In the hushed stillness of Atlantica's royal library, Ariel floated near a glowing stone slab, her red hair drifting softly in the currents. She was so absorbed in the etched markings of Tideborn history that she didn't notice the twin shadows slinking into view.
From behind a coral shelf, two long, serpentine forms crept forward.
Flotsam and Jetsam.
Their yellow eyes gleamed in the dim water, twin slivers of malice. Their bodies coiled together lazily, voices slithering from their mouths like silk.
"Poor child…" Flotsam whispered, voice smooth as oil.
"Poor, curious child…" Jetsam echoed, drifting lazily around a kelp pillar.
Ariel's head snapped up. She turned sharply toward the sound, her brows knitting in alarm.
"Who—who are you?" she asked, inching back from the slab.
The eels moved closer, graceful and slow, circling through the kelp like phantoms.
"Don't be scared," Jetsam purred. "We only wish to help."
"We represent someone who can help you," Flotsam added.
"Help me?" Ariel asked, glancing between them warily. "Help me with what?"
Jetsam coiled upward. "Someone who could make all your dreams come true."
Flotsam drifted closer, curling around a nearby coral post.
Flotsam curled around a stone slab. "We heard you've been looking into the… Tideborn."
Ariel stiffened.
Jetsam slithered closer. "Such an old mystery. Such forgotten people."
Flotsam added, "And so few answers left in this little library."
Ariel swallowed. "How do you know about that?"
The eels traded wicked smiles.
"We know someone…" Flotsam purred.
"…who knows more about the Tideborn than any mermaid alive." Jetsam finished.
Ariel blinked, heart pounding.
"T-Tideborn history? You mean—more than what's left here?"
Jetsam nodded slowly. "Much more."
Flotsam chimed in, voice low. "Things erased, hidden and buried."
Ariel's pulse quickened. "Who?"
"Ursula has great powers," Jetsam said, his tone shifting slightly darker.
"She knows things. Things not yet written," Flotsam murmured.
Jetsam circled Ariel like a vulture. "Secrets of the Tideborn. The Merlion, their fall and their power."
Ariel gasped. Her hand rose instinctively to her chest.
"The sea witch?" she asked, shaking her head. "No. That's—I couldn't possibly—no! Get out of here! Leave me alone!"
Flotsam gave a disappointed flick of his tail. "Suit yourself."
"It was only a suggestion," Jetsam said smoothly.
They began to turn away, their movements fluid, effortless. Jetsam muttered, half to himself but loud enough.
Ariel froze in place.
Her fingers trembled. Her lips parted slightly, words caught behind fear and doubt.
Then, her voice broke through the silence.
"…Wait."
The two eels paused mid-swim.
They turned slowly, twin smiles creeping across their eel-like faces full of mischief, amusement, and something far darker.
"Yes?" they said in perfect unison, their voices oily with charm.
Ariel hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the stone slab.
"I—" Her voice cracked with desperation. "I need to know. Please. Can she really help me learn more?"
At her question, the twins' smiles widened sharp and sinister.
"Oh, such a curious child," Flotsam purred.
_______
Ariel left the library without another word, the ancient stone slab tucked tightly against her chest. Her heart pounded not from fear, but from urgency.
Flotsam and Jetsam slithered silently through the water ahead of her, their yellow eyes flicking back now and then to make sure she followed.
"Ariel!" Flounder's panicked voice called behind her. He caught up quickly, swimming alongside her with a frantic wiggle. "Where are you going? What are you doing with... them?!"
Ariel didn't stop. "I need to see Ursula."
Flounder's mouth dropped open. "Ursula? Ariel, no! That's crazy. She's a... a sea witch! A monster!"
"She might know something," Ariel said quietly, her tone steady but heavy. "She might have answers. About Lucian."
Flounder faltered, then groaned, swimming after her. "Oh, fishbones… this is a bad idea."
They traveled through the quiet deep, away from the bright coral towers of Atlantica and into colder, darker waters. The sea turned murky, the colors faded, and eerie currents pulled through the trench like unseen fingers.
And then, looming in the shadows ahead, they saw it a massive, hollowed-out sea beast, its skull forming the mouth of a lair. Faint purple light flickered from within, and the entire structure pulsed with something unnatural.
Flotsam and Jetsam turned to her, smiling in sync.
"This way," they chimed, and slipped inside.
Ariel lingered a moment, staring into the mouth of the lair. The pressure of the sea seemed heavier here, as if warning her not to go further.
Still, she took a breath, gripped the slab tighter, and followed.
The inside of the lair was even darker. The walls pulsed with faint veins of light, and curling trails of pink and purple smoke twisted through the water like ink spilled in slow motion. Glowing jars lined the shelves, filled with things Ariel didn't want to recognize bits of bones, preserved eyes, withered sea creatures.
And then she saw the garden.
Twisted polyps lined the sea floor, their bodies shrunken and deformed, arms outstretched as if frozen mid-beg. Their eyes followed her as she passed.
A soft brush against her tail made her cry out, one had reached for her.
She pulled back instinctively, her heart racing.
And then a voice echoed around the chamber, smooth and theatrical:
"Come in, come in, my child," said a voice from the darkness. "No need to lurk in the doorway. It's terribly rude."
From above, Ursula descended in a smooth, sinuous arc half shadow, half grandeur. She landed beside a cracked mirror framed in barnacle-covered gold and dabbed bright red lipstick on her broad, grinning mouth.
"One might even question your upbringing," she added, tossing the lipstick aside with a grin. "Now, what brings a sweet little thing like you to my door?"
Ariel hesitated. "Your eels… they said you know things about Tideborns. I want to know what they meant."
Ursula paused, her grin flickering.
"Oho," she said at last. "Them."
She turned, floating toward a wall cluttered with bottles and scrolls. Her tentacles drifted lazily behind her like thick ropes, brushing the floor as she moved. She pulled a delicate vial from a shelf, its contents glowing a ghostly blue, and returned to the cauldron in the center of the room.
With a single, theatrical motion, she dropped one shimmering drop into the swirling brew.
The water inside the cauldron began to churn.
A mist rose.
"Watch," Ursula whispered.
And an image formed.
Towering palaces under both sea and sky.
Merfolk walking on land with shimmering legs and mermaid tails that formed and vanished like smoke.
Armored Merlions diving from cliffs, sleek and powerful.
Tideborn weaving water like silk, shaping waves, calling storms.
Ariel's eyes widened in breathless awe.
"This… this is real?"
"Mmhm." Ursula nodded smugly. "And that's only a fraction of what I know."
The orb flickered showing a final image: A Tideborn holding a Merlion cub, glowing both sea-blue and sunlight-gold.
Ariel stared in awe, her fingers tightening around the edge of the cauldron.
The vision dissolved into darkness.
Ursula watched her reaction with a grin, then slowly drifted closer, feigning sorrow.
"See, child? That is a part of the history of Tideborns."
Ariel turned sharply to Ursula. "Please—show me the rest!"
"Oh, I will… for a price." Ursula said, gently lifting the girl's chin with a curled finger. "I can offer you a deal."
A pause.
"Here's my offer. The only way to get what you want… is to become a Tideborn yourself. Legs when you want them, a tail when you need it. A true hybrid just like the Tideborn of legend."
Ariel stared. "Can you really do that?"
"My dear, sweet child," Ursula purred. "It's what I do. It's what I live for. To help unfortunate merfolk like yourself. Poor souls with no one else to turn to."
She began to circle her.
"You mean… I could walk and swim freely? Like in the stories…?"
Ursula purred. "All yours, sweetling."
Ariel bit her lip. "And the knowledge… all of it?"
"Every last drop."
"I'll give you a potion. It'll turn you as a Tideborn. Got that?" She grinned.
Ursula swam closer.
"Have we got a deal?"
Ariel's hands curled at her sides. "If I do this… Wil I really get the knowledge about the Tideborns ."
"That's right," Ursula said with a shrug. She turned toward her cauldron, claws tapping on glass jars.
"Oh, and one more thing. I'm not doing this for free."
Ariel frowned. "But… I don't have anything."
Ursula gave a low laugh, extending a tentacle toward her lips.
"Just a token, really. Nothing you'll miss. I want… your voice."
"My voice?"
"Not all of it," Ursula said cheerfully. "You can still speak but you can't talk about this deal, or the future, or anything that happened here. Got it?"
She cackled, spinning toward her potions and tossing bottle after bottle into the cauldron sparks and bubbles rising from it in wild colors.
A cloud of purple smoke filled the water, glowing as it thickened.
"It won't cost much, my dear. Just your limited voice…"
With a dramatic flourish, Ursula hovered over the bubbling cauldron, her massive silhouette backlit by ghostly light. Strange bottles clinked together as she gathered them from her shelves some shaped like skulls, others filled with flickering liquid that seemed alive.
"Now… we seal the deal," she whispered, grinning as her tentacles coiled in anticipation.
She uncorked a vial and poured a drop of glowing green liquid into the cauldron.
FWOOSH!
The waters inside roared to life, swirling with streaks of violet and silver, casting eerie shadows that danced across the lair walls. The glow lit Ursula's pale skin in otherworldly shades as she reached into the current and pulled forth a scroll etched in gold and sealed with a shimmering sigil and a quill made from the delicate bones of a deep-sea fish.
"Sign your name, sweetling," she purred. "And let the magic do the rest."
Ariel hesitated, glancing once more at Flounder, terrified, pleading, and then at the images still swirling faintly in the cauldron: Tideborns, the Merlions, their history.
Her hand shook… but she signed.
The moment her name curled across the scroll in luminous ink, Ursula's grin widened.
"Now," she breathed, raising her arms, "sing."
The sea stilled.
Ariel opened her mouth and a single, haunting note floated from her lips. Soft, ethereal, trembling with magic. It rang through the lair like a chime of crystal, resonating through the stone and smoke.
Ursula's shell necklace pulsed with light.
"Louder," Ursula whispered, entranced.
Ariel sang again a wordless melody, full of longing and heartbreak. Her voice became light visible, tangible a golden ribbon spiraling upward.
Spectral green hands appeared clawed and massive reaching for her voice. Pulling.
WHHHHSSSSHHHHH!
The golden thread shot toward Ursula's shell. The necklace snapped shut with a clang, trapping her voice inside.
Ariel gasped, her throat tight, the music silenced.
And then, the transformation began.
Magic surged around her. Her tail shimmered then split, painfully forming two pale, trembling legs. A current of gold spun around her as she floated upward.
Flounder rushed to her, catching her in his fins. Together, they swam her toward the surface.
And below them, Ursula laughed.
"Now let's see if the little fish can dance with fate."
________
The sky above Berk hung heavy with overcast clouds, the sea churning in low swells beneath them.
From the horizon, a single longship limped its way toward the docks: sails torn, hull scorched, oars moving sluggishly in the water. Aboard it, the battered remains of what had once been a proud Viking fleet slumped like soaked laundry, weary and bruised. They tried to hold their heads high as they pulled into the harbor but the sight of their island awaiting them, unchanged and unaware, made it harder.
The longship creaked as it met the dock. One by one, Vikings stepped off the boat, their boots thudding against the wood. Their expressions were a strange mix of shame and stubborn pride.
Stoick was the last to disembark.
He stood tall, but his shoulders carried a weight he couldn't shake. His eyes flicked briefly to the mountains beyond the village, to the home he left behind hoping for answers… and returning with none.
Gobber was there waiting, arms crossed, leaning on his peg leg.
"Well," Gobber said casually, eyeing the sorry state of the ship, "I trust you found the nest, at least?"
Stoick didn't look up. "Not even close."
Gobber grinned, shrugging. "Ah. Excellent."
Stoick exhaled through his nose, brushing soot from his shoulder. "I hope you had a bit more success than I did."
Gobber tapped his chin with the end of his hook. "Well, if by success, you mean your parenting woes are over… then yes."
A few villagers nearby perked up.
"Congratulations, Stoick!" Bucket called from a crate, raising a mug in mock cheer.
"Out with the old, in with the new, right?" Starkard added, slapping Hoark on the back.
"No one'll miss that old nuisance!" Hoark said with a snort.
"There's a feast tonight!" Ack said, grinning. "The village is celebrating!"
Stoick frowned, eyes narrowing. "He's… gone?"
Gobber gave him a look, then scratched the back of his head.
"Yeah… most afternoons. But who can blame him? Life of a local legend and all. He can't walk three feet without someone throwing him fish or asking for dragon tips."
Stoick's brow furrowed, a complicated emotion twisting beneath his beard. "Hiccup?"
Gobber nodded, his tone warming slightly.
"Who'd have thought, eh? He's got a way with the dragons, like he's speaking their language. He's different, sure. But he's good at it."
Stoick was silent for a long beat.
Then, quietly: "And… the other one?"
Gobber's face lit up in a different way, a glint of admiration shining through.
"Ah, that one. Lucian? He's… interesting. Quiet. Keeps to himself. Shows up for training, sure, but he's not looking for the spotlight. Lets the others take the credit while he vanishes off to explore or mess around at the forge."
Stoick tilted his head. "He smiths?"
Gobber straightened up proudly. "Oh, does he! First day I showed him the basics, he was already five steps ahead. Picked it up like he was born with a hammer in his hand. Made a blade cleaner than anything I'd seen from a rookie. Had balance, too like a sword meant for dancing."
Stoick grunted, impressed despite himself.
But just as Gobber was about to go on, a shout rang out.
"Stoick!!"
The chieftain and Gobber turned. A figure was sprinting across the dock m, Phlegma the Fierce, her braids bouncing and expression strained.
Stoick stepped forward, his posture tightening. "What is it?"
Phlegma stopped just short of them, breath hitching. "There's… a girl," she said. "Red hair. Washed up near the shore, barely dressed and she doesn't look like anyone from the village."
Gobber blinked. "Red hair?"
Stoick and Gobber exchanged a look.
No more words were needed.
"Show us," Stoick said firmly.
Phlegma nodded and turned, leading them quickly down the boardwalk toward the cold, rocky edge of Berk's shore, where something very strange had just washed up with the tide.