Chapter One

(Lucca)

The ocean is a large, vastly creation that always seems to be screaming for exploration. The blue waters hide something more underneath, and for years a lot of it has been a secret kept from those too afraid to investigate it.

It takes guts to explore something that has so many privy wonders and captivating tales.

Because of that, being at sea was always something I always wished to experience when I was younger. The smell of the salted water and the sight of various shades of blue, not to mention the passing wind sending chills through my body.

It was something six year old me couldn't wait to undergo. I relied on my father for the information I wanted to grasp, however couldn't because of my young age.

Ever since he was young, he worked on ships in order to earn money, either helping to build them or fix them when they had been damaged. As he grew older, it's not surprising that his love for ships grew as well. He learned how to steer them, how to set up the sails and most importantly, how to assemble a crew.

With all this knowledge, just a few years after I was born, he decided to become captain of the ship he had been working on when his skills grew well enough to build one.

His friends helped him create a beautiful, seemingly historic galleon. The wood was painted a midnight black and the sails a dark red. The bow and stern of the ship were aligned with a golden coverage, and below the bowsprit was a figurehead of a long haired creature. She had the tail of a mermaid, bright golden colored orbs to represent witch eyes and a scalene pattern down her side to represent a dragon.

He called her 'The Emilia,' named after my mother who he married when they were both 18. She was pleased to hear the title of the ship, always saying that it made her feel loved and special in some ways.

The house we lived in was right next to the water as well, giving him easy access to the ship which only meant his time with my mother and I decreased whenever he got too involved.

He'd go out all night with a friend of his and spend time working on it or just admiring it, and in the end my mother always grew upset because of it.

This led to many arguments between him and my mother, days filled with shouting and items being tossed across the house while the nights were filled with glass clinking together as my mother downed shots of alcohol.

It got to the point where my mother was no longer stable enough to care for me, to say the least. I don't like to think of myself as a victim or of her as an abuser because I knew that she wasn't in her right mind when she was doing that stuff.

She was drunk and had bigger mental issues that I didn't understand at the time. It lead my father to have her taken away to an institute and to have me start working on his ship.

I was ten years old at the time, and in order to focus on something other than my mother he would put me to work along with his eight crew members.

The only members I would associate myself with were the ones who were naturally quiet, and would tend to get their work done quickly. One of them being a boy three years older than me who my father found begging for food and money on the streets.

He had no home, but my father sought it best to take him in as his own. The boy, Leonel, and I worked together to get difficult tasks done, however we never grew closer than that. He'd share occasional glances and he'd listen to my complaints about the job, but he never did say anything back.

Despite this, it made work on the ship bearable. I was able to talk to someone my own age, or at least rant to someone who might just agree. However, as the years went by, the marriage between my mother and father plummeted.

One day my mother checked herself out of the clinic and left my father and I alone with the ship.

He and I had our differences, and at some points I found myself siding with my mom even if she was gone. He really did love the ship more than her. Probably more than me.

That's why he didn't notice then mom always passed out from drinking too much, and he never noticed the bruises on me. I'd tell my friends and teachers that I fell down the stairs and I'd tell everyone else that I got hurt fucking around with my friends.

Jumping out of trees used to be a hobby of mine, so the excuses were believable. That's in the past though.

Years later at 22 years old, I still found myself arguing with him over the simplest of things. The way he was running the ship was disgraceful, but with him as captain I can do nothing but follow his orders.

Until the day he dies, he will be the captain of the ship, and we will all have no choice but to accept that as we sail through the blue, never ending ocean.

All of things brings us here today, my father yelling from behind the wheel of the ship, the crew rushing around to follow orders, and me, staring at everyone scramble about.

"Lucca! The hell are you doing just standing around? The sooner this gets done the sooner we can get a move on!" My father's voice booms from the deck, some shake their heads and others begin to work faster.

As far as I can see, my father has sought it best to make what he believes to be his 'last journey.' I'm not sure exactly what his idea of his last journey is, but I'm assuming it's one like no other.

"Lucca!"

A sigh escapes my lips as I stop in my tracks and watch as every other crew member scurries off the ship beside me.

My father walks up and places his large hand on my shoulder, and by the way he squeezes it, I know he's about to go into something sentimental.

"What is it, old man? I was getting a move on just like you told me to do."

He grins and shoves a piece of paper my way. It's wrapped in a fine piece of thread and the yellowing of the paper tells me that it's something he's had for years.

He used to say that he had something big planned. Bigger than all of us. Bigger than anything we could've dreamed of.

His eyes scan my expression, with an expectant one on his. He ushers me to open it as the last member of the crew wobbles off the bobbing ship and leaves us to be standing alone on the deck.

"What's this?"

It's a question that only makes him grow more impatient. "Well boy, I'm telling you to open it for a reason. I never thought I'd actually try to do this... but my years are shortening. I might be strong now, but this is a journey that will take months if not years. I want you to be apart of it."

He gives no further explanation as to why there's a purple wax seal on the front, the letter 'R' etched into it. "What's the R stand for?"

He waves my question off dismissively and shakes his head, treating it as the least bit important piece of information. "Just a last name, what you should focus on is what under it. Come on! Unravel it."

It's not our last name, but I let it go and open it. The seal easily pops off of the paper, leaving no mark before I undo the bow made from thread that's wrapped around the paper.

It unrolls immediately, and it only takes me a few seconds to scan it and realize just what it is. "A map? What's this for?"

He moves to stand beside me in order to point to the top of it, and of course it reads a word I've never seen before, Bhalaosc. The map under it is filled with various colors and markings, lines leading to certain spots or even just other lines.

"It's our last journey, Lucca. I want to make this one count. The Bhalaosc is a rock that's been hidden in the sea for centuries. There have been many legends and tales about it, pictures and drawings even, but no one has yet to find it."

"You want to look for a rock that no one has seen for centuries? You're kidding, right? That just screams fake. It has to be some made up story, from the same people who made up those magical creatures. It's just a rock anyways... what makes it so special?"

He takes the paper from my hands and folds it back up the moment he notices passerbys taking in the sight of the ship. "It can grant any wishes... restore all kinds of things and even provide humans with powers we only hear about in fairy tales. It's one of a kind, Lucca. They say it's only a rock but it's absolutely beautiful. I want to see it for myself... or at least try to."

He stops once he notices my doubtful expression and grips the scroll in his hand. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's just... you're not as young as you used to be, father. If this rock is as rare as you make it seem, it's obviously not going to be easy to get too. Wouldn't you rather just cruise along the ocean calmly? Like a normal old man? Well, as normal as you can get."

He's sixty two years old, and counting. Sure, he looks much younger than that but looks can only get you so far. He can't possibly have the energy to get through a quest this big. Plus... we don't even know if it's real.

"Lucca." He states firmly, gripping my shoulder where we stand. His eyes fill with passion and an all too knowing grin spreads across his face. "Sailing across the ocean is my life. But can I really call it a life if that's all I do? Your mother left for a reason... I can't make that all for nothing. Even if I don't complete the mission, I'll die knowing that I tried."

"And that's good enough for you? Knowing that you 'tried'? Fine old man, it is your life not mine. Just know, if your mission fails, I'm not continuing it."

"I don't need you to continue my voyages, boy." His hand falls from my shoulder as his body turns to face his crew.

His crew. The crew he built up, trained for years and sailed the ocean with. All loyal and determined. "Whether I complete it or not... a voyage is a voyage."

(Tristan)

I love the ocean... it's hard not to when I grew up in the sea. It's where I learned about my culture and the history of my tribe. It's where my family took care of everyone, hunted for our food, and fought off the few predators that we had.

As a merman, I'm technically on the top of the food chain. There isn't many creatures that can hurt me especially in the sea.

The ocean was my home. My parents loved me so much, and would do anything to make me happy. That's what any parent would do for their only child. Everyone in my tribe loved me. Considering that my father leads our tribe, they treated me like a prince.

My father was always strict and orderly with his rules and plans for not only me, but the whole tribe. Growing up with someone who made clear schedules for each day had really made me a bit obsessive about what I do and when I do it.

The only thing that I wanted more than consistency was to see a real human. To touch one or talk to one.

Throughout my childhood, I never asked about the outside world much. I wasn't curious about the creatures. However, as soon as I became a teen, I had more responsibilities. One of which was to take care of myself and learn new things without my parents.

That's exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to learn. I wanted to know what made our race of merfolk rare, and different than others. I wanted to know why our scales were light rather than dark. I wanted to know what things produce the trash that fills our beautiful oceans. I wanted to one day communicate with sailors, pirates, and fishermen without the possibility of putting my life in danger.

My tribe had the right to be afraid of humans. Plenty of merpeople have been killed because of fishermen's hooks and pirate's nets, but that didn't stop my curiosity. Nothing could.

They hated that I enjoyed humans so much. They said that I wouldn't be so easy to trust them if I had been stuck in a net or caught on a hook.

They complained about my actions constantly and even accused me of trying to get everyone killed. I got tired of being judged and waiting for the humans to come to me, so instead... I went to them.

I left my tribe for a night to watch the pirates have a party on the shore that they were docked on. There was this... heat that they called a fire. They cooked their food which was odd to me. I eat everything raw.

None of them saw me, and I couldn't touch them, but I was happy to just observe them up close.

I obviously wouldn't fit in. I saw babies on the boat that probably walked better than I did. I couldn't understand what some of their things were or why they were wearing clothes, but I knew that I loved humans.

Eventually, I just went back home. I liked the land. Nobody was mean or rude to each other like my tribe was to me. They seemed to be more accepting of their differences. In my tribe, everyone has to be the exact same... they're like robots.

As soon as I returned home, and they figured out what I had done, they all treated me like a traitor.

They looked at me with disgust and acted as if I had exposed our kind to everyone. I didn't. I was very careful. Nobody saw anything, but they still acted like I was trying to put them in danger.

Sure, there was a chance that the humans could see me, but they didn't. I did nothing wrong, but it got to the point where my tribe was doubting my father's leadership. He decided that the only way to keep our tribe happy and safe was to exile me.

I was kicked out of my tribe, and other tribes weren't too fond of accepting strangers. Especially not ones with my ideas.

I had nothing and nowhere to go. I wanted to give up, but I knew that I couldn't.

Merpeople are one of the most physically strong creatures in the entire world. We're the third strongest species mentally, right behind sirens and succubi.

Even so, merpeople are pack animals. I'm meant to be with a tribe and I wasn't at my strongest when I was alone.

If I had stayed in the ocean by myself, I would've been killed. I had to do the only thing I could think of. It was the only way to survive.

I knew that if I was going to live with the humans, I'd have to learn how to act like a human. It's their world. Not mine. I had to learn from them. I had to get money, clothes, a house, and a way to get fresh meat.

I knew that I needed to do that, so I did. I stole clothes from the beach when I first got on land. Humans have rules, and I'm not allowed to be naked.

Once I got on land, I did what I could to find someone to help me, and after a while I found someone. Well, she found me.

A witch named Livia. She gave me everything that I needed, and only took one thing in return. My voice.

I can't speak, however, I can sing. A mermaid's song doesn't come from their vocal chords. It's just magic. We sing while using that magic, and that's how we enchant the people that we want to.

In the past, most of my people as well as sirens liked to lure humans close to them and attack them. Some of the more cruel ones do things even worse than that, but I wouldn't even think of it.

It's wrong to use humans just for food. They aren't cattle, and I don't want to hurt them. Humans are precious, fragile, and delicate creatures. It would be a shame to devour them like they're worthless.

I don't think that they would deserve that. Even if they would do bad things to us, I wouldn't want to hurt them.

Livia provided me with everything I needed to start my life as a human. She gave me an apartment, got me a job at a meat market, which also allowed me to have a decent amount of food each day. She gave me 'fashionable' clothes, but they weren't so expensive that I was the center of attention.

The first thing I did was buy a book on sign language. I came so that I could interact with them. I didn't quite think that through when I decided to give Livia my voice. All I wanted was to have a conversation and see what they're really like.

It's been four years since then, and I can say for sure that I'm in a much better place than I was in the beginning. I'm living on my own and I have a pretty steady schedule. I'm better at writing and reading now although it is still difficult.

I leave my apartment around 4:30am to walk to work. I can't drive because I've only had my legs for four years. I'm not too sure that I'd be a good driver anyways. Livia forged a few legal documents for me including a driver's license, but I'd never use it.

I stop at the beach which is only a few blocks from where I live. I slowly walk to the large jagged rocks. People don't come to this part of the beach, so it's safe for me to shift here.

I sigh and look around once more before stripping out of my clothes. Once I'm completely naked, I hop into the warm water. Warm water isn't really the most enjoyable for me, but it's water.

I clench my teeth at the pricking pain of my sharp scales stab through my skin. They squeeze together tightly, making my legs mold together into a long tail. Once the blood clears away, I smile down at my tail and wiggle the fin at the very end.

I turn and dive deep down into the water before searching around for a decent sized fish that I could eat for breakfast.

When I find none, I swim further out in the ocean until I see one that will fill me up. I use my speed to swim over quickly and grab it before it has a chance to swim away.

An ability that merfolk have is speed. Especially underwater. I can swim up to 70 mph. It's faster than the fastest fish in the sea, but not quite as fast as the quickest merfolk. Females are faster than males.

I frown down at the struggling fish before closing my eyes as I kill it as painlessly as possible. I let my sharp rows of teeth grow out, and eat it.

Eating is definitely one of the biggest differences between humans and us. When we eat, we eat everything. Eyes, cartilage, bone. My shark-like teeth can easily crush the small fish bones, and my body can easily digest it.

That's one of the most odd things about merpeople. In the human world, we're depicted as perfectly beautiful and angelic creatures. Every little girl wants to be a mermaid, and every little boy wants to see one.

We aren't perfect or delicate. Most of us aren't tiny and fragile. We're unbelievably fast when swimming, we can give people the ability to breathe underwater for a short period of time, and when we eat, we grow an extra row of extremely sharp teeth to kill our prey with.

We're strong, man-eating beasts. There's nothing beautiful about us... especially when we're in our true form. My slightly pointed ears, shark-like teeth, and glistening tail are something that I would find scary rather than beautiful.

I finish off the fish and hum softly. I devoured all of it in a minute or less, never taking time to savor it. I don't really eat for pleasure. I don't like to kill creatures so I make sure to finish them off quickly. I just eat to stay alive.

I swiftly swim back to shore, checking to make sure that there's no humans around before pulling myself up on the rocks. When my tail is dry enough, my scales suck back into my skin, leaving two long, pale legs in its place. I pull my clothes back on and shake out my wet hair before continuing my walk to work.

This life isn't bad, but sometimes I just wish that something would happen. It feels so much like the life I was living with my tribe. It's scheduled and boring. I hate that I do the same thing every single day, but my dad drilled into my head that life is supposed to be predetermined.

It's not. I want it to be spontaneous. Sometimes I miss my family, but what I really want is to have friends that are impulsive and can break me out of the shell that I've stuck myself in.

I want someone who won't treat my like I'm a fragile child just because I'm a bit smaller than most guys. I want people to help me relax, and I definitely don't want to worry about being responsible.

I don't want any of this. I don't want to be with my family, but I want to be in the ocean again. I love humans and living in their world with them, but I miss the sea. All I want is for someone to take me back to the ocean again... where I belong.