A Mermaid for the Lonely

𝒯𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒞𝓁𝒾𝒻𝒻𝓈

The wind was relentless as Lyam trudged across the rugged cliffside, his hand gripping the old harpoon with white-knuckled tension. The faint glow of the moon barely pierced the clouds, casting the land in an eerie, muted light. Every gust cut through him, biting into his skin as if trying to strip him of his resolve. But he pressed on, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders.

Ahead, silhouetted against the distant, turbulent waves, was Mikkel. Lyam squinted, watching as the old sailor moved along the edge with surprising steadiness. The cliffside was treacherous, littered with loose rocks and razor-sharp stones that jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Yet Mikkel seemed unfazed, as if the landscape itself bent to his will. This was a man who'd made his peace with the sea and its dangers long ago, a man who saw this unforgiving coast as an ally.

Drawing closer, Lyam slowed his steps, the crunch of gravel underfoot mingling with the distant roar of the surf. The salt in the air stung his eyes, and the cold dampness clung to his skin. As he approached, Mikkel stopped, turning just enough for his weathered face to come into view, lit harshly by the moonlight that cast deep shadows into the wrinkles that etched his face.

"So, you're here at last," Mikkel's voice was gruff, blending with the sound of the waves crashing below, "So, you finally come to see reason?"

Lyam's jaw clenched as he tossed his harpoon to the ground. It clanged against the stones, the sound sharp and final in the night air. "No, Mikkel. I'm here to make you understand," he said, his voice tight. He moved closer, almost defiantly, his shadow stretching out behind him, swallowed by the darkness.

Mikkel scoffed, shaking his head. "Understand what? That you've gone mad, boy?" His eyes narrowed, glinting with a dangerous mixture of anger and pity. "Risking everything for some creature of the sea? You know nothing of what you're getting yourself into. You don't belong out here."

Mikkel's face twisted into a grimace as he stepped closer. "Aye, boy, you're caught up in something you can't see. That creature of yours—you think she's saving you, but she's dragging you down, like the tides that pull the weak to their graves."

"She's not a creature, Mikkel," Lyam retorted, his voice raw. "She's saved me more than once, even when I didn't want to be saved."

A flicker of surprise crossed Mikkel's face, then quickly faded into a hardened stare. "So you'd risk everything for her, would you? Throw away your life, your mind—everything you have—for some wild thing that belongs to the sea?"

The bitterness in Mikkel's voice struck Lyam like a blow, and he stepped closer, squaring his shoulders as he looked Mikkel directly in the eyes. "I already threw it all away once. I was drowning in grief when she saved me. If it weren't for Sirène, I'd have died right here, right where you're standing."

The older man's expression faltered, his mouth twisting as he stared at Lyam with something unreadable in his eyes. "You... you tried to take your life?" Mikkel's voice was lower now, almost a whisper, as if he couldn't fully believe what he was hearing. The stubborn hardness on his face wavered, and for a moment, he looked at Lyam not with anger but with a trace of sorrow, of something almost like regret.

Lyam nodded, the memories flashing painfully in his mind. "Yes. And that night, she pulled me out of that darkness. She keeps doing it, even now, every time I see her. She's brought me back to life."

The old sailor's face was unreadable as he listened, his silence stretching as the wind howled around them. But, after a moment, the hardness returned, cold and impenetrable as stone. "You think you love her?" Mikkel sneered, his voice laced with disbelief. "You think that a creature like that can even feel love?"

Lyam's jaw tightened as he took a step forward, the determination in his eyes blazing. "Yes. I love her, Mikkel. More than I can put into words. She's given me back something I thought I lost forever."

But Mikkel merely shook his head, his gaze steely. "You're a fool, boy. And I'm not about to let you throw your life away for something that doesn't belong here." His eyes darkened with resolve. "You leave me no choice."

In a swift, unexpected motion, Mikkel lunged forward, his fist swinging hard and fast. Lyam barely dodged, feeling the sting of Mikkel's blow graze his cheek. The two men stumbled backward, caught in a fierce struggle as the sea's relentless wind battered them.

Mikkel's years at sea had not dulled his strength. He moved with surprising speed, every strike and grapple carrying the weight of someone who had fought through countless storms. Lyam blocked and countered, using all his strength to stay grounded, but Mikkel was relentless, and soon, they were dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

With every shove, every wild lurch toward the jagged rocks below, Lyam's mind raced with images of Sirène. Her face, her voice, her unwavering gaze... everything he'd wanted to tell her, everything he'd felt, surged within him like a final plea.

"Mikkel, listen!" Lyam shouted, his voice straining as he grappled with the older man's iron grip. "She's not a threat. She's saved me more times than I can count and is fascinated by humans emotions. Please, understand!"

But Mikkel's expression remained unmoved, his gaze cold and unyielding. "You're blinded, boy," he growled. "And if you won't come to your senses, then it's up to me to keep you safe from yourself."

Mikkel lunged again, catching Lyam off-balance. They staggered closer to the edge, the ground crumbling beneath their feet. Lyam stumbled, and for one heart-stopping moment, he felt himself teetering on the brink, his back facing the endless drop.

Mikkel's grip tightened, his face close to Lyam's, their gazes locked in a final, bitter standoff. "Tell me why, Lyam. Why is this creature worth all of this?"

Lyam's voice came out in a breathless rush, the words raw and full of pain. "Because she saved me, Mikkel. That night on the cliffs, she pulled me back from the edge when I had nothing left. And she does it every day just by being with me."

The shock in Mikkel's eyes was unmistakable. For the briefest second, the old sailor faltered, his hand loosening just slightly on Lyam's collar.

A fierce gust whipped between them, sending a spray of saltwater high into the air, spattering their faces. Mikkel's gaze shifted to the jagged rocks below, the ocean's foaming waves crashing and churning in a frenzy. Lyam felt a chill run through him, a premonition of something inevitable, something he couldn't control.

"You're wasting your life on a fantasy," Mikkel muttered. But his voice was softer now, as if the reality of Lyam's words had chipped away at his resolve, if only just a little. "I watched you grow up. Taught you what I could about the sea. I don't want to lose you to it."

"Then don't." Lyam's voice was a fierce plea. "Trust me. Trust that I know what I'm doing." His voice grew softer, almost broken. "You gave me hope once. Don't take it from me now."

The tension between them hung thick in the air, almost suffocating. But just as Mikkel released Lyam and took a  step backwards, the cliff beneath Lyam's feet gave way, crumbling under the relentless onslaught of the wind and waves. His heart leapt into his throat as the ground slipped from beneath him, and he teetered, arms flailing for balance.

Mikkel lunged forward, his hand reaching out. But the distance was too far, and time moved too slowly.

In that split-second fall, memories flashed before Lyam's eyes—familiar and yet agonizingly different from the last time he'd felt himself plummet. He remembered the weight of grief, the desolate ache that had driven him to jump. But now, all he felt was regret, a desperate longing for more time.

As the darkness of the ocean rushed to meet him, he looked up one last time, seeing Mikkel's pale, stricken face silhouetted against the moon. The cliff grew smaller, swallowed by the night, and then he hit the icy water with a bone-jarring impact that stole the breath from his lungs.

The shock of the cold was immediate, searing through his body like fire, and the unforgiving waves crashed over him, dragging him down into their depths. His limbs felt heavy, useless against the strength of the current, but somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a fragile hope, a name whispered like a prayer: Sirène.

And as he sank, he let the darkness close in, clinging to that single, desperate thought.