The Orca

  The sea was colder than usual. With the tribe together, the chill became more bearable, but it was never as warm as before.

  My name is Lioras—once a strong leader, now a broken man. My body has been marked by scars for as long as I can remember, each one a testament to my victories and defeats. But the scar that pains me the most pulses on my face, the price of losing my eye.

  A single moment of carelessness... and I felt the weight of my own failing flesh.

  Our tribe was once filled with joy and color. We swam among the corals where we made our home, we smiled, we hunted, we raised our young.

  But one day, something poisoned us. It rose from the depths like black liquid seeping from the ocean floor—a monster crueler than anything I had ever faced.

  Our food, our home, our families—everything was lost faster than we could even comprehend. Homeless and scattered, we wandered in search of a new home.

  But unlike other merfolk, we are orcas. No matter how much good we tried to show, the reputation of orcas always preceded us. Destroyers of tribes, conquerors who take everything and sell what they capture. There wasn’t a single place that did not attack us on sight. A tribe of orcas would never be welcome.

  Even so, we tried to stay positive. Even as we suffered, we still taught our young what we believed was right. Our tribe was not like the others, and we swore we would never become the monsters they feared.

  But no matter what we did, our lives kept falling apart. Our children grew sick. The poison from the black liquid had never truly left us, especially the youngest among us.

  Desperate, we searched for a cure day and night, traversing the vast ocean. No wound, no scar mattered—if they died, our tribe would die with them. And then, one day, a sweet, seductive voice called out to me.

  — I have the cure for your children, orca.

  The pale witch, her tail white as the clouds, her eyes and hair dark as the night, came to us with salvation.

  — But there is a price. Bring me as many mermaid eggs as you can, and I will give you the cure.

  And what choice did we have? Our children or the children of others. That was the moment we broke ourselves.

  We became like the other orcas—raiding, attacking, stealing hope from other tribes. But there was another cost... Our scars, once symbols of victories meant to protect us, turned us into the very monsters we swore we wouldn’t be.

  Monsters and nothing more. All to keep our last sliver of hope alive. That selfishness killed tribes, families... children.

  I hardly even looked like an orca anymore, my body covered in so many scars. Many of us suffered fates worse than death. An infected wound was a common cause of demise. But for some reason, not for me.

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  When we finally cured our young and found a safe place, it lasted no more than five months. The sea grew restless, the fish began to flee—the King’s rise would force us to flee once more.

  But this time, I could not go with them. My scars no longer allowed me to keep up with the pods. And so, as my final, unquestionable decision as chief—I stayed behind.

  I had always known this day would come. My body, covered in deep scars, would slow them down. My tribe needed to move quickly to survive.

  On the day of their departure, my tribe looked back.

  Especially the children, who cried as their parents pulled them forward. Everyone knew the sacrifices I had made. They respected me for it, but no one would go against my decision.

  Except for one.

  My daughter.

  She swam back and hugged me tightly, her eyes full of tears—a final embrace before leaving forever.

  At last, I remained where I was, watching their shadows disappear into the deep blue. The silence that followed was deafening. There would be no return. My fate was sealed there, in the waters that had once been a temporary refuge.

  Days passed, and hunger began to consume me. I tried to hunt, but food was scarce. My strength, once unmatched, was no longer enough to secure even a simple meal.

  I laughed at myself sometimes. The greatest warrior in my family, unable to feed himself after the King’s tremors had spread through the ocean.

  Other creatures sensed my weakness. Predators that once feared me now watched with hungry eyes.

  I let myself drift with the currents, offering no resistance, waiting for the sea to finish what life had started. But instead of oblivion, I found something unexpected.

  I found a massive wall, with holes where fish poured out in abundance. I found Nexha’s barrier and his home. My heart ached at the sight of so much food. Slowly, I swam around and called out to everyone I could find, guiding them toward the wall as if trying to atone for my sins.

  What I never expected... was that the ones who owned this place would let us in, give us food, a home, a purpose.

  I asked myself over and over if this was a dream. And if it was, I never wanted to wake up.

  This paradise was so good... but happiness never lasted long for me.

  A small stain appeared on my skin.

  I recognized this disease—the sickness from the black liquid.

  Slowly, I began to say my goodbyes in secret. The skinny children I had brought here now had cheeks so plump I wanted to pinch them. They cried a little, but I didn’t want to be a burden. Not in this paradise where they lived.

  One day, I distanced myself from everyone, heading toward a quiet section of the wall where no one went. I prepared to jump.

  That’s when a triton with a shark’s tail—the leader, as wounded as I once was—stood before me, pointing his trident at my chest, his gaze cold and unwavering.

  — Then tell me, orca... why did you try to kill yourself?

  His words echoed in my mind. His gaze held the hatred I was so used to seeing.

  — I’m not killing myself, I’m just freeing you from a burden.

  Krahs frowned, his jaw tightening. Anger mixed with something deeper, something he refused to name.

  — If you leave this place, you will die. That’s no different from killing yourself.

  The orca gave a bitter smile, looking at his calloused, time-worn hands.

  — How can you be so sure?

  Krahs narrowed his eyes and pointed with the trident.

  — I saw. Your hands... the black liquid’s disease has already taken hold.

  The silence between them was as heavy as the water around them. The orca took a deep breath, looking away.

  — Then you know I’m already doomed...

  — No. You’re not, because we have the cure.

  The orca’s head shot up, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and disbelief.

  — How?! The cure is so hard to find...

  Krahs took a step closer, keeping his gaze locked.

  — The fruit of the Mother-Algae of the Seas. It can cure you. So tell me, orca... will you die, or will you stay and live? Because I’ve seen how the children here look up to you.

  Hesitation crossed the orca’s face, his heart pounding. He didn’t want to die. His skin, marked by so many battles and scars, was proof of that.

  Swallowing hard, he let out a deep sigh before finally murmuring:

  — I’ll stay... for them.