Chapter 210

The walk home was slow, my arms full of three curious, frightened, exhausted daughters. But we made it, and when we pushed through the door, the house was already awake.

My mates were gathered, their faces bright with anticipation. And behind them, the children. All of them. My older boys, my other lion cubs, my cheetah cubs, my serpent children, my pups, all of them crowding the doorway, eager, excited, waiting.

"Their tails are gone!" Jasper shouted, his eyes going wide.

"They have legs!" Levy squealed.

"Look at them!" Atlas laughed, his voice full of delight. "Look at their little feet!"

The girls clung to me, overwhelmed by the noise, the faces, the sudden, chaotic joy of their siblings. But slowly, as the children crowded around, their voices soft and their hands gentle, the fear faded. The girls reached back, their little legs kicking, their little hands grabbing at the fingers offered to them. They could not tell their siblings how they felt, could not reach their minds the way they had before, but they did not need to. Their wide eyes, their small smiles, their eager little hands said everything.

"These are your siblings," I said softly. "All of them. Your brothers and sisters. They have been waiting to meet you."

And my mates gathered close, Leon, Ravin, Veylan, Soryn, Aureon, Eryx, each of them reaching out to touch the girls, to welcome them, their faces soft with wonder at the miracle before them.

"Welcome home," Ravin murmured, his voice thick.

"Welcome home," the others echoed.

And the girls, my beautiful, impossible, newly legged daughters, looked around at their enormous, chaotic, loving family, and their little faces split into smiles, wide and bright and utterly joyful.

But then the smiles began to fade.

It started with Irysindra. She grew fussy, her little legs kicking restlessly, her face pinching with discomfort. Then Seraphyna, then Kalisseyani, all three of them growing agitated, their skin going pale, a fine, cold sweat breaking out across their foreheads. They whimpered, a thin, reedy sound that had no words, and they clung to me with a desperation that had not been there moments before.

"What is wrong?" I asked, my heart lurching. "Caelion? Caelion, something is wrong."

Caelion looked at them, and his face went white.

"The water," he said, his voice tight with sudden panic. "They need the water. They have not mastered their shifting yet, Krys. They cannot hold this form. If they stay on land too long, their bodies will try to shift back on their own, and it is too early, they cannot be in their Mer form on land, they will die. They will tear themselves apart."

"Then we go now," Leon said, already moving. "Now, this instant."

The household erupted. Leon scooped up Seraphyna, Ravin took Kalisseyani, and I clutched Irysindra to my chest. The children scattered, clearing a path, and we ran, the whole family streaming through our yard towards the lagoon, a chaotic, desperate procession under the moonlight.

And all the while, the girls grew worse. Their breathing turned ragged, their little bodies shaking, the cold sweat drenching their little bodies. Seraphyna began to cry, real tears, her face twisted with fear and pain. And in the silence of my mind, where their voices had once lived, there was only emptiness.

Faster. We had to go faster.

"It is my fault," I gasped, running, my lungs burning. "I rushed it. I was so eager, so impatient, I should have waited, I should have known..."

"You could not have known," Ravin panted beside me. "None of us knew. Not even Caelion knew."

We reached the lagoon, and Caelion plunged into the water without hesitation, shifting as he went, his tail flashing silver and blue in the moonlight. Leon and Ravin followed, wading in up to their chests, and one by one, we lowered the girls into the lagoon.

The effect was immediate.

The moment the water touched their skin, the trembling eased. The moment they were submerged, the cold sweat faded, replaced by the cool, familiar embrace of the deep. And as I watched, breathless, my daughters began to shift back.

Their little legs flickered, softened, then split and reformed, the pale skin giving way to iridescent scales, the small feet becoming fins once more. It was gentler this time, smoother, as though their bodies were sighing with relief, returning to the shape they knew. And within minutes, all three of them had tails again, their true form, their first form, the shape they had been born to.

And then their inner voices returned.

Mama, Irysindra whispered, weak but clear.

Mama, we are safe, Seraphyna breathed.

Mama, do not cry, Kalisseyani added.

I was crying. I had not realized it. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the water, and I gathered all three of them into my arms, pressing them to my heart.

"I am sorry," I choked out. "I am so sorry. I rushed you, I..."

"Do not blame yourself," Caelion said, swimming close, his hand on my cheek. "None of us knew they could not hold their form yet. We were just so happy. So eager. We wanted to show them the world."

"They almost died."

"They did not die. They are here. They are safe." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "We got them back in time. We always do."

I held my daughters, my beautiful, impossible daughters, and I made a silent promise. They would not leave the lagoon again. Not until they had mastered their shifting. Not until they could hold their form for more than an hour. Not until they were strong enough to walk on land without fear.

"You stay here," I told them, my voice firm despite my tears. "Until you are ready. Until you can hold your legs without hurting. Do you understand?"

Yes, Mama, they whispered, three voices in perfect harmony.

"We will wait," Caelion said. "We will teach them. Slowly. Properly. And when they are ready, truly ready, they will walk on land, and the whole world will be theirs."

And in the dark water, surrounded by my family, my daughters safe in my arms, I let the guilt go and let the hope in.

They were alive. They were safe.

And that was all that mattered.

---

After the scare, everything changed.

The family gathered that night, shaken and quiet, and they decided, all of them, that the Pearlings would not come to them for now. Instead, they would go to the Pearlings. If the children missed their sisters, they would swim down to see them. If they wanted to hold them, they would come into the water and hold them there. The lagoon would be the meeting place, the sacred ground where their mer daughters lived, and the land would wait until the girls were ready.

And so, the visits began.

The next morning, Levy appeared at my side, dressed in her simple tunic, her black hair braided back, her dark eyes bright with determination. "I want to see them, Mama," she said. "Seraya, Nyssara, and Elira too. We all want to see them. Can we come?"

"Of course," I said, my heart swelling. "Come."

Caelion met us at the shore, pressing air bubble masks to each of the girls’ faces, their eyes going wide as the enchanted bubbles formed around their heads, allowing them to breathe in the depths, it never gets old how fascinated the girls would become by seeing their air bubble masks. Levy, brave Levy, took my hand, and we descended together, the serpent girls following close, their green hair floating in the water like seaweed, their emerald eyes luminous with wonder.

And there, in the glowing depths of the lagoon, the Pearlings waited.

They lit up the moment they saw their sisters. Their little voices rang out in all of our minds, bright and joyful, a chorus of delight. They swam circles around the girls, faster than they had ever swum before, showing off their speed, their agility, their tails flicking with excitement.

Levy! Levy! Levy! they sang.

Seraya! Nyssara! Elira!

Levy laughed, the sound strange and wonderful through her mask, and reached out to catch Irysindra as she swam past, gathering the tiny mer baby into her arms. Irysindra squealed with joy, wrapping her little arms around her sister’s neck, pressing her cheek to Levy’s.

The serpent girls did the same, each of them catching a Pearling, holding them close, cooing and laughing and playing. And the Pearlings, my daughters, glowed with happiness, their azure hair floating around them like halos, their little faces bright with pure, uncomplicated love.

I watched them, my daughters and my daughters, the land and the sea, bound together by blood and love and something stronger than either. And I thought, not for the first time, about how beautiful they were.

All of them. Every single one.

Levy, with her black hair and her fierce spirit, her beauty sharp and wild, like her father. The serpent girls, ethereal and graceful, their green hair and emerald eyes making them look like creatures from a dream. And the Pearlings, my azure daughters, so perfect they seemed unreal, so luminous they seemed to glow from within.

And as I looked at them, at all of them together, playing in the water, laughing and swimming and holding each other, I wondered.

How much more beautiful would they become?

As it stood, I had never seen more perfect females in this world. Not in all my years here, not in all the tribes I had visited, not in all the faces I had seen. My daughters were something else entirely. Something beyond beauty. Something almost divine.

And they were only going to grow.

The thought was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. Because if they were this beautiful now, as children, as babies, what would they be as women? What would happen when they came of age? What chaos would they unleash upon the world, and how many hearts would they break without even trying?

"Krys," Caelion murmured beside me, following my gaze. "You are thinking too hard again."

"I am always thinking too hard," I admitted.

"What is it this time?"

I looked at our daughters, at all of them, and I smiled. "Just... wondering how much trouble they are going to cause when they grow up."

Caelion laughed, the sound warm and bright in the water. "A great deal," he said. "A truly enormous amount. And we will be right here, watching, helpless to stop it. "I know all of us father would most likely cough up blood seeing our daughter being pursued by these beast boys."

"Helpless," I agreed. "But coughing up blood? You’re exaggerating Caelion."

And we floated there together, watching our daughters play, our hearts full, our worries set aside for just a moment.

Just for this moment.

For now, they were small. They were safe. They were ours.

Let’s not let the future stop us from enjoying our life.