Echos of the deep

Chapter 1, Mer-People

The old cottage by the ocean smelled like slat and cedarwood, a familiar mix that always reminded Layla Willows of summers spent with her grandparents.  It was a small, charming house with weathered white paint and flower boxes that spilled over with brightly colored petunias. Layla stood at the edge of the wooden porch, the rhythmic crash of waves a soothing background to her thoughts. She tightened her grip on her suitcase and took a deep breath.

"Good to have you here, sweetheart," Her grandma Delancey said, smiling warmly as she stepped out onto the porch. "This summer is going to be good for you. The ocean has a way of working magic on the soul."

Layla smiled faintly and nodded. The move to the small coastal town felt like a fresh start-or at least a temporary escape from the whirlwind of thoughts that had consumed her lately. She needed this, a quiet reprieve to rediscover herself.

It didn't take long for the town's charm to begin working on her. The market square was bustling with friendly faces, colorful produce, and little shops that felt untouched by time. Her grandparents' house was nestled just a short walk from the docks, where fishing boats swayed lazily on the tide. The air was clean and filled with the scent of sea spray and wildflowers.

On her second day, while she was perched on the porch with a book, a knock at the gate startled her. She looked up to see a boy-no, a young man-with tousled blonde curls and eyes so light they seemed to shimmer in the sun. He wore a lazy smile, one that seemed to come naturally on him.

"Hey there," he said, leaning casually against the gate. "You must be the famous granddaughter."

Layla blinked, caught off guard by his sudden appearance and the way his smile seemed to tilt the world just a little. "Uh, yeah, that's me," she stammered, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face.

"I'm Francis, Francis Sinclair. I live next door." His voice was smooth, and there was something disarming about the way he spoke, like he already knew you'd like him. "Thought I'd stop by and welcome you to our little corner of the world."

Layla felt her cheeks warm as she tried to muster a coherent response. "Thanks. It's nice to meet you,"

For a moment, he held her faze, and she could have sworn there was something genuine in his smile. But the moment passed, and he nodded toward the town. "Well, if you need someone to show you around, I'm your guy."

Before she could reply, he was already heading back toward the fence, throwing a casual wave over his shoulder. Layla watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of exhilaration and unease.

As the days passed, Layla began to notice Francis around town more often-always surrounded by people, always laughing, always looking as though he belonged wherever he was. It didn't take long for her to see him for what he really was: a charmer, someone who thrived on attention. Her suspicions were confirmed one afternoon when she spotted him on the beach, leaning far too close to a blonde girl who giggled at everything he said.

Layla's stomach twisted uncomfortably as she turned away, determined not to let her disappointment show. Of course he's that kind of guy, she thought bitterly. It was just as well. She wasn't here to get involved with anyone, especially not someone like Francis Sinclair.

That night, unable to sleep, she wandered down to the docks. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a sliver glow over the water. She sat on the edge of the wooden planks, letting her feet dangle over the edge. The sound of the waves lapping against the shore was comforting, but it wasn't enough to keep her thoughts at bay.

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying. She hated how easy it was for her emotions to overwhelm her, how quickly she let herself get caught up in things that didn't matter. She wiped her face angrily, determined to push the feelings away.

And then she heard it-a voice, soft and melodic, drifting across the water. It was a song, though she couldn't make out the words. It was unlike anything she'd ever heard, a sound that seemed to wrap under her like a warm embrace.

Layla leaned forward, peering into the dark water. The surface rippled slightly, but she couldn't see anything beneath. Her heart raced as the song grew louder, more insistent. Without thinking, she leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever-or whoever-was singing.

Suddenly, a hand shot out of the water, cold and strong, and grabbed her wrist. Layla barely had time to gasp before she was pulled under.

The world around her blurred into shades of blue and green, the cold water stinging her skin. She thrashed wildly, panic setting in, until she caught a glimpse of something moving beside her-a figure with a sleek, blue tail that shimmered like the surface of a gemstone. His face came into focus: sharp features, golden hair that floated like silk, and eyes as dark as the abyss.

Before she could scream, he pressed his lips to hers. A strange warmth spread through her, and she felt a sudden, inexplicable shift. Her legs-she couldn't feel them anymore. The panic subsided for a moment as she looked down, only to see her body changing, her legs elongating into something smooth and unfamiliar.

But just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. The merman's expression twisted into one of frustration as he realized what he's done. With a flick of his tail, he pushed her back toward the surface, breaking through the water and dragging her onto shore.

Layla lay there, gasping for air, her mind spinning with what had just happened. She looked up at the merman, who hovered just below the surface, his expression unreadable.

"You weren't supposed to-" he began, but stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You have no idea what you've done."

Layla sat up, staring at him.