At long last, her ship was saved, her future secured. Beasts of lesser value could easily cover her debts, but this… Could this be the miracle she’d been hoping for? Divine intervention was not something Beatrix believed in, but she just might make an exception. Even the waves seemed to calm down as they sailed on.

Fins glittering with scales swished around in an old wooden barrel that still smelled of rotten fish. Green scleras watched her as she paced about the ship. His tail was so cramped he could barely keep his gills below the water, but still he did not thrash around or make any protest. It was strange, to be sure. Jabbingly, the thought entered Beatrix’s mind: “What did he do to deserve this?” Knives had duller edges than the sharp guilt that seized her. Lavish wealth and more awaited her as soon as they reached port, but at what cost? Maybe it was fatigue or maybe it was empathy, but she could not shake the feeling of shame.

Nobody had ever debated the existence of merfolk, only their market value. Opulent prices could be put on anything, from scales to blood to bones. Port was his death sentence, signed and delivered by her. Quite the conundrum, this: His captivity and death for her freedom and new life of sailing across the waters of his home.

Raspy and tired, her voice spoke out into the quiet rythm of the sea. “So this is where I draw the line? This is the border I won’t cross, no matter the riches or power that could await me there?” The siren only stared back at her, not understanding. Unequivocally, this was a terrible idea. Very terrible, but as Beatrix hauled and pushed the barrel to the railing, it did not feel like she was in the wrong. Waters like glass in the moonlight danced and clapped, beckoning him home. Xeric life would spell his demise, but only pure chance could bring him low in the salt of the ocean. “You’re free, so just go before I realize how stupid this is.” Zealots had moved with lesser speed than he did as he plunged below the cold, briny waters; but no zealot had ever hesitated as he did, emerald irises gazing into her tired cerulean eyes, as the light of the moon and the reflection of the water freckled her skin with stars.