"Those shackles were specially crafted by the Merfolk," Emery Shaw said slowly, his tone calm and straightforward. "Once they're on, no matter how strong you are, your strength is completely suppressed. They said… if you put them on willingly, they'll overlook your offense toward the Merfolk clan."
He finished speaking, glancing at the four limp Merfolk sprawled at their feet. There was no point pretending otherwise—he knew Ethan would never agree to wear those things. It was pure misfortune that they had crossed paths with these twelve Merfolk today.
Ethan narrowed his eyes, though he didn't attack right away. His voice was steady but laced with suspicion. "They were the ones who summoned me here. And that look they gave me—it was pure disdain. Is this what you meant by Lyla being safe?"
Emery sighed. "We're just unlucky. We ran into these particular twelve."
"What do you mean?" Ethan asked.
