Orwen froze, his pulse pounding in his ears. Tearing his gaze away from the surveillance network, he stared at the mayor like he was seeing her for the first time.

  “What in the hell’s deep have you done?” he seethed, his voice laced with something akin to true horror—at her, and inwardly as well. He absently clawed at his chest, as if to pull off the film of guilt that had appeared there.

  The mayor looked back with a nonchalant, dismissive gaze of her own. “I’ve increased our odds, that’s what. Given us a bargaining chip.”

  “You’ll kill that boy!” Orwen was many things, but a party to murder? That was the bright red line he suddenly realized he’d been flirting with, ever since his relationship with this power-hungry administrator had begun.

  “He’s no boy. He’s a creature. Just like that bottle-nosed serving of sashimi he’s swimming around with.”

  The video screens confirmed the presence of two, the dolphin in a frantic concentric dance of futile protectiveness. The merboy, equally frantic, was testing the tunnel walls for a way out. Then, seeming to register what was being said from afar, he back at his dolphin pet with concern. He seemed to realize an escape to the air might, might save him, but would do nothing for his friend. And with that, he gave up on the walls and began fishing down into the fast-draining waters, looking for an exit flow where none existed.

  “Besides,” the mayor said with a cold, calculating smile, motioning to a technician. “Killing him would be a waste. Alive, he’s leverage—an ace to throw down when their defenses waver.”

  And just as she said it, the waters stopped receding. There was just enough depth to keep the two in a now two-dimensional, trapped-but-safe holding tank.

  “He’s going to keep those hordes at bay, as soon as he starts calling out to them. And once he comes to grips with his predicament, he’ll do just that.”

  Orwen tore his gaze from the screens and turned to the mayor, his look of concern replaced by a wry smile.

  “When they find out their little one is in danger…” she continued.

  “They’ll back off!” Orwen and Danelia spoke the phrase in unison, Orwen’s additional voice being one of sudden understanding.

  The mayor nodded. “And then they’ll be more amenable to compromise, wouldn’t you say?”

  Orwen looked about to agree, then his expression hardened. He gave the mayor a scornful cluck. “You’re not going to let him go, though. You’re still trying to preserve your little geothermal project. You still want to displace them!”

  “You had no problem with it yourself, not so long ago. Just because you’ve gone soft for that little one now…”

  Orwen shook his head again. “It’s not just the boy. I was wrong. This is genocide.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t killed a single one of them.”

  “The boy won’t last long, not under those conditions.”

  “He’ll last long enough. Why do you think I sent the aquasentinels up there? They’ll take care of him.”

  She turned to her communicator. “Aquasentinel Lam.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  ‘Yes, mayor.’

  “Aquasentinel, we’ve had a malfunction in the orphanage tank infrastructure. Will you kindly access the emergency portal and make sure the child continues getting just enough water to survive.”

  ‘Yes, mayor, but shouldn’t we take him out?’

  “It’s too dangerous at the moment, Lam. Just water him for now and wait for the veterinary services to arrive. Alright?”

  ‘Yes ma’am.’

  “Veterinary services,” Orwen scoffed. “What good’ll that do?

  “Somebody needs to take care of the dolphin,” she mocked, amusing herself. “At any rate, as soon as the invasion force comes to the table, I will release their young. And with that in mind, I believe it’s time I made my way to the city gates. Will you be joining me, Orwen?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Orwen muttered, biting back his frustration, the image of the suffering boy stuck in his head.

  So stuck that he couldn’t shake it out. So…heartbreaking. He felt his chest swell as he choked up. Just then, his head thumped hard, and a prickling sensation crept up his spine. He shook it off, chalking it up to stress, but then—there it was again. A whisper at the edge of his own thoughts. A presence, pushing through.

  “There is another in distress. Find your grandson’s superior. You have to help her!”

  Orwen’s thoughts were suddenly no longer his own. A vision swam into his mind’s eye, of a mermaid. A true mermaid. Only it bore a face he knew as one of his own. The disconnect was akin to an uncanny valley experience, though exquisitely real at the same time. Realer than real.

  “Calistya?” he mumbled.

  The one from the school, he thought. Only it wasn’t her. Not exactly.

  We become. We all become. We are Solarian.

  A softer voice, this. Neither his nor the boy. A whispering truth, with the final word ‘Solarian’ reverberating in Orwen’s mind.

  The merboy looked confused as well, the image bounced back into his own head, which Orwen realized was happening in real-time. He knew their two minds were one now. His realization became the boy’s, and both nodded. This was absolute evolution, in their heads, in their species’. And in that mermaid they both realized had become one and the same.

  They both widened their eyes at each other—realizing in the same heartbeat that the connection was not just between them.

  No.

  There were three minds woven together. Orwen knew it then—Calistya was there too, her presence unmistakably fused into their thoughts. Calistya, the Solarian. She was with them too.

  Help her! The boy pled telepathically.

  The girl was in more danger than she knew, Orwen realized. If the merboy was a bargaining chip, she would be the all-in. The mayor couldn’t know. It would be the end for her, and all of them. Slipping away as the rest of them made their way to meet the enemy, he went to find Oliver.

  * * *

  Like a beacon, it called to her. The place she was meant to be. Where she’d been so recently, but only as a guest. That was where these new instincts were taking her. No longer bound by pressure constraints, she thrust easily downward into the heavier waters. Far more had changed than merely the way she took air. She was a different creature, feeling it more the deeper and faster she swam.

  Then a twinge—sharp and sudden. Her head snapped back toward where she'd come from, an urgency welling up inside her.

  Back to the shallows. Back now!

  She fought the impulse, trying to shake off the irrational feeling.

  Why? Why would I go back?

  There was no reason. Yet the instinct lingered, clawing at her thoughts, refusing to let go.

  She tried to press on, but the twinge, the inkling in her mind intensified. Became a call. A cry.

  She put her hands to her head as it became a shriek. A fearsome, terrified shriek of desperation.

  I'm going to die.

  No words. Just the knowledge. So similar to her own sense of mortality, of fate. Some moments or minutes ago—whenever. Had it been a day, or five, or ten? Time had lost meaning. Only connections were real.

  But this—the voice, the soul—it was Kyle.

  Focused on saving her, even as he faced death himself.

  I have to stop him!