A Merman's Vow(Sequel to A Mermaid's Cry)

Chapter 1-Desire For What Is Lost

Ares

The morning rays of dawn peaked through the curtains as I packed and then repacked again my meager belongings into the travel sack. I ached still, every burn underneath the bandages stinging and itching as if hundreds of ants were crawling across my skin. But the irritation and slight stinging pain was nothing compared to the typhoon whirling and blowing in my heart.

It is a difficult and awkward task for me to put on the sack. The bandages are stiff, impeding my movements to a snail's crawl. I have already taken enough time as it is to throw on my single pair of pants, a shirt, and the leather boots that pinch my feet. But what is this physical pain compared to the agony gripping me from within? The ache, the burn, the desire for what is gone. For what has been taken, stolen, carried away far beyond my reach.

Gulls cry from beyond the window behind me. The faint sound of ocean waves crashing onto the sandy shore by the port's docks. The gentle breeze of warmth blowing through the curtains, stirring my hair and sending a sprouting of goosebumps along my skin. The smell of salt fills my nose, as does the heavy perfume from the governor's rose bushes. Roses the color of dark red wine. Scarlet blooms that have no equal in the eyes of humans, but to me there is one thing that outshines any ruby hued flower.

Slipping my hand into the travel sack, I hook a single finger round the edge of a brown silken ribbon. Pulling out the handful of ribbon, I place it into the palm of my hand freshly emblazoned with three intersecting circles. The ribbon whispers across the scarred area of skin. A shudder rushes through me with a memory of something else that felt like the cool richness of this single ribbon.

Hair. Long waves of tangled wild hair. Locks that blew in the wind, fanning out like the tendrils of an octopus's tentacles. Rich, dark, red hair. Crimson ringlets framing a face sharper than an obsidian blade. Curls circling eyes of brown speckled with spots of green. The eyes of a woman whose mouth could peal back into a smile of plump lips, or a set of razor sharp fangs. Fangs pale as bone, moon white as her skin. Flesh marred at the shoulders and neck, with patches of brown gold scales that glowed like molten gold under lighted candles of gilded chandeliers.

This simple length of silk, a physical reminder of what has changed my life forever. Its owner lost to the hands of a mad man. A human captain bent on performing an unholy ritual to bring back what should be left to rest. A man that now wishes to use an unwilling captive to complete it. To control an army the world has never seen, and will surely fear throughout the kingdoms and seas. A captive that has brought change, fear, and rumors of a creature that now haunts Isla de las Oro. Home to the Darkarian colony of Port Valor.

A human settlement now rife with the worries of a people who witnessed sights no mortal has ever dared to look upon. A maiden crowned with blood red hair. The mark of Taranus. The Dakarian God of War. It was she who emptied a tavern with just a single word. It was she who killed three men in cold blood in broad daylight. It was she who the humans of Isla de las Oro called the Scarlet Maid. A woman feared by those who have seen her meet out a wrath drenched with blood and suffering. A female scorned by my pod. A girl whose heart is as pure as the rarest jewel. A Mer that has stolen my heart. Whose name slips past my lips and brings a tear racing down my cheek.

"Corintha," I whisper, my voice shaking in utter reverence, morphing into a gasping sob that shatters me into a snuffling crying mess. "Please be all right. Please my darling treasure. I cannot bear to be in this world without you."