says indignantly. “Pirates are thieves and plunderers. I’m a merchant.”

Pearl snorts. “My mistake. That’s nowhere near a thief and a plunderer then. I’ll be honest though, we don’t see many merchants in our waters.”

“We don’t see many sirens in ours.”

This seems as good an opportunity as any to ask the first of her questions, and arguably the most pressing one, even if she’s desperately curious about this scarlet moon. Right now, her crew is her priority.

“Where were you when we found you in the water? There was a storm that blew us off course, so we’re trying to sail towards land, but if you could give us any hints it would really help us. Is it magical?”

Worrying her lip with sharp fangs, Pearl thinks, the cogs turning in her mind practically visible in her expression. “I suppose you could call it magical. Although it would be more correct to say that it’s so ancient, it’s imbued with the spirits of creation. How much do you know about the World?”

Gem opens her mouth to announce that she knows all about the world, that she’s studied every atlas in her village, asked more questions of the explorers than anyone she knows, but she’s cut off by Pearl:

“The real World. Not the watered-down, diluted version you humans receive in your history classes. What do you know of the arcane World?”

“I suppose… not much. My teachers didn’t think it was important to teach us magic when most of us would be going into some form of tangible trade. All the enchanters and potion-brewers trained separately as apprentices.”

“Pull up a chair then, Gem!” Pearl crows cheerfully. “We’ve got quite a lot to cover, and I’m hoping your crew will be back any minute with some fish for me to nibble. All this chatting has worked my appetite into something dangerous.”

Gem freezes in the middle of dragging a crate over to sit on. “You’re not… you’re not actually going to try and eat me, are you?”

Laughing, Pearl shakes her head. “Nah, not right now – I’ll explain all that in my story too if you’d like. Actually, would you mind taking this rope off? I prefer to talk with my hands.”

Gem wavers. Pearl seems friendly, and her manner is totally unlike it was last night, right down to the yellow sclerae in place of the red ones. Except – and she has to remind herself of this, because it’s easy to lose herself in friendly banter – she’s also a siren, mythically one of the most terrifying beings a sailor could encounter. Even if she can’t lure Gem into the ocean from here, she could still attack her.

And yet…

Gem cuts the rope loose with her dagger and lets it fall to the floor. When Pearl makes no move to hurt her, she decides she’s safe for now, and drops onto her crate.

“There you go. Talk away.”

Pearl speaks, and Gem listens, enraptured by the magical world she constructs with her words.

Chapter Text

In the myths, it is said that sirens chant a song to lure their prey. Once the music reaches the ear of the victim, they are mesmerised, reeled into the deadly ocean by an imagination of whoever they love most.

Pearl doesn’t need to utter a single note for Gem to be entranced. The tale she spins is more than enough. She begins with the history of the World — not as humans learn it, but as sirens are taught.

According to her — and Gem is still on the fence when it comes to her faith in Pearl’s truth — before there were plants and animals and humans and sirens, there were the celestial beings: the moon, the sun, and the stars. These beings, while conscious to a certain extent, weren’t living in the same way Gem and Pearl are. They were sustained by a well of magic within them. 

As the planet became populated, the power of the celestial beings drained into the life forces of these new species, and their prominence waned. Content to exist merely as an astrological phenomenon, the celestials deposited the remains of their magic into concentrated Pools across the universe and stepped back into oblivion.

“So it was in one of these… ‘Pools’ that we found you?”

Pearl nods casually, as if she hasn’t just dropped life-changing information into Gem’s lap. “Yep! The moon stores her power in the ocean, but she keeps it concealed from humans most of the time. I’m surprised you and your crew were able to find this place.”

“It must have been the storm,” Gem reasons. “I thought it might be unnatural — I’ve never seen anything so powerful.”

“That does sound possible,” agrees Pearl, “though it’s rare for humans to survive an enchanted storm. Congrats? Now you’ve just got to find your way out of here!”

“Can we not just sail away?”

Pearl shakes her head cheerfully.

That’s not good news. Despite being lost, a quiet part of Gem still hoped they could complete their mission and deliver their merchandise. And if that isn’t possible, she’ll do everything in her power to get Skizz, Impulse, and Etho home to their families. 

(Huh. Does Etho even have a family?)

“Well, how do you get in and out then?”

“There is a way out through the rocks, but if you get it wrong, you’ll sink the ship,” she replies, smiling far too widely for such a terrifying prospect. “And that’s no insult to your skill — I’m sure you’re all excellent sailors — but talent alone won’t be enough here. You need knowledge of magic, of how to break down the veil between the two Worlds.”

The call that Gem is going to have to make is becoming all-too-clear, and she doesn’t like it. There’s only one person on the ship with the abilities Pearl is describing, and unfortunately it’s the siren herself.

“So how does this all tie into what you said about the ‘scarlet moon’?”

At this question, Pearl shrinks back, suddenly looking ashamed. “I— well. That story’s a bit embarrassing, actually.”

Her easy chatter evaporates, walls constructing themselves before Gem’s very eyes. The words take her aback as well; she’d expected Pearl to become guarded, or aggressive, or outright refuse to answer any more of her questions, but she hadn’t anticipated embarrassment.

“Embarrassing?”

The siren’s cheeks flush. “I suppose I should start by saying that not all sirens are malicious. Most only eat fish, actually. It’s just that the few that do hunt humans are the ones your kind sees, and so they’re the ones that inspired your myths.”

“Yeah, and you’re one of them — don’t think I’ve forgotten about Impulse just because I’m sitting here chatting with you. Oh god, should we have blocked our ears? Are you going to try and lure us into the ocean?”

“Not much ocean to lure you into while I’m stuck in here. And I wouldn’t try anything anyway except there’s a— hmm. A curse,” Pearl says hesitantly, like she’s afraid to divulge the information.

“A curse?”

She stumbles into a halting, overly-clarified explanation that Gem is sure has been simplified for her sake. She tells her more about the moon: how some of her magic became corrupted over the years, and how if one isn’t careful, they might swim or sail through one of these tainted Pools and a curse will attach itself to them like a parasite. 

Apparently, Pearl was foolish a little while ago — though she won’t precise what form this foolishness took — and got caught in a current that dragged her to a cursed Pool. She likens it to lycanthropy if every night was the full moon (though she clarifies that, to the best of her knowledge, werewolves haven’t been sighted for several centuries).

The next obvious question, at least in Gem’s eyes, is this:

“So you can’t… you can’t control it? When you become— uh. A werewolf-siren?”

“Not quite. It’s more like… I’m in total control of all my actions, but my mind just becomes filled with this urge to kill, and it’s easiest to give into it.” Pearl bites her lip. “Hmm. That’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”

No, it wasn’t. Gem was curious, and maybe that curiosity was lowering her guard somewhat, but there was no chance of her trusting the siren. Learning that Pearl hadn’t meant to hurt Impulse, hadn’t intended to injure any of them at all, would make forgiving her significantly easier. Except that wasn’t the case, and her sympathy is somewhat diminished for it.

“No, not really.”

The conversation trails off into awkward silence. Gem shifts uncomfortably, but she doesn’t know what else to ask, and Pearl’s eagerness has dissipated. The heavy quiet is lifted by Skizz shouldering open the door, his hands occupied with a plate of various foodstuffs.

Pearl perks up. “Ooh, I smell fishies!”

Pursing her lips, Gem glares up at Skizz. “We were talking.”

He only shrugs. “Didn’t hear much talking from my end. Besides, you two need to eat something before you eat each other.”

“No promises,” Pearl jokes, giving a toothy grin. Skizz doesn’t bother hiding his nervous laugh. Placing down the plate on the floor beside Gem, he turns to leave, pausing in the doorway.

“We’re sailing west until we hit land at the moment, Gemstone, but you let us know if you come up with an alternate plan, okay?”

“Oh, actually, Skizz, we should probably drop the anchor for now. Pearl says these are dangerous waters, so she’s going to help us navigate through them.”

Skizz asks, “Her name’s Pearl?” at the same time as Pearl raises an eyebrow and says, “Am I now?”

“Yes to both of you.” Gem crosses her arms and fixes the siren with a stern stare. “Don’t forget, we could kill you any time we wanted. You owe us.”

Humming, Pearl leans against the side of the barrel, resting her chin in her palm. “Alright, alright, no need to bring out the death threats! I’ll come up top and help as soon as I can get my legs back.”

“I’ll tell Impulse to drop the anchor then, captain.”

“Thanks, Skizz,” she replies, hiding her guilt at her bad mood behind a genuine, grateful smile. It isn’t his fault the siren she chose to keep on board isn’t as innocent as she might have hoped. “Let me know if anything changes.”

He gives her a friendly salute, and gently closes the door behind him.

“How do you know I won’t just direct you the wrong way?” Pearl asks with a smirk. “Humans might not be able to, but sirens can survive a sinking ship.”

“But how many sirens can survive a sword to the heart? You nearly killed one of mine. I’d be only too happy to repay the favour, and then some.”

Pearl’s gaze flickers to the sword at her hip, so briefly it’s barely noticeable. “I don’t want to be cursed, if that helps,” she says. “I’d much prefer not to eat humans, actually, but it’s all that satisfies the bloodlust. Pass the fish?”

Sighing self-soothingly, Gem hands over the plate, though not before she grabs one of the dry crackers the council provides them with. Pearl scarfs down a handful of sardines like she’s starving, which, to be fair, she probably is. The open-mouthed chewing, however, is completely unnecessary, and Gem’s certain she’s only doing it to annoy her.

“Is there any way to break the curse?” Gem asks once Pearl’s finished. The siren tilts her head, considering before speaking.

“Not an easy one. Us Cursed beings either die speared by a sailor’s harpoon, or get driven mad by unquenched bloodlust. Although…”

“Although?”

Pearl wolfs down another sardine, speaking around the mouthful. “Sirens have myths too, and I could swear I remember one about there being an enchantment or potion or something hidden away that can reverse the effects of the corruption.”

“But…? I sense a ‘but’”

“But… if it does exist, the instructions were lost. A siren hasn’t been cured in centuries, not since our queen disappeared.”

Gem pauses in the middle of a bite. “Queen?”

“Oh shoot,” Pearl says, “your kind aren’t supposed to know about that. Forget I said anything.”

Gem tries to press, but Pearl has clammed up, resuming her devouring of sardines. With a sigh, Gem leaves, locking the door on her way out.

A few hours later, having caught Etho, Skizz, and Impulse up on the ‘Pool’ situation, she returns downstairs to collect Pearl, who’s regained her energy thanks to a combination of fish, crackers, and pickles. (Gem could swear they’re missing a few, but Pearl denies even knowing what a pickle is.)

She’s nervous about letting the siren above deck again, with the image of Impulse pinned against the planks still fresh in her mind even as his injuries heal, so she’s careful to check the ropes around Pearl’s wrists for weaknesses. To her surprise, she receives no resistance, and Pearl follows her to the helm without complaint.

From there, getting out of the Pool doesn’t take long. At one point, Pearl directs them through a narrow gap between two rocks that even Etho wouldn’t have noticed, and as they pass through, she chants a foreign hissing song under her breath that Gem can only assume belongs to the siren language. 

A strange tingling washes over her, like pins and needles from sitting too long or hot-spring water on your skin during the frigid winter. It must be the veil Pearl mentioned, and she giggles at the shocked expressions of her crewmates as if she’s any less in awe of the magic, of this unexpected world they’ve been blown into.

She refrains from commenting on the way Impulse tenses whenever Pearl’s gaze falls on him, and the suspicious glances Etho keeps throwing her way. Somehow, he must sense there’s something she isn’t telling the rest of the crew because… Ugh.

Fine, so Gem hadn’t told them about Pearl’s ‘curse’. It wasn’t relevant! Once they were far enough from the Pool and safely back on land, they could release Pearl back into the sea and be back on their merry way. No point in complicating matters.

(And if Gem feels a strange sense of protectiveness, if she has sympathy for the shame that clouded the siren’s face as she divulged the curse, that’s unrelated. Pearl’s the last person she needs to worry about.)

“Land ho!” Etho calls down from the bird’s nest far sooner than any of them were expecting. They’ve only been moving for half a day, long enough for Pearl to learn Gin Rummy, and then beat Skizz in every single game he insists on playing. But Etho’s right – even from her low position at the wheel, Gem can see a dusty landscape creeping into view.

The most striking thing on the horizon is the palace. Its monumental size throws off Gem’s sense of perspective, and its vibrant walls nearly blot out the sun. Architecturally, it’s unfamiliar, each of its towers capped with a squashed sphere and a spire; they really have sailed a long way from home.

Once she recovers from the sheer magnitude of the palace, she can begin to take in the surrounding area: the sweeping red-clay hills, the contrasting foliage, the dwellings scattered along the coast. 

Everything in sight is massive. Gem has to remind herself to inhale at the sight, breathless from both the majesty of the kingdom before her, and the relief of coming across land so soon.

“Let’s prepare to dock! Hopefully they’ll recognise our council papers,” she announces to her crew… and Pearl. What to do with the siren? They can’t leave her on the ship, where she might wreak havoc with their things. Perhaps it would be best if they parted ways now, watched Pearl swim away into the ocean, and hoped she was far enough from them before night fell.

“Hey, Gem?” 

Her hand springs to her sword. She hadn’t noticed Pearl sneak up behind her until she was right there, practically breathing down her neck.

“What?”

Pearl opens her mouth, then closes it again. She hasn’t turned fully human this time, instead opting to concentrate her magic into her legs to conserve energy, so her sharp teeth and yellowed scleras are on full display. Strangely enough, Gem’s glad she didn’t hide them. It must be because, like this, the uncanny imitation of a normal girl is weaker — the oddly mesmerising quality of her slit pupils has nothing to do with it. Totally.

Finally finding the words, Pearl says, “I’d like to come onto land with you.”

“Pardon?” Gem scoffs. “Why would we bring you into a heavily populated area just hours before nightfall? We’re not mad.”

“The effects of the curse aren’t as strong when I’m masquerading as a human,” Pearl pleads, desperation inking her expression. “Please, Gem, there’s something here. I can sense it.”

“What kind of something?”

Before Pearl can respond, Impulse appears with a satchel in hand. “Alright then, Captain! All the official documents you might need are in there, and Etho will come with you in case you need someone to look over any maps. Skizz and I’ll stay back and look after the ship — give us a signal if you need any help, okay?”

Gem nods, rifling through the bag to find it full of parchment and gold coins covering a singular flare gun. “Thanks, Impulse. We’ll get ourselves sorted out, don’t worry.”

“And what about…” Impulse trails off. Gem doesn’t need the end of his sentence to know he’s referring to the siren situation. 

A second is all she has to make the decision, so she blames her choice on in-the-moment impulsivity. “She’s coming with us.”

Pearl hits her with an impressive combination of relief, gratitude, and joy in a singular smile, and Gem hopes she hasn’t just doomed the people of this kingdom.

~•~

“Papers, please,” the customs officer demands as they approach. He’s dressed in what Gem gathers from a glance around the docks is the traditional attire of the kingdom: a loose-fitting tunic to cope with the dry heat, and a scarf draped around the head to keep the sun off. Now, as night approaches, people are beginning to dip their scarves, revealing hair dyed an array of colours to match the palette of the buildings.

It is with slight panic that Gem realises she doesn’t actually have papers for Pearl, due to the whole not-being-documented-in-the-human-world thing. Instead, she hands over the collective licence the council gave them, which is admittedly more a licence for their ship than for them as individuals, but should be enough.

Etho is tense beside her as the officer scours their document, seeking eyes flickering most frequently to Pearl, who is using the setting sun as an excuse to squint her inhuman eyes. Her claws are tucked away in clasped hands, and her mouth stays resolutely shut. Wearing the brown jacket and trousers Gem lent her, she looks passably mortal.

Her desperation to visit this place hits Gem all over again.

“You belong to the merchant union, I see,” the officer muses, and thank goodness for the council’s far-reaching influence, “and everything appears to be in order. May I ask the purpose of your visit?”

“We lost our way in a storm a little while back,” Gem answers truthfully. “We’re hoping to find some directions or maps that might get us to our destination.”

The officer hums. “In that case, I would recommend visiting the House of Knowledge, where you will find some cartographers to assist you. I don’t expect they will have gone home yet, even at this time; our scholars are very dedicated to their work.”

“Thank you, sir,” says Etho, taking the paper back and helping Gem slide it into her bag. “We appreciate the advice.”

“No problem,” he smiles. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Mezalea!”

Mezalea. Gem considers the name. It’s a foreign sound — she doesn’t recall ever seeing it on a map, and from Etho’s puzzled expression, neither does he.

At a gesture from the officer, they step through the towering gates and into the main city.

The streets are crowded with citizens making their way home from work, dye staining their clothes and concrete powder brushed on their cheeks. It’s disorienting, the ebb and flow of a multicoloured river, and Gem’s head spins. The three of them push their way through the crowd, following faded signs for an inn, and Gem has to grab Pearl’s hand to avoid being separated from the group. Her skin is as cold as before, talons grazing Gem’s palm.

The inside of the inn is refreshing, with windows designed to channel a gentle breeze through the bar and a mechanised fan spinning lazily above. The three of them collapse into a corner table, exhausted from navigating the crowds like salmon swimming upstream. Gratefully, they accept the water offered by the bartender, and order a plate of fresh fruit. 

“How have I never heard of this place before?” Etho asks, almost offended. “You’d think a kingdom this architecturally-advanced would be all over the history books.”

Pearl nods in agreement. “I’ve never heard of it either, and we sirens have a pretty expansive understanding of the world. Strange.”

“Strange-good or bad? Do you think it has anything to do with that something you sensed?”

Pearl glances around them, then leans in to whisper conspiratorially. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t even know what the something is. There’s just this magnetism pulling me here — I’m sorry, I really can’t explain it.”

Gem wants to demand that she least try, because the ground is turning sun-set yellow outside, and this mystical ‘magnetism’ doesn’t really warrant them checking a blood-thirsty siren into the inn. Etho gets there first.

“Look, Pearl, I get that there’s something else going on here, and I trust Gem’s judgement so, right now, I’m trusting you. But you can’t expect us to operate as a functional team on nothing but half-truths and unknowns. We need a more concrete answer than ‘something’.”

Huffing, Pearl crosses her arms across her chest. “I’m trying, okay! I have no other words to describe it— wait, no. You’re all sailors. You know that yearning humans get when they leave their place and there’s a string tugging at their gut, urging them to return?”

“You mean homesickness?” 

Their fruit slices arrive, a platter of assorted oranges, berries, and mangoes that has Gem’s mouth watering, but the food will have to wait until Pearl’s reached her point.

“Mm, homesickness. It’s like that. There’s something here that’s urging me to find it, and I can’t help but hope it’s related to…”

She trails off, shooting Gem a meaningful look, though Gem’s attention is elsewhere. Somewhere much more pressing.

There’s a team of guards bursting through the door, making way for a very average-sized man dressed in a purple military uniform. Atop his puffed-out chest, five golden medals sit proudly on display, but it’s the golden crown wreathing his brown hair — streaked with green, presumably as a nod to his citizens — that tells Gem all she needs to know.

“Uh, guys. Is the royalty heading towards us?”

Etho follows her gaze towards the entourage, his jaw clenching beneath his mask. “Yep.”

Pearl fidgets in her seat. “Do you think they know about me?”

“Just… stay quiet for now,” Gem whispers. “Etho and I will deal with it, whatever it is.”

The man with the crown arrives at their table, and there’s no question of who he’s here for anymore, because he’s two feet away and staring straight at them. His guards take up their positions behind him, blocking Gem’s view of the exit. They shouldn’t have taken a corner table.

“Good evening, sir. Can we help you?”

“Eh, wouldn’t call it evening yet. The sun goes down late here,” he says, and Gem has to recalibrate her assessment; this man talks far more casually than any royalty she’s ever heard. Maybe it’s a Mezalea thing? “And yep, you can help me actually!”

He holds out a hand, and a guard places a sealed scroll in it. “Now, usually we’d send a messenger to do this, but the queen — my wife , by the way — asked me to do it. So! With that out of the way…”

He clears his throat.

“Dear travellers. The Queen of Mezalea would like you to come to the palace so that she can discuss some stuff with one of your party. Signed, Queen Lizzie of Mezalea.” He folds the scroll back up. “Huh. Our official correspondences are usually a bit more… official than that. No matter! To the palace we go.”

“And what if we say no?” Gem presses cautiously.

“Hmm,” the king considers. “You don’t really have that option.”

Gem exchanges a worried look with Etho, but Pearl is already rushing to her feet and following the king out of the door. 

This was supposed to be a brief stop to reorient themselves and restock their supplies! How were they already in trouble with the crown? And to add to it all, Pearl seemed to have thrown caution to the wind, no longer bothering to hide her features as she hurried away. Gosh, she’s a liability.

She and Etho jog to catch up with their companion, stepping out once again into the saturated streets of the city. This time, however, their guard escort has cleared a path for them, and they no longer have to shove their way past bustling citizens. Rather, the citizens have stopped their bustling to watch them pass. She hears whispers of King Joel buzzing through the crowd like a grasshopper.

“Should we send a signal to Impulse and Skizz?” she murmurs to Etho, one hand already on the flare in her satchel. “Not sure what they’d do, but at least they’d know something was up if we didn’t come back.”

Etho shakes his head. “No point in worrying them. Besides, everything’s probably fine. The king seems…”

He trails off.

They follow King Joel and his guards up the vast steps to the palace entrance, a staircase so huge that Gem is panting for breath by the time they reach the top. He leads the way through ornate wooden doors at least five times Gem’s height, and when they finally come to a stop, they’re standing before two golden thrones.

“Ah, wonderful,” the queen — Queen Lizzie, Gem recalls from the summons — exclaims. “Welcome, merchants, to the Kingdom of Mezalea.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Gem can see Pearl staring, almost hungrily, at the pink-haired, pale-skinned figure. An odd pang of jealousy stings her gut. She shoves it aside in favour of kneeling, head bent in respect. Etho and Pearl follow soon after.

“Please, rise,” Lizzie says, smiling warmly. “You are in no trouble, fear not. I have merely called you here to ask some questions.” She extends a finger towards Pearl, but where Gem expects to see fear or worry, Pearl is only captivated. “Do you mind if we talk separately, traveller?”

“I’d be honoured,” replies Pearl after a moment of inscrutable silence.

Joel stands, drawing himself up to his full height with pride. “We’ll wait for you in the Pink Room, babe.”

Now hang on just a second. There are two reasons Gem can’t leave Pearl alone with the queen. 

Firstly, they have no idea of the monarchs’ ulterior motives here. In fact, they barely have any idea of their overt motives beyond ‘we’d like to have a chat’, so splitting up like this in a foreign country sounds like a phenomenally poor plan. 

And secondly, for as much as King Joel reassures her that the sun sets late in Mezalea, the stained-glass windows that line the throne room tell a different story, one where the moon is rising rapidly and the curse is minutes away from possessing Pearl. Gem can’t in good conscience let her be alone with the queen during the night; one of them will inevitably end up dead.

(It would probably be Pearl, throat slit by a guard’s blade.)

“Wait!” she blurts. All eyes lock onto her, expressions varying from Etho’s apprehension to Joel’s indignation. “As captain of this crew, it is my duty to be present during discussions such as this. As such, I must insist that I accompany my… co-worker to this meeting. Your majesty,” she tacks onto the end.

Queen Lizzie looks taken aback by her request — no, demand — but she doesn’t oppose her. “Would that be alright, traveller?”

Pearl takes longer to consider than Gem would like. Truthfully, if she were in Pearl’s position, she’d probably say no. Why should she let the possibility of a meal be interrupted by someone who’s essentially kept her captive all day? Then, to Gem’s surprise:

“Sure, the captain can stick around.”

“In that case—” Etho starts, but Joel isn’t waiting for another interruption, dragging Etho out of the room with a huff; the double take when he realises how much taller the merchant is than him is almost comical. He’s trailed by the guards, who Lizzie dismisses, which leaves just Pearl, Gem, and the Queen of Mezalea.

“What did you want to talk to me about, your majesty?” Pearl says eagerly like there isn’t a nervous bone in her body, when even Gem’s legs shake under the sharp gaze of the queen, and she isn’t the one who was specifically summoned. Lizzie takes a moment to stand, collecting her thoughts.

“Your tale of blowing off course is plausible,” she begins. “We experience frequent, severe storms around these parts, and sailors have been known to unexpectedly disappear. Your papers are all in order, and an inspection of your ship revealed nothing out of the ordinary. My informants witnessed no strange behaviour during your short time in the main city. So the question I have is simply this:

“Why is there a siren in my kingdom?”

Ah.

Chapter Text

Gem should have anticipated this. How could she have been so naïve as to think that no one in this city would notice Pearl’s teeth, or claws, or eyes for goodness sake? Who had reported them? Anybody, from the customs officer to the innkeeper, could have found them suspicious. Why didn’t she leave Pearl on the boat with Impulse and Skizz?

In situations like this, Gem favours one tactic: deny, deny, deny.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, your majesty.” 

Which, granted, isn’t the best tactic when Pearl’s siren features are on full display. 

Lizzie laughs, not unkindly. “Please, call me Lizzie. And don’t lie to me, Captain. I know your friend isn’t human, though I can’t imagine how you both met.”

Pearl doesn’t seem scared at being found out, despite the tales of slaughtered sirens she must have heard. Rather, she is entirely calm, a small smile playing on her lips, and Gem is suddenly gripped by the terror of being too close to a predator. Outside, the moon is rising.

Clarity hits her suddenly and foolishly. Bringing a siren into this kingdom, into the palace no less, is surely treason, and treason is punishable everywhere she knows by death. In her mind’s eye, she sees Etho in the next room, chatting obliviously with Joel while the king waits for the signal to execute him. She sees Impulse and Skizz reloading the ship, overseen by guards that will slit their throats in a split second if given notice.

She sees soldiers outside the throne room, swords drawn, prepared to burst in and slaughter her and Pearl if the queen so much as shouts.

In the time it takes for these images to flicker across her vision, moonlight has begun streaming through the stained glass windows, pooling in multicoloured puddles across the throne room. A quick glance at Pearl confirms her fears; the siren is trembling with the effort of holding herself back, her yellow eyes morphing into a harsh red. She’d said the curse was weaker in this form — except Gem forgot to ask how strong it usually was.

“Well come on then, what’s the story?”

Gem’s hand leaps to her rapier; Pearl gets there first. Whether she reached the same self-preserving conclusion, or simply gave into the bloodlust, Gem couldn’t say, but she closes the distance between herself and the queen fast as anything. Her pounce is wolf-like, practised even on human legs, and she and Lizzie go tumbling to the floor.

Sword unsheathed, Gem sprints forwards, even though she’s not sure who she’s aiming to protect. It doesn’t matter, because seconds later Pearl has her fangs buried an inch-deep into Queen Lizzie’s arm. If the queen screams now, the entire crew is dead.

Gem wishes belatedly that Pearl had gone for the neck. 

Except the queen doesn’t scream, and Pearl is sitting back up, spitting the blood from her mouth, her eyebrows furrowed in disgust. 

“You’re not human,” she grumbles, accusatory. Gem blinks in confusion. 

“And you’re obviously cursed,” says Lizzie, concern lacing her words. “How long have you been cursed?”

Woah. Woah, woah, woah. Hold the horses. What in the world is going on?

Gem closes her shocked mouth to say, “I’m sorry, not human? And how do you know about the curse?”

Scrunching her nose, Lizzie glances behind her at a tapestry that Gem hadn’t noticed before, one that doesn’t quite match up size-wise or position-wise with the rest of the wall hangings. It clearly depicts a wedding day — Lizzie’s wedding day — both her and the king wearing matching woven grins, flower petals floating around their heads. 

“Can I show you both something?”

She doesn’t give either of them a chance to reply, striding over to the tapestry and pulling it aside. The reason for its odd location becomes clear — behind the woven fabric is a subtle wooden door, so subtle that if Gem’s attention hadn’t been directed, she would never have noticed it. Its golden hinges protrude ever so slightly from the wall, hence the tapestry, but other than that it could be just another panel. 

Lizzie steps aside, gesturing for Pearl to push it open, and though the siren’s hesitance is evident, her curiosity gets the better of her. As the door opens, Gem tenses, waiting for some sort of trap to emerge, but there is only a stone staircase, dimly lit by hanging lanterns. The steps disappear into obscurity as they spiral downwards, so distant that it’s impossible to tell where the bottom is.

If Gem were more sensible, maybe she wouldn’t be following the purposefully-cryptic queen into a dank, dark basement where salt crystals hug the walls and algae carpets the floors. She certainly wouldn’t be following said queen through labyrinthine tunnels that, based on the water dripping from above, are directly below the ocean, with no way out other than the way in.

Then again, if Gem were more sensible, she would have left Pearl behind on the ship, and she’d have no one to stick close to as they navigate the damp maze. So really it’s all worked out fine. Just… don’t scrutinise that logic too closely.

Lizzie comes to an abrupt stop, causing Pearl to halt suddenly and Gem to crash straight into her back. She nearly loses her balance and slips, but thankfully Pearl catches her with secure arms, righting her with a missable chuckle. 

“We’re here.”

“Where exactly is ‘here’?” asks Gem.

“I’ll be right back,” Lizzie says, which is a total non-answer. “You can wait in the next chamber.”

She gestures down a hall to their right, and before Gem can protest, she disappears through the doorway in front of them. 

With the alternative option being left in a dark, narrow tunnel with a bloodthirsty siren who, to be fair, Gem trusts more than the queen at this point, she follows Lizzie’s direction. Pearl’s boots thud dully on the uneven rock behind her.

The hall opens up into a vast cave with a high, domed roof that reminds Gem of a cathedral. Lining the walls are a series of stone pillars, each a few paces apart, with delicate carvings of sea creatures adorning them: octopuses, seahorses, dolphins, each face chipped away with reverent care. These statues alone are enough to take her breath away. 

But they aren’t the main focus of the room. In the centre is a cascade of water, glistening with moonlight as it pours from a hole in the ceiling. Huge clouds of spray froth up where it crashes into an uneven pool gouged into the rock floor. There are smaller, calmer pools scattered around the room, each deep enough that even with the improved lighting, Gem can’t see the bottom. 

Pearl brings her hands up to her mouth. “Oh. Wow.”

“How’s the… Um. How are you feeling?” What Gem really wants to ask is what are the chances of you trying to eat me now that the queen’s apparently off the menu? but it feels a bit insensitive.

Pearl sees through her anyway. “I’m fine now. Whatever species the queen is, her blood calmed the curse, at least to the point where I’m not having to actively fight the urge to murder you. Why, you scared?” Her eyes sparkle teasingly.

“Of course not!” Gem squawks. “I’d beat you in a fight any day.”

Rolling her healed shoulder, Pearl huffs. “You already have, captain. Trust me, I have no desire to repeat the experience.”

Gem wanders over to one of the smaller pools, kneeling down at the edge. “What do you think is up with the queen? You said she wasn’t— y’know. Human.” She trails her fingers through the water, watching as small ripples blossom under her touch.

Pearl sits beside her, folding her legs awkwardly. For as comfortable as she looks walking on them, there are clearly aspects she’s less practised at. “Her blood certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. It was like biting into a salmon and tasting cod. And also…”

“Also?”

“That homesickness, that tugging in my gut? It’s only gotten stronger since we arrived at the palace, and even more so as the queen led us down here.”

Pearl’s eagerness to follow Joel, the curiosity with which she tailed Lizzie make sense then. She was clear back on the boat about her motivations for joining Gem on this trip, so she can’t really hold that against her; though a bit more caution would be appreciated.

“What does it mean?”

Pearl stares into the infinite depths of the dark pool beside them. “I have no idea.”

Minutes pass. Neither of them say anything, but with the threat of becoming a meal alleviated, Gem is almost… comfortable, alone with Pearl. It’s probably because the alternative company is a secretive monarch who brought them into her underground lair without much explanation, she reasons.

When Lizzie finally does return, they’ve been waiting in silence for at least half an hour, just watching the foam erupt at the base of the moonlit waterfall. The two of them scramble to their feet, caught unaware, but she asks that they sit again and joins them on the gritty ground. Her organza skirts spill around her, liquid and glistening like water. On her arm, the bite mark is pretty much healed.

 “I wish I could give you all the answers you seek, but I can’t. I myself am not sure what I am, nor what the significance of me sensing a siren in my kingdom is — I was hoping you might be able to clear some things up, to be honest. All I can offer you is this.”

She produces a leather-wrapped journal, no larger than her palm, and hands it to Pearl. The pages are yellow with age and warped with water damage, and the writing on them is barely legible. Nevertheless, Pearl’s eyes widen at the sight. 

“This writing is xhuqoz,” she murmurs. “Siren-speak. Where did you get this?”

Gem leans over Pearl’s shoulder to read the ink and, sure enough, the letters aren’t Common. It’s a slanted, looping language that visually resembles the hissing sounds she’s heard Pearl make. Sadly, even Pearl probably won’t be able to glean all the information from the writing; there are huge chunks missing, faded with time or smudged with water. 

Lizzie mimics her, invading the siren’s personal space to look at the book, and to Gem’s disgruntlement, Pearl doesn’t push her away. “Joel found it clutched in my grasp when I washed up on Mezalean shores. It’s not been much use in filling in my missing memories though, since I can’t actually read the script.”

Engrossed as she is in the text, leafing through pages with increased feverishness, Pearl doesn’t react to that revelation, but Gem can’t hide her surprise.

“I’m sorry— what?”

“It’s pretty common knowledge for the people around here that their queen has some mysterious past,” Lizzie shrugs. “I always just assumed I was the victim of a shipwreck with the good fortune to end up in Mezalea, but a few years ago, one of our prophets read something very odd.”

Pearl tunes in at this point, though her gaze stays on the small journal. “What did they find?”

“They revealed what you did, that I’m not human. A few months later, I found these tunnels under the palace, and decided to use them as a base for my research. Without a translation of my book it’s pretty much useless though.”

So that’s why Pearl had been summoned to the palace: not for interrogation or deportation or, god forbid, execution, but because the queen had somehow sensed a siren nearby and wanted her help. Will she ask Pearl to stay behind and translate for her? Will Pearl want to? Gem’s heart clenches at the thought for reasons she can’t define.

Meeting Lizzie’s eyes over Pearl’s head, she asks, “How did you recognise the curse, then? That isn’t well-known among humans.”

“It’s the only section in the book I understood,” she replies. “Four pages of maps, diagrams and illustrations, with two words written in Common — scarlet curse. ”

With new urgency, Pearl flips frantically through the worn pages to find the pages Lizzie is referring to. Sure enough, they contain drawings of the physical changes Gem has seen Pearl go through when the curse gets strong, as well as a clock of the moon and several other diagrams, annotated with siren-speak. 

And stretching across a double-page is a large, painstakingly drawn map. This too is annotated with partially-smudged comments in siren-speak, but even Gem recognises the symbol in the right-hand corner: a simple ‘X’. ‘X’ marks the spot.

Pearl’s breath hitches. “Gem, do you know what this is?”

Gem shakes her head, her attention trapped by the tears brimming at the corners of Pearl’s eyes. “What?”

With a shaking finger, Pearl points a claw to the sketch of a potion bottle. “It’s a cure.”

Gem swallows. That’s great news, right? But there’s something brewing discomfort in her gut, a voice in her head whispering that something isn’t right. She feels awful when she realises what it is.

There’s a disconnect here, between the Pearl that had nonchalantly disclosed the early death most Cursed sirens meet, and the Pearl that’s nearly crying over finding a cure. Guilt washes over her from not noticing how much this meant to her. 

I don’t want to be cursed, she said back on the ship. At the time, it had seemed casual, an attempt to endear herself to Gem, but what if there was more meaning behind the words than she thought? 

Gem imagines herself overtaken by a desire to kill every night, voices shrieking in her head until she gave in and hunted. Hearing stories of people like her, and the grisly fates they met. Knowing that if she wasn’t triumphantly speared by a sailor, she’d drive herself mad with bloodlust.

And Gem had entertained throwing Pearl back into the ocean to suffer alone. 

“Are you sure?” 

Pearl nods quickly, her fangs poking through a small smile. “And a map, instructions, everything. It’s all in these two pages.”

“In that case,” Lizzie interjects, and Gem is abruptly reminded of her presence on the other side of Pearl, “let’s make a deal!”

“Pardon?” says Gem. 

“Well, I’m not about to let you just take my journal without giving me something in return. That wouldn’t be profitable to me in the slightest.”

Gem is genuinely about to fight her — can she not see how much this means to Pearl? Is that really the first thing that comes to the queen’s mind? She’s even shifted her weight to stand when Pearl says,

“How about I tell you about yourself? It’s all here in this book, and it’s not like you can read it.”

Lizzie tries (and fails miserably) to hide her eagerness at the offer in order to keep the upper hand in the negotiation. “I suppose that would be a fair trade.”

“This is a diary of sorts,” Pearl begins. “And not just any diary— the diary of a queen.”

“Well, obviously it’s the diary of a queen. It’s mine!”

Pearl continues impatiently. “Except you weren’t the Queen of Mezalea when this was written. Some of the events described in these pages happened hundreds of years ago, while others are more recent. And this isn’t the diary of a human, Mezalean or not; it belonged to the Queen of the Ocean.”

Something short-circuits in Gem’s brain. “I thought you said the Ocean Queen went missing centuries ago?”

“She did. She deserted her people and left us at the mercy of curses and sailors. She’s also, if my understanding of the story contained in these pages is correct, sitting right beside us.”

Lizzie nearly falls into the pool in surprise.

“You what?”

“If this is your journal like you think it is, then you’re the missing queen,” Pearl says, a bitter snarl curling around her words. “You’ve been languishing in a human palace while your subjects were suffering and dying.”

The queen’s – twice over now, Gem supposes – face drains, bleaching white like coral, then an indignant crease appears between her eyebrows. All royal mannerisms have been left behind. “Well, how was I supposed to know? I lost all my blumming memories before I even got here. You can’t expect me to have been looking after sirens I didn’t even know needed help!”

“Yeah, except you went missing centuries ago,” Pearl hisses. “You can’t have washed up here more than ten years ago, or Joel would have commented on the fact you still look mid-twenties by now. So what were you doing all that time?”

“Bloody hell, I don’t know!” It’s a held-back yell, frustrated and upset. “I’ve got amnesia, for god’s sake.”

“You could still have tried harder to—”

Gem can picture this becoming an all-out-fight, and they can’t afford to be thrown out of Mezalea before they’ve even had a chance to restock and reorient. The siren really knows how to pick her fights — the queen , of all people? Nailed it, Pearl.

She rests a hand on Pearl’s shoulder, feeling her start in surprise, so focused on Lizzie she forgot Gem was sitting right beside her. The touch is enough to cut her off, though, and as she turns to Gem, some of the anger bleeds from her expression.

“It’s late, and we’re all tired. Your majesty, Lizzie, if it’s alright we’d love some help finding maps, and then we’ll be on our way. You’ve gotten your trade, Pearl has told you what your journal contains, and we would appreciate you upholding your side of the bargain. We’ll be taking the book with us.”

She tries to be diplomatic, calm but firm. Pearl has the answers she needs right there in her hands. Gem can’t let it be torn from her again.

“But—”

“That was the deal we agreed to.”

Lizzie scrunches up her nose in annoyance, but the fight has gone out of her as well, replaced by exhaustion and shock. “Alright. Fair’s fair. Could I ask a favour, though?”

Squeezing the journal so tightly her knuckles whiten, Pearl nods jerkily. 

“Could you translate a couple pages and leave them with the scholars? I already have copies of the entire text, but if we had a reference to study I’m sure we could decipher the exact meaning. And then…” she trails off. “Maybe I could resume my duties as the Ocean Queen, in some capacity.”

Pearl doesn’t look like she’s going to agree, still annoyed despite herself, but Gem gently taps her shoulder, and she relents. “Fine. I’ll do it tonight, if you bring us a book and quill. Gem’ll have to transcribe though; I can’t write Common.”

The beaming smile that fills Lizzie’s face could eclipse any moon curse. “Fabulous! I’ll bring down some bedding as well, so you two can sleep down here and regain your energy. Thank you, thank you!”

She leaves them in the glittering cavern, the silence filled by rushing water, and promises to offer Etho a room in the palace and some maps with which he can figure out a new route. When she returns a few minutes later, it’s to drop off some paper and blankets, nothing more, no words exchanged. They spend the hours until midnight poring over the book together, scribbling down translations and pausing when Pearl becomes too irritated by the content to continue reading.

Past midnight, Pearl hesitantly leaves the journal with Gem, not wanting it to risk it getting ruined by water. The show of trust nurtures pride in her chest, a feeling that she struggles to reconcile with the fear and anger from earlier today

As Pearl slips into one of the pools and fades from view, Gem can’t tear her gaze from the ease with which she manipulates her tail, looping loops before heading downwards with strong, confident movements. She realises she’s never actually seen Pearl like this, freely in her true form. It’s… beautiful, glistening red scales even in the scarce moonlight. 

She remains, staring at the place where Pearl vanished, for longer than she would admit to herself, before curling up in the soft bedding Lizzie provided and drifting off to sleep, the journal clutched securely in her hands. 

~•~

In the time between waking up and leaving the palace, Gem makes two decisions:

The first is that she will aid Pearl in her quest for the cure, in any way she can. This is the decision that takes the longest, waking her in the early hours of the morning and spinning through her mind as streams of sunlight replace the moon, and the cavern is filled with a warm glow. But ultimately… 

If she were cursed, doomed by clamouring bloodlust to spiral into madness, she’d appreciate help getting a cure. Why shouldn’t she do the same for Pearl?

(Because she nearly killed Impulse, a voice in her mind whispers, but excuses have already been made.)

The second decision is, admittedly, not as life-altering. Quite simply, the chocolate pastries they ate for breakfast were deliciously flaky and she should bring some back to the ship for the others to try. 

“Are you all set?” asks Lizzie as they hover at the palace exit, not sure yet whether they’ve sufficiently  thanked their hosts for everything. For their part, the royal couple are acting remarkably relaxed about the news that one of them is the long-lost Queen of the Ocean. Well, as relaxed as they ever seem to get. Joel spent breakfast veering between lamenting his cosmic insignificance and dramatically proclaiming his adoration for Lizzie. 

(And also complaining about Etho’s apparent obsession with him? Gem’s not sure where that one came from — Etho hadn’t even taken up Lizzie’s offer of a palace room, preferring to return to the ship and sleep in his cramped cabin. He’s a strange creature of habit; Gem would have jumped at the rare opportunity of luxury royal rooms if Pearl hadn’t been limited to the pools downstairs.)

Gem checks her bag, shooting a quick glance at the tiny leather journal in Pearl’s protective grip. “Yep, we’re fantastic! Thank you so much for all your help — I truly don’t know what to say.”

Nodding in agreement, Pearl says, “We appreciate not being executed and all that,” but through her cheerful demeanour, Gem notices her reluctance to meet Lizzie’s gaze. 

They wave goodbye to Lizzie and Joel, then pick their way carefully down the clay hill, dust billowing up with each footstep and coating their boots. Pearl tries to keep the conversation light, but underneath it all is the uncertainty of what will happen when they return to the ship.

Hmm. Gem should probably share her two decisions with Pearl and the rest of the crew at some point. The pastries she isn’t so afraid to bring up, but she can’t gauge how Impulse, Skizz and Etho will react to a detour when they’re already so off-course. They were more forgiving towards Pearl than her earlier, so maybe it won’t be such a stretch? Maybe.

As the docks come into view, Gem can just about make out three figures, tiny and ant-like, scurrying across the deck, Etho’s white hair stark against the dark wooden boards. She can’t help the smile that grows at the sight — it’s only been a day, but she misses them more than she thought she would – nor the apprehension that creeps in behind the joy. She’s never been good at breaking bad news, and even if this isn’t technically bad news, it’s still unsettling. 

It turns out she didn’t need to worry though. Skizz and Impulse accept her choice with an “Aye aye, Captain,” and a cheerful nod respectively. Etho fixes her with a confused look at first, but when he notices her staring his composure switches to jokey, bemoaning the work he’ll have to do re-routing them again with no real annoyance behind the words.

In the end, it’s Pearl’s reaction that startles her the most, pale yellow eyes that Gem hadn’t seen do anything but scowl since last night widening in relief and gratitude. She doesn’t say anything, exactly, nothing to the tune of a thank you, and that’s alright. They can talk soon — they’ll have to, to discuss their destination and the barriers that might lie ahead — but for now, Gem needs to prioritise her crew. She suggests that Pearl rest below-deck, offering her own bunk, and her heart warms when the siren accepts. 

“Can I talk to you guys?” she asks when she finds Impulse, Skizz and Etho in the kitchen an hour later, worrying over a pot of stew that has somehow managed to go wrong.

“Sure!” Impulse grins. “What’s up?”

Pushing herself up onto a counter, Gem takes a moment to watch her legs swing back-and-forth while she gathers her thoughts. “I wanted to thank you all, first off. I know this journey hasn’t been… exactly what we intended, but you’ve all made this so much easier for me.”

“Hey, that’s what a crew does,” says Skizz kindly. “We’re a family, right?”

Etho nods. “Yeah, we wouldn’t leave you stranded like that.”

God, Gem loves these people. So, so much. 

“It means the world, honestly. But still, I owe you all an explanation. Have we got a few minutes?”

She launches into a description of the past twenty-four hours, from the Curse to the journal, filling in gaps when she can and apologising when she can’t. Her crew take it all in their stride, listening attentively and asking questions where they’re needed. 

Gem has never been so grateful. Once all this is over, once they’ve helped Pearl and arrived home safe, they’re all going to their favourite pub on Boatheim, and she’s paying for every round of drinks they ever order for the rest of their lives. However, baby steps first — meeting with Pearl about the cure. 

That’ll have to wait for later in the day though. Right now, she’s passing out the Mezalean pastries she nicked from the palace, and doubling over in laughter beside Impulse as Skizz misses the chocolate he’s gotten on his cheek every time he tries to wipe it off. 

Chapter Text

Four days pass. The calm, warm waters surrounding Mezalea are replaced by tossing waves and ice-cold spray as they power ahead, guided by nothing but a shaky compass, some rough directions from Lizzie’s journal, and Etho’s sixth sense. They’re a long way from the merchant routes now, alone on the wide, wide sea with nothing but the occasional albatross to perceive their existence. It’s peaceful.

If it weren’t for the presence of a certain siren, Gem could almost imagine they’re back at the beginning of their voyage, passing time with light-hearted banter and soaking up the cloudless, sunny skies. That said, she doesn’t mind Pearl on board. Now that they’ve sorted out everything between them, she fits into the crew like a key in a lock. Gem’s days are spent behind the wheel, Pearl at her shoulder, chattering about anything and everything; she’s a lot funnier than Gem first gave her credit for, and their humour aligns perfectly.

And the nights… They don’t talk about the nights much. Pearl asks Gem to lock the door to the storage room each evening, and she unlocks it again in the morning, and when Pearl greets her with a cheerful smile, she doesn’t invade her privacy. She’s seen the curse once. She has an idea of what it’s like. She only wishes there was more she could do to help. 

Sometimes, when holding her human form becomes too tiring, Pearl will dive over the edge of the ship with a laugh, barely disturbing the water as she breaches the surface. The fish will scatter around her, and she’ll chase them gleefully. Gem will pause whatever she’s doing to watch, breathless at the speed and agility with which the siren navigates the waves, occasionally leaping out to wave at her like a dolphin.

But, like any Hero’s Quest (as Gem has dubbed the journey in her mind), it isn’t all fun and games. Gem stays up late, doing random errands around the ship as if a tidy kitchen will prevent another storm from hitting. Impulse nervously checks inventory like he expects the Mezalean oranges to have vanished overnight. Skizz keeps insisting on taking over from Gem when he notices her getting tired, only to fall asleep at the helm himself.

And Etho’s been working his ass off with Pearl to glean some meaning from the patchy map and transfer it to his own documents, a task made complicated by the fact that Lizzie’s landmarks are all underwater and thus invisible to them. 

So Gem isn’t surprised to overhear them in the kitchen, loudly arguing over details.

“That’s for sure a drawing of a reef!” Etho’s exasperated voice wafts through the door, quickly replaced by Pearl's laughter.

“No, you goof,” she says, her accent curving around the vowels. “I can actually read the writing, and it does not say reef.”

Gem knocks and, after some shuffling of chairs, Pearl answers the door. “Hello!”

“Gem! Here, come tell Etho he’s wrong. You’ve picked up some siren-speak while we’ve been studying it, right?”

Etho and Pearl spend most of their time together poring over the map pages, but Gem is the only person Pearl’s shown the other two pages to. She claims it’s because Gem’s the only one who will fully understand the information upon them. (Gem thinks it’s more because she doesn’t trust the rest of the crew with how to acquire the cure.)

“Uhh… I can have a go, for sure!”

Pearl pulls her over to sit at the kitchen table, yanking the journal away from Etho and pointing to one of the words on the page. It’s connected by a line to an image that does, admittedly, have all the squiggly lines of a coral reef, except that isn’t what the writing says. Squinting, Gem sounds out the syllables. 

“ Xa— xavr… xavrworh? ” 

Pearl rewards her with a shining grin. “And we have a winner! Yikes, Etho, you’re falling behind.”

 Much to their amusement, he dramatically buries his head in his hands. “Of course she’s showing me up.”

“So xavrworh means… um,” Gem tries, wracking her brain for the definition. “Something… end?”

Nodding, Pearl squeezes onto the chair beside her, tracing the curves of the drawing-that-isn’t-coral. “Nearly there. It means ‘turns-end’, which would be translated more correctly to… ‘maze’ or ‘labyrinth’ in Common. Because they have turns, and loads of dead-ends!”

Pearl lights up when she gets to talk about siren-speak or underwater life, or just being a siren in general. Her glow is infectious, and Gem can’t help smiling back.

“So we’re looking for a labyrinth?” Etho says, scribbling it down in his journals. “That’s our final destination?”

Pearl nods again, fidgeting with the worn pages like she wants to turn to the next page, but can’t bring herself to confide the secrets within to Etho, even if they appear to be getting along. “And on the way, we should run into an island with a monument, where we’ll find the key. If no one’s stolen it. Or destroyed it…”

“It’ll be fine,” Gem reassures. “I’ve got a good feeling about this quest.”

“The same good feeling you had when we left Boatheim?” Impulse appears suddenly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Wha— Hey! No, an actually good feeling. No more storms or magical Pools for this crew — we’ve used up all our bad luck.”

In hindsight, Gem probably shouldn’t have tempted fate a second time, but she really does have a good feeling. 

Until moments later, when Skizz yells from above, “Pirates incoming! Impulse, I need you on cannons!”

Oh for goodness’ sake. Can’t they catch a break?

All knowing only too well the implications of pirates for merchant ships, the four of them take a second to exchange horrified glances, before leaping into action. Etho splits from the group to grab the spare gunpowder from storage while the others clatter up the stairs to join Skizz. 

Much too close for comfort, a ship looms against the hazy blue sky. Twice the size of theirs, it flies billowing white sails that shiver in the breeze, and a recognisable black flag is displayed in pride of place. 

Disturbingly, it seems to be cobbled together from other boats its hull a patchwork of mismatched wood, darker in places and lighter in others like a twisted Frankensteinian creation. Gem shudders to think where they got the parts for that; fractured merchant ships and drowned crews leapt to mind. She names the pirate boat a zombie-ship, built from the undead and on the hunt for more sailors to devour.

“Impulse, hold your fire for now, alright? Let’s see if we can avoid an all-out fight,” she shouts across the deck.

“Not your usual guns-a-blazing style, Gemstone,” Skizz chimes in as he adjusts the bow in his grip. 

She chuckles despite herself. “Not even we can take down a fully-manned pirate ship. Any chance we can move faster?”

Skizz shakes his head. “Wind’s being very unkind today. We’ve already got all our sails down, so unless we suddenly get a gust, we’re out of luck.”

Beside her, Pearl's expression has taken on a strange, sly shimmer, and Gem imagines her leaping for the pirates’ throats, ripping them to shreds for messing with the crew. Even if it would just be to protect the people helping her find a cure, the thought is incongruously sweet.

“Ahoy there!” A voice carries over from the pirate ship as it comes into audible range. The greeting strikes Gem as bizarre for a pirate. “Salutations, sailor people!”

It takes Gem a while to realise who’s speaking because… well, to put it bluntly: he’s rather short. Once she does spot him though, she’s surprised to see that instead of a ferocious, battle-hardened pirate, the voice is coming from a beat-up man wearing a red bandana and grinning at them. It’s difficult to tell whether the uneven eyes are a result of a wonky smile or a punch to the face.

“Bdubs, that’s not how we make people afraid of us! Jeez, how many times…” 

This remark comes from someone closer to Gem’s preconception of a pirate: a much taller, broader figure with curly ginger hair not unlike Gem’s own and a feathered tricorne proudly settled atop their head. 

“Oi!” the more-pirate-person yells across the sea, brandishing a crossbow. “Drop the anchor — we’re coming aboard!”

Gem hesitates — there’s no chance this pirate can hit any of them with an arrow from that distance — but then she shoots a bolt and the projectile whips past Gem’s face, narrowly missing her ear. Ah. Maybe she can hit them from that distance.

“Skizz, drop the anchor. We’ll handle this through negotiations.”

He does so with an apprehensive look, and Pearl flexes her claws, lowering her weight into a more fight-suitable stance. Dropping a thick wooden plank between the boats, four of the pirates cross the gap and jump onto their ship with a heavy thump.

A quick headcount: as it stands, they’re evenly matched, but once Etho gets upstairs Gem’s crew will have the advantage. Actually — where is Etho?

Across them, the scrappy man and the person Gem assumes to be the captain are joined by a blonde man wearing a blindingly green jacket, and a brunette whose eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses that can’t quite hide the blue glint of his irises.

“You’re a long way from home, merchants,” the green man drawls, a smirk smeared across his voice. “How’d you get this far out?”

The man wearing sunglasses bares his unnaturally sharp teeth in a snarl. They remind Gem of Pearl’s fangs, but these look like they’ve been filed down; she dreads to think why. “Mmm. Wonder what they’re carrying with them. Must be something valuable.”

“Alright, alright, Martyn, Ren,” the captain says, moving towards them. Gem instinctively mirrors her, stepping instinctively in front of her crew even as the crossbow bolt remains trained between her eyes. 

“Stay back. This doesn’t have to turn into an all-out fight, uh…”

“Call me Cleo. And it won’t be much of a fight, to be honest, given the huge crew we’ve got waiting on our ship to hop over and take over command of yours. But hey, I’m feeling generous — how about you just hand over all the valuables in your possession, and we’ll get going, hmm?”

Scowling, Gem crosses her arms. They’re taking a detour, not planning to fail the entire council-assigned mission! She doesn’t think she could handle turning up at the Isles empty-handed. 

“What makes you think—”

She cuts herself off as the pirate’s gaze slips from her face and locks onto something behind her. She can’t risk looking away to follow it, though, can’t let the threat out of her sight, but it turns out she doesn’t need to; a few tense seconds later, Cleo yells, “Etho? Is that you?”

Finally! What took him so long? Grabbing a few crates of gunpowder isn’t the biggest task in the world. And then Gem processes what just happened, and her mind short circuits —  how on earth does Cleo know Etho? Gem knew he had a history he was hiding, but this is a whole other level.

“Aw, snappers.”

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“Oh my goodness, Dad?”

Gem exchanges a look with Pearl, somewhere between bewilderment and comedy. The beat-up man — Bdubs, Cleo had called him — cannot be younger than thirty. If anything, he looks older than Etho. There’s absolutely no way he’s Etho’s son… although at this point, Gem wouldn’t be surprised if time travel was real, explained away by more magical mumbo-jumbo.

Etho adjusts the crates in his arms, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Hah, wasn’t expecting to run into you guys out here. And for the last time, Bdubs, I’m not really your dad.”

“Mom, Dad’s bein’ mean to me!” he complains, and Cleo puts an arm around him. 

“To be fair, he can hardly call himself your dad after all the time he’s been gone. Don’t think we’ve forgiven you for deserting us in favour of your high-falutin tech pals. And you’re running around with merchants, of all people? Didn’t realise you were this washed up.”

Looking between the group — nine of them, now, crowded onto the cluttered deck of Gem’s ship — Skizz lets out a chuckle. “So we finally get to meet the family Etho was running from.”

Martyn laughs too, elbowing Ren good-humouredly. “And this is the famous Etho! We’ve heard quite a bit about you, buddy. Not all of it good, mind you, especially from Scar.”

So this is the past Etho’s been so secretive about all this time? For as long as Gem’s know him, it’s been him, Skizz and Impulse: the inseparable trio. How has he kept this a secret from her? And why? Having a secret pirate family is pretty freaking cool!

Although, if she thinks about it, he must have had a reason to leave them for the merchant council — merchants and pirates don’t generally mingle, like oil and water. There are so many questions she wants to ask, even if this probably isn’t the best time; despite their shared history, Cleo and Etho don’t appear to get on. She settles for nudging Pearl instead, glad to know that she isn’t alone in her curiosity when Pearl nudges her back with an incredulous expression.

“Nope, you lot are not becoming friends,” Cleo interrupts the budding amity with a firm shake of their head. “Etho, this is nothing but coincidence. Don’t think I’ll hesitate to raid this ship with you on it.”

Gently setting the crate of gunpowder down, Etho raises his hands in the universal ‘surrender’ gesture. “Awh, c’mon Cleo, can’t we work something out? I’m happy to see you guys, I really am! Where’s Scar?”

“Scar left us too,” Bdubs huffs. “Went off to make his fortune in the knick-knacks trade with some friend, didn’t bother inviting’ lil’ old me. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got new friends!”

He pulls Martyn and Ren in for a side hug, and the brunette’s face lights up like a puppy. Honestly, if Cleo wasn’t here, this ragtag group of pirates would be more laughable than scary. Gem’s initial assessment couldn’t have been further off — it’s literally only Cleo, and maybe Martyn, who pose any threat.

Although as threats go… They could have attacked them outright, even before Etho appeared. Cleo’s obviously a good shot with their crossbow, and there’s an entire ship’s-worth of fighters waiting around on the other boat, so why didn’t they slaughter Gem’s crew and take the goods for themselves? Unless…

“You know what?” Gem says.

“What?” replies Cleo, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I don’t think you have any intention of harming us. You’re just a bunch of chickens, bluffing your way through bloodless robberies. I’m right, aren’t I?”

The nervous way Bdubs glances at his ‘mom’ confirms her suspicions, and Gem twitches her hand towards her sword in case they need any extra motivation. Ren takes a step backwards, but Martyn and Cleo hold their ground, annoyance floating through the air between them.

“You really willing to take that risk?” says Martyn, reaching for the huge axe strapped to his back.

Pearl darts forwards, putting herself between Gem and the pirates. With a hiss, her claws reappear, her teeth sharpening into fangs, and she lunges at the threat. It’s merely a warning, but it sends Bdubs flying backwards shrieking.

“Hark! Creature thing, what in the world, that is a creature-thing. Creature alert!”

Cleo isn’t so afraid, staring at Pearl with an odd look on her face. “What have you got travelling with you, Etho? Don’t tell me she’s a siren. Where the hell did you manage to pick one of them up?”

“None of your business. The captain asked you to get lost, so it’d be mighty nice if you could adhere to her request!” Pearl retorts. 

Briefly, Gem thinks the deterrent isn’t going to work — that the pirates will hold their ground and refuse to leave — but despite the satisfied glint in Cleo’s eye, they’re stepping away. 

“All good. You’re right, captain, there’s no need for this to turn violent. Could Bdubs and I talk to Etho quickly though, before we leave?”

Gem hesitates, noticing the panicked glances Etho is shooting Impulse and Skizz. Something silent is exchanged between them, and after a clap on the back from Impulse, Etho nods and says, “Sure, it’d be nice to catch up. Could, uh, those two head back onto your ship first though? Just as… as insurance.”

“Wow, dude, that’s not very nice,” Ren jokes, but he and Martyn are already turning tail and crossing the wooden plank after Cleo gives them the go-ahead. Gem’s relieved to see them go — there was something vicious in Martyn’s chilled demeanour.

“Okay, you three can chat down here while the rest of us prepare to leave, but no funny business.” She fixes Cleo with a stern glare, which to her disappointment has little to no effect on them, instead scaring Bdubs and compelling him to mutter indignantly to himself. 

Leaving Skizz and Impulse to deal with the anchor, she and Pearl climb up to the helm and lean against the banister, watching out of the corner of their eyes as the family chat. Argue? They’re certainly doing… something.

It’s almost funny, imagining Etho part of such a dysfunctional group. She likes to think her ship runs like a relatively well-oiled machine, albeit with a few hiccups in the gear system, and she can’t imagine Etho’s old captain operating any differently. So watching him try to appease a squawking Bdubs and a sarcastic Cleo… is pretty hilarious.

Gem’s attention is uncontrollably diverted by Pearl’s laugh, the sound light like floating bubbles. She hasn’t bothered to put away her siren features, her bright white teeth glimmering against her lips, chapped with saltwater and—

Hmm. That was possibly not a normal thing to be thinking nor a normal amount of time to be thinking about it. Shaking herself, Gem turns back to the argument that appears to be breaking out among the three below.

She watches them, resolutely tearing her thoughts away from the siren beside her, and the way her yellow sclera shimmer in the sunlight.

What did she just say? Thoughts are being torn away. No more thoughts. Oh, look, Cleo’s just slapped Etho. What a convenient and welcome distraction.

~•~

“You want to know something silly?” Gem offers.

They left the zombie ship to disappear over the horizon a few hours ago, following a surprisingly tearful goodbye from Bdubs and too many eye rolls to count from Cleo. Apparently they really had just wanted to catch up, asking Etho what he’d been up to, where he’s planning on heading. Gem doesn’t question what Etho said to make Cleo slap him, but she has a feeling that ten years of pent-up emotion between the three of them means the littlest thing might make him deserve it in their eyes.

Needless to say, Etho had scurried up to the bird’s nest at the first opportunity to avoid an interrogation. No matter; it means Gem will have enough time to put together a well-stocked arsenal for the moment he inevitably descends. Poor guy won’t know what hit him.

And so Pearl and her have ended up in Gem’s cabin together, sprawled across her too-small bunk, studying the remaining details in the journal. Well, that’s what they were doing originally. Explanations of siren culture led to discussions about Gem’s life back in Boatheim, which wound up in a heart-to-heart she would never have considered exchanging with the siren only a few days ago.

“I’m afraid of the water, sometimes.”

“Like, all water?”

Gem thinks for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “No, not all water. Swimming in the ocean’s pretty fantastic, when the waves are calm enough, and I used to love paddling in the creeks around the countryside.”

“So what scares you about it?”

“I guess… When I was younger, I got caught in a riptide far out and—” The memory alone is enough to make her breathless. “I got dragged underwater, tossed around like a ball between two overexcited kids. It was terrifying, the water filling my mouth, not knowing if I was going to be able to take another breath.”

Pearl hums sympathetically. “I can’t imagine not being able to breathe underwater. How old were you?”

“Eight or nine,” Gem says. “The current spat me out eventually and I was picked up by a couple fishermen who brought me back to my parents. The damage was done though — I still get scared when my head goes underwater.”

She tries not to think about the experience, mostly. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, like the momentary seizing in her chest when she’s washing her hair and the water covers her mouth and nose, or when passing her qualification with the merchant council depended on demonstrating diving to rescue an overboard crewmember.

Or like a week ago, jumping into the water to pull out someone she thought was in trouble, but who happened to be Pearl. Who, Gem supposes, really was in quite the pickle.

“But yeah. My parents weren’t too keen on my dedication to sailing after that, even if they were supportive eventually. Hah. It sounds bad, but I haven’t really thought about my family since we set sail.”

She doesn’t get a response. The silence encourages her to turn her head to Pearl. There’s conflict in the siren’s eyes, the urge to say something without the certainty that it’s welcome. Gem nudges her with a knee to prompt the words. 

“I used to have family. Or at least a friend.”

“Another siren?”

Pearl laughs, but there’s no humour in her words. “Yeah, originally. No, he was, he was. But like an idiot, Scott fell in love with a human on land, and spent all his time transformed so they could be together. I don’t know where he found the energy for it, honestly.”

“Is that… normal for sirens?”

“I don’t think so, but it doesn’t really matter,” Pearl says wearily. “What’s important is that he was my friend, until he wasn’t.”

Her voice fades, her gaze drifting, so Gem presses. “What happened?”

“I got angry with him being away all the time. I ignored him, left him alone to be with his human, not wanting anything more to do with him. If he was going to hurt me, then I would hurt him.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Gem can see Pearl’s hands trembling. She presses her palm against the cold skin of the siren’s, entwining their fingers like tangled seaweed, and Pearl squeezes back. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, you know. I’ve already made my choice to help you — I won’t go back on that, with or without an explanation”

But Pearl shakes her head, inhaling deeply. “It’ll be less heavy for me, once I’ve said it.” A pause, full of gathered thoughts and silence. “He returned to the ocean so rarely I never saw him, not for months, so I moved on. I didn’t befriend any other sirens — I was too afraid of them leaving again Just spent my time drifting aimlessly through the ocean until I was so… so numb to the world, I didn’t notice the change in current and wound up cursed. It was an unbelievably stupid mistake.”

“You were grieving,” Gem says softly. “Even if this… Scott wasn’t dead, you’d lost him. It’s normal to feel disconnected from reality after that.”

“Except that wasn’t the end of it.” Pearl’s voice is hoarse with unshed tears for her friend, tears that must have dried out a long, long time ago. “A couple weeks before I met you, I found him again, out fishing with his human. It was night. And I—”

She breaks off, her expression shattering like thin panes of glass. Gem wants to pick them up and mend them, even if it means scrabbling around on her hands and knees, even if it means piercing small scratches on her skin with every fragment she collects. 

Pearl doesn’t need to finish the sentence for Gem to understand her story. She imagines Pearl stumbling across Scott’s small boat, blinded by anger and numbness and bloodlust. Who did she attack first — Scott or his lover? Which of them wound up dead? From the way Pearl is holding her hand like a lifeline, claws leaving crescent marks in Gem’s palm, she thinks she knows the answer.

“It wasn’t your fault. The Curse—”

“No, I wanted to! I wanted to kill that awful human. It can’t have been entirely the curse, not when there was so much hatred and resentment fermenting inside me. I saw the human on that boat, with his stupid blonde hair and his stupid bright smile, and something inside me just… snapped.”

Gem stays quiet. This feels like something Pearl needs to tell in her own time, so she waits, gently gliding her thumb over Pearl’s knuckles to let her know she’s still there, still listening.

“I couldn’t even kill him right.”

Narrowed by self-hatred and grief, the siren’s voice is quiet, thin. 

“Scott yanked me away, saved his human’s life, and he must have recognised me because he didn’t immediately stab me with his knife. He couldn't have known I was Cursed or he wouldn’t have bothered trying to talk sense into me, but by then I was so lost in the bloodthirst it would have taken a hurricane to break through.” 

Her pace speeds up, the sentences falling from her mouth like a waterfall.

“I went for his throat. The Curse knew from his blood that he wasn’t human, and weakened its grip on me, but it was too late. That damage had been done. He could have killed me, but he just watched me swim away like a coward into the ocean and lay down to die in his lover’s shaking arms. He was such a stubborn, loyal idiot.”

The end of the story leaves them both breathless, Pearl from speaking and Gem from shock. Well-meaning words well up in her throat, though she knows Pearl must have told them all to herself already. He might not be dead. He wouldn’t want you to live with the guilt. He made his choice: to save you and his lover.

What comes out is:

“Thank you for trusting me. Really — it means a lot.”

She scrambles to sit up, pulling Pearl with her, and envelopes the siren in a firm hug. Pearl squeezes back, burying her head in Gem’s shoulder. Her hair is rough with salt and smells of the ocean.

“Thanks for listening.”

Chapter Text

It takes them a week to reach their next destination, a week filled with wrong turns and poor winds. When they finally do arrive, the rough cobble is harder underneath Gem’s boots than the soft mud she’d anticipated, her crew's boots stomping harshly beside her. From the edges of the worn streets, dilapidated wooden stalls and jagged cloth awnings gawk at the new arrivals, something they clearly haven’t seen in years. Gem feels almost bad for the small island, constructed and left to decay without interest or tourism.

Almost. Because she hadn’t been expecting the island to have been built up at all, and the establishment of the city means it no longer lines up with Lizzie’s map. 

“I guess we should have expected things to change over a few hundred years, huh,” Pearl echoes her thoughts as she glances around the collapsing town. “Shame about the pretty buildings, though.”

Impulse trails a finger through a layer of dust on a counter that the wind hasn’t managed to shift. “I wonder what happened to all the people.”

“Probably just a lack of investment and trade that forced them to move elsewhere,” says Skizz. Gem nods in agreement, noting that the windows of the shops are boarded up and, where the planks have fallen down from rusty nails, the insides are bare; the families that lived here obviously had time to pack up, driven out not by disaster but by necessity.

Hopefully the monument wasn’t demolished in the process, she thinks but doesn’t say, knowing the others are thinking the exact same thing. 

They traipse through the empty marketplace, Etho attempting to superimpose the outdated map they have onto the area around them with no real landmarks. Every so often, he’ll lead them down a dead-end alleyway, and they’ll have to turn back the way they came. After the fifth time this happens, with the lack of progress grating on Gem’s nerves, she stops them.

“How about we split up? We’ll cover more ground that way, and we can send up a flare if we find the key.”

Etho glances nervously at his map. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Pretty sure! This is taking way too long. Besides,” she gestures to the mess of collapsed wood and stone around them, “it’s not like there’s anyone around to cause trouble or notice the flare.”

“No arguments here, Gemstone,” Skizz says with a smile. “How d’you want to divide the teams?”

Impulse and Etho pair up, handing the map over to Skizz, Pearl and Gem since the navigator has the thing pretty much memorised by now. Without much fanfare, they proceed in opposite directions, picking their own ways over the jagged cobbles.

Gem doesn’t want to imagine what they’ll do if the monument and the key within it have been destroyed. How can she return to Boatheim, knowing that Pearl is somewhere out there Cursed? How could she possibly watch the siren swim off into the ocean with the threat of the moon hanging over her head like a guillotine?

Already in her mind, she’s picturing them arriving at the monument site to find nothing but a crumbling stump, defensively anticipating the disappointment before it can attack. A lump of dismay settles in her gut.

As they reverse out of another alleyway, a frustrated huff escaping her throat, another noise breaks through the deserted silence. 

It’s a hum, cheerful, light-hearted, but it certainly doesn’t belong to Etho or Impulse. The tune it carries is upbeat yet unfamiliar, and Gem presses herself against the collapsing wall to hide from sight. Skizz and Pearl follow suit.

A cold hand that Gem is now familiar with slips into hers, clutching tight out of fear and reassurance, and she’s so distracted by it that she fails to notice the brick toppling unsteadily above them.

When Skizz does point it out, a quick gasp and point, it’s too late. Gem watches, unable to prevent it, as the brick dislodged by their movements tumbles out of place and smashes into pieces on the ground.

The humming stops abruptly.

They’re cornered, a dead-end to their left and a stranger to their right. Gem flickers through options in her mind like a cranky projector flipping rapidly through slides, but all the images are blank. She puts her free hand on her sword hilt and feels Pearl’s talons extend against her skin.

Footsteps approach, slow and unsteady and accompanied by the clicking of metal against stone. Gem can’t help the scenarios that jump into her mind of evil wizards with staffs, as childish as they might be; now that sirens are real, who knows what else it?

“Well, hello there!”

The man that appears at the entrance of the alleyway doesn’t look evil, or like a wizard. In fact, he looks like an ordinary merchant, albeit with a comically-oversized top hat perched on his head. His grin takes up his entire face, cutting through scars and scrunching up his bright green eyes.

“Uh… hello?” Gem stammers. “We thought this place was totally deserted. Sorry.”

The stranger waves it off with a flourish of his cane. “No problem, no problem. We don’t get many visitors here! What’s brought you and your friends to our shores?”

“We’re in search of something.”

“In that case, you’re in luck! Me and my business partner have plenty of ‘something’s back at our store. Might I interest you in perusing our goods?”

Gem exchanges a look with Pearl and Skizz, a simple question. Should we go with him? Pearl gives a barely perceptible nod, and Skizz steps forward magnanimously in a mimicry of the stranger’s grandiose personality. “We’d be happy to take a look, Mister…”

“Names are such a dull currency, don’t you think? I much prefer to trade in valuables.”

He’s already begun walking away without so much as an indication that they should follow, faster with his cane than Gem would have expected, so she has to do an awkward little jog to catch up. 

“And what kind of valuables do you trade in?” Pearl asks.

“Oh, the usual. And the unusual! Blessed crystals, trinkets that should have sunk to oblivion with shipwrecks, little treasures we execu— exacted— excavated from the island…”

Pearl visibly narrows in on that detail, wolf-like. “Treasures?”

“Ah yes, all sorts of treasures. For example, when we were first building our shop here, we had to get rid of this big shell-statue blocking the path, and you’ll never guess what we found tucked inside it!” He pauses to give room for dramatic questions, and when he receives none from his audience, ploughs right on ahead. “A beautiful key, with a design I’ve never seen before. Didn’t fit any of the keyholes the new merchants were building, and no one wanted to buy it off us.”

No way. What are the chances that one of the only two people still inhabiting this island has just oh-so-casually mentioned the very thing they came here looking for? Gem can’t believe their luck.

Like, she actually can’t believe it. It’s too good to be true. Especially the glint in this stranger’s eye, sizing up their reaction. But if he really does have the key they’re looking for…

“Yeah, we were actually wondering — what happened to all the people who were here?” Skizz changes the subject smoothly, and the stranger’s odd glint dissolves into the blackness of his pupil.

“Eh, that’s not a super exciting story I’m afraid. Years ago, me and my business partner came here with the wave of prospectors looking to turn this island into a trading hub, but it was horrendously unsuccessful. The tides clearly weren’t happy with us inhabiting this island, and they kept sinking our ships. So many valuable items were lost to the seas around here,” he laments.

“And so everyone just gave up?”

“Yep! The island was drained of people, and now it’s just me and Grian hanging about.”

“How come you both didn’t leave if business was so poor?”

The stranger sends a toothy grin her way, tipping his top hat as he answers. “Less competition! Now whenever treasure-seekers like yourselves find their way here, we get all the attention. More chance of making a sale, if you see what I mean. And we’re working on a new exhibition to drive more traffic!”

“Do you get many treasure-seekers?” asks Pearl sceptically.

“Nope!”

He doesn’t elaborate, leading the three of them through the broken-down streets with easy familiarity until they arrive at a building so completely out of place, Gem can’t figure out why they didn’t spot it earlier. Like all the other shops, it defies gravity, so off-balance that it looks as if it should have collapsed years ago.

But this one isn’t falling apart in the same way. The care put into every plank of wood is evident, and even if it looks like several buildings stacked atop of one another then cobbled together, the chaotic construction only adds to its charm. 

The stranger reaches through a beaded curtain to push open the glass door, sending the gentle tinkling of a bell wafting across the air.

Entering the store is like being transported to another world. Outside, the landscape is barren, deserted, emptiness clogging the air. But pushing through the beaded curtain gives way to a bright, busy mess of wares that makes Gem’s head spin. Every inch of the room is covered in shelving units and display cabinets which themselves are crowded with shining metal and glistening gemstones.

A pocket watch hanging on the wall catches her eye, tarnished brass that nevertheless shines from frequent polishing. Before she can inspect it further, though, or even comment on its beauty, a figure crouched in the shadows of the shelves speaks.

“Hello?”

The man who brought them gave a cheerful wave. “Just me! And a few friends I picked up around town — they’re looking for ‘something’.”

The figure — who Gem infers to be this ‘Grian’ character the stranger had mentioned — perks up. “Something, you say. Well, we have plenty of ‘something’s in our store here. Anything you’re after in particular?”

Gem nudges Pearl with her shoulder, pushing her forwards slightly. With a nervous expression, she asks, “Your… uh… colleague mentioned a key you found in a statue when you were first building this place?”

Grian claps his hands together happily. “Did he, now? Well, we can do some haggling over that item, though I’ll warn you it might cost a pretty penny.” His eyes flicker to Pearl’s fidgeting fingers, where her claws are slightly less human than they should be, and his gaze lingers for longer than Gem would like. Thankfully, he doesn’t inquire. “Please, step this way.”

The three of them move in the direction of Grian’s gesture, but the other man (jeez, Gem really can’t keep referring to him as that. Why had he been so evasive about his name?) blocks their path. 

“Woah, we prefer to sort out our business one-on-one, if that’s alright. Less hostility in negotiations, easier discussion, all that. Thanks for understanding, and please have a look around while you wait!”

“But there’s two of you—” Skizz tries to say, though already the pair of traders are rushing Pearl through the maze of shelves into a back room, leaving Gem and Skizz standing awkwardly at the entrance.

“Huh. What a bunch of weirdos.” Gem says eloquently.

Skizz crosses his arms across his chest. “Y’know, I’ve got a bad feeling about them, Gemstone. They just straight-up took Pearl from us!”

Waving him off, Gem turns her attention to the other wares in the shop. “If they’re the ones we have to deal with to get Pearl her key, then so be it. Besides, we’ll be right here if anything happens.”

“Still. Shouldn’t we send a flare to Etho and Impulse to let them know we’ve found the place?” 

She nods distractedly, focused now on a trident across the room. Fascinated, she’s drawn towards it, pressing her hands against the display case like a child outside a toy shop. The glass must be magic, because she leaves no fingerprints on the surface, and the trident too shimmers with a faint purple glow.

She tilts her head to better read the enchanting script, but it’s faded and weak; no luck there. “Hey, Skizz—” she calls out to an empty shop, forgetting that he went outside to alert the other two. 

Imagining the weight of the trident in her hands is easy. When she was younger, her dad used to take her out fishing for salmon in the shallow rivers above their home and, if she was lucky, he would trust her with his trident and let her have a go herself. 

This one is much more elegant than her father’s: a slim metal handle, barbed points, careful white detailing near the base of the fork. If she had any less self-control, she’d unlock the cabinet and take it out, run her fingers along the shallow enchantment carvings.

“Ooh, this place is fancy!”

Impulse and Etho follow Skizz through the door, staring awestruck at the cluttered store. Reluctantly, Gem turns away from the trident, ignoring the way it urges her closer, closer.  

Skizz glances around. “Pearl isn’t back yet, then?”

“Give them more than a couple of minutes, Skizz! I’m sure everything’s fine.”

“Guys, look at this!” Impulse summons them, and they crowd around a shimmering gold helmet with pumpkins drawings roughly etched on the surface. It is, objectively, beautiful, but Gem would exercise more caution than Skizz does before sticking it on his head and checking his reflection in the window.

“How do I look, gentlemen?”

Gem snorts. “Very handsome, Skizz. Maybe put it back before they finish chatting with Pearl?”

Reaching up, Skizz tugs once, twice at the helmet. It doesn’t budge. His face falls, panicked. “Um.”

Gem doubles over, giggling uncontrollably, her amusement only multiplying when Impulse offers a helping hand, pulling at the helmet with all his might. It’s a comedic scene, Impulse bracing himself against the wall as they try to detach the armour from where it’s bound itself to Skizz’s head. Even Etho can’t help joining in, a rare cackle joining the mix of his usual laughter.

“Stop laughing, jerk face! This isn’t funny…”

“I think—” Gem hiccups. “I think it’s Curse of Binding. You’re going to have to break it.”

Skizz gapes at her, horrified. “The shopkeepers will be furious!”

“Better than us having to kill you to remove it. Which is the only alternative,” Etho says. Skizz’s face goes from horrified to distraught.

“Oh boy. They would totally go for the kill-me option if they find out. This is the worst!”

“Hang on Skizz,” says Gem, picking up a rubber mallet from a shelf of tools. “Hmm. Hopefully this doesn’t give you a concussion.”

“Hopefully?”

Gem doesn’t wait for any more objection, bringing the mallet down on the helmet with a harsh thump. Thankfully, Skizz’s skull is stronger than the brittle gold, and the helmet shatters into fragments that clatter to the floor. Etho studies the enchantment engraved into the soft metal.

“Yep, that’s Curse of Binding. What do we do with it?”

“Stick it in my bag. This place is so full of stuff I doubt they’ll notice one helmet missing.”

Etho obliges, slipping the pieces of gold into Gem’s satchel. They no longer glimmer, the enchantment broken along with the helmet, and once Gem folds over the flap of her bag it’s like nothing ever happened. 

Drumming his fingers on one of the cabinets, Impulse asks, “So are we just waiting around for Pearl to haggle over the key? I’m not sure how skilled sirens are at bartering.”

“Yeah, well, she’s the one they wanted to talk to,” Gem shrugs. “They probably won’t be much longer now — how difficult can it be to decide on the price of a key that doesn’t work for them anyway?”

“Hey, that’s one of Bdubs’!”

Etho scurries over to the pocket watch that had caught Gem’s eye earlier. 

“What do you mean by ‘one of Bdubs’’?”

Turning the watch over in his hands almost reverently, Etho squints his mismatched eyes. “Bdubs is obsessed with clocks. Like, in a kind of endearing way. He gave the whole family matching pocket watches one birthday — his birthday, not ours. Said that since we would probably forget it was his day anyway, he might as well get us all something instead. I still keep mine on me.”

He withdraws a matching brass chain from one of his many pockets, at the end of which hands a casing identical to the one in his other gloved hand. 

“Who does this one belong to?”

Etho slips a fingernail into the clasp holding the timepiece shut, gently easing the fastening until the watch springs open. In the centre of the clock face lies a small flat emerald.

“This was Scar’s. Mine had redstone — here.” He flips his own watch open, the catch much weaker from frequent use. “See, redstone. How on earth did these two get their hands on Scar’s?”

A thought flies into Gem’s mind. “What was Scar like, Etho?”

“A real smooth talker. Guy could talk your ear off if he wanted, and convince you to hand over the shirt off your back without even uttering a threat. Like Bdubs said, he was obsessed with ‘making his fortune’. Travelling shops, theme parks, magical zoos… You name it, he’d thought about it. He was a good person though. Just… eccentric.”

At this description, Gem exchanges a glance with Skizz. “Magical zoos?”

Etho nods. “Mhm. He talked all the time about putting together a menagerie of mythical creatures — unicorns, griffins, all that sort of thing.”

“What about sirens?” asks Skizz.

“Yeah, probably. If he could get his hands on one.”

The convenient mention of the key. The ‘new exhibition’. Grian’s lingering glances at Pearl’s inhuman traits. 

Burying her head in her hands, Gem mutters, “And what did he look like?”

“Exactly what you’d expect from the name. Scars, all over. He kept blowing himself up with TNT when we were hijacking other ships.” Understanding dawns on his face. “Wait, you don’t think—”

For god’s sake. What is their freaking luck? With how long it took them to find this island, Cleo would easily have had time to storm ahead and use the information Etho gave them to warn Scar and Grian of their imminent arrival, bringing a siren to their doorstep. How convenient for the traders that they’d decided to split up from Etho! How idiotic of her to trust Scar’s easy words and friendly nature!

How wonderful that she now has the perfect opportunity to try out that trident she’d been eyeing!

She shatters the display case with the hilt of her sword, shards of glass tumbling to the floor, and grabs the trident within. It’s as comfortable in her grip as she thought it would be, and despite the situation, she can’t help the smirk that floods her expression.

She leads the other three in the direction Scar and Grian took Pearl, weaving their way through a veritable maze of bookshelves and cabinets. They don’t have to try hard to figure out which room Pearl is in; the muffled hissing and outraged squawking is enough of a hint.

Kicking down the door, Gem brandishes her trident threateningly, but the borderline-amusing scene before her gives her pause. The other three crew members collide with her, a noisy ‘oof’ escaping them, but Scar and Grian give no indication of noticing their presence.

They’re far too preoccupied with trying to secure a newly-siren Pearl in a too-small fishing net, dodging her claws and fangs with a clamour of:

Grab her tail! 

I’m doing my best — hold down the net!

How am I supposed to hold down the net when she’s thrashing all over the place?

This continues for almost a minute, a ridiculous back-and-forth that gets the pair absolutely nowhere. In the end, it’s Pearl that spots them first, ceasing her struggling and shooting Gem a cheerful grin. “Howdy! I think there’s a kidnapping plot going on? Not entirely sure though… They haven’t been very successful so far.”

Earning himself a face-palm from Grian, Scar stands indignantly, releasing her tail-fin and giving her the space she needs to wriggle free. “We’re doing our best here, okay? They don’t exactly write books on how to capture sirens.”

“They do, actually, Scar,” Grian points out. “We stock several in our shop.”

“Yeah, well… well— I’m dyslexic!”

Gem’s not sure what to make of these two. They’re comedically incompetent, yet simultaneously nearly managed to fool Gem and Skizz into lowering their guards long enough to kidnap Pearl. If Etho hadn’t recognised the pocket watch…

Yeah, no. They probably still wouldn’t have gotten away with it. Gem feels almost sorry for them, stranded alone on a deserted merchant shopping island with no merchants and no shoppers. If they have no other redeeming qualities, they’re astoundingly perseverant. 

Pearl morphs her tail back into legs and hops up, pulling Gem into an overdramatically-crushing hug. 

“My saviour!”

Gem’s cheeks redden out of her control. “I’m sure you had it handled…” But she hugs Pearl back all the same, not taking her eyes off the bickering traders behind her. 

Pearl’s attention drifts to her trident. “Ooh, pretty! Where'd you get that beauty?”

The traders stop their argument and round on Gem, suddenly a united front again. “Hey, that’s ours!” 

“Yeah, well, that won’t stop me from skewering you both with it. Hand over the key and we’ll be on our way.” She pauses. “You do have the key, right?”

Scar pulls a delicate gold key from his pocket, flipping it between his fingers with practised movements. “Oh sure, sure we do. We’re not liars… mostly. But we’re not about to hand it over for free—”

“For goodness’ sake, Scar, she’s not playing around with that trident,” Etho interrupts from behind her.

Eyes widening, Scar’s gaze locks onto the speaker. “Etho! Thought you might not have come onto land… how are you doing?”

“Great thanks. Key please.”

Grian snatches the key out of Scar’s hand sulkily and throws it in Gem’s general direction. She doesn’t fully let go of Pearl to catch it, keeping one arm on her shoulder as she grabs it with her other, the cold metal of the handle hardly comparable to the frigidity of a siren’s skin. It’s silly — really, it is, and she knows that — but some part of her is convinced that if she lets go, Scar and Grian will cast their net again and succeed this time. Pearl will be whisked away even after they’ve made it this far.

“Thank you very much! See how easy trade is when neither party has ulterior motives or is keeping secrets from the other?”

“You’re literally threatening us with our own trident,” says Grian, pouting. 

Pearl at last unfurls from her embrace like a morning daisy, if a morning daisy was capable of producing a taunting smirk as powerful as the one on her face. “Hey, she never said weapons weren’t allowed. It's not our fault you don’t think about these things.”

“Still! It’s— it’s not… It’s not fair!”

“Uh huh,” Etho says, unimpressed. “We’ll be going now. It was nice to see you, Scar.”

“Can’t say the same. You're still a terrible father."

The five of them turn, winding their way back through the store and leaving Scar and Grian to quarrel loudly between themselves, old-married-couple style. Despite the whole Pearl-situation, Gem really does hope they manage to draw in more customers. Their shop is astonishingly comprehensive, with more enchanted items in one place than she’s ever seen — except perhaps for the Boatheim armoury. 

Although… maybe their next advertising campaign could involve a little less abduction.

“Can I see it?” Pearl asks as they wander back through the village, all sense of urgency evaporated now that they’ve got what they came for. It’s not difficult to guess what she’s after.

As Gem hands it over, their fingers brush slightly. So simple, so light, and yet it has Gem blushing again. Gosh, she’s really got to get her face under control. The conclusion it’s leading her to is one that makes her want to scream with simultaneous joy and panic.

Pearl studies the key intently. It’s a perfect match to the one Lizzie sketched in her journal, the same crescent moon carving, the same skinny handle, the same featherlight blade. Set into the metal is a sapphire that glows iridescently in the light of the midday sun. A matching, glowing smile spreads across Pearl’s face.

“It’s actually here. We actually got it. Oh my god!”

Gem slings an arm around her shoulders and they walk, side by side, to where their loyal boat awaits them at the shabby docks.

Next stop: the labyrinth!

Chapter Text

Caring for her new trident is a mindless task. It distracts Gem from the nerves building in her stomach in anticipation of the unknown awaiting them; dip a cloth in polish, remove the excess, and wipe the pale metal handle. Repeat until satisfied.

Don’t think about the fact Lizzie’s map contains no information on the actual labyrinth itself. Definitely don’t think about the looming possibility of doom in the maze.

Well, great. Now she’s thinking about it.

She takes a deep breath of the cold sea air and returns to her polishing, scrubbing at the faded enchantment engraving. She still hasn’t determined exactly which enchantment was placed on the trident – it continues to shimmer purple, so the magic hasn’t worn off, but as far as she can tell, it isn’t any sharper or stronger than your average weapon, and, as Pearl can attest from an embarrassing attempt in the ocean, it isn’t Riptide either. 

Yet Gem hadn’t been able to leave it behind with Grian and Scar, like it had glued itself to her hand and refused to leave. Not that she’s complaining. It’s a stunning creation, and she was getting bored of her sword. 

“Hey, Gem! Whatcha up to?”

Pearl settles on a crate opposite her, cheerfully swinging her legs to-and-fro with a rhythmic movement. She leans forward until Gem’s nervous she’ll topple off of her perch.

“Just taking a moment,” Gem says vaguely. “Thinking.”

Pearl scoots her crate closer, her bare knees brushing Gem’s. “Mmm, I can see that. About the labyrinth?”

Gem snorts softly. “No, about what we’re going to have for dinner. Yes, the labyrinth!”

“Fair enough – I keep imagining all these stupid defences we’re going to have to get past, and it’s worse than anything Lizzie could have feasibly hidden in there. Like a huge water dragon protecting the cure we have to defeat! Although I’m not sure whether dragons are actually real…”

“And even if they were, she’d probably struggle to get one.” Moving the trident from her lap to the floor, Gem says, “But I’ve also been thinking about... what happens after?”

Pearl tilts her head like a puppy. “After? You mean after we get the cure?”

“Mhm. What happens—” to you, to us, she wants to say, but she isn’t sure if an ‘us’ exists. Three weeks since the storm blew her into their life, Pearl has become a resolute presence. Gem wouldn’t hesitate to call her family, and maybe that’s enough, but she’d be lying if she denied the lingering glances and restless butterflies. Is it so ridiculous to wonder if they’re reciprocated?

Filling the silence, Pearl takes one of Gem’s nervous hands in her own and holds it delicately. “Well, I’ll take the cure and be restored to my usual charming self. Maybe I’ll bring some back to Mezalea for Lizzie to recreate, to help her on the path to fulfilling her duty.”

There’s the unsaid there, a quiet acknowledgement they’ll probably part ways, that this arrangement on Gem’s ship, as literally magical as it has been, isn’t sustainable. But there’s also hesitance in Pearl’s eyes, a yearning for Gem to deny the obvious. She shuffles on her crate, knocking their legs against each other.

Gem can’t jeopardise the last few hours they have together. Etho came down a little while ago to inform them of their imminent arrival, and if Gem says anything now, she risks messing up the precious few seconds that remain. Risks screwing up the labyrinth for them both. Risks Pearl not getting the cure.

“That sounds like a good idea,” she concedes, pretending not to notice the fragments of disappointment appearing on Pearl’s expression. “And you’ll be free to hunt fish normally again. Not have to worry about accidentally attacking another crew of sailors.”

“Mm, that would be nice. What about you?”

Gem hadn’t solidly thought about it. Well, no, that’s untrue; logically, she knows what her future holds – completing their trade route, delivering the goods to the Isles, and putting up with the icy lecture they’ll receive from the Merchants’ Union upon their return. Except her thoughts haven’t really reached past the end of the maze. Once this quest is over and she and Pearl go their separate ways, she’ll have accomplished the adventure of a lifetime. What more could possibly await her after that?

“Back to the sailing life, most likely. I’ve promised the rest of the crew free drinks for all eternity once we return to Boatheim.” 

Pearl snorts. “I’d kill to see that lot drunk.”

You could come with us, Gem considers offering, but the previous dilemma still stands. No point in ruining it all now.

And Skizz chooses that moment to appear beside them.

“Hey, Gemstone— Oh, am I interrupting?”

Gem pulls her hands away like snapping a heartstring, retrieving her trident from the floor to occupy her shaking fingers. “No, no problem, Skizz. What’s up?”

“Impulse wants you to check through the bags he’s packed, even though I told him he knows what he’s doing better than any of us.”

Pearl coughs awkwardly. There’s a light flush to her face, her cat-like pupils covering more of her yellow sclera than usual. “I’ll go… read through the journal one last time. Make sure we haven’t missed anything.” 

She scurries away, patting Gem on the shoulder as she goes. The touch lingers, light as drifting kelp.

“What were you guys talking about?” Skizz asks innocently.

“Nothing important,” Gem replies. 

“Well, I’m rooting for you. Both of you.”

Gem laughs nervously. “No idea what you’re referring to. Now, what was it Impulse wanted me to take a look at?”

She shoos her conversation with Pearl out of her mind. She’s got more important things to focus on than the whims of her emotions; the cure must come before everything.

~•~

“Alright, we’ve arrived!” 

Etho folds away his map triumphantly after one final glance at his compass, yet Gem is… confused, to say the least.

“Etho, we’re in the middle of the ocean. There’s nothing here?”

Grinning, Pearl throws an arm around her. “Nothing you can see, but the queen’s too smart to leave her treasure visible to the thieving human eye. My guess is it’s underwater.”

“Nice theory, Pearl, but how are we supposed to get down there?” Skizz says, sceptical.

Impulse glances upwards like he’s reading through a mental list. “I’ve got some water breathing potions downstairs. Enough for two each, excluding Pearl — I’ll go grab them.” 

As Impulse searches below deck, Gem leans over the edge of the boat for a better view of the sea below them. The water here is once again eerily still, a strange sense of déjà vu flooding over her, memories of the pool that began this whole adventure flashing before her eyes. Here, however, the ocean is an unnatural bright blue, with sunlight piercing its surface and illuminating the sea floor. A total contrast from the other place’s darkness.

With the lighting advantage, the rubble buried in the sand is visible even from this far above, though it would be difficult to spot unless one was searching carefully. It’s a pile of rocks, a monument long collapsed. Squinting reveals chisel marks too deep and uniform to have been eroded by the tides.

She points them out to Pearl and Etho.

“Think that’s it? Maybe there’s an entrance or something hidden under the rocks?”

Etho groans. “If there is, we’ll struggle to clear them in time even with the water breathing potions. Let’s hope Impulse didn’t skimp out and bought the redstone-infused ones.”

As if summoned, Impulse appears, eight teal potions clutched in his arms. The four of them hastily relieve him of his load, sharing the glass bottles between them and placing a spare one in their already-bursting waterproof bags. 

“There are some rocks down there we think have collapsed over the entrance, so we’ll need to clear them to get access,” Skizz fills him in.

“If we take one now before we enter the water, that should last us eight minutes. And if finding this entrance takes longer than we expect, we signal to take another, and if we run out after that…”

“We bail,” Pearl says decisively. “You guys have already done too much to help me arrive at this point; if it comes down to it, I refuse to sacrifice your lives for my own gain.”

Gem can’t help but feel warm at that, recalling that the way they met involved Pearl almost murdering Impulse to clear her head. She had barely hesitated then, waking up and leaping for them, a siren possessed. So to hear those words flow so freely from her mouth… How three weeks at sea can change things!

Pearl dives overboard wordlessly, transforming midair and breaking the surface without so much as a splash. When she resurfaces moments later, it’s with a shark’s grin, her hair clinging to her face like seaweed.

Gem uncorks her potion bottle, swirling the liquid inside. It shimmers softly, flecks of redstone glinting in the midday sun, and gives off a vaguely fishy smell. Scrunching up her nose, she raises it in a toast.

“To unexpected adventures.”

“To friends.”

“And strangers!”

“To willingly entering horrible mazes and hopefully not getting lost.”

“To jumping in the damn water!” Pearl shouts up from below. “Stop being cowards, Etho, and get down here!”

Gem lifts the cool glass to her lips and downs the potion in one go, swallowing past the unpleasant fishy taste and tangy undertones from the puffer-fish poison.

Almost immediately, she feels the effects: an uncomfortable tingling on her neck that, based on a glance at her crewmates, is gills emerging through her skin. She takes an experimental breath and, upon finding herself still able to breathe normal air too, exhales nervously.

“Alright then. Three, two… one!”

Gem doesn’t allow time for the fear to set in – she leaps feet-first into the ocean without a second thought, landing just beside Pearl. Like this, able to breathe even when fully submerged, the panic she’s used to doesn’t set in. Rather, as the rest of her crew cannonball into the water beside her, she feels at peace in the clear, temperate water. 

Pearl checking in on her and holding her hand while she propels them downwards doesn’t hurt either.

They might be able to breathe, but Gem quickly learns that humans’ vocal cords aren’t designed to speak underwater. This leaves Pearl to do most of the speaking, directing the cautious removal of the rocks. It’s a laborious task, especially when slowed by the water, and by the time they’re about halfway there, Gem’s chest is tightening, her gills shrinking. She taps Pearl on the back, miming drinking, and Pearl gets the message.

“It’s been almost eight minutes, everyone,” she announces, her voice coming out faint and bubbly in the water. “Time to top up on potions.”

They chug their remaining potion hesitantly, each drop disappearing down their throats essentially minutes of life entering their bodies. The tight feeling evaporates from Gem’s lungs with relief, and they resume their work, not wasting another second.

At last, the rocks clear to reveal a small gap in the ocean floor. Gem can’t see through it, darkness blocking her view, but the water isn’t pouring through the hole, as if held in place by some magical barrier. A curious hand determines that people can pass through, though, and Pearl smiles excitedly.

“Onwards!”

The siren goes first, falling into the cavern with a loud ‘ouch.’ Impulse is next, then Skizz, and then Etho waves Gem through with an encouraging nod. She braces against the sides of the hole, inhaling deeply to steel herself before letting herself tumble through the gap in the sea floor.

The fall is brief but noticeable; she lands unceremoniously in a heap on stone ground and shuffles out of the way to give Etho space to land. It’s disorienting, the descent and the darkness, and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light of Skizz’s torch. Once they do, it’s clear they’re in some sort of antechamber, an entrance hall to the main labyrinth. 

And yet there’s no visible doorway. Only a script carved into the rock wall.

The tingling returns to her neck, her gills dissolving back into her skin. She touches where the sensation was, and finds only smooth, ordinary flesh.

“Not a moment too soon, everyone—” she says, but Impulse cuts her off.

“Where’s Etho?”

“He was right behind me,” Gem answers, glancing up at the cave entrance. No sign of him. “Etho?”

Pearl curses under her breath. “Something must have gone wrong, and he doesn’t have enough air for us to wait around and find out. Get me up to the entrance – I’ll find him.”

The three of them leap into action, clasping their hands as footholds to give Pearl the height she needs to reach the ceiling. Her bare feet are cool in Gem’s palms, and as she pulls herself up and out using nothing but her upper body strength, Gem can’t help being enraptured by the muscles of her back under her sodden shirt.

No, Gem. This isn’t the time for that. Pearl disappears out of the cave, and Gem can do nothing but wait in air choked by her fellow crewmates' anxiety.

“He’ll be fine,” Impulse reassures them. “He can’t have gotten far, whatever happened. Pearl’ll be back soon.”

Gem jerks her head in agreement, trying to keep down the fishy nausea rising in her throat. She should have let him go first.

Desperate for something to do with her hands, she wrings out her hair, the water dripping onto the raw stone floor in a cascade. It’s pointless, really, given the rest of her is still soaking, but the alternative is picking at her cuticles until they bleed. Skizz and Impulse are in similar states of nervousness, biting nails and pacing the room respectively. 

It takes too long, she’s sure. The seconds pass like minutes, and Pearl doesn’t return. She can’t possibly imagine what happened in the instant between Etho waving her forwards and her tumbling into the cave, but for him to have been gone all this time, it can’t have been good.

Impulse has given up his pacing, squatting by the wall with his head between his knees, and Gem walks over to comfort him—

Then, like fallen angels, Pearl and Etho drop from above.

They scramble towards them, hovering over where Etho is coughing up seawater with ugly, hacking sounds, his mask hanging loose around his neck. Gem is just glad to see him breathing. Once he’s finished emptying his lungs, she tackles him in a hug.

“What happened? You scared us!”

Pearl rolls her eyes. “Found him scrabbling around in the sand with his bare hands a few feet from the cave entrance. He wouldn’t let me drag him back to breathable air until he’d found his silly watch.”

Flushing with embarrassment, Etho unfolds his grip around his pocket watch, staring at it with a relieved ache. “It fell out of my bag while we were moving the rocks – I couldn’t leave it behind. I might never see them again.” 

“Idiot,” she mutters fondly.

He pulls his mask up. “Sorry, Captain. Won’t happen again.”

“I’m just relieved you’re okay. Will you be alright to continue into the maze?”

Standing on shaky legs, Etho lets Impulse and Skizz crowd him in a bear hug, and he nods. “I’ll be fine. Well, apart from the fact it’s a maze. That, I’m not too thrilled about.”

Skizz smacks him playfully on the head. “Hey, no complaining from you, buddy. Scared us half to death!”

Almost unnoticeably, Pearl’s gaze lingers on the watch secured in Etho’s hand, an imperceptible longing tracing her features. Gem thinks back to Scott and his human companion. Pearl has nothing from her closest friend, nothing but regret and blood on her hands.

The siren shakes herself, striding over to the engraved writing and studying it with a furrowed brow. Leaving Etho to the admonishment of his crewmates, Gem joins her.

“It’s xhuqoz,” she notes, skimming over the cursive script.

“Ten points to Gem!” Pearl traces the engraving almost reverently. 

“What does it say?”

“It’s a poem. Or a riddle, maybe. Alright then, quiz time – which words do you recognise?”

Gem sounds out the words phonetically, waiting for a string of syllables she recognises, but the only parts she knows are ‘scarlet’ and ‘door’. Not much help, so Pearl takes over.

“Roughly translated, it reads:

River rushing, limb from limb, 

Crowning scarlet sealed within.

Burst the dam and let it pour

For entry granted by the door.”

The phrases race through Gem’s mind as she attempts to decode them. The final line is pretty obvious, and ‘scarlet’ strikes her as significant too. A river of scarlet. Limbs. 

“Ooh, got something!” she exclaims. Pearl grants her full attention. “The ‘river rushing, limb from limb’ must be blood, corroborated by the ‘scarlet’. My guess would be that the door wants some kind of blood offering.”

Pearl wrinkles her nose. “Gross, but I see what you mean. The ‘dam’ is probably referring to skin, then. Lizzie can’t seriously have wanted people to—”

Yanking her knife from its damp holster, Gem slices cleanly across her palm, only wincing slightly as the metal breaks her skin. “Let’s find out.”

She swipes her bloody hand against the empty stone below the poem and waits for something to happen, but the room remains stubbornly silent. What? That must have been it! Applying pressure to the stinging shallow cut, she racks her brain for what they missed. “Can you repeat it aloud?”

Pearl obliges, slowly making her way through the poem, stopping after every line to shoot Gem an inquisitive glance. One of the words stands out.

“ Crowning scarlet.’ That must be an important detail – what could it mean?” 

Pearl facepalms. “Of course, how did I miss that? The Queen’s blood – she would have wanted to restrict access to the cure in case any ill-intentioned thieves came searching.”

Brilliant. So they’ve been stopped in their tracks before they even made it into the maze. Gem groans in irritation. Surely they don't need to return to Mezalea for Lizzie’s blood, not after how long it took them to get here. That would add over a month to their travel time, sailing there and back, over a month that Gem’s merchandise isn’t being delivered and Pearl’s curse isn’t being cured.

“So that’s it then,” she says, unable to stop the defeat from leaking into her tone, but Pearl hasn’t given up yet.

“Let me try something.” Using her talons, she scrapes a matching slash down the centre of her own palm, oil-like blood weeping from the injury. She brings it up to the rock and the parched stone sucks up the liquid, absorbing it like a sponge. A few seconds later, a rumble resounds through the chamber.

It beats Gem’s chest, a physical sound rattling her ribs and shaking her heart. Without really thinking about it, she grabs Pearl’s arm, holding tight as if the floor is about to give way.

Though it isn’t the ground that moves – the source of the terrible rumbling is a rock door, so flush with the rest of the cave wall it was previously imperceptible, drawing back and sliding to the side. It scrapes against the floor as it does, sending Gem’s legs trembling, but once the doorway is complete, the sound stops completely, and they are left in excited silence.

“How the heck did that work?” Skizz asks. “You got some royal heritage you ain’t telling us about?”

“Back in Mezalea, I attacked the Queen and bit her – before we knew she wasn’t going to execute us, oopsie. I guess enough of her blood stayed in my system for the magic to recognise it!”

“Shall we go then?”

A shared hesitance grips the group, the uncertainty of what lies ahead and the possibility they won’t be able to turn back once they enter. It’s Etho who speaks, voice still raspy from nearly drowning, albeit reluctantly.

“No point in turning back now.”

That, Gem can agree with. She’s never been a quitter, always finishing what she starts, and after a month filled with more adventure, oddities, and magic than she could ever have imagined when they first embarked on their voyage, she’ll see it through to the end. They’re this close to completing their quest, and she’ll be damned if they don’t find the cure. 

Anticlimactically, the other side of the doorway holds your average maze. Tunnels stretch in all directions, artificially built from white marble, and a thin layer of murky water covers the floor, strangely warm against Gem’s bare feet. They splash forwards, glancing around them, and Etho swallows audibly.

“God, I can’t stand labyrinths.”

Gem is inclined to agree with him – the endless white corridors surrounding them are discomforting, liminal, and once they start moving it won’t be hard for them to get completely lost.

“As long as we stick to the right, everything should be fine,” Pearl says optimistically. “Worse that could happen is we’ll need to turn around, and we’ll have no trouble retracing our steps if that’s the case.”

An unsettling cracking splits the air, and a glance at the ceiling reveals the source. Small fractures appear in the marble, a result of the age and stress of the door opening. “Watch the ceiling while we’re moving,” warns Gem. “I don’t trust it not to collapse.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Impulse promises, and following Pearl’s suggestion, they take the right-most path.

 According to Etho’s pocket watch, it’s a long time before anything interesting happens. Cheerful chatter turns to bored silence at around the midway point, the endless white walls chipping away at their enthusiasm. Unfortunately, the first excitement has nothing to do with the labyrinth, and everything to do with Etho getting a nosebleed.

“Shoot, I’m so sorry guys,” he says nasally, pinching the bridge of his nose while Skizz roots through his bag for a hankerchief. “The change in water pressure must have burst a vessel.”

“Here, stick this up there.” Skizz hands him a small square of fabric. “Should stop it from staining everywhere. Though you might wanna lose the mask – it’s already pretty bloody.”

Reluctantly, Etho pulls the balaclava over his head and places it in Impulse’s offered hands, watching sadly as it’s wrapped in a spare piece of cloth. “Do you and Pearl want to go ahead, find out what’s in store?”

Gem sees right through to his actual aim – prevent himself from delaying the entire exploration with a silly nosebleed – and she’s happy to oblige. It’s not a terrible idea, even if she doubts they’ll come across anything around the corner other than more infinite white walls and damp floor. “Sure, we’ll scope out the next few hundred metres, give you a shout if we spot anything.”

Pearl skips along beside her, finding immense joy in splashing the stagnant water all over Gem’s calves. She’s the only one to have maintained any excitement, and Gem feels a bit guilty for not matching her mood. Equally, though, the lack of progress is… disheartening, and she doesn’t want to waste energy.

They only make it around three corners before another cracking noise breaks out, this time louder, stronger. Exchanging worried glances, Pearl and Gem sprint back in the direction they came, slipping in the damn shallow water and grabbing each other for support. Their bare feet search for security on the polished, wet marble floor, and more than once Gem trips over nothing and Pearl has to haul her back up.

But they aren’t quick enough.

As they round the last corner, Etho and Skizz and Impulse’s worried faces appearing into view, the ceiling collapses. 

A sharp pain, and the world shutters into darkness.

~•~

Everything is hazy. If Gem squints against the torch above her, she can just about make out a figure crouched over her, gently shaking her shoulders.

Did she get caught in a riptide again? Who rescued her? Why is the sand so solid against her back? Why is she laying in a puddle?

Gem? Gem, are you with me?

The voice doesn’t have a Boatheim accent, but she recognises it. It’s feminine, with the occasional harsh hiss sneaking into the consonants, and odd vowels. She blinks against the droplets of water falling from the woman’s hair, and the wide eyes bring her memory back.

“Pearl?”

“Oh, thank goodness. You passed out for a moment there, some of the rubble bonked you on the head when it fell, but I managed to dodge a hit.”

“Rubble?”

Pearl grimaces. “Ah, you’re confused. Fingers crossed you don’t have a concussion! We’re in the labyrinth right now, and some of the roof collapsed between us and the other three.”

Gem brings a hand to the back of her head, and the pressure bites. Her fingers come away warm and red, coated in crimson blood.

Scrambling to sit up, Gem twists to see a pile of rock stretching from the floor to the ocean, where a magical barrier is preventing it from flooding into the maze. But the unforeseen wall is fully blocking her from the rest of her crew, and she’s doubtful regarding their ability to move any of the huge marble boulders out of the way.

“Skizz, guys? You okay over there?”

Skizz’s voice returns faint, muffled by the impromptu barrier, but his words are reassuring. “All good, no injuries. Doesn’t look like we’re gonna be able to budge this wall though – what’s the plan, Captain?”

Her hands are tied, irritatingly. Etho, Impulse and Skizz can’t get to her and Pearl, and their only option is to go on ahead and hope there’s another exit hiding in the maze. 

“Pearl and I will push forward, try and find the cure by ourselves. You three head back to the entrance and hang tight there. Hopefully we won’t be more than half a day, but if you think it’s taking too long…”

“We’re not about to leave you two trapped in here!” Impulse argues, reading Gem’s mind. “If it’s been more than twenty-four hours, we’re tearing apart these rocks and coming to find you ourselves.”

Gem sighs, looking to Pearl. Any chance they’ll be able to bring the wall down?

The siren shakes her head ruefully. None at all.

“Sure, sounds like a plan.” It feels awful, lying to her crewmates, but she can’t see another way to persuade them out of the maze for now. “We’ll see you on the other side!”

“Stay safe,” Etho says, his nervousness audible even through the rubble. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

And so Gem and Pearl wrap a bandage around the weeping wound on Gem’s head and proceed. Just the two of them, to the cure or eternity trapped in a maze.

~•~

“Ugh, I’ve been so selfish,” Pearl blurts out a short silence later. Gem slows her march, bewildered.

“What do you mean?”

The siren fidgets with her talons, picking at the skin beneath them. “Y’know.”

Enveloping Pearl’s hands in her own, Gem gently pulls her fingers apart, preventing her from breaking flesh. The action irritates the slash across her palm, but she barely registers it. “Actually, I don’t know. You didn’t force us to come along – you didn’t even ask. We offered, and you accepted, and that’s the end of it. Trust me, my crew wouldn’t do anything they didn’t want to do.”

“I haven’t thanked them though.” Pearl won’t meet Gem’s eyes. “I could have gotten every single one of you killed at some point or another, whether through my direct actions or as a result of you just being around me, and never once have I told them I’m grateful. Someone could have been crushed back there, and it would have been because you decided to come with me.”

“Exactly – decided. And they know you’re grateful, Pearl. Of course they do. You don’t need to tell them explicitly for them to realise it.”

She thinks she sees where Pearl is coming from: an immovable debt to four complete strangers who could have abandoned her and have instead navigated half the ocean for a cure. If she were Pearl, she’d feel trapped by honour, the need to repay the favour eating away at her. But she, who has been friends with her crew for longer, also knows they don’t mind. They don’t track debts. Sometimes, as hard as it was for her to wrap her head around it, people just want to help.

“When we found you, you tried to kill Impulse.” Pearl winces. “I won’t lie, I resented you for it. It took a while for me to understand the why, and even when I had, I was still cautious. Trust is important to me, to all of us, and we needed you to earn it. And you did earn it.”

Pearl’s hands shiver beneath Gem’s, and she squeezes gently, reassuringly. “What did I even do?”

“You became friends with us,” Gem says measuredly. “You taught me your language. You stepped forwards to defend us against the pirates. And you trusted us with your story, ashamed and embarrassed as you were.”

Smiling softly, Pearl laughs. “I guess.”

“And hey,” Gem reassures, slinging an arm over Pearl’s shoulders and pulling her close as they keep walking. “Once we get out of here, you can say every thank-you your heart desires.”

“If we get out of here.”

“What happened to all that positivity you had earlier?”

“The ceiling fell on top of us.”

Fair enough. Falling ceilings aren’t great for optimism.

“Alright then, let’s talk about something else.”

They do talk about something else – a lot of other things, actually – and by the time Gem’s nearly run out of ammunition for Pearl to make fun of Etho with, they finally reach the centre of the maze.

She can’t deny the relief that washes over her when they get there. Determination can only carry you so far; at a certain point, the hopelessness begins to take over, coupled with the knowledge you might be trapped forever in a magical underwater labyrinth. Reminders of her friend’s funniest moments have exponentially less of an effect. Therefore, when the towering white walls open into a clearing containing a small, mausoleum-like box, she nearly cries out with joy.

“That must be it!” Pearl exclaims, searching through her satchel for the key. Gem takes the time to examine their surroundings.

The clearing in the centre of the maze is large, with only the one entrance – the one Pearl and her came through. It’s also flooded, and not in the same shallow way as the rest of the labyrinth. 

The vault is built on an island surrounded by water so deep Gem can’t fathom the bottom of it, mimicking the pools in Lizzie’s subterranean cave. A narrow marble bridge connects where she and Pearl stand to the main island, no guardrails, no nothing, and everything is elevated above water-level such that it would be near-impossible to clamber out of the water alone if you slipped in. Gem’s palms grow clammy at the thought.

Pearl retrieves the key triumphantly. “Got it!”

“Don’t you dare drop it in the water. Like, I will actually murder you.”

Eyes twinkling, Pearl smirks mischievously. “Oh yeah?” She pretends to fumble the key, but it’s obvious her heart isn’t in the joke. This is too important. “Don’t worry, I’m not an idiot.”

They carefully pick their way across the thin bridge, Gem’s knees knocking together the whole way. She’s fine with heights, really she is, but the possibility of falling into bottomless, inescapable water is terrifying. 

Without incident, they make it to the little marble island, and Pearl carefully slips the key into the lock of the vault. It slots perfectly, like a record into a jukebox, and the siren’s shoulders visibly drop. Gem takes her hand, holding tight.

“You ready?”

Pearl nods shakily. “I didn’t think we’d actually make it this far. No offence to you at all – this just felt impossible a month ago.”

Smiling, Gem nudges her shoulder. “Well, come on then. Go get it!”

Decisively, Pearl twists the key in the lock with a soft click and they push the door inwards using their combined strength, revealing an altar with a miniature glass vial perched atop it. The cure.

Almost as quickly as the excitement grips her, Gem is stricken by the sense that something is wrong. The light outside is changing, growing colder, harsher. She cranes her neck to the roof. 

The ceiling is opening, granting access to moonlight, but not before it passes through an iridescent crystal floating above the mausoleum. The gemstone seems to amplify the moonlight, concentrate it, then disperse it across the room.

“Pearl, what’s that?”

She doesn’t immediately react to Gem’s words, enraptured by the sight of the cure, at last, the cure, and it takes Gem tugging her backwards for her to draw her gaze away from the vial.

“Hmm? What’s what?”

Gem points up. “That.”

Before Pearl can respond, or even look up at the strange crystal and piercing moonbeams, she falls to her knees, doubling over and clutching her temples like she’s trying to stop her mind from exploding. She lands harshly. An audible thump makes Gem flinch. She gets over her surprise quickly, kneeling beside her friend, scared.

“Pearl? Pearl, are you okay?”

An ear-splitting screech tears itself from the siren’s mouth, exposing sharpened fangs. Gem holds her ground, hovering, unsure. 

“Why in the ocean’s name would Lizzie put this here?” Pearl forces through gritted teeth, her eyes still scrunched up. “Is she crazy or—” She cuts herself off with another laboured grunt.

“Put what here?”

“A freaking moonstone!” Pearl all but shouts. “It acts as an— ugh. An amplifier. Strengthens the effect of the moon which is lovely if you're a queen who draws power from it…”

“But terrible if you’re a cursed siren,” Gem fills in. “How can I help?”

Pearl’s eyes dart open, revealing bright crimson, more red than Gem’s seen before. Her gaze flickers to Gem hungrily, and she prepares to back away, but Pearl controls herself. “Grab the cure. Moonstone can’t affect me if I’m not cursed.”

Sound logic, and Gem is annoyed that her mind was too clouded by panic to think straight. She’ll make up for it, she promises, as she scrambles to her feet and enters the vault, reaching for the vial.

Yet something stops her. Not mentally or emotionally – never, with Pearl life on the line – but physically. There’s an invisible barrier surrounding the cure, one last obstacle at the worst possible moment, and no visible way to break it down. Gem swears aloud. 

Then she catches herself. Anger and annoyance won’t help Pearl, won’t stave off the curse. They will only inhibit her thinking and restrict her problem-solving, both of which she needs sharp right now.

Frantically, she searches the altar for a clue or a sign, anything that will tell her how to bring the barrier down, but the smooth marble is unblemished. There’s not a single piece of writing on its surface, and in her frenzy she nearly misses the word carved into the back wall of the mausoleum.

She recognises them from earlier, siren-speak. 

Kydozh fyph.

Crowning blood.

The only source of which is currently incapacitated a metre behind Gem.

Suddenly, the light in the vault decreases. For a brief, hopeful moment, Gem wonders if the ceiling has closed, the moon has disappeared. Turning around proves that not to be the case.

Pearl has found her feet, stumbling to the doorframe of the mausoleum, blocking the moonlight. Her head is hanging with effort, hiding her reddened eyes, but Gem can see the desperation, the thirst sewn through every taut muscle of her body.

She couldn’t restrain the curse, and Gem has failed to get the cure. 

Gem doesn’t know if she can bring herself to stab Pearl again. Pierce her shoulder with her sword, watch her fall to the ground. Last time, Impulse’s life was on the line. Here, there must be another solution, a different way out.

Except Gem is cornered. Trapped on all sides, the cure locked away behind a magical wall. Maybe, just maybe, if Pearl lunges at her, the cut on the siren’s hand will come into contact with the barrier and maybe, just maybe, Gem will be able to grab the cure and give it to Pearl before she’s mauled to death. 

Or maybe the cure will be knocked to the ground and shattered, its precious contents lost for good.

She can’t risk it.

“Pearl? C’mon, Pearl, even with the moonstone you’re stronger than your curse. We’re so close, Pearl. Please, break through it,” she nearly sobs.

The siren growls, a raspy, wet sound that pulls back her lips in a canine snarl until her red gums are visible. Her hair still isn’t dry from the swim, hanging in limp curtains around her face, and she doesn’t look human. She isn’t human, Gem reminds herself.

“Please, Pearl. I really don’t want to fight you.”

I’d beat you in a fight any day.

You already have, captain. I have no desire to repeat the experience.

Lizzie’s palace was aeons ago. The first time she felt truly safe around Pearl; the first time she truly understood what was on the line for her. Watching her disappear into the infinite pools, her heart skipping at her natural beauty. 

Yet her words don’t reach Pearl, deflected halfway by a screen of moonlight and bloodlust. She raises her head, scarlet eyes on full display, and lunges.

Gem dodges left and ducks behind the altar, her heart racing. Pearl reaches for her with grasping, taloned hands, but she crashes into the barrier around the vial and halts in her tracks, confused. 

Gem takes the chance to draw her sword, gripping it between shaking fists, breath coming out rapidly and unsteadily. When Pearl recovers and locks her predatory stare onto Gem, she’s prepared, and when the siren bolts around the altar, she sprints the other way, racing for the door to bring the fight into open space.

Pearl follows her outside, staggering, but the seconds Gem was out of her sight seemed to have cleared her mind somewhat.

“Hey, you back with me?”

She shakes her head, flexing her fingers agitatedly as her eyes flicker between yellow and red. “Not… not yet.”

Keeping hold of her sword, Gem approaches cautiously.

“It’s okay. You’ve got this, Pearl, I know you have. I’ve seen you beat it before.” Sure, in special cases, when she was stabbed or shocked out of it by Lizzie’s blood. And Gem can only recreate one of those scenarios. 

She’s a foot away from Pearl, her guard lowering, when it happens. Pouncing without warning, Pearl grabs her shoulders, digging her talons into Gem’s skin and pulling a gasp from her mouth. 

They crash to the ground, Gem’s back taking the brunt of their fall, and a sharp knock to the injury on her head floods her vision with black spots. Nausea climbs in her throat. 

Straining beneath Pearl’s caging weight, Gem labours to position her blade in a useful way, so that she might stand a chance of non-lethally piercing her with it. 

As much as she doesn’t want to hurt Pearl, she knows what the alternative is: the siren coming to, bleary and covered in blood, and looking down to see Gem’s ripped-apart body. Another friend, lost to the curse. Scott all over again. History repeating itself in a vile loop. The cure wouldn’t be worth it; Pearl hadn’t wanted them sacrificing their lives for her gain.

She mutters a soft sorry under her breath, and jabs upwards. The sword impales almost exactly the same spot as three weeks ago. Pearl flinches back in shock and gives Gem the reprieve she needs to wriggle herself free.

From this angle, even bloody and tired, there’s a beauty to the wildness possessing Pearl. But Gem struggles to see past the hurt twisting her features, or the sword buried in her shoulder. Worst of all, the injury doesn’t seem to have shattered the curse. And Gem’s just lost her weapon.

“Alright, I’m running out of options here. You’ve gotta break through, Pearl. Please. I…” she inhales shakily, as if that will return the tears to her eyes. “I need to tell you something, once we’re both safe. You’ve got to give me the chance to tell you.”

It’s hopeless. The moon, the moonstone, the curse: they’re all too strong. Though stabbed and exhausted and fighting a battle within herself, Pearl is driven by wicked magic, and when she tackles Gem off the island and into the deep, dark water, there’s nothing she can do to keep herself on land.

She strikes the water with a jolt, nothing like Pearl’s graceful dives. The water seizes her breathing, and she’s eight again, fighting for her life under a riptide. 

Panicking only makes it worse, a torrent of bubbles erupting from her open mouth and Gem can’t breathe, Gem can’t breathe, the water is suffocating her and stealing her from her family and she’s going to die miles from the shores of Boatheim, all alone just because she was stupid. There are no fishermen to save her now. 

A slimy tentacles shoots up through the water, wrapping around her ankle and tugging her down. A trap? An animal? It doesn’t matter. The silver lining, if there is any to be found, is it snaps Gem out of her panic and back into the present moment. She bends over, wrestling with the seaweed-like appendage, her trembling fingers slipping across the surface. 

Another tentacle reaches up, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away. She lets out a grunt, precious air escaping through her nose, and switches to the binding on her wrist, but deep down she knows it’s futile. She’s being dragged down too fast, the light above growing fainter and fainter. Even if she did free herself, she’d have no chance of returning to the surface. The realisation is calming and terrifying all at the same time.

She is going to die.

Gem is going to die, and Pearl will blame herself.

Gem is going to die, and Etho, Skizz, and Impulse may never know what happened.

Gem is going to die, and there’s nothing she can do.

Gem is going to die.

Gem is going to die.

The thought floods her every sense as the pressure in her lungs mounts and water creeps into her nose. She closes her eyes against the weak light above, and breathes out.

Then something gentle brushes her cheeks, cold skin and grazing claws. She squints her eyes open weakly, almost blinded by the saltwater, and sees Pearl. Pearl. Her hair floats suspended in the water, halo-like, and her eyes are yellow. There’s a cloud of red blood billowing into the dark water. She’s here, just in time to watch Gem fade away.

Pearl brushes a webbed thumb over Gem’s bottom lip, feather-light, a silent question on her face. And Gem, desperate and tired and hopeful, nods. 

The siren doesn’t hesitate. She presses her lips to Gem’s, rough and chapped, and maybe it’s a strange last wish but Gem craves thirty seconds more of life if it means she gets to do this. 

She gets them. Pearl exhales into her mouth, and her lungs inflate, filled with oxygen and time. Pulling away briefly to cut the tentacles with Gem’s own sword, she returns to kiss Gem again, breathing for her, and it’s so soft and gentle. Nothing like the frantic first aid she’s watched sailors perform for their drowned crewmates. 

Life acquired, Gem wraps her arms around Pearl’s waist as the siren swims upwards. The change in pressure is disorienting, and then Pearl is hauling them both out of the water and they’re collapsing side by side on the cool marble floor. Gem gasps like a starving animal, devouring every ounce of oxygen her lungs can hold. Once satisfied, she sits up precariously.

Pearl is near tears, one hand on Gem’s shoulder and the other on her face, as if by letting go she will lose her again. Gem knows the feeling all too well.

“Hi,” she rasps. “I’m okay.”

Nodding tearfully, Pearl says, “You sure?”

“Yeah, thanks to you. Is your arm alright?”

She rolls her shoulder, where through the small rip in her shirt, Gem can see the cut repairing itself. “It will be, once I’m back in the open water. Don’t worry though! You did the right thing.”

“And the cure?”

“Ah, haven’t gotten to that yet. I— Umm. When I saw you hit the water and disappear below, something snapped in me. The curse just…vanished. And I couldn’t waste time getting the cure while you were drowning.”

Gem grins, bordering on teasing. “Aww, that’s sweet. Does that mean the power of friendship saved us both?”

Pearl bites a lip. “Something like that. I’m not familiar with human notions of friendship but… based on my understanding, it was another thing.”

Nervously, her heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I think…” She struggles around the words, trying to shape her thoughts into phrases, and Gem waits patiently. “I think I get it, finally. Why a siren would abandon the ocean. Why Scott sacrificed so much to stay with his human. Before, I didn’t understand, but now I do. You make me want to give up the ocean, Gem, and I’m not sure if there’s a similar human feeling, but that’s it. That must be why the curse set me free just now.”

A soft smile illuminates Gem’s face. “There is a human feeling for it. I experience it too, when it comes to you. I’d give up a whole lot for you, Pearl.”

“You nearly drowned for me,” Pearl says fondly. “That’s a bit extreme.”

Shifting her weight, Gem places a hand atop of Pearl’s, the one on her face. “I’m not sure if you saving my life counts as a first kiss, but I’d love a do-over now neither of us are… y’know. Dying. Is kissing a thing for sirens?”

Pearl giggles. “Yeah, we do kissing. And I’d be more than happy to kiss you.”

Gem leans forward slowly, closing her eyes as they meet, and it’s nothing like the tsunami she expects. It’s delicate, kind, a peaceful to-and-fro as tides sweep over sand before retreating. Her hands move of their own accord to cup Pearl’s face, brushing her wet hair out of the way to memorise the planes of her face, her cheekbones, her jaw.

One of Pearl’s fangs catches on Gem’s lip, and it’s exhilarating, being this close and still feeling this safe. She trusts her implicitly, curse or no. Although, speaking of…

Reluctantly, Gem retreats, unable to keep a smile from curving her features. “We should probably go get the cure.”

Pearl doesn’t move, absorbing her gaze with yellow eyes crinkled in the corners. “Mm, probably.”

~•~

The five of them are on the deck. They haven’t raised anchor yet, not since Gem and Pearl emerged from the central passageway, drenched, bloody and tired but relieved to have found another exit. They’ve just been relaxing, soaking up the moonlight after hours in the damp underground, overjoyed to have succeeded in their quest. Pearl has said her ‘thank-you’s, babbling like an overflowing stream. Gem hasn’t stopped smiling.

“Do you think it’s actually possible to replicate the cure?” Impulse wonders aloud, breaking the quiet. “How did the queen brew it in the first place?”

Pearl shrugs, her shoulders brushing Gem’s with how closely they’re sitting. “No clue. Probably something to do with magic – the queen is rumoured to be a descendent of the moon itself, so maybe she’s able to harness its magic to reverse the effects of the curse?”

Gem tilts her head back, closing her eyes against the full moon and twinkling stars, letting the innocent moonlight paint her face. The nighttime is beautiful now, without the inevitable threat it once posed. She can absorb the constellations without worrying about Pearl.

“We shouldn’t stick around too long,” says Etho regretfully. “It’s already going to take us another month to get to the Isles, so we’ll be way off schedule. Oh dear. Do you think they’ll revoke our licences?”

Skizz snorts. “Nah, those jerks can’t risk losing four of their best sailors. One late delivery out of hundreds won’t tarnish our rep too badly.”

“What about my captaincy?” 

“Don’t worry, Gem, we’ll talk to the higher-ups, inform them of what happened. Well, the abridged, non-magical version, at any rate,” reassures Impulse.

Placing an arm around Gem’s shoulders, Pearls brings her closer. “Yeah, you’ve got nothing to be concerned about. New map intel, an encounter with pirates, surviving a crazy storm… They’d be bonkers to demote you!”

Gem blushes. “I suppose.”

“So!” Etho says. “You coming with us to the Isles, Pearl? We’d be happy to have you aboard.”

The mood shifts, abruptly tense. Pearl meets Gem’s gaze guiltily, and she doesn’t need to hear the words to realise what comes next. As much as she wants her to stay, and as much as she knows Pearl wants the same, getting the cure to Lizzie is bigger than the both of them. The lives it could save, siren and human alike, is too significant for them to hinder it.

And Gem gets it. Logically, she does. Somewhere, out in the ocean, is another relationship, family, friendship being torn apart by one wrong move. Somewhere, a sailor is being sung to their doom under a scarlet moon. 

Emotionally, though, Gem doesn’t want to let Pearl go. Not right now, at least. So she reminds herself that one goodbye isn’t forever; they’ll see each other again, in the open ocean or on Mezalean shores, in Boatheim’s bay or somewhere else. 

Skizz, ever the empath, slaps his knees and stands. “We’ll let you two chat, hm? C’mon, guys, let's go make some late dinner.”

“Might as well be early breakfast,” Etho points out, but they both follow Skizz below deck, leaving Gem and Pearl alone together under the night sky.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” A pause. “Look, I totally understand if you need to swim back to Mezalea and help Lizzie with the cure – it’s super important.”

Pearl gives her a soft, sad look. “You sure? I can… I could go later. Come with you to the Isles first.”

Entwining their fingers, Gem shakes her head. “This shouldn’t be delayed any more than the centuries it already has been, and I couldn’t forgive myself for selfishly screwing it up. One more month of curses and suffering isn’t worth it.”

Pearl moves quickly, like a swooping school of fish, wrapping her arms around Gem and hugging tightly. “I’m really going to miss you, Gem. I wasn’t kidding, earlier in the maze, you know. If— When our paths cross again, I’d be more than happy to give up the ocean for you.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” Gem comforts, squeezing back, burying her fists in the cotton fabric of Pearl’s shirt. “I’m a sailor; you can have us both. But I’ll miss you too. I wanted to give you something, actually. I’m not sure if it counts as a gift, since I technically stole it, but… the trident should be yours.”

“The trident from Grian and Scar’s? But you love it!”

“Well, it can be something to remember me by until we see each other again. While we’re apart.”

Sniffling, Pearl pulls back, glistening tears shining in her eyes. “We won’t really be apart. We’re in the sky.”

“How come?”

“Gemini and the moon,” Pearl says, gesturing up to the vast expanse of night above them. “The constellation and the celestial. Every night.”

Gem kisses her cheek tenderly, relishing the moments they still have together. This isn’t a goodbye. Not really. They’ll find each other again. 

Every night.

Chapter Text

The ocean is different, now that Gem is aware of the secrets it possesses. The knowledge that ancient magic is hidden beneath the surface has completely transformed the way she views the vast expanse of water stretching out to the horizon from the bow of her ship.

Plus she knows that, somewhere in the obscure depths, is Pearl.

Six months have passed since she last saw the siren, and the absence is a tangible hole in her heart. It pangs when she’s crowded on the deck playing cards with her crew, laughing as she remembers how Pearl would wipe the floor with them. She notices it in meetings with the union, stumbling her way through an explanation of their chaotic journey while dodging any mention of magic and sirens.

And, as they sail through newly-unfamiliar waters, she can’t help but scan the ocean for a crimson fin.

“Hey, Gem, could I get your opinion on this sketch?” Etho sidles up beside her, nudging her back to reality. She accepts the map that she is handed, but her eyes glaze over the ink markings, distracted by the crashing of waves against the bow of the ship. Is she imagining things, or is there something red in the water? Shaking herself, she focuses.

With the new information they provided on the territory surrounding Mezalea, as well as the discovery of Scar and Grian’s lonely island, it wasn’t a surprise when the union announced a change to their position. It took a few months for the paperwork to be completed, but once it was they were no longer mere packhorses, ferrying merchandise between union storehouses; now, they’re fully-fledged explorers, venturing into uncharted territory with only their wits, a compass, and stacks of empty papers. 

Gem had also been offered a different promotion instead – captain of a massive cargo ship, tens of crew members under her command, and a sizable hike in pay. She hadn’t been able to accept it though. The call of her boat and friends, however small and unimpressive, was impossible to ignore.

(The chance of finding a certain siren on their travels had, admittedly, only sweetened the offer.)

“Looks fantastic!” She traces Etho’s scratches, imagining the route laid out behind them on the real ocean. “How far would you say we are from Mezalea?”

With a knowing smirk under his mask, he takes the map back. “Quite a way, I’m afraid. We’re sort of going… around it? I’m hoping to get a better picture of the seas surrounding what we know already. We could make a stop on the way back perhaps?”

She chews her lip, unreasonably disappointed. Of course she shouldn’t have imagined anything different; they aren’t here to find Pearl. Siren searching is, sadly, not included in their job description. 

“No, it's cool! I knew that, I was just… just wondering.”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm!”

“Well, I’ll leave you to your dramatic staring out to sea then.”

At his retreating back, she shouts a devastatingly well-formed insult that, for the safety of everyone’s ego, should not be repeated. And yes, she resumes her dramatic staring out to sea. The clouds barely cover the sun, little wisps of cotton encircling a flame, and the waters sway back and forth.

Something suddenly breaks the calm, shooting past her, pale metal glinting in the bright sunlight. She jumps as it pierces the deck, more out of surprise than fear. A closer look at the harpoon identifies it as familiar – she’s spent hours polishing that sleek handle, staring at the indecipherable engravings.

This, three points buried in the solid wood of her ship, is Pearl’s trident. The realisation brims with excitement.

Racing to the hull and peering so far over the side that a single forceful wave would send her toppling into the ocean, she spots, among the frothing curves of the waves, a recognisable scarlet colour.

“Pearl!”

Over the crashing of the tide against the side of the ship, Pearl responds. “Gem!”

There’s a clattering behind her, Skizz, Impulse and Etho dropping everything to race over. 

“Did I hear—”

“Is that—”

“Pearl?”

The siren waves cheerfully, all her teeth on display in an overjoyed grin. She looks more vivid than when Gem last saw her, the absence of the curse visible in the glow of her skin, the sheen of her soaking hair. Somehow, she has become even more beautiful.

“Mind throwing back my trident, would you?” says Pearl, tilting her head playfully. 

“Oh, so it’s your trident now, is it?” Gem teases, but she wastes no time tugging the weapon out of her deck with grunting effort. It’s light in her hands, comfortable.

Without really thinking about it, she vaults over the side of the ship and plummets into the water below, landing with an exhilarating splash right beside Pearl. The siren swims closer, pulling her into a tight hug and keeping both their heads above water.

Gem laughs breathlessly. “Hi.”

“Hello!”

This close, Gem really notices the subtle differences in Pearl’s appearance, in the face that she’d been picturing every day for the last half a year. Her cheeks are pinker, her eyes less tired, yet she’s still so recognisably Pearl.

“How did you find us?”

Placing a hand over Gem’s on the trident, Pearl smiles proudly. “You were sort of right just now – I don’t think it ever stopped being your trident. This entire time, it’s been directing me, leading me somewhere. It wasn’t until I saw your ship on the horizon that I realised: that somewhere was you.”

Gem glances at the faded engraving, and the pieces click into places. “Loyalty,” she concludes. “It must be enchanted with loyalty! How did I not think of that? Has it seriously been tracking me this entire time?”

“Yep!” Pearl nods excitedly. “Really annoyed Lizzie, that’s for sure. It kept clattering against the wall trying to escape the palace while we were brewing potions.”

“Are you two planning to stay down there forever, hmm?” Impulse’s voice interrupts from above. Gem glances down, remembering amidst her happiness at finding Pearl that she's currently neck-deep in the sea, fully-clothed. 

“You’d better fill me in on everything once we’re back on the deck.”

A rope flops down beside them, the source of which is her crew mates beaming faces, and she and Pearl let go of each other to grab onto the rough fibres.

As they ascend back up to the ship, back to a crew waiting to be regaled with tales of royalty and heroic cure-finding, Gem can’t help but hope that maybe…

Just maybe…

This time, Pearl will stick around for another adventure together.