“Was that your mother?” Flora asked when they had gotten deeper into the woods.

  “Yeah,” Camdyn smiled, “The one and only.”

  "What's it like?" she asked.

  "Having a mother?" he chuckled, "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

  He glanced at her curiously. "Do you not have mothers?"

  Flora shook her head slowly, brushing a branch aside as they walked. “We have Mother.” she said gesturing at the nature surrounding them, “but not a mother.”

  “So, who raised you then? Where do you come from?”

  “We come from the earth, born of magic, called into existence. The forest shapes us, the Elders guide us.”

  Camdyn nodded, trying to imagine it. A life without parents, without family in the way he knew it. "Sounds like you belong to something bigger," he said. "Something... ancient."

  Flora smiled, the faintest curve of her lips. "We are a part of it, just as it is a part of us."

  For a moment, they walked in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of leaves underfoot.

  “Humans are beautiful at their core,” Flora started slowly, “They have the power to do so much good. Creative. Intuitive. Intelligent. And the love is raw. So warm and intense even… But so very limited.”

  “Huh, limited…” he echoed thoughtfully, “You find us conditional?”

  Flora nodded. "The love of man... can be so fragile. Tied to time, to shifting states of being. Given, then taken away. It can break, or fade, or sour into hatred."

  She paused, searching for the right words. "But when it’s real. When it’s chosen, even knowing it might end, it’s... breathtaking. Precious because it isn’t guaranteed."

  “And you don’t have that? Not even for the forest?” he asked.

  "We respect life. We honor its holders. But love…” she trailed off, “Love is something wilder. It asks for more than we are taught to give.”

  She looked at him, something vulnerable flickering in her gaze. "You get to choose. To hold something imperfect and love it anyway. Sometimes I wonder what that would feel like…”

  Her voice caught, just slightly. “I have no mother. But seeing yours. How she loves you…” Flora hesitated, as if almost ashamed of the admission. "It makes me wish I did."

  Camdyn’s eyes softened, “Well, that’s the thing about love,” he replied, smiling gently, “It has a way of finding those who are open to it… and, sometimes, even those who aren’t.”

  Flora’s smile faltered, then steadied. “I’ll leave that for man to wrestle with. As for me, my calling is to the woods.”

  She walked ahead, her gaze fixed on a banyan tree standing tall in the distance. When she reached it, she placed her hands on one of its aerial roots, pausing for a moment.

  “This one," she decided, her voice soft yet certain.

  “That can take us to the Sirins?”

  “To their Spire.” she corrected.

  Flora turned back to him, reaching for his hand. “Ready?”

  “No,” he admitted, “But that hasn’t stopped me before.”

  The portal released them onto sandy terrain. The air was heavy with the scent of salt, carried on the restless breath of the sea. In the distance, waves crashed against the rocks, the sound broken now and then by the sharp cries of seabirds.

  Camdyn blinked under the sun’s glare and lifted a hand to shield his eyes. "Is that... the ocean?"

  He’d never seen the ocean before. As a child, he had scribbled it onto a bucket list after seeing pictures in an old travel magazine. But with the world as it was now, it had become little more than a pipe dream. Far too dangerous to attempt, with miles of climate-torn wilderness populated by raiders, bunker Moles, hostile colonies, and fantastical beasts.

  And yet, here he was.

  It wasn’t quite how he had imagined it. The magazine had promised crystalline blue waters, children laughing, and parents clinking mojitos beneath colorful umbrellas. This version had the water but it also had half-sunken skyscrapers jutting from the shallows and crumbling roads in the slow process of being consumed by sand and sea. A graveyard of a city, at the mercy of the wild.

  “That’s the ocean.” Flora confirmed from beside him.

  She shifted uneasily, casting a wary glance at the sand beneath their feet. “Let’s be quick. We don’t want to be here when the tide comes in.”

  Camdyn nodded. “Where’s the Spire?”

  Flora pointed toward a cliffside, rising above the city in the distance, beyond the towering remnants of buildings.

  "There," she answered. "This was the closest tree that could carry us here. Out there is only stone, steel, and that which belongs to the sea."

  The sunken city lay surrounded on all sides by the ocean, except for the narrow path that stretched before them. The low tide allowed a fleeting window for passage. Without a boat, the only way to reach the cliffside was through the city.

  Camdyn squinted toward the direction she indicated. “I don’t see a tower, though.”

  “That would be the magic,” she explained. “Humans have long been unable to perceive its presence. The people of this city lived right in its shadow and never even knew.”

  “That’s crazy...” Camdyn muttered, his voice low with disbelief.

  Flora stepped closer, her eyes steady. “But perhaps, I can help…”

  She placed her hands gently on his shoulders.

  “What are y—” he had begun to ask before she gently shushed him.

  Slowly, the Spire emerged from the mist, tall and narrow, its sharp silhouette cutting through the clouds like a shard of glass. It stood untouched by time, a stark contrast to the ruined city sprawling beneath it.

  “Do you see it now?”

  Camdyn nodded, his gaze still fixed on the Spire, awe in his eyes.

  “My presence allows you to see past the shroud. All magical entities give off an aura—”

  “So, you found a magical loophole. When I’m around you I’m supernatural by proxy?” Camdyn asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

  “In a way,” Flora replied, “Humans barely give off anything so you’re able to take on some of my aura when you’re near me.”

  “Nice.”

  “Not always, “she warned, “That can also make you a target for entities drawn to magic.”

  “Say what now?”

  Her expression sharpened. “Magic comes with its own set of rules. There isn’t time to explain all of them but said simply, be careful.”

  “Okay… but you’re going to explain later, right?”

  Flora started down the path. “Come along, Camdyn.” she called.

  He trailed behind Flora, descending the sandy slope that led into the city. The air thickened as they entered, a coastal fog swirling around them, heavy with the scent of brine, rust, and a subtle fishiness.

  As they stepped onto the waterlogged asphalt of the city, Camdyn felt a certain smallness wash over him. Towering buildings loomed overhead, their once-proud structures now leaning precariously on crumbling foundations. The groans of the buildings swaying in the wind were ominous, like the whispered echoes of a forgotten people.

  Yet from their decay came something beautiful: Life.

  Coral and anemones bloomed across the pavement, creeping into old overturned cars and climbing up the facades of buildings, their forms twisting and turning to mimic the architecture they engulfed, as though seeking to become one with it. Vibrant purples, violent reds, and ghostly whites painted a surreal landscape. Trees, too, sprouted in the ruins, but unlike any forest Camdyn had come across. These were born of sponge and coralline skeletons. Jagged, brittle, and ethereal, rising like strange monuments from the flooded streets. Between the rubble and cracks in the pavement, tall seaweed swayed, a slow and restless undulation that moved with both the breeze and the pull of the coming tide. It was as if lifeforms that had once been bound to the sea were starting to outgrow it, evolving into something other.

  As they passed, Camdyn’s eyes lingered on a tide pool that had collected in a pothole. It teemed with tiny, darting fish and delicate crustaceans that scurried away at their approach. Camdyn was itching to document the strange, beautiful life he saw, but he knew now wasn't the time.

  Meanwhile, Flora had been quiet for most of their time there, her unease written plainly across her face. She had been on edge from the moment they arrived, moving with a wary tension, like someone who had stepped onto another's turf and knew she wasn’t welcome.

  They turned a corner onto another street, past barnacle-coated lampposts and rusted street signs that stood like relics of a drowned world. Their feet sloshed through shallow water which rose steadily with the tide. Schools of silvery fish darted around them, their scales catching the dim light and sending flashes of brilliance across the murky surface.

  Camdyn was considering breaking the silence, when without warning, Flora thrust out an arm, stopping him in his tracks. Her expression had gone taut, her focus pinned straight ahead. They had approached a section of the road that had collapsed entirely, swallowed by the water. A sinkhole, by the look of it, gaped just beneath the surface.

  Camdyn followed her gaze and then he saw it.

  Two large eyestalks breached the surface, peering just above the dark water. For a moment, the rest of the creature remained hidden, a shadow stirring beneath the depths.

  Then, with a sound like a drained breath, the creature began to rise.

  Water streamed from its massive shell, exposing a crab-like crustacean of impossible size, its surface rough and cracked like ancient basalt, shaped by centuries beneath the sea. A living reef clung to its back, thick with anemones, barnacles, and vibrant tendrils of coral that twisted and clung to the uneven surface. As it rose, small fish that had been swimming within the shallows of its reef were abruptly exposed. Some flopped helplessly across the creature’s shell before slipping back into hidden pools nestled deep within the coral.

  It hauled itself from the sinkhole with a low, grinding groan—the sound of stone dragging across stone. Its immense legs, thick with barnacles and algae, sending ripples through the knee-deep floodwaters that stretched across the ruins.

  Camdyn and Flora backed away slowly as it lumbered nearer. It raised its claws.

  Click. Click.

  “No sudden movements.” Flora said under her breath. “Move to the side. If he knows we aren’t a threat, he won’t treat us as one.”

  Click.

  Camdyn gave a shallow nod, too afraid to blink. Step by step, they edged sideways, pressing themselves against a wall as the beast dragged its bulk closer. It halted at their feet, casting a heavy shadow over them, its eyestalks twitching as it studied their shapes. The moment stretched thin and breathless. Then, with a low rumble like shifting earth, the creature lowered its claws and moved on, stirring small currents of water in its wake. The reef growing along its back swayed with each heavy step, scattering droplets that caught the sunlight in brief, glimmering arcs.

  Only once it had passed did Camdyn finally exhale. Beside him, Flora released a quiet breath, her shoulders easing. They pulled away from the wall, but before they turned the corner, Flora dipped her head toward the creature. A silent gesture of gratitude for its mercy.

  “How did you know it wouldn’t hurt us?” Camdyn finally asked.

  “I didn’t,” she admitted. “But most creatures don’t yearn for violence. And when they do, they make it known.”

  “So, lucky guess then,” he grinned, “I take it you don’t come to the ocean often?”

  “No. As it was intended.” Flora said shortly, “Forest nymphs have no reason to engage with the sea.”

  “Not even for fun?”

  She gave him a look. “The sea is unpredictable,” she said, her voice low. “Beautiful in her own right, but she knows no order. No master. Her balance is present... but chaotic… Much like humans.” Her tone softened at the last part, and she offered him a small, teasing smile.

  “Oh? So you think the wilderness you come from has a master? Can be tamed?” he challenged.

  “No, not tamed. The wild will always remain but she can be made quieter… smaller. Unlike the sea, the forest can be understood. She gives back what is given. She listens and if you’re open, she speaks.”

  “It’s symbiotic.” he added.

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  Flora nodded. “The sea doesn't follow rules the way the forest does. She takes without warning. She gives without reason. She brings forth life, but she also devours. The forest... the forest makes sense, if you know how to read her.”

  “Maybe the ocean is the same way," Camdyn said. "Maybe you just haven’t taken the time to get properly acquainted. If it’s like humans, like you say, there’s probably a method to its madness.”

  Flora’s smile sharpened slightly, almost playful. “Hmm. Perhaps you’ll get your chance to ask her," she said, "right before she swallows you whole.”

  Camdyn was about to respond when a gutteral clicking seeped into their air, followed by the swift sound of movement cutting through water. It seemed to come from the shadows.

  Both of their heads snapped toward the disturbance only to find nothing. Then the sound came again, this time from the opposite side.

  “Uh… Flora?” Nervousness crept into Camdyn’s voice.

  Flora didn’t answer. Her eyes darted to the Spire rising in the distance, still a long way off. They could make it before dusk if they moved fast. But the tide was surging in, swallowing the streets, and with it came things better left alone.

  “We need to keep moving forward.”

  “Toward the deep end?” Camdyn asked, incredulous.

  “It’ll only get deeper if we wait.”

  Already, the water was lapping at their waists.

  He was about to ask about the sound but the answer revealed itself mid-thought. A soft splash rippled nearby, followed by a flash of color. Camdyn blinked through the gloom, half-caught by the hypnotic beauty of the merrows gliding under the water. They spun in lazy, haunting spirals, like dancers in some silent, drowned ballroom.

  "They're..." he breathed, unable to finish.

  "Not what they seem," Flora said sharply, tugging him behind a crumbled wall.

  He barely had time to register the warning before one of the figures lunged from the shallows, breaking the surface with a wet, tearing sound.

  Where once had been sleek beauty was now a gaunt horror. Milky eyes lidless and too wide, glowed softly like lures. Its skin, sagged like old cloth, limbs jerking in unnatural spasms. Its gaping mouth split too far back, revealing ribbons of serrated teeth.

  Camdyn stumbled back instinctively, heart hammering.

  The creature's head twisted toward him, a sick parody of curiosity, before it started crawling, its long claws scratching deep grooves in the stone as it crept forward. It recoiled the moment the sun touched it, retreating with a furious hiss.

  “What the hell is that?!”

  “Merrows,” Flora said grimly. “They’re drawn to magic and to blood.”

  “And apparently allergic to sunlight,” Camdyn muttered.

  Her eyes stayed fixed on the water, scanning for movement. “They’ll wait until the sun fades,” she said. “Then they’ll follow.”

  Camdyn swallowed hard, glancing at the sinking sun bleeding into the horizon. Not much time left.

  “So what, you’re saying we’re being hunted?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

  “Herded,” Flora corrected softly. “Toward deeper water. Toward where they’re strongest.”

  A cold shiver ran down Camdyn’s spine.

  “Ok, so now we know what not to do,” he said, already backing away.

  Flora nodded once. “Stay close. And whatever you do don’t bleed.”

  Without another word, they plunged forward, wading faster through the thickening tide, the murky water swirling around their hips as the last light began to slip from the sky.

  They waded through the water—Flora with more ease than her companion.

  The shadows grew longer and the air colder. They tried their best to stay in the light, maneuvering the city streets that sank only deeper into the sea with each minute.

  A sharp splash echoed to their left. Then another, closer.

  Camdyn’s head whipped around, and in the dimming light he caught glimpses of pale shapes threading through the water, circling.

  They were being surrounded.

  “Flora—”

  “I know,” she said, her voice tight.

  Suddenly, a shriek like tearing metal split the air. One of the merrows lunged from the shallows, claws slashing. Camdyn ducked instinctively and felt the rush of water as another closed in from behind.

  Before he could react, sharp claws raked across his arm. The pain was white-hot and immediate.

  He bit back a cry, clutching the wound, blood clouding the water in thick red plumes.

  Flora’s eyes grew wide with fear but she knew they couldn’t stop to nurse wounds. She pulled him forward, urging him to keep going.

  Camdyn stumbled after her, adrenaline drowning out the pain. The merrows gave chase, slithering through the water with terrifying speed. Their bodies flashed in the twilight. Elongated, nightmarish shadows fueled by the scent of blood.

  The street ahead sloped steeply downward into deeper waters. Flora paused, trying to focus. The sand felt wrong under her feet, loose and unsteady. She struggled to find her grounding, her connection to the earth.

  But then, like a whisper, she heard it.

  She called to it, beckoning and it responded. Seaweed surged from the depths, meeting her reach. It shot outward, lifting them from the rising water just as a merrow’s claw grazed her ankle. The tendrils twisted and thickened under Flora’s command, weaving into a slippery, makeshift bridge that bore their weight above the surface. Camdyn clung to the swaying strands, every jolt sending fresh stabs of pain through his wounded arm.

  Below, the merrows thrashed and shrieked, their claws slicing at the water in frustration, unable to reach them. One particularly daring creature leapt, snapping at Camdyn’s boot.

  He kicked it away, forcing it back down.

  Flora tightened her focus, sweat beading at her brow. The bridge teetered dangerously under their combined weight, barely sturdy enough to hold them.

  “It won’t last long,” she said, voice strained.

  Camdyn’s eyes scanned the skyline, locking onto a jagged outcropping of limestone and coral ahead. A natural pier leading toward the looming shape of the Spire.

  “There!” he pointed.

  Flora’s eyes locked onto the landing. “Jump when I tell you.”

  The seaweed underfoot began to unravel, stretched past its limits.

  “Now!” Flora cried.

  They leapt—awkward, desperate—and hit the slick stone hard. Camdyn grunted with pain from the impact, but Flora was already dragging him upright.

  The merrows howled behind them, but the stone was too sharp, too exposed. For now, the creatures held back, pacing in the darkening waters like sharks.

  Camdyn’s arm throbbed violently.

  Safe for the moment, Flora asked. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better,” he replied through gritted teeth, “but I think I’ll make it.”

  The crease in Flora’s brow eased slightly. She glanced over the edge of the stone toward the Spire. The mouth of the sea gaped wide between them and their destination.

  They had to keep going, the sun was going down, taking their fleeting pool of safety with it.

  And worse, she could sense it: something bigger was stirring beneath the waves. Drawn by the scent of blood and the frenzy of the hunt.

  Something far worse than the merrows.

  The merrows must have sensed it as well since they too grew uneasy and began to retreat one by one back to the sunken city.

  “Do you think we can swim it?” Camdyn asked weakly.

  “We wouldn’t be fast enough.” Flora answered. “And I fear there is something beneath the surface.”

  “Something other than the fish people?”

  Flora nodded grimly. “Look.”

  They watched as the water bulged and rippled, something vast surging beneath the surface. It moved with a terrible purpose, bearing down on an unsuspecting merrow. The creature burst from the sea with shattering force. Its head alone was larger than a full-grown bear. It was serpentine—impossibly long—with skin that rippled between deep purple and black. Its lidless eyes burned molten gold, fixed and predatory. Where its mouth should have been, a vertical slit split its face, ringed with spiraled teeth that looked designed to pierce and hold rather than merely tear.

  Camdyn stood frozen, limbs locked in fear, as the great serpent’s body uncoiled behind it. An endless, muscular rope churning the sea to foam. Tattered fins dragged uselessly in its wake, relics of a time when it may have swum through open ocean instead of ruin.

  With a sickening snap, the beast lunged forward, swallowing the straggling merrow whole. No struggle. No splash. The sea simply closed over the spot, eerily calm in the aftermath.

  It wouldn’t be long until the sea beast caught wind of their scent.

  Flora cast a desperate glance back toward the Spire. The land there was solid and firm, like the earth she was used to, but it was too far, the gap between them and safety impossibly wide.

  “We're going to have to jump again,” she said, already gauging the distance.

  Camdyn stared at the gap, his heart sinking. “Flora... that's too far. We'd never make it.”

  “We don’t have to,” she said, her voice steady despite the terror flickering behind her eyes. “We just have to get close enough. Close enough for me to reach the plants on the other side.”

  He hesitated only a moment longer before nodding. “Okay—I can’t believe I’m saying this—but let’s do it.”

  He shook the nerves out of his hands.

  “Ready?”

  He exhaled sharply, “Ready.”

  They sprinted together across the slick limestone, feet pounding. The sea serpent stirred below, a ripple of motion so massive it seemed to shift the ocean floor itself. Flora counted the steps under her breath. Three, two, one.

  They leapt.

  For a breathless moment, they soared through the air, weightless, suspended over death. Flora’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. She reached with her other hand, calling out to the earth with everything she had.

  The ocean below erupted.

  The beast lunged, its massive head breaching the surface in a towering column of muscle and scale. Its jaws gaped wide. Camdyn caught a glimpse of a cavernous gullet lined with hundreds of jagged fangs, close enough to see the deep scars crisscrossing the creature’s hide.

  Across the gap, vines exploded from cracks in the stone, slithering like living ropes. They whipped toward them, just as the beast’s jaws snapped shut. The vines caught Flora first and then Camdyn, yanking them forward just as gravity threatened to betray them.

  Below, the serpent crashed back into the sea with an ear splitting roar, denied its prize.

  The vines set them down gently on the other side, receding back into the soil overhead.

  Camdyn staggered a step back, chest heaving from the close call. His heart thundered in his ears.

  “Holy hell,” he turned to Flora, eyes wide and disbelieving. “You’re amazing!” Camdyn reached for her—laughing, breathless—and pulled her into a tight, spontaneous hug. For a heartbeat, she didn’t react. Her body went rigid against his, her hands hovering midair as if unsure where to land. He could feel her breath catch against his shoulder.

  Realization hit like a wave. Camdyn released her almost instantly, taking a hurried step back. “Sorry, I…” he started, but the words felt inadequate. “Old habits.”

  Flora blinked then her expression softened. “No need to apologize. It was… nice. Different.” she smiled slightly. “Very human.”

  She then shifted focus, looking upwards toward the Spire. It was still a ways up the cliffside from the rocky ledge where they stood. Not safe to pursue in the dark. Although, she longed too. The ground there was lusher, more familiar.

  “We should rest here.” she decided.

  Camdyn nodded. “I’ll get a fire going.”

  After collecting some dry twigs, he gathered them together, blowing on the small sparks to nurse a fire. Once the flames were burning brightly, Camdyn set to work on his arm. The claw marks were raw, red, and angry. He pulled out the bundle of herbs Alden had given him and selected an Aegisfern stem—its milky sap a natural antiseptic.

  Flora’s eyes glinted with recognition. “You use the plants of the forest to heal?”

  Camdyn smiled, “I try. I still have a lot to learn but I’ve found a few gems in the woods. I had to learn the hard way for a lot of it…”

  Flora tilted her head slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “So that’s what you were doing…”

  Camdyn opened his journal, flipping to a fresh page, and began documenting what they had seen in the sunken city. Coral-infused buildings. The alien-like trees. The larger than life crab sentinel. After a while, his pencil stilled. He tapped the edge of the page, the fire’s warmth doing little to thaw the memory of glowing eyes and bone-pale skin.

  He looked up at Flora, who sat quietly across from him, her gaze lost in the flames.

  “Those things earlier, the merrows. Were they Withered?”

  Flora’s expression darkened. She pulled her knees to her chest, staring into the flames for a moment before answering.

  “Not Withered,” she finally said, “but they weren’t always like that. They were once a beautiful, intelligent people. Keepers of the sea.”

  Camdyn’s brow furrowed. “What happened to them?”

  Flora’s voice grew quieter, tinged with sorrow. “Like the nymphs, they retreated as mankind rose. Many fled to open waters away from their home in the reef. When man pushed further, they too went deeper, far beneath the reach of the sun. But your machines followed deeper still piercing the fathomless, scraping the seafloor. And the poisons you spilled sank heavier than light, tainting everything.”

  She hugged her legs tighter. “The merrows fled deeper and deeper, until the cold was bone-deep and the pressure could crush steel. They used what remained from Old Magic to adapt. To breathe poison. To endure the weight of the ocean and her endless cold.” She paused. “But it came at a great cost.”

  Camdyn listened, unmoving.

  “Their bodies changed. Their minds began to fray. They survived, but over time… they lost who they were.”

  Camdyn sat quietly for a moment, absorbing her words. He looked down at his journal, the half-finished sketch of a merrow staring back at him with empty eyes. “And there’s no way to bring them back?”

  “The past can’t be undone,” Flora said softly. “But some merrows remain whole, still holding to who they were. We honor what was lost, yes, but we live for what is left, and for the days ahead.”

  As the fire crackled between them, Camdyn finished documenting the city’s eerie beauty, the sunken streets, the skeletal remains of forgotten buildings, and the strange creatures lurking just beneath the surface. There was so much more to uncover, so much to learn, but he knew they couldn’t stay there for too long.

  Flora shifted beside him, her fingers grazing the edge of a stone near the fire. "We should get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."

  Camdyn closed his journal and nodded. "Yeah. You're right."

  The two of them settled down for the night, their thoughts quiet but connected by the silent promise of what lay ahead. The fire flickered low, casting long shadows over the stone, as the world around them seemed to hold its breath in the calm before the storm.