Bubbles drifted upward as Ariel vanished toward the surface, carried quickly by Flounder. The fading shimmer of transformation magic left trails of pale gold in the dark water.
Ursula watched them go, her smile stretching impossibly wide. The last echo of her laughter rippled through the lair.
Flotsam and Jetsam slowly slithered down from the shadows, weaving around her tentacles like curious children.
Flotsam tilted his head. "Mistress…"
Jetsam circled the cauldron. "You gave her so much. Tideborn power, a human form and forbidden knowledge."
They spoke in unison, eyes narrowing.
"Was that really worth… only part of her voice?"
Ursula's smirk returned, sharp as a shark's tooth.
"Part of her voice…?" she repeated, tapping her shell necklace.
"Oh, my darlings… that voice is everything." Her tentacles unfurled in gleeful swirls as she drifted back toward her cauldron.
"Everything?"
"Yes," she purred, "And it's now time Ursula took matters into her own… tentacles."
With a dramatic twist of her massive arm, Ursula seized handfuls of ingredients from her shelves.
Crushed sea stars, powdered bone coral, Ink from a ghost-octopus and a screaming clam.
SPLAT!
CRUNCH!
POOF!
Each ingredient smashed into the cauldron violently, sending bursts of purple and pink smoke curling through the water.
The brew roared in response, glowing brighter until the entire lair pulsed like a beating heart.
"Hold your fins, boys…" Ursula cooed.
At last a glowing orb rose from the center of the cauldron, shimmering gold and violet. It floated gently into Ursula's waiting hands.
Jetsam's eyes widened. "Mistress… what is that?"
Ursula cackled.
"This, my little moray morsels… is destiny."
She clutched the orb close, its light illuminating her hungry grin.
"Triton's staff will be mine—" she hissed, claws flexing, "—and then I'll make him writhe. I'll see him wriggle like a worm on a hook!"
Her laughter thundered through the lair, shaking the very bones of the giant skull she lived in.
Flotsam and Jetsam trembled with excitement.
Ursula tightened her grip around the orb and crushed it.
CRRRRRACK!
Golden light exploded outward.
The golden radiance swallowed the lair, whirling like a cyclone around Ursula's massive form. Her tentacles flickered, then shrank, twisting inward like smoke being sucked through a funnel.
Her voice deepened, then sharpened, then shifted.
Her torso compressed.
Her skin tightened.
Her silhouette thinned, hair lengthening and turning a brilliant red.
The shell necklace pulsed—
Once…
Twice…
And the golden light condensed around her throat.
When it faded, the witch was gone.
In her place floated—
Ariel.
Not the real one, hardened eyes, cruel smile. Ariel's face, but wrong.
Perfect imitation.
Flotsam and Jetsam slithered closer, amazed.
Flotsam whispered, "Mistress… you look just like her."
Ursula lifted her chin, now slender and youthful. When she spoke, her voice was clear, melodic, and unmistakably Ariel:
"Hmm... Triton will certainly think so."
Jetsam added, "Even your voice—"
She flipped her long red hair over her shoulder, laughing softly.
"After all… what good is a princess's voice—"
She leaned forward, her new lips curling into a vicious smirk.
"—if not to deceive a king?"
Her reflection shimmered in a cracked mirror, showing a perfect copy of the mermaid she had just tricked.
"Time to fool my 'father,' Triton."
The false Ariel giggled, a chilling sound wrapped in stolen innocence.
She drifted out of the lair, red hair flowing behind her like a burning banner.
Behind her, the shrunken polyps quivered.
The real Ariel knew nothing of this new enemy.
________
Far across the ocean....
Beyond the coral kingdoms of Atlantica, past drifting leviathans and whispering trenches, a ship tore through the open sea with the grace of a creature born from wind and water. The Chimera, carved of dark seasoned wood and adorned with faint golden inlays shaped like scales, glided effortlessly across the waves. Its red sails billowed like the wings of some great mythical beast, catching every breath of wind. Ropes were knotted with practiced precision, the deck alive with the movement and laughter of crewmen going about their duties. The ship looked like it had survived storms, outrun sea monsters, and stolen treasure from beneath the noses of kings—because it had.
At the helm, one man stood with casual authority. He leaned against the ship's wheel, fingers tapping rhythmically on the worn wood as he scanned the open horizon. The sun carved gold across his tanned skin, highlighting the muscles in his arms beneath his sleeveless red vest. His long dark hair was tied loosely at the back, strands whipping across his jaw as the wind swept through it. A familiar half-grin tugged at his lips, the kind of grin that had talked its way out of prisons, tempted death more than once, and charmed more than a few hearts across the seven seas. He adjusted the heading with a slight turn of the wheel, moving with ease that came only from a lifetime spent outsmarting storms and chasing legends.
Footsteps sounded behind him, light but steady.
"Sinbad!"
Marina emerged from the stairway leading below deck, pushing a loose lock of brown hair behind her ear. She wore simple sailing clothes now, a white blouse tucked into fitted pants, a short blue sash at her waist—far different from the gowns she used to wear in Syracuse, yet she walked the deck with the confidence of someone who had finally found the life she wanted. In her hand she held a folded newspaper, tapping it lightly against her palm as she approached.
"The Northern Market is having an auction today," she said, stopping by his side. "A big one. Captains from every major port are heading there. Why didn't you want to go?"
He didn't even bother to look at the newspaper. Instead he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, smirking. "Because, Marina, after everything that happened back in Syracuse, the Book of Peace, nearly dying more times than I care to count, getting scolded by Eris, your fiancé trying to fight me, your fiancé forgiving me—"
"Three times," she corrected softly. "You nearly died three times."
Sinbad shrugged. "Close enough. The point is, after all that, the last thing I want is another crowd and a bunch of people fighting over overpriced treasure."
Marina lifted the paper again. "Supplies, maps, rare artifacts, things we could actually use. It wouldn't hurt to take a look."
He tightened his arm around her shoulders. "What I want to do is explore. No nobles, no politics, no obligations." He leaned closer. "Just the sea and you."
Marina tried very hard not to smile, failed, and lightly nudged him with the newspaper. "You're impossible."
"And yet," Sinbad said, kissing the side of her head, "you're still here."
She sighed, though she was clearly amused. "So if we're not going to the auction, what exactly are we chasing this time? Another cursed artifact? A sea dragon? A grudge from a goddess who still wants to toy with you?"
He chuckled and slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out a carefully folded parchment. "None of those."
Unfolding it, he held the aged map up to the sunlight. Faded gold markings shone faintly across its surface.
"This," Sinbad said proudly, "is much more important."
Marina's eyes widened. "Sinbad… is that what I think it is?"
"The map," he said, almost reverently, "to El Dorado."
A moment of stunned silence stretched between them as the waves beat against the ship's hull.
"I thought that was just a myth," Marina whispered.
Sinbad's grin widened. "Every good treasure starts as a myth."
"So we're skipping a massive auction full of rare items and information… to chase a legendary golden city?"
"A legendary golden city," Sinbad repeated smugly. "There's a difference."
Marina closed her eyes, exasperated. "Why do I let you talk me into these things?"
"Because," he said, brushing a thumb across her cheek, "you love adventure as much as I do. You just don't admit it."
She opened her mouth likely to argue but the spark in her eyes ruined the attempt. She laughed softly. "Fine. Maybe I do."
Sinbad tapped the map. "The greatest treasure of the ancient world. A city hidden beyond the reach of kings. Gold, magic, lost history… all real. And it's waiting."
He tucked the map safely away and straightened, confidence radiating off him like heat.
"Helmsman!" he called, his voice ringing across the deck. "Set course west-southwest. We're sailing to the end of the map."
The crew erupted into cheers.
Marina shook her head and smiled as the Chimera veered sharply into a new direction, its crimson sails snapping as they caught the wind.
Sinbad rested a hand on the helm, eyes bright with the thrill of the unknown.
"Let's go find a legend," he murmured.
The ship cut through the waves like a beast hungry for adventure, heading toward a horizon that only fools and heroes ever dared to chase.