"—I’ll drown you myself," Valeris finished, glaring at Freya, who just cackled and spun in the water, sending bubbles in all directions.
"Oh, you look amazing," Freya said, swimming circles around her. "Like a grumpy storm goddess. We should get you a trident and a throne made of kelp."
"Keep talking," Valeris muttered, "and I’ll test whether mermaids can throw punches underwater."
Catherine, still adjusting to her new tail, floated nearby with wide eyes. "This feels so weird... but also kind of freeing." She flicked her tail gently and twirled in place, laughing as streams of light followed her movement.
Asher watched them all from a few steps away, or rather, a few graceful undulations of his new silver-black tail. His transformation had been smooth, his form lithe and strong. "I thought this would be ridiculous," he admitted. "But it’s surprisingly... peaceful down here."
"See?" Freya beamed, doing a slow backflip. "Sometimes you need to stop being a Sovereign and just be a fish."
"Fish with abs," Veyra said, swimming by with a soft grin. Her tail was a dark red, like aged wine, with subtle scale patterns that shimmered when she moved.
They spent the next few hours exploring the underwater expanse below the reef. The Mer-Pill had granted them not only tails but the ability to breathe and speak underwater effortlessly. They moved through coral tunnels, past singing anemones, and through curtains of drifting kelp that danced with soulfire sparks.
They found sunken statues of forgotten ocean gods, schools of illusion fish that changed colors based on who was looking at them, and glowing spheres filled with dreams harvested from the sea floor.
At one point, they swam through an ancient arch where time moved differently—memories surfacing like bubbles in the water. Asher paused beneath it, and for a brief second, he saw himself as a child again, standing alone beneath a gray sky.
But when he looked to the side, the others were there. Laughing. Calling him forward. And the memory faded, replaced with something warmer.
By the time they returned to the coral hut, the sun above the ocean was beginning to dip, casting golden rays through the water that lit up everything like an underwater dream.
The monkey sage chuckled as they surfaced, their tails already beginning to fade back into legs.
"Best idea I’ve ever had," Freya declared, flopping dramatically onto a floating bed.
Valeris just shook her head, trying not to smile. "If you ever bring this up again, I deny everything."
"I have witnesses," Freya replied, pointing at everyone else.
"And I have silence pills."
That night, back in their suite carved from coral and shell, they gathered under soft soul-lamps and shared fruit tea infused with dream herbs. No big discussions. No future plans. Just warmth, quiet laughter, and the gentle lapping of waves against the dome.
The next morning arrived without urgency—no alarms, no battles, no urgent discussions—only the gentle shimmer of morning light dancing through the sea above their dome-shaped suite.
Freya was the first to wake, stretching lazily and muttering something about needing "sea-coffee." Catherine slept soundly near the edge of the coral bed, her hair spread like golden threads in the warm glow. Valeris was already up, quietly sipping tea by the curved glass wall, watching a school of bright-blue fish flutter past like drifting petals.
Asher lay still, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling where strands of glowing vine-petals pulsed slowly in rhythm with the currents.
Veyra rolled over beside him and smiled sleepily. "You’re awake and thinking again."
He gave a soft nod. "A little. Just taking it in."
"It’s peaceful," she murmured, curling up next to him. "Let’s not rush out."
That morning passed gently. They lounged, laughed, and floated from one glowing platform to another on soft soul-pads—seating cushions that hovered above the water, guided by touch and thought.
By noon, they decided to visit the T’ark Marine Museum—a glass hall built along a curved reef wall. Inside, they found suspended walkways lined with open-view tanks. Each tank displayed rare and colorful creatures from across the sector—jewel-scaled squids, translucent turtles, spiral-eyed octopi, and even a glimmerfin eel that danced to nearby music.
"Is that one... waving at us?" Catherine laughed, pointing at a bright pink fish that seemed to hover in place, turning in slow, deliberate circles.
"It’s doing a little dance," Freya nodded, tapping the glass. "I think I’ve found my spirit animal."
The museum also held artifacts—old tools once used by underwater cultivators, sculpted masks worn for deep meditation, and tiny preserved plants that sparkled faintly when touched. Veyra paused before one such display and gently brushed her fingers across the case. A soft sparkle pulsed outward, as if in greeting.
They passed through quiet coral gardens with built-in benches and soft soul-wind playing gentle oceanic music. One chamber had a spiral ceiling that filtered light into rainbow patterns, bathing them in color as they walked.
Afterward, they had lunch at a small dome-café nestled along the reef’s edge. Tables were half-submerged, allowing small sea creatures to drift by beneath their feet. The food was light and delicious—sea-petal rolls, mistfruit tea, and something called "bubble noodles" that popped with flavor when bitten.
As the day wore on, they drifted farther out into the less-traveled paths of T’ark. They found floating bridges made of living coral, swaying softly with each step. Birds of the sea—winged fish with glowing fins—danced overhead in flocks.
Follow current novels on Novel~Fire. (n)et
Later, they stumbled across a quiet lagoon where the water was warm and glass-clear. No other visitors were around, and the trees growing along the shoreline bore soft bells that chimed with the breeze.
They swam for hours, playfully racing and diving. Catherine tried to balance standing on a drifting shell until Freya flipped it over with a mischievous grin. Valeris floated on her back in silence, eyes closed, the sun glinting off her skin like a calm mirror. Asher and Veyra lounged side by side on a reef ledge, their toes just brushing the waves.
"This," Freya said, arms stretched behind her head, "is what I want to remember."
"That and the seaweed waffles," Catherine added, making everyone laugh.
As evening came, T’ark’s staff surprised them with a soft farewell dinner—nothing extravagant, just a cozy floating table set among soul-lanterns shaped like drifting jellyfish. The food was warm, the drinks sweet, and the stars above shone through the ocean ceiling, each one mirrored faintly by the glowing reef below.
The next day brought the same soft tranquility—the kind that made time feel slower, like the sea itself wanted them to stay a little longer.
After a light breakfast of steamed reeffruit and sweetened shellbread, the group decided to visit T’ark’s famed Oceanic Museum, nestled within a spiraling glass structure that looked like a nautilus shell half-buried in the reef. It wasn’t a religious site or a sacred ground—just a place where beauty, art, and history were collected for curiosity’s sake.
Inside, the halls curved gently and shimmered with refracted light, giving the illusion of walking through a living current. Floating panels displayed old relics from sunken ships, ancient tools from early underwater settlers, and vivid moving portraits of marine creatures now extinct.
Freya stopped at a sculpture of a manta-ray made from layered crystal and said, "If I could ride one of those through a storm, I’d die happy."
Catherine wandered toward a section filled with preserved shells, each more intricate than the last. "You know," she said, running a finger along a golden spiral, "I think I missed out not being born underwater."
Valeris lingered at a quiet side exhibit, watching a slow animation of coral blooming and fading through the centuries. "No words," she whispered. "Just... calm."
Asher didn’t say much, but he moved through the exhibits with a small smile, his shoulders a little looser than usual. He and Veyra ended up in front of an enormous mosaic showing T’ark from above, glowing with lights like constellations stitched into the sea.
"This," she murmured, "is what true beauty looks like."
They spent the better part of the day exploring the museum’s various chambers—one section was dedicated entirely to culinary evolution under the sea, another showed old entertainment reels from festivals and water-dances held centuries ago. It wasn’t flashy. But it was peaceful. Human, in its own way.
Afterward, they took a gentle glide-taxi through a kelp forest, the sunbeam eels swimming alongside their vehicle like playful pets. Valeris even leaned out to touch one—earning a soft zap and a laugh.
They stopped at a floating café where drinks were served in bubble-orbs that hovered until popped. Freya had one that tasted like citrus and honey; Catherine’s turned to frost on her tongue. Veyra stuck with plain chilled tea, leaning back with eyes closed, her head resting on folded arms.
No battles. No noise. Just the sound of water lapping and the distant calls of seabirds flying over the dome’s surface.
That evening, they returned to their suite one last time.
They didn’t make speeches, didn’t mark the night with anything dramatic. Instead, they all sat around the wide window looking out at the ocean floor, eating simple fried rice with sea herbs and laughing at the way Freya couldn’t use chopsticks underwater.
"Let’s come back one day," Catherine said suddenly. "Just for a week. No missions. No danger. Just us."
Asher nodded. "Yeah. We will."