"Are you in port long?" Cane asked.
Ria shook her head, brushing a windblown strand of hair from her cheek. "We took a beating recently—just here for minor repairs and resupply."
She tilted her head, eyes dancing with sudden amusement. "I still can't believe it's you. That Highland accent you used…" Her lips curved into a grin. "Really something."
Cane gave a faint smirk, then reached into his satchel. With a smooth motion, he slipped the mask over his face. The transformation was instant—the subtle shimmer of illusion cloaking his features, shoulders broadening slightly, even his posture shifting. Ria and Neri watched in open awe.
Then, from the same bag, he drew the shell bracelet—worn smooth by time and memory—and clasped it around his wrist. The soft glow of recognition sparked along its edge.
He paused, studying Neri. "What's your relation to Neri'Lysandril?"
Ria stiffened. The color drained slightly from her cheeks. But it was Neri who answered, calm and clear.
"Mother."
Silence settled for a beat too long.
Ria turned to him, her voice quiet but sharp. "Cane… how do you know that name?"
Before he could answer, Neri did—her gaze never leaving his. "Imprinted," she said, softly. "The blood remembers."
The mermaid looked at him more closely now, almost as if searching for something beneath the surface. "Any abilities surfacing?"
Cane nodded once. "Water attunement. Communal runes." He hesitated. "Some visions of the Azure Court."
A breath.
"There's something else," he added.
"My professor," Cane said quietly, "Selene Morva—I believe she's your half-sister."
Neri's aquamarine eyes widened, her body going still. "Impossible," she whispered. "Cane… my mother was marooned decades ago. When she returned, she took the entire court into the deep seas. It was the start of the rift—the conflict that eventually reached these shores."
Cane met her gaze steadily. "Come meet her."
Neri hesitated, but Cane continued, voice calm and certain.
"I saw her activate the saltwater rune on your cup. It was bound to your blood. That enchantment shouldn't have worked for anyone else—unless they shared a deep bond."
He let the words hang.
A silence bloomed between them, heavy with possibility.
Ria looked between the two, tension flickering across her face. "If that's true…"
"It is," Cane said. "You'll feel it when you see her. The same way I saw it in her face when I said your name."
Ria rolled up one sleeve, revealing a faint blue rune etched into her forearm. As she spoke, the lines shimmered to life with a soft glow. "Can you have Selene Morva come to my ship?"
A familiar male voice answered, filtered through the rune like a distant echo. "Is there something wrong, Rhiati?"
The rune pulsed gently with each word, like a living signal.
"No," Ria replied, her tone casual. "My mermaid first mate would like to meet her."
The light dimmed. Ria lowered her sleeve.
Cane raised an eyebrow, eyes glinting with curiosity. "Psi rune? I've read about those. What's its limit?"
Ria smirked. "Ten nautical miles. Perfect for ship-to-ship messages."
Cane gave a low whistle. "That must make life easier during war."
"It does," Ria said, her expression unreadable. "Just not for everyone."
Cane's head tilted slightly, remembering the sound of the voice coming through the psi rune. Deep. Calm. Familiar.
Arch-Mage Telamon.
He said nothing, but the recognition stirred questions. What was Telamon's relationship with Ria? A single letter from her had been enough to bypass every entry barrier—no testing, no evaluations, not even an orientation. Whatever history they shared, it was powerful enough to open the Academy's gates without question.
Cane kept those thoughts to himself. Some connections were private. This, he sensed, was one of them.
Beside him, Neri shifted, chewing her lip. "Can you come as yourself?" she asked gently.
Cane nodded. "Of course."
He glanced down at the shell bracelet on his wrist. "I still want to maintain the identity of Jonas Ironfist. It gives me freedom—keeps the eyes off when I need to work quietly. But I'll close up shop early today. Find a quiet place to make the shift back into Cane the Academic."
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small velvet-wrapped bundle. Inside was the untouched mithril ingot—its surface gleaming faintly with arcane residue.
"I didn't end up using it," he said, offering it to Ria.
But she shook her head and pushed it gently back into his hands. "I said you could keep the leftover material. And besides—" her eyes softened, "we're happy to see you. I also have your payment."
She reached into a pouch and placed two platinum coins into his hand.
Cane accepted the coins, but pressed the ingot back toward her. "Then do me a favor. I need something."
Ria raised an eyebrow.
"A grade six soul gem," Cane said. "From an air elemental. Keep this—and if you come across one, maybe you can trade for it."
Ria turned the ingot over in her hands, weighing it. "Can it be any air elemental?"
"Preferably feathered," Cane said. "A bird spirit would be ideal. But any will do."
His mind flicked briefly to the rune Nos had given him. It had seemed like a trick—a chicken traded for multi-faceted rune. He'd only realized the cost when he studied it later: air-activated replication, yes… but it required a grade-six soul gem as a medium.
Of course Nos would leave that part out.
Cane exhaled. "It's for something I'm working on."
Ria smiled knowingly. "You seem to be thriving here. I'm glad."
The masked blacksmith closed up shop and ducked into the rocky outcrop behind the harbor. There, hidden by stone and spray, he removed the illusion mask, wiped the sweat from his brow, and became Cane again.
By the time he reached the main street, the sun had begun its slow descent. He moved quickly through town, nodding politely to passing faces.
They didn't nod back.
Right, Cane thought, those are people who know Jonas Ironfist—not me. I should be more careful.
Down at the docks, the Defiant rocked gently in its berth. Ria and Neri waited near the gangplank, the blonde Corsair captain speaking with a pair of dockhands while Neri stood at her side. The rest of the crew—distinctly all-female and more than a little intimidating—lounged along the rail, boots propped, cards in hand, watching the harbor with idle interest.
"Cane!" Neri's face lit up when she saw him. She leaned close, her fingers slipping into his as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
From the rail, conversation died. The crew stared—some blinking, some openly gawking.
The first mate, known across half the coast for her cool disdain toward human men, was smiling at one. Holding his hand.
"Who's your friend, Neri?" called a fiery-haired sailor in a salt-stained vest. She leaned over the railing with a smirk. "Bring him aboard—we'll teach him dice."
Neri gave her a warning look, wagging one finger. "Not for you."
That earned a round of laughter. Even Ria cracked a grin. "Cane," she called over her shoulder, "is the one who rescued us from the slaver ship."
That only fueled the crew's interest.
The redhead leaned further over. "Then definitely bring him aboard. We've got lots to thank him for."
Cane blushed. Hard.
Rather than reply, he reached for the fastenings of his Academy robe and began slipping it off. The chatter along the Defiant's rail quieted instantly—even the redhead fell silent as his robes dropped, revealing a lean, muscular torso sculpted more by forge and hammer than magic or vanity.
Cane paused at the water's edge, turned slightly, and met Neri's eyes. "If Selene's truly related to you… shouldn't you meet her in the water?"
Neri's smile widened into something fierce and full of joy. She answered with a dive, smooth as silk, her form slipping beneath the waves.
Ria laughed. "I wasn't sure what you were doing for a second there."
"Neither was I," Cane admitted, already wading out into the bay. He swam a few strokes away from the Defiant, conscious of eyes following his every move. From the deck, the entire crew had crossed to starboard for a better view.
A ripple cut through the water beside him.
Then Neri surged upward in her full merform, launching several meters into the air in a spray of silver droplets before arcing back down with a clean dive. The applause from the ship broke out immediately, followed by a chorus of cheers.
Cane smiled to himself as he floated in the water, already feeling the shift in the air.
This was the beginning of something. He could feel it.
Neri wagged her tail playfully, sending ripples across the bay as she began to circle him. Her arms lifted, hands weaving through the air with delicate precision—each motion part of a fluid rhythm, a dance of alien grace and tranquil intricacy. It was less performance than communion, something ancient echoing through every movement.
Cane closed his eyes for a breath and let his awareness sink into the water. It welcomed him—cool, alive, attentive. He shaped his will gently, not as command but invitation. In response, the sea lifted him, buoyed his body until he rose barefoot above the surface. Water cradled his soles, keeping him steady, balanced on the glasslike skin of the bay.
He opened his eyes.
Neri was still dancing, spinning slow circles around him, droplets flicking from her fingertips like scattered starlight.
He glanced toward the Defiant. The crew had fallen oddly silent. One by one, they began to sway—subtle at first, then unmistakably in time with Neri's rhythm. Their eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, as if caught in some shared dream.
All except Ria.
She stood at the rail, arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly raised.
Watching. Measuring.
Unmoved.
**
Professor Selene Morva sighed as she rolled up her lesson plans for the following day. She had just begun preparing transmutation diagrams when Archmage Telamon's voice had echoed through her rune. One command, clipped and absolute: "Report to the Defiant. Immediately."
Then silence.
No explanation. No hint of urgency. Just an order.
Now, she moved swiftly along the rocky shoreline, skirts hitched, boots skimming across well-worn paths. This route had always been her secret comfort—close to the cliffs, close to the sea. The wind carried the tang of salt and a faint trace of song, barely audible.
She didn't know what was happening, only that Telamon rarely gave orders without reason. Still, her thoughts churned—students, Academy matters, politics?
Then her heart seized.
Not a flutter—a blow.
It struck like a fist from the inside, stealing her breath and making her stumble. Her hand flew to her chest as she bent forward, eyes clenching shut against the sudden pressure.
Then—release.
When she opened her eyes, they snapped instinctively toward the water.
She didn't think. There wasn't time for thought.
Selene sprinted for the edge, leapt from the rocks, and shifted mid-air—her form shimmering as she slipped into the waves without a sound.
Out near the Defiant, Cane stood calmly on the ocean's surface, held aloft by the water that obeyed his will. Four elegant funnels spiraled high into the air around him, spinning lazily in the sunlight like watery towers. Nearby, Neri's dance continued, hypnotic and fluid.
Then she stopped.
Her body froze mid-motion, tail stilled, arms falling gently to her sides. Her gaze turned, slowly, toward the shoreline.
Cane followed her eyes just as his concentration wavered.
The four funnels collapsed in a rush of noise and white spray, splashing down in unison.
He didn't flinch—though his breathing hitched for the briefest moment.
Somehow, he remained upright on the surface.
Something had shifted.
Something—or someone—was coming.
A figure surged toward them, fast and low, cutting a trail of white foam across the sea. It surfaced every dozen meters before diving again, each movement precise and fluid—growing faster with every pass.
Neri tilted her head, watching intently.
Familiar… familial.
Her eyes flicked to Cane, as if seeking something—comfort, grounding, calm.
Her heart thudded.
And then—
The water broke.
Selene rose from the sea like a vision, her silver hair slicked back, pale shoulders gleaming under the sun. She said nothing, only stared—her gaze locking with Neri's.
Eyes the same shape. Same color.
Same depth.
Neri raised one hand. With a quiet word and a graceful motion, she summoned an orb of water that shimmered around the three of them—herself, Cane, and Selene. The sphere hovered above the ocean's surface, a perfect globe of radiant blue that held them in silence.
"I am Selene Morva," Selene said at last, voice soft but clear. Her eyes remained locked on the woman across from her, though her posture remained still—measured.
Neri placed a hand against her chest. "Neri," she answered, her voice catching slightly—then recovering with a radiant smile. The air around her pulsed faintly, as if drawn into her presence.
She extended her hand, palm open in invitation.
Selene hesitated—but only for a breath.
Then she lifted her own hand and pressed it against Neri's.
Their eyes closed as contact was made.
A jolt passed through both women. They flinched—just slightly—as memories surged forward. Flashes of childhood. Laughter. Loneliness. Friends. Trials. Tears. Victories.
Everything they'd lived, divided by time and tide, passed from one to the other.
When it ended, they both leaned forward instinctively.
Foreheads touching.
The water pulsed gently around them, holding its shape like a blessing.
After several long seconds, the sisters stepped back—though their hands remained clasped. The glowing orb of water shimmered once, then collapsed with a soft splash, sinking back into the sea.
Neri turned to Cane. Her eyes met his, full of gratitude and quiet joy. She gave a small nod—unspoken thanks—before turning back to Selene.
The two women shared a smile. Then, without a word, they slipped beneath the surface, vanishing in a blur of silver and blue.
They surfaced again far from the Defiant, sleek figures gliding side by side, swimming—or perhaps racing—toward deeper waters. Their laughter echoed faintly, carried on the wind, a sound meant only for those who shared their bond.
Cane remained standing on the water a moment longer, scratching the back of his head. He had no idea what came next.
"Get dressed and come up, Cane," Ria called from the rail, grinning. "We'll teach you dice. Might be hours before the mermaids return."
The fiery redhead beside her leaned forward and gave him a slow wink. "Or just come as you are."
Cane flushed and muttered something unintelligible, already wading toward shore.
Cane pulled his shirt on, still damp from the sea but too warm to bother with robes. He left his boots slung over one shoulder, opting to stay barefoot until he dried off. The wood of the gangplank was warm beneath his feet as he made his way toward the ship.
Ria was waiting at the top, arms folded, eyebrow raised.
"Permission to come aboard?" Cane asked with a grin.
Ria glanced back at her crew and called over her shoulder, "Pay up."
A chorus of groans followed. Coins clinked.
"Did I miss something?" Cane asked as he stepped onto the deck.
"We had a bet," Ria said, slipping her arm through his and guiding him toward a cluster of crates ringed with low benches. "To see if you'd board properly."
"Did I?"
"You're dry, aren't you?" she shot back with a smirk.
Cane chuckled as she dropped onto one of the crates and rolled a pair of dice in her hand.
"Time for a proper nautical education."
Several hours later…
Ria escorted Cane to the ship's rail, the sun now low on the horizon. Behind them, her crew licked their wounds—both financial and emotional—grumbling loudly.
"How can he be that good at dice when he just learned?"
"That's all my silver!"
"Ria, you've got to loan me some!"
"Cane! You owe me for that last roll!"
Cane leaned against the rail, trying—and failing—not to smile.
"You're going to get yourself keelhauled one of these days," Ria murmured beside him, voice full of amusement.
"That might be scary if I knew what it meant," Cane said innocently.
"You're too likeable," she muttered, shaking her head.
They stood like that for a moment—quiet, comfortable, watching the ocean stretch endlessly before them.
"Time to head back?" Ria asked softly, her head resting against Cane's shoulder as they watched the sea.
"Yes," Cane said, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "My studies await."
Ria tilted her head slightly, gaze still fixed on the horizon. "Did you even notice?"
Cane glanced at her, confused. "Notice what?"
She rolled her eyes. "Mermaids can't speak in their native form. They communicate nonverbally—through motion, aura, rhythm. Took me and the crew years to learn how to read it."
Her tone was playful, but just beneath it, a flicker of mock offense.
Cane blinked. Then slowly nodded. "Right... I guess I did understand them."
His grin widened. "I'll make it up to you."
He slipped on his boots and fastened his robe while Ria waited patiently, arms crossed, eyes twinkling.
"Take care, Captain," Cane said with a small bow.
Ria laughed and pulled him into a quick, warm hug. "Continue growing, Cane," she said, her voice quieter now, more serious. "We may need you… before all this is over."