Tempest Bound: The Fisherman's Lure

Chapter 1:Shadows on the Water

The sea, a deep pit of secrets best left uncovered, stretched out in front of her indefinitely. Seraphine, on the other hand, was never one to take advice seriously. Not even from those who arrived veiled in mythology or murmuring elderly seamen claiming to have observed occurrences beyond the realm of reason. Her gaze fixed on the starlit horizon, and despite the bitter breeze piercing through her, she gripped the railing of her father's ship, The Horizon's Call.

Her path defied all known laws of the sea, and the deck rose with the weight of an old wood, a voice in the darkness warning her. But the goal she had in mind centered her heart on what sent shivers down her spine tonight.

She had seen her father's face nearly a year ago. As he left Port Alnwick, his exhausted face was smiling, and he hugged her warmly. Only his pledge to return; no final words, no terrible goodbye. Still, she was on a ship whose sails lay limp in the midnight quiet and had ago faded from view.

A storm was approaching. She cradled his notebook against her breast, in her bones rather than above. She had gone over every single page since his departure, finding only hazy references to "deep tides," "unknown reefs," and "weird things beneath the hull." But those were the only hints left to her—clues so scattered they would be ignored as crazy babble by anyone else. To her, however, they were everything—the only link to a doom too dark for her intellect to fully comprehend.

"Seraphine."

She jumped. Turning to see Old Man Harlow, a retired sailor who had seen her father's ship return without him, she advised her against this journey. Though he didn't believe the whole myth, he had seen the odd scars on her father's body, evidence of something unexplained. He was the first person to say the name she now despised: "mermaid."

"What is it, Harlow?" She asked in a consistent voice.

His expression appeared grave, although it was merely a string of dried sea glass and bones, no more than a child's toy. He handed her a small, worn charm, saying, "I came to give you this for protection," with his eyes down. The sea seeks what it desires in many ways.

She placed the trinket in her pocket. Harlow's concern was nearly contagious, despite her lack of belief in charms or curses.

"Thanks," she replied, her voice softening. "I'll be careful."

She stood motionless, watching the waves gently lap against the ship's hull as Harlow's footsteps receded down the dock. Under the rolling waves and eerie silence, the truth about her father's death seemed far away. Though the road was dangerous and lonely, Seraphine felt a strange exhilaration, as if she was finally ready to discover something bigger than herself.

She had left the coast well before daylight. Rising like a bloody orange eye across the ocean, the sun cast shadows on the shimmering surface and accentuated the crests of distant waves. Seraphine directed with deft hands, her heart a strange mix of fear and exhilaration, her gaze shifting between the compass and the great sea.

The first few days were peaceful. She kept her mind occupied with charts, navigation, and measuring while she recorded her position on her father's old maps. But night after night, she felt the weight of being alone. Alone with only the creaking ship, it was evident how the mind might wander, misled into seeing figures in the sea or hearing voices in the darkness.

This happened on the fourth night.

Seraphine was startled awake by a huge tug on the ship's starboard side. She rose immediately, grabbed her father's lamp, and moved toward the railing. The ship came to a halt, as if under orders from another authority. She pointed the light down, almost expecting to see a boulder or another impediment.

Except for one thing: the water underneath her was clear and empty. Her fishing net was taut, something real tugging her down to depths she'd never seen before.

Seraphine, her heart racing, grasped the winch and carefully cranked it, feeling the resistance under her fingers as the net lifted, heavy with seawater. She gasped as the net reached out. It was the shape of a man, but not quite, it was a beast with a scarred visage that glittered in the moonlight.

He had human qualities, yet they were sharper and more angular, with strange marks down his neck and across his arms. And where his legs should have been, they gleamed like diamonds as a merman's long, muscular tail caught the weak light shimmering with silver and dark blue scales.

Seraphine's's eyes fixed on him, her heart skipping and her head spinning from the impossibility of it all. Here in her net was a legendary monster that was not supposed to exist. However, she is not delirious nor hallucinating. He lay there, eyes closed, barely breathing, his chest rising and falling in small breaths.

Though a series of questions rose to the surface, one concern loomed over them all—he was dying.

She grabbed him without thinking and tugged him free; her hands felt cold and rough against his skin. She dragged him onto the deck, and his eyes opened with an intense, ocean-blue look that captured her. His chest heaving, he peered at her with a mix of rage and fear.

She asked, "Who...who are you?" Her voice was hardly audible.

As he began to speak, just a choked sound came out. Despite his weakness, his hand firmly gripped her wrist. She tried to distance herself, but his gaze compelled her to say more than her words could convey.

Finally he whispered, his voice raspy and barely audible. "Do you know what you did?"

The problem loomed enormous, and Seraphine's heart pounded as her thoughts raced with doubt and terror. She had not only caught a merman but also introduced something even more dangerous into her life.

But his eyes rolled back, and he dropped out on the deck before she could respond.

Seraphine tended the monster, or Rowan, as she subsequently discovered his name. Looking at him, her mind raced, and she noticed the unusual tattoos on his skin, which are luminescent and shine whenever he moves; their meaning eluded her. Though nothing could have prepared her for the truth, she had grown up hearing stories about mermen and mermaids, as well as sirens who summoned men to their fate.

Rowan is alive , breathing, and completely real.

Over the next three days, Rowan regained his strength; they chatted cautiously, each apprehensive of the other. She discovered he had been defending his world, which was bound to the sea by ancient promises and mythology that she couldn't understand. She clearly understands loss, which he discovered as a result of his own secrets and her father's passing.

But each story he told raised more concerns, and Seraphine realized she had only scratched the surface of reality. Rowan's devotion to the water was unwavering; his words concealed silence and half-truths. Beyond himself, some ancient entity that stayed beneath the waves, watching them and waiting for a mistake, appeared to frighten him.

Despite the risk, she was drawn to him; her curiosity led her to seek solutions in regions best left unaffected by fear.

Then one evening, Rowan cautioned her.

"They are watching," he stated, his voice tense and low. "You have piqued their interest; they can feel me here, despite the fact that I am far from home.

She asked, her heart pounding.

"You will bring them upon you, and there will be no turning back if you continue this way forward." Her gaze locked with Rowan " There are ancient beings...entities beyond your knowledge."

She couldn't turn back; she'd come too far; her questions demanded answers; she pressed on despite his warning, sensing the air becoming colder and the waves becoming darker.

Seraphine was drawn to the edge of the ship one evening as they approached what Rowan characterized as "uncharted waters." She stared down into the depths and felt an odd tug in her breast, as if something beneath her was calling her name.

She gasped and turned to see Rowan near her, his grip tight and his eyes keen enough to both frighten and entice her. A hand immediately seized hers.

His eyes darted to the sea below; he said quickly, "Do not look down."

His words chilled Seraphine, but she couldn't take her gaze away from the sea's inky depths. She could see something moving beneath the surface, swirling in ways that defied description. Shadows appeared to have developed, twisting and writhing across the dark water like snakes.

"What precisely are they?" she said, her voice barely audible.

Rowan's palm remained resting on hers as he gazed fixedly at the sea. "They are old spirits, defenders of the deep, bound to keep the mysteries of the ocean from your race. They are unfriendly when it comes to trespassing.

Seraphine spoke with a mix of worry and frustration. Why did you let me catch you then?"

Rowan's jaw clenched as shame swept across his face. "For I had no option. You—" His gaze softened, and he paused. "Though you are unaware of it, you were calling. The ocean answers those on search of its truth. And..." he faded off, his speech almost audible. "Usually it responds in ways we never would have predicted."

Though Seraphine felt as if she had been drawn into something older and darker than any story she had ever heard, something far greater than herself, the words hung between them like an unseen thread connecting their fates.

The ship trembled, its timbers breaking as if under heavy load. Rowan's grip tightened, his face a mask of fear. Before she could urge him any farther, she heard a faint rumble from below.

"They're coming." he said, barely audible.

Seraphine clutched the railing and stared in dread as tendrils of black water erupted from the depths, writhing and twisting like liquid shadow serpents. Her pulse raced as the seas underneath her began to churn, twisting into a vortex and sending waves crashing against the ship's sides.

Rowan turned to face her, his face ashen. "You have to leave right away; you have no idea what you're up against!"

"But I don't have anywhere to go! She yelled out over the sound of the river. "I want answers; I need to know what happened to my father!"

Rowan's face softened, and a weird melancholy flashed in his eyes. "Some solutions, Seraphine, are not worth the effort. Your father may have discovered things in this world that transcend reason, as well as life and death.

Rowan grabbed her and tugged her close, his voice almost begging. One of the dark tendrils smacked against the hull, causing the ship to lurch violently; the power nearly knocked her off her feet. "Turn back now if you value your life!"

Still, another tendril emerged from the depths—this one larger, thicker, and more menacing than the others—before she could respond. Driven by dark, salt water, it hung over the deck, its form twisting and changing like a living thing. Then it began to softly drop toward them, as if drawn by an invisible force.

Rowan withdrew, his eyes fixated on the tendril with an expression of total fear. "No," he said, sounding terrified. "Their mark on you is clear."

"Marked me—? "

His face blanched as he turned toward her. "Drawing me from the depths will have linked you to them; they have claimed you, Seraphine, and they will not stop until they get what they desire."

Seraphine shouts as a tendril rushes toward her, securely grabbing her ankle. Her bones feel cold, and the darkness pulls her down with an unstoppable force.

Rowan moved forward, frantic on his face, and grabbed her arm. "Hold on!" he cried, his grip slipping as the tendril tightened.

The blackness twisted about her, pulling her toward the ship's edge and the whirlpool of underwater activity below. Her fingertips combed the deck; she fought against it, but the tendril remained.

Rowan's words pierced through the cacophony as she felt herself slipping over the edge.

"Let her go!" He yelled with authority that she had never heard before.

Her pulse racing, she sucked for oxygen and lurched backwards from the edge, her body trembling with adrenaline and fear. She was astonished when the tendril paused just long enough for her to pull herself back.

Rowan scrambled next to her, his expression a mixture of relief and worry. "You have to understand, Seraphine," he replied, his voice quiet but firm. "This isn't just a journey to find solutions; if you pursue this path, you'll be drawn into a universe where your kind doesn't belong.

Seraphine stared at him, a huge will quieting her anxiety; her voice was cutting, she said, "I don't care. I need to know the truth, whatever it takes."

Rowan looked at her with intensity, his eyes filled with grief and respect. "Then you have to be ready," he murmured gently, "For what comes ahead could be more horrible than anything you can imagine."

Though Seraphine knew they were watching, monitoring, and timing their bids, the shadows around him seemed to fade as he talked, with the tendrils crawling back into the ground as if in retreat.

As the ship sank back into the steady pulse of the waves, she became aware of something horrifying: the shadows had vanished, but not without leaving a trace.

She looked down at her ankle, where the tendril had grabbed her, and noticed a thin, dark mark shaped like a bruise in the spiral of a shell pulsing softly, as if alive, as if tied to her own soul.

"What exactly is this? " She murmured, her fingers lightly brushing her skin.

Rowan's face grew white, his eyes darkened. "It's a claim," he muttered, his voice barely audible; "In their eyes, you are now one of them."

Seraphine felt a cold terror wash over her. "What does that mean?"

With a gloomy tone, Rowan added, "It means that they will follow you, no matter where you go." Seraphine, you now live in their world—a world that never lets go.

Seraphine felt the strange warmth and disruptive pulse of the black bruise on her ankle as a heavy stillness fell between them. Despite her efforts to find a way out, she had become entangled in a web far beyond her control.

With his hand on her shoulder, Rowan grounded her and reminded her that she was not alone in this. "We will face them together," he whispered softly, his voice laced with a muted will. However, you have one vow I really need."

She concentrated her attention solidly on him. Everything.

"Promise me you'll heed my warnings," he urged, his eyes icy. "Promise me you won't allow your curiosity to drive you deeper into their grip."

Her mind was whirling, but she nodded, knowing deep down that she was unable to stop the force of the future. "I vow."

Rowan eyed her, as if he could see the truth reflected back in her sight, and nodded, flattening his face. "Then we prepared for what is to come."

Seraphine turned away, her heart racing with an odd mix of terror and thrill as she peered once again at the black sea. Though the darkness had taken and marked her, she was not done seeking answers; there were more to come.

As the first light of morning rose across the horizon and softly lit the sea, she sensed a new resolve growing inside her: she would face whatever lay ahead—whether mysteries or monsters—she will head on.

But the mark on her ankle pulsed again, a gentle reminder of the melancholy hiding under the surface as the ship sailed away.

And somewhere below, something observed and waited