Death at Sea

No one thought that mankind would not be afraid of the sea. Its human nature to be very, very afraid of the blue waters that cover most of the planet. Yet, around 50 years ago, scientists discovered things on the bottom of the deepest ocean that would be able to help humanity survive for another millennia. Why it was important, I am not sure. Something about an energy source that was so rare, yet so essential to life. Of course they would search the sea for it. For years, my mother claimed that mankind has lived solely for the purpose for us to claim their souls. When a human dies, especially one at sea, my people are the ones who either send the souls to the heavens, or keep it for ourselves, unleashing the darkness that lay within man’s soul into our own. We call them the Singers, yes Singers, not Sirens. Sirens truly aren’t as evil as mankind has made them to be, but they do lure men to the depths. That much is true.

Mother taught me the basics of life, my brother has taught me to enjoy the things that make life enjoyable, and my father taught me to never give up on family and your dreams. Simple. No complications of any sort. That is, until the kingdom that we lived in fell under the leadership of a madman.

King Derek was a merman, just like my brother and father, but he was the example of the merman that sailors have spun tales of: a killer, desperate for a man’s soul in his hands. Rumor said that he was a Singer, and was desperate for more and more power. He started out as a simple farmer, tending to the pods of dolphins and whales. But once a fishing boat tried to kill many of the whales that Derek tended to; outraged, Derek drowned a sailor that was about to stick a harpoon into a baby Blue Whale. He killed everyone on board. From there, Derek searched the world for more “killers”, and killed anyone and everyone who tried to kill any sort of sea creature. But the darkness in his heart grew even stronger when he killed his first woman. Legend says that if you kill someone of the opposite sex, then the high is ten times better, and is the most wonderful thing in the world. It was this killing that allowed him to be fueled enough to go after the crown, of which had not been bestowed on anyone for millennia, due to the Great Era of Peace. But the crown wasn’t enough for him. His reign of terror had only begun. He ordered hunts on mankind, giving merfolk reason to use the talents that lay within all of us, only dormant until the time for mating. But mating hasn’t happened for centuries. It was banned, and the powers were used for evil, not good as the Creator had intended.

I was born on the last possible moment, conceived during the final Mating, the last child that was created by the bond that was supposed to be for everyone. I was born late, a moon or so after every other child had been born.

Because of me, the king has banned any child conceived during the Final Mating to become part of the Legion, a branch of the Royal Army designed solely for merfolk to kill mankind on raids. Why me, no one will say. Some assume its because of how late I was, some say because he was angry at my generation. Either way, I am doomed to a life of killing.

A life of exile from life with a family.

A life of no freedom.

Like living death. Death at sea.