100 -The Weight of Choices

  For an entire month, Nexha worked alongside his family to build the wall, but this time, differently. He kept his promise to take it easier, controlling the pace with the help of the others.

  Every stone placed, every reinforcement added, every detail carved still carried his determination, but now it was shared. Lilay, always by his side, wielded his chisel as skillfully as Nexha but also kept an eye on any sign of his brother's exhaustion, always pulling him aside for breaks when necessary.

  Zhaelor, with his experience and patience, guided the young ones and carried the heavy loads, ensuring the work was efficient without being exhausting for them.

  Even Nalu, despite taking care of the little ones, did her part by bringing meals, laughter, and curious glances whenever she carried the grumpy little Jasper—mostly because, for some reason, Jasper preferred watching the windmill spin rather than seeing stones being cut.

  Krahs, who used to spend most of his time hunting, took on the care of the rice plantation—from planting to harvesting and storage—with an impressive sense of dedication. This led to a stockpile of food accumulating on the platform.

  At first, he hesitated, as rice still carried an old meaning that was now beginning to change. With meals prepared by Nexha, he realized that the food, besides being delicious, had practical benefits, allowing the time once spent on long hunts to be replaced by storage and cultivation.

  Still, Nalu and Zhaelor laughed whenever Krahs insisted he felt stronger for training after a good rice meal. That was when Nexha realized it would take longer than he expected for them to forget the old meaning of rice.

  When the wall was finally complete, Nexha felt immense relief. For the first time in a long while, he could breathe without fear of what might come—his refuge was secure. Satisfaction pulsed in his chest like a warm flame. That wall wasn’t just a physical defense but also a deep relief in his mind, knowing that his family was safe.

  That feeling made him so happy that he decided to prepare a special meal for everyone as a celebration. Using the best ingredients he could gather, he cooked with care and dedication, wanting his family to feel the same warmth and security that he felt at that moment.

  The aroma of the food quickly spread through the air—a welcoming, comforting scent. All problems seemed to quiet down in the presence of that family moment.

  But that scent did not remain confined within the refuge. Carried by the ocean winds, it traveled farther than Nexha could have imagined.

  While the month passed peacefully for the family, it was not the same for the rest of the ocean—it was a dark period for the marine creatures. The fear sown by the King spread like a plague, suffocating everything around it.

  The fish began to flee little by little, creating an unprecedented scarcity, as if the waters were cursed. The creatures of the ocean, once free, now lived in constant fear of unpredictable attacks.

  It was a month where only despair thrived, while hunger ravaged the sea’s inhabitants, making survival more difficult each day.

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  Then, guided by the scent of Nexha’s food on the surface, starving merfolk began to arrive. At first, there were only a few—gaunt shadows gliding through the water, their hollow, desperate eyes searching for any sign of nourishment. They did not seem truly starving at first—just as if they could never get enough.

  The mother-algae of the tides called the small fish that thrived within the walls, making it a safe haven.

  Nexha had designed strategic holes to launch traps against possible invaders, but now, instead of threats, he saw tired faces and watchful eyes peeking from the other side, waiting for an unwary fish to slip through so they could catch it.

  At first, Nexha was surprised. He hadn’t imagined that his refuge, built only to protect his family, would end up being the only thing standing between some and starvation.

  Over time, the number of the starving grew to sixty. Creatures of different species crowded before the wall, competing with the merfolk for the small fish escaping through the holes.

  But something Nexha noticed was that the merfolk who remained here were not the strongest or the most resilient. Doubtful, he asked Krahs, who calmly answered:

  — The strongest followed the migration of the fish. Those who stayed behind weren’t strong enough to go alone… Nexha, if they were truly strong, they wouldn’t be fighting with the hunters; they would be hunting the hunters.

  Nexha looked at them again, and this time, he saw more than just desperate silhouettes. Small details stood out—frayed fins, eyes empty with exhaustion, bodies too thin for those who should be living off the hunt. But it was Krahs’ words that truly opened his eyes. Those before the wall were not predators, not the strong ones—they were the abandoned, the ones left behind. The ones who did not have the strength to follow the rest of their clans.

  Among them, a few skeletal children struggled, failing to catch the fish slipping through the wall’s holes. Some didn’t even have the strength to swim properly, moving only with the current’s inertia.

  Nexha felt a tightness in his chest as he realized how real this scene was.

  They were not just numbers, not just strangers beyond a barrier. They were living beings, begging for something he had in abundance—security and food.

  The pressure in Nexha’s heart grew heavier with each passing second. Lilay, with a restless expression, finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a weight he rarely showed.

  — Nexha… why don’t we let them in?

  His question lingered in the air like a wave about to break. He didn’t ask if they should let them in, but why they weren’t doing so already.

  Krahs kept a serious expression, pondering the implications. They had built this place for themselves, but could they really turn their backs on those who had nowhere else to go? The thought weighed on the old leader’s conscience.

  Nexha felt the crushing weight of the decision on his shoulders. Letting them in meant sharing resources, risking the security they had fought so hard to achieve, but ignoring them meant condemning them to a cruel fate.

  And he knew that, whatever choice he made, consequences would follow.

  Nexha sighed and looked at Krahs.

  — We have enough food for everyone, father. We can let them in.

  — But not for long, Nexha. We don’t produce that much… In a month or two, we’ll be in the same situation as them. And then what? Will we just watch as we all start to starve?

  — Father, that time is enough to expand the plantation and get at least two harvests. After all, our rice takes only six days to grow.

  — But what if the rice doesn’t grow as planned, Nexha? What if something goes wrong and we don’t have time to react?

  — Father, if that happens, I can use my power. We won’t run out of food—not with me here.

  Krahs sighed and looked at Nexha, seeing the determination in his son’s eyes. He relented.

  — Very well, Nexha. But remember—choices have consequences.

  That evening, Nexha prepared large portions of rice porridge with fish. The bowls were filled to the brim, their irresistible aroma making even Lilay’s mouth water.

  As they opened the bamboo gates, the predators scattered in fear, but the merfolk, too weak to react quickly, stared in confusion.

  — Hello, merfolk! I am Lilay, one of the residents of our tribe!

  Lilay’s voice carried a charm unlike any Nexha had ever heard before. He had never seen his brother use his persuasive ability so intensely.

  One by one, the merfolk began to cry—tears of relief, exhaustion, hope. And slowly, hesitantly, they entered the refuge, stepping into safety for the first time in a long while.