Land.
The Isle of the Neil emerged from the mist like a secret whispered by the sea, its towering cliffs gleaming under the golden sun.
The dense foliage that lined the coast swayed gently in the ocean breeze, and the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocks echoed in the distance.
This was the gate to the mermaids.
This was where Mandoriyah would return home.
That is the plan.
Arthur steadied the small rowboat as they approached the shore, his grip firm on the oars. A few men had come along, while others remained aboard the King of the Seas, preparing for their brief stay—gather supplies, see to their wounds, and say their goodbyes.
He exhaled slowly.
That is the plan.
Arthur had taken one boat, rowing alongside another, where Cesealia sat across from Mandoriyah.
Arthur barely looked at Cesealia.
And she refused to look at him.
It was fine.
He had nothing but time after this for her.
Mandoriyah, however, wouldn't leave his side.
Her violet eyes flicked between him and the thick, untamed forest ahead.
Where towering trees stretched toward the sky, their canopies filtering the sunlight into scattered patches of gold. She shivered slightly.
Arthur caught the movement.
"It's just the island wind," she murmured.
He wasn't convinced.
But still, they pressed forward, making their way inland—deeper into the unknown.
The deeper they traveled into the Isle of the Neil, the heavier the air became.
The wind, once carrying the scent of salt and sea, now hung thick with magic—a presence both ancient and watchful.
Then, the ground trembled beneath them.
Arthur immediately unsheathed Excalibur, its blade gleaming in the shifting sunlight as his crew steadied themselves.
Something was coming.
And it was big.
The trees groaned as if bowing in reverence—or fear—as a massive figure rose from the earth itself.
A giant.
Its massive limbs were gnarled and covered in moss, its stone-like body fused with the very land it protected.
A guardian of the merfolk's sacred grounds. Its deep, glowing eyes locked onto them, and the magic in the air hardened like a warning.
Mandoriyah stepped forward—but stumbled.
Arthur caught her before she could collapse, but his focus was split between her and the giant.
She was pale.
Sweat clung to her brow, and her breath came in shallow gasps. Too much heat, too little water.
She was suffocating.
Arthur gritted his teeth, bracing himself as he slashed Excalibur through the air.
The power of the sword collided with the force of the attack, sending shockwaves across the battlefield.
Cesealia was already moving, knife in hand, cutting down falling debris before it could crush them.
They didn't have time for their problems right now.
They didn't have time for the tension between them.
Right now, they have to survive.
And protect Mandoriyah.
Cesealia shouted over the chaos, "Get back to the ship! Take Mandoriyah with you!"
A crew member protested, "But Captain—"
"That's an order!" Cesealia snapped. "Arthur and I will handle this!"
The hesitation lasted only a moment. Then, the crew did as commanded, hauling a barely conscious Mandoriyah toward the boats.
Arthur was still dodging, slashing through the pelting stones the guardian hurled. Cesealia turned to him and did the most reckless thing she could think of.
She took a bold step forward, toward the giant.
"Over here!"
Arthur's head snapped toward her. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Cesealia ignored him, meeting the glowing eyes of the beast.
"I'm the thief you're looking for!" she declared, standing her ground. "But you'll have to catch me first."
Then she ran.
And it followed.
The roar of the guardian was enough to make the trees quake as it stomped after her. Arthur's brain caught up a second later.
"Shit—Cesealia!"
She was drawing it away—giving the crew time to escape.
Arthur had no choice but to chase after her.
"We should've brought horses!" he grumbled, sprinting beside her.
Cesealia threw him a look, even as she ran for her life.
"Why would we need a horse on a ship?!"
Arthur dodged a flying rock, barely missing a tree. "For times like these! Look out!"
A massive tree came crashing down.
Arthur lunged.
His arm hooked around Cesealia's waist, pulling her with him just before the impact.
They tumbled, rolling behind another tree as the guardian's heavy steps thundered past them.
Everything went silent.
Cesealia felt a firm grip on her mouth. Arthur's palm was covering it, silencing her breath.
His other arm held her close, their bodies pressed together as he carefully peeked around the tree, tracking the beast's movements.
Her eyes were on him.
Arthur didn't notice at first.
Not until his gaze flickered downward, meeting hers.
For a brief moment, they forgot the chase.
His hand slowly fell from her lips, his thumb grazing her bottom lip.
The warmth, the closeness—the ache of missing each other, even when they were right here.
Arthur tilted his head, lips parting slightly—
And then, the tree they were hiding behind was lifted off the ground.
"Shit!" Arthur cursed.
The guardian roared, shaking the earth.
Arthur grabbed Ceseelia's hand and bolted. Weaving through the dense forest, dodging low branches and skidding over loose earth as the guardian barreled after them.
They reached the edge of the cliff, panting, the ground unsteady beneath them.
Then—a voice rang out.
"I would get out of the way if I were you."
Arthur snapped his head up, eyes narrowing in confusion.
A bolt of lightning tore through the sky, splitting the air with a deafening crack—Rhyssand's doing.
The strike hit the giant square in the chest, weakening it but not stopping it entirely.
Then, the cliff beneath them trembled.
Stone cracked.
Cesealia's eyes widened in horror. "Arthur—"
The rock beneath her feet gave way.
Arthur whirled around just in time to see her reaching for him as the ground vanished beneath her.
"Cesealia!"
He lunged after her, his arms catching her just as they both plummeted into the abyss.
She clung to him, trembling, as the wind roared around them.
Above them, the lifeless giant followed, tumbling down toward them like a boulder.
It was going to crush them.
Then—
A deep, thunderous squawk.
Something large and golden streaked through the air, cutting through the wind.
Before Arthur could process what was happening, they were suddenly lifted, soaring upward.
He twisted, his arms still wrapped tightly around Cesealia.
It was Fin.
Or rather—Fin as a griffin.
Arthur gaped. "Fin?!"
The massive beast glided effortlessly over the battlefield, wings outstretched.
Fin let out a deep, unimpressed sigh. "Who else would I be?"
Arthur didn't even have a response for that.
When Fin landed in a clearing, Cesealia practically collapsed into the grass, trying to catch her breath.
Arthur stumbled forward as Fin began to shimmer.
His massive form flickered, gold dust rising off him like embers.
Arthur felt his stomach drop.
"What's happening to you?"
Fin ruffled his wings, looking oddly at peace.
"I completed my mission," he said lazily. "Now, I'm free."
Arthur reached out. "Fin—"
The griffin shimmered one last time— a faint whisper,
"…You owe me an apple seed."
—and vanished.
Arthur's hand hovered in the empty air where Fin had been.
A strange, unexpected wave of sadness crept into his chest.
Then—
A shrill chirp.
Arthur blinked.
A very familiar, very annoying little bird was suddenly hopping on the ground.
Arthur stared.
"…No way."
Then—a deep, wheezing laugh filled the air.
Arthur whipped around.
Rhyssand.
Arthur scowled. "What the hell, man?"
Rhyssand's voice crackled through the air, wheezing uncontrollably. "I'm sorry—" he gasped between laughs, barely holding it together. "I just—" he wheezed harder, "—couldn't help myself. You should have seen the look on your face."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.
Meanwhile, Fin—now back in his tiny bird form—gave an innocent chirp.
"I do NOT get paid enough for this," he yelled as he took off.
Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. Despite the circumstances, he chuckled.
He really should've seen that coming.
He looked at Cesealia, concern etched into every line of his face.
"Are you alright?"
She sat on the grass, still catching her breath, her heart still pounding from the fall. She simply exhaled, rubbing her arms.
Arthur watched her carefully, waiting.
"Let's just—" she hesitated, looking away."Let's just get this over with."
Her voice was quiet—not cold, not angry… just distant.
He felt his chest tighten.
She was still pulling away from him. Even after everything, after nearly falling to their deaths, after fighting side by side once more, after being saved by a griffin that wasn't dead—she was still putting distance between them.
He swallowed, forcing himself to nod. "Alright."
He didn't press her. Not here. Not now.
But he would.
Soon.
Back on pursuit.
The crew moved steadily forward, cutting through vines and uneven terrain as they pressed on toward the hidden mermaid kingdom.
Arthur kept his eyes on the map, ensuring their path was correct.
One wrong turn in these woods could set them back days, or worse, another guardian, and the last thing he needed was another delay.
The last thing she needed was another reason to run.
Then, Cesealia's voice rang out behind him.
A single comment.
Sharp. Clipped. And laced with something far friendlier than it needed to be.
It made Arthur's eyes twitch.
Oh. So it was going to be that kind of day.
Without hesitation, he turned on his heel, his voice smooth but firm.
"Cesealia, a word?"
The crew fell silent.
Mandoriya, who had been quietly observing from the sidelines, watched as Cesealia exhaled sharply and turned, following Arthur as they stepped away from the group.
The moment they were out of earshot, Arthur's composure cracked.
The fire crackled softly in the camp, sending warm embers floating into the night sky. The crew had settled in, their murmurs fading as exhaustion took over.
Arthur moved toward Cesealia's tent, his heart heavy with unfinished words. But when he pulled the flap open, it was empty.
A sharp pang of guilt settled in his chest.
He turned to one of the crew members. "Where is she?"
The young sailor, barely awake, motioned vaguely toward the forest path. "That way… near the lake."
Arthur didn't hesitate.
The trek wasn't far, and as he pushed past the dense foliage, the soft glow of moonlight reflecting off the water guided him.
And then he saw her.
Cesealia stood waist-deep in the lake, her wet hair cascading down her back, clinging to her skin in soft waves. The moonlight illuminated her, turning her hazel-green eyes into molten gold. She was breathtaking.
Arthur's breath caught.
How had he let this—her—slip through his fingers?
He had abandoned her in more ways than one.
"Cesealia." His voice was low, careful.
She didn't respond.
She heard him. He knew she did.
Fine. If she wanted to play it that way, they'd do this the hard way.
Arthur shed his boots and, within moments, he waded into the water. The cool embrace of the lake sent a shiver down his spine, but he barely noticed.
His eyes were locked on her.
Cesealia tensed as she felt the shift in the water.
And then—warmth.
His chest pressed against her back, his arms circling her waist.
She stiffened. "What do you want, Arthur?"
His voice was soft. "To apologize."
Her fingers curled slightly in the water. "For what?"
"For being a terrible lover."
She didn't deny it.
He exhaled. "And for ignoring you. For pushing you away."
She still didn't speak.
So he tried again. "You were right. This was your idea."
Still silence.
His arms tightened slightly. "But I fell in love with your idea just as much as I fell in love with you."
A faint shudder ran through her.
He turned her gently, tilting her chin up with his fingers. Her lips were parted slightly. Please was their word. As her eyes find his.
"You are my home," he murmured. "Wherever we go—wherever you go—that is where I belong."
The wall she had carefully built between them cracked.
Her lips quivered, and before she could respond, he closed the distance, capturing her mouth with his.
She melted into him, her arms winding around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.
It had been months.
Months of distance. Of longing. Of unspoken words.
And now, beneath the moonlight, the lake surrounding them, Arthur poured every unspoken emotion into his kiss—into every brush of his lips against hers, every whispered apology that left his mouth between breaths.
She gasped against him, and he caught the sound like it was the sweetest melody.
"I'm sorry," he breathed against her skin. "I'm so sorry for letting you go, for letting us slip away."
Her fingers traced down his spine, nails pressing lightly against his shoulders. "I forgive you."
And then she kissed him again—fiercer, deeper—silencing any lingering doubt that had ever existed between them.
Arthur lifted her easily, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried her out of the water.
She pressed against him, her heartbeat wild beneath his touch, her wet clothes clinging to both their bodies.
He carried her to a nearby tree, pressing her gently against the rough bark, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw before capturing her lips once more.
Her soft sigh was a melody—one he had missed for far too long.
"Arthur," she whispered, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. "Please."
He smiled against her skin, a smile that was both playful and wicked. "Please, what, Cesealia? Tell me what you want."
Her cheeks flushed under the moonlight. "I want you. All of you."
His eyes darkened with desire, his gaze burning into hers. "You'll have it," he promised, his voice a low rumble. "Every inch of me is yours."
His lips trailed down her body, his kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
He paused at the lace of her garments, his fingers hooking into the delicate fabric.
With a sharp tug, he pulled them aside, his mouth descending on her core with a hunger that made her cry out.
His tongue was relentless, his lips and teeth teasing and pleasuring until she was writhing beneath him, her body arching off the ground as her orgasm crashed over her.
He drank in her cries, his hands holding her hips steady as he savored every shudder, every gasp, every whimper that escaped her lips.
His hands roamed over the lace of her corset, his grip firm but reverent.
One tug was all it took.
He had spent months without her touch, without her warmth.
Now, he would spend the rest of the night making up for every moment lost.
And when she whispered his name, her voice breathless, his lips found her's again.