The Triton

Chapter 15: Vivien

Her words struck harder than any weapon ever had. Emotion burned in me, embarrassment, pain, confusion, denial, it all roared and spun.

"What? How?" Rosann asked, his words short and sharp.

"Killed, this morning, when Specter escaped. His end was a cruel one, torturous. I––It felt...personal, somehow."

Rosann's eyes went wide. "Gelan...he is gone?" No answer was needed. He sat straight down, leaning back against the wall, eyes suddenly watching something a million miles away. His face contorted, profound emptiness etching itself into his face, a heaviness pulling at his shoulders.

My mother didn't look much better.

And there I was.

"He was...he was so excited to meet you, Viv," she said, voice quiet, as broken as the mirror in the bathroom. "He spoke incessantly of you, that he may reunite with his little girl one day."

I moved, sitting next to her. I couldn't process any of it.

"And the day I lay my eyes upon you once more is the very day he was torn from my embrace. From our people."

I was crying, too, then. Crying for a man I'd never met. I'd been so close––my human mother never spoke of a father, and now, when I was so close to meeting mine...killed. Brutally. By the beast.

Heat curled in my stomach, in the memories that surfaced. His emotionless black eyes––the brutal efficiency in which he had killed those merfolk, and maimed the fourth. Had he enjoyed killing my father? Is that where he found pleasure?

He'd nearly killed me, too.

For minutes, we sat. Tears dripped down my face, their heat sensitive and lasting against my scales. A single tear fell from Rosann's face, too.

The light began to fade outside. My mother slowly rose, and Rosann rose with her, sharing a small nod.

I stood up, pulling on my mother's arm. She turned back, almost surprised, and I buried myself into her. I felt the weight of her grief, the raw ache of loss radiating into me. I could sense the torrent of emotions coursing through her, the anguish of a heart shattered by the cruel hands of fate. With each beat, I felt her pain reverberate through me, aching and profound.

Yet, in the midst of her anguish, there was a fragile sense of solace, a glimmer of strength amidst the darkness that quickly bloomed brighter. I held her tighter, offering whatever comfort I could, a silent promise to share her burden, to stand by her side.

She had just lost family. So had I. But we had each other, at least.

"There is something I must do," she said, laying a kiss on my forehead.

"Are you going to kill him?" I asked.

She shook her head. "One day." She pulled away gently, finger tracing my jaw. "I love you, Viv." She stepped out, looking back as she closed the door.

"I love you too," I said. I wasn't sure if I meant it––but I wasn't sure if I was capable of feeling anything, then.

So instead, we sat there for a moment. Rosann's eyes were pools of glass, unfocused and wide.

"Who was he?" I asked. "My father, who was he?"

Rosann shook his head once.

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to, I just––"

"No, Your Highness, it is fine. Prince Gelan was the finest person I had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Just, fair, wise and kind, compassionate. He taught me everything I know of the worlds, our kind, merfolk, humanity, swords and magic and life and joy and sacrifice. He is––was––exactly what a Lightkeeper should be."

"He was your mentor? And what's a Lightkeeper? "

Another nod. "He was. An exceptional one at that." He paused. "That is a lesson for some time soon."

I nodded. Patience was fine. "Where is my mother going? Is she going to kill him?"

He shook his head. "No. You will see, soon."

The bedroom returned to silence, a silence that was too quiet, too profound. It bore the weight of the event.

It was odd to mourn a man I'd never met––but because I'd never met him, the pain burned all the worse. I'd never learn who he was, see the kindness Rosann spoke of, or hear his voice. It was a pain I never imagined I could feel, mourning a man I never knew, yet somehow, inexplicably, he was part of me.

The silence was broken by a single voice, my mother's voice, a soft, penetrating note floating through the water, through the glass, the air around us. The sound was pure, as pure as if I still wore my headphones.

"What is happening?" I whispered, afraid to interrupt the song.

"Merfolk do not die of age, so the loss of one is an enormous event, and are bound for life to their spouse. Those who loved them find a Sirensong inside in their grief. This is your mother, high in the Palace, grieving."

Her singing began to build, far more than just a single voice, stronger than a choir in a concert hall. Each note felt like a dagger to my heart, piercing through layers of grief and sorrow. Her voice, like a mournful whisper on the wind, carried a tangible weight, echoing through the caverns of my very being, stirring dark memories of darker times. Despite the pain it evoked, I couldn't tear myself away, transfixed by the raw, unfettered emotion in her song.

It burned brighter, the melody soared and dipped like cresting waves, rising to a crescendo of heart-wrenching sorrow before falling into a gentle lull, like the ebb and flow of the tide. I felt a strange sense of kinship with my mother, as if our shared grief bound us together in that moment. Tears welled in my eyes. It was a song of remembrance. It was grief, sadness, anger, pain, all woven seamlessly together.

And then came the other voices, and harmonies joined my mother's song. Realization struck. Three other voices. Then a fourth, each haunting in their song. Four voices, of four merfolk, slain by Specter.

The world outside slowed to a halt. No one moved, nothing moved, nothing shifted. Even the sea creatures stood still. The lights of the spires dimmed.

I do not know how long they sang. I know I cried the whole time, as did Rosann.

Eventually, the waters faded to silence, the room returned to noiseless emptiness.

"What do we do?" I eventually asked.

"You should rest, and heal, Your Highness," he said, squinting.

"Rest?"

"Indeed."

"Should I––do I go to my mother? Be with her?"

He shook his head. "Tomorrow will be a new day. And if this world has one thing to fear, it is an angry Eleanora."