Xanthus swam through the darkened hall toward a secret room located deep inside his father’s mansion. He searched for any servants, or worse, his father. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t too nervous—it was long after everyone’s bedtime. His father was asleep and wasn’t there to tell him that he couldn’t go in that room. “It’s no place for a child,” his father had said. But Xanthus was tough. His father just didn’t know him well enough.
Xanthus’s tiny hand pushed the heavy door open. He jumped when the lights turned up. He almost fled back to his room. But warriors don’t flee from danger, and, someday, he’d be the bravest warrior ever.
When he turned back into the room, his eyes fell on a beautiful sight—the face of a female. Her pale hair haloed her perfect features. Xanthus was about to swim away before she had a chance to see him when he realized something was not right. Her milky white eyes were open, but they couldn’t see a thing. She was dead.
Her body floated in a tank—a tank similar to those they kept their fish in at dinner time. But this one stood taller, the water tinted green.
Xanthus wanted to leave, but he had to be brave. What had happened to the beautiful female? He forced his little body to swim closer. His eyes widened when he saw her chest. Right where her heart should have been was a gaping hole. The sight sickened him. He no longer cared about being brave now. He had to get away from here.
Xanthus turned and swam straight into his father. “Xanthus, what are you doing here?”
“Father,” he said. “I was just going back to my room.”
“So you think you can just go and I’ll forget that you disregarded my order?”
“I’m sorry, Father…”
“No. You wanted to see it. So here, take a good look.” His father dragged him over to the tank and pressed his face against the hard glass.
The female’s lifeless eyes stared back at Xanthus. He didn’t want to see it, but he couldn’t resist looking at the gaping, jagged hole rimmed with pale flesh and broken ribs.
“Do you know what she is, son?” his father asked.
Xanthus’s brows knitted in confusion. It was obvious she was a female Dagonian. But maybe she wasn’t. Why else would his father ask that question? He shook his head.
“It’s a pathetic young mermaid. She begged me for her life, but warriors don’t listen to sniveling cowards, son. Before I killed her, I cut out her tongue. Then I tore her beating heart from her chest.”
Xanthus frowned, his stomach soured. His father was a coward, boasting about killing a weak female. “Why did you kill her?”
“She’s a mermaid, that’s the best reason,” his father said, with glee in his voice.
“What about King Triton? Why didn’t he stop you?”
Xanthus’s father glared at him. “Poseidon ordered that we kill all the Mer. The day the last one was killed was a day of celebration for every Dagonian.”
Xanthus didn’t understand. He’d thought when he became a warrior, he’d be protecting females. Not killing them.
His father snarled and dragged him close so they were nose to nose. “You pity them?” The current of his breath brushed Xanthus’s face.
Xanthus was too scared to answer truthfully, so he shook his head.
“You’d better not. The Mer were fouler than humans. I only wish my sons could have joined me in their slaughter.”
