We didn't forgive them.
We made that clear.
"We're giving you one chance," I said, standing across from Nova and Isadora, the sea behind them calm like it was pretending not to listen. "That's it."
Hope's voice was steady beside me. "This doesn't erase anything."
Nova nodded once. No excuses. No pleading.
"That's fair."
Isadora inclined her head. "Then we will earn the right to be heard."
That was how it started.
Not with apologies.
With preparation.
~
They chose the place carefully.
A stretch of land where the rocks curved inward, forming a natural hollow. The land sloped gently toward the sea, and the waves reached farther here, curling around the stone as if the water remembered this place.
"This ritual," Isadora explained, "is older than Lumigrove's throne."
Hope sat on a rock nearby, arms wrapped around her knees, watching everything with focused attention.
"It isn't meant to give power," Nova said, drawing a thin line in the sand with her foot. "Merfolk don't gain abilities."
"We awaken alignment," Isadora added. "The glow. The tail. The call. They exist whether you accept them or not."
I glanced at the water. "And half-merfolk?"
Nova met my eyes. "Sometimes take longer to answer."
That landed.
"The ritual is meant to be done once," Isadora continued. "At the edge of the sea. When a child is ready to face what they are."
Hope muttered, "Convenient timing."
Isadora didn't argue.
"It requires preparation," Nova said. "Mental. Physical. Emotional. The sea responds to honesty. It does not tolerate fear disguised as control."
I let out a quiet breath. "Sounds personal."
Nova's mouth twitched. "It is."
They worked without rushing.
Nova placed smooth stones in a wide circle, each etched with markings so faint they only appeared when damp. Isadora crushed dried kelp and a silvery plant between her palms, mixing it with seawater until it shimmered faintly.
Hope watched me.
"You okay?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know," I said. "But I don't feel wrong."
She nodded like that was enough.
"This will be done one at a time," Isadora said.
Nova added, "The ritual requires complete focus."
Hope's shoulders eased slightly.
"You'll be next," Isadora said, meeting her eyes. "Immediately after."
Hope glanced at me, then nodded once. "Okay.
That settled it.
~
I stepped into the circle.
The sand was colder here. Firmer. Like it expected weight.
"Once it begins," Isadora said, "you don't stop it. Even if it becomes difficult."
I met her gaze. "Story of my life."
Nova's voice softened. "The glow will come first. You won't see it. You'll feel it—like pressure beneath your skin."
I took a breath.
The sea drew inward.
Not violently.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that I noticed.
I closed my eyes.
At first, nothing happened.
Then warmth—low and steady—spread through me, starting deep in my chest and moving outward like something slowly unfolding.
It wasn't pain.
It wasn't light.
It was recognition.
My breath caught as the sensation traveled downward, heavy but controlled, like the sea was reshaping something it had always known was there.
The waves grew louder.
My balance shifted, and I dropped to one knee, hands pressed into the sand.
"Xylan—" Hope's voice broke.
"I'm okay," I said, though my voice sounded unfamiliar. "I think."
The warmth intensified, concentrating along my legs, until the feeling became undeniable. The pressure eased all at once, replaced by something solid and unfamiliar.
I opened my eyes.
A soft, ocean-colored glow traced faint patterns along my skin before dimming, settling beneath the surface instead of disappearing.
Where my legs had been, a tail curved against the sand, scales catching the light in muted shades of blue and green. It wasn't sudden or violent.
It was… complete.
The sea rushed forward, washing gently against the stone and sand, surrounding the circle without crossing it.
Hope stared, wide-eyed.
Nova sank to her knees, breath leaving her slowly.
Isadora lowered her head. "The alignment is complete."
I looked down at myself.
It felt strange. Heavy. Grounded.
But not wrong.
The glow faded fully, leaving behind a quiet awareness—like a door had finally closed behind me instead of hanging open.
The water receded again, calm as before.
I stayed where I was, steadying my breathing, letting the moment settle.
Hope finally spoke.
"So… you're really one of them."
I let out a short breath that might've been a laugh.
"Looks like it."
The sea didn't pull me forward.
It didn't call.
It simply remained—present, watchful, patient.
And for the first time, I felt like I was, too.