LIOR

"Boy, or girl?" he asked. "Green for boy, smooth for girl."

He tossed the stone overhead, high enough that it could get in a few flips before it touched the seafloor. It landed on the rough bed of pebbles in front of Nightlight, green-side up; a chunk of the algae broke free and floated into the current as it finally settled.

"A boy!" he exclaimed, thrusting both arms up in triumph. "Green, five times in a row. That means it's true, right, Nightlight? I can't be that lucky. Arceus is trying to tell me that I'm gonna have a baby brother."

His friend didn't look convinced; the Chinchou eyed Lior's stone skeptically, his antennae bobbing. He was probably remembering the three times it landed smooth-side up. But it didn't matter if it landed smooth-side up a thousand times, so long as it landed green-up a thousand and one. That's how the stone's magic worked: majority ruled, and he'd done eight throws already.

"Boy," he said firmly. "The baby's gonna be a boy."

He wriggled with glee. Any day now, Father had said. Mother's almost ready – just be patient. He hoped that "any day" meant tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow; he'd explode if it took much longer. He'd been waiting for seasons as it was – since the day his parents had told him the exciting news, they'd moved out east; his hair had grown down his back; he and Father had gone scavenging more than a dozen times; he'd collected almost one hundred bottlecaps from shipwrecks; and he'd finished decorating his new sibling's bedroom. It felt like an age had passed, and he was still waiting.

Be patient. But it was hard: Lior flicked his tailfin restlessly as he gathered up his rock, and imagined having a new friend to spend time with. Nightlight was great, but it wasn't the same as having another merboy around: Lior wanted someone that understood how to play all the games he liked and was eager to join in, someone that could race and tussle and collect stones and explore with him all day, someone who would make this part of the sea bottom seem a little less...well, boring.

And empty: out here where they now lived, it was all rocks and sand, sand and rocks, a few handfuls of unfriendly Pokémon, and the occasional barren seamount, like where their boat was lying in the shadows of a small underwater mountain. Certainly there weren't any other merboys around; as far as Lior knew, they were the only family of merfolk living on this stretch of seafloor. When he'd asked where everyone else was, Father had told him that the mer didn't like living close to one another, not anymore. Dangerous, he'd said, and risky. Lior still didn't understand why: why did the other merpeople think it was dangerous to have neighbors? Were they scared of one another? Or of something else? What? He was half a mile from home out here in the middle of nowhere, on a sandy plain dotted with algae-covered rocks, and he didn't see anything to be afraid of, unless lots of silt scared you. Maybe the other merfolk needed to come out of their caves and see how not-scary everything was, and then they wouldn't be uneasy anymore. Maybe then they'd decide to live out here with him and Mother and Father, and things wouldn't be so quiet and boring all the time.

"Well, that won't matter once he's born," Lior said to Nightlight; the Chinchou's antennae pricked as he spoke. "Once he's here, this whole part of the sea bottom" — he spread his hands wide, encompassing all four horizons — "will belong to us. We'll plunder all the shipwrecks and race from here all the way to the Shelf and back. And we'll play Wailmer Rider and Sea Knights." He leapt up, stuffing his stone back into the pocket of his tail wrap. "In fact, let's play Sea Knights now! You run, I'll chase, Nightlight."

Nightlight wasn't pleased; of all the games Lior made him play, he liked Sea Knights the least. But he got up and going when Lior dove for him, hands outstretched. The merboy snorted as he watched the Pokémon paddle out into the open. He's so slow! Nowhere near as fast as Father was. In seconds, he was right behind him, and grabbed the Pokémon around the middle.

"In the name of the king," Lior roared, "I banish you from my territory, Nightlight! Return only at your own peril!" He squeaked as Nightlight shocked him indignantly. "Ouch! Okay, okay, it's your turn." He pushed his friend away and gave his tailfin a hard kick. "Go on, then: catch me!"

He bolted, surging high and then diving down behind a wall of rocks. He peeked around the bend to see the Chinchou struggling after him, kicking his feet fecklessly. "Almost there!" he called encouragingly as the Pokémon drew closer. "Nearly there... Oops!" He darted away when the Chinchou reached out for him with a sparking antenna. "So close, Nightlight! Come on, try again."

Nightlight gave him a dirty look and came after him; Lior tried not to laugh out loud as his friend approached at a Slugma's pace. He would be a horrible Sea Knight! According to Father, the Sea Knights of old were swift and brutal warriors, sure-finned and quick-thinking. And they'd had to be: when there'd still been underwater kingdoms, the Knights and their Pokémon allies had been the protectors of the watery realm, its only major defense against both enemy merfolk and humankind. Nightlight was lucky to be able to guard the entrance to his dwelling he was so awkward.

Father, on the other hand, would've made an excellent Sea Knight – when Lior played this game with him, his defenses were always so impenetrable, he actually felt like an invader being driven off by a ferocious warrior. Father looked the part too: the merman was tall and broad-chested, his face chiseled with stern lines and framed by a thick, full white beard. His Milotica fluke was longer than Lior's entire body, and though he was calm, gentle, and loving most of the time, Lior had seen him hunt plenty: he could be terrifying when the situation called for it. If they had lived in the Era of the Kingdoms, Father would have been part of the royal guard for sure, battling evil like in the stories.

Lior grinned as he dodged Nightlight's outstretched antenna once more. Yet another thing he couldn't wait for: telling his little brother all the tales that Father had told him. He imagined the little merboy sitting in his lap, his hair as long and straight as Lior's, eyes as green as Mother's; he would listen, rapt, as Lior told him about the Cataclysm, and his eyes would widen in wonder as he imagined the burning skies and surging seas during the apocalyptic confrontation between Groudon and Kyogre as they rose to destroy one another. He would gasp and beg for more as Lior described the way the  Sea Knights had marched onto land to drive back the armies of man, and when he finally fell asleep, his little brother would dream about clashing soldiers and the spirits of land and sea wrestling for dominance.

Restlessness made Lior's hands fist. Just a little longer...

Bzzt!

"Ouch!" Lior jolted as he was stung in the back; looking down, he saw Nightlight behind him, looking triumphant. "Little sneak! I let you have that one: I was distracted."

Nightlight gave him a rankled look. Sure you were.

"Try to pull that off a second time," Lior said, swimming upward again. "I dare you." Before he could kick off to a nearby pillar of rock, the sound of Father's voice made him freeze.

"Lior! Come here!"

His Pitch was high: he must've been long-calling all the way from home. As he cocked his head, listening, Nightlight reached him; Lior flinched as his friend stung him again. "Ow! Hey, stop: Father's calling me, I'm listening."

Nightlight turned to follow his gaze, looking confused; he couldn't hear long-calls in the same way that Lior could, a fact that he'd always found weird. He could feel the vibrations though; Lior saw the Chinchou's antennae twitch as Father's voice came ringing down across the plain again.

"He sounds worried," Lior said down to Nightlight. He beat his tail, rising. "I'd better go see what's wrong."

As Lior shot off for home, Father's high-Pitched cry reached him again, the tension in his voice nearly palpable. Lior wondered what it meant: Am I in trouble? He'd done his chores before he'd left to play with Nightlight, and he'd told his parents where he was going. He couldn't think of anything else that he might've done to make Father sound this upset...

He arrived a short while later, coming down beneath the rocky ridge where their home — an old rusted icebreaker — sat protected in shadow. Father was drifting back and forth across the hole in the hull of the ship — the entrance — rubbing at his neck. His tailfin scuffed irritably at the silt, throwing up brown clouds. He straightened when Lior soared down to meet him.

"What's wrong?" Lior asked.

Father's eyes were stormy. "It's time," he growled.

Lior's breath caught. Sweeping past Father, he pulled aside the tarp that covered the entrance and peered into the boat. The crooked spaces inside the old icebreaker were mostly used for storage, and by Father as a space for work and for Mother for cleaning food and helping Father repair his tools. Their real home was the ravine beneath the boat, a funnel-shaped one cutting into the gut of the seamount.

The upper ledges hed containers of clothes and their personal things. One crag served as a monument for Lior's treasure trove — strange stones, shiny bolts, pens, bottle caps, and anything else shiny — while another held Mother's small shrine, erected in honor of the dead sea spirit Kyogre, in an appeal to protect them from sea storms and human discovery.

In the depths of the ravine were their sleeping areas, small hollows they softened with blankets and piles of cloth, where they lay their heads at night. Mother was down there now, swathed in blankets, rubbing her swollen belly as though to soothe it. She caught Lior's eye and tried to smile and wave but was interrupted by a low groan.

"Are you sure?" Lior breathed. Excitement closed around his throat, making his heart pound. Finally!

"Yes. The baby's coming, and more quickly than I'd like." Father's hand fell on his shoulder, tearing Lior's gaze away from Mother. "I hate to leave at such a time, but—"

"Leave?" The excitement disappeared, replaced by a bolt of fear. "Leave where? What do you mean?"

"Calm yourself. I've not delivered a child by myself before, and I'd feel more comfortable if your mother was tended to by a merperson of learning. Shem is such a person. Do you remember Shem?"

Lior relaxed. "Yes." Shem was their closest neighbor; the Karpon lived close to three miles away, in a narrow grotto carved out of the underside of a squat seamount. Father had spoken to him once when he and Lior had passed by during a scavenging trip. Afterwards, Father had told him that Shem knew a thing or two about husbandry and medicine, and how to deliver young.

"Shem's surety will help us weather this storm," Father said. "So I must leave now, if I'm to bring him back in time to be of any help. You must stay here and watch Mother while I'm away."

Lior could feel his arms beginning to shake. Watch Mother? By myself? "B-but..."

Father's face was as uncompromising as stone. "Can you do it, son?"

His trembling increased. Father had never left him alone before — at least not for long — and never in charge of Mother's welfare. He was only nine — how could a puny merboy like him hope to protect her and keep her safe? What if a predatory Pokémon came swimming by? What if something bad happened to Mother, and he didn't know what to do? What if the baby really started to come, and Father and Shem weren't back yet?

Father stooped a little, placing his other hand reassuringly on Lior's cheek. "Forgive me, my boy," he said. "I didn't mean to sound so dire. It is a time to be anxious, but we mustn't lose our heads, either of us. I mean for you to simply monitor your mother while I'm gone, and see that she's comfortable — she's not out of commission yet. She's weak and lightheaded, yes, but you won't be alone, I assure you. And I'll be swimming at top speed: I'll be there and back with Shem before you know it. So in between, can I count on you to be the merman of the house?"

He spoke so surely, like there was no doubt that Lior could do it. I can do it, he thought, curling his hands into fists. I will do it. Father and Mother are counting on me.

"Okay," he said. "I'll watch her. We'll be fine, Father."

Father pulled him close, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Go on in, then," he said. "She's waiting for you." He ruffled Lior's hair and then left the seafloor in a blast, rocketing into the blue. In minutes, he was gone from view, and the sea bottom seemed wider, more sinister. It always did when Father was away. Please don't be long.

He went inside and pulled back the tarp enough so that only a single beam of light came down into the boat. That was alright, though — his parents had put up scavenged mirrors and pieces of glass in the lower levels that caught this light and reflected it throughout the boat and ravine. He made his way down and found that Mother had made a place in the blankets for him. She smiled as she beckoned him down beside her. He took a seat, and she tucked the covers around him. "Your father's gone for Shem, then?"

"Yes. He told me that he'll be back as soon as he can."

"I should hope so. This one's not likely to wait for long." Strain suddenly flashed across her face, and she closed her eyes, rubbing her stomach. "Ooh."

Lior scooted closer, feeling hopeless. He hated seeing Mother so uncomfortable. "What can I do?" he asked.

"You can tell me of your day — I must have something to divert me. You went to play with your friend again, didn't you? What was it... Nightlight?" She ended in a hiss, skin pulling tight across her face. Lior's tail swept across the blanketed floor in distress.

"Yesterday Father said he gathered some sticks for you to chew, from the surface," he said. "Should I get one?"

"Don't trouble yourself. The sticks are a nice thought, but they won't take away the pain."

"Pain?" He glanced at her belly nervously. His parents had sat him down and told him about childbirth a season or so ago, so he knew that the act of having a baby hurt, but pain this soon? He recalled the distraught look on Father's face.

She glanced over at him, looking weary. "Yes pain, my boy. Don't look so frightened, this is nothing out of the ordinary. All we can do is grin and bear it, and pray that this birth is as smooth as yours was."

His brow furrowed. "I was...smooth?"

Now she smiled. "Oh, more so than silk. But what a frightful nightmare you were the hours before! I hope that was the first and last time I ever have to endure such eager wiggling. You just couldn't wait to come out into the world." She reached out to stroke his cheek. "All the squirming was worth it, though, and so was the pain."

Lior beamed. "I hope he'll be smooth too," he said.

"He? Certain it's to be a boy, are you?"

"Yes, I..." He paused, wondering if he should tell her about the game. Would she think that he was being silly? "Arceus... He told me so."

"Oh my." She rubbed his back. "How privileged my son is, to be able to channel Himself at such a young age. And how, pray, did Arceus impart this message unto you?"

He told her about the stones, and them landing green-side up. Mother's smile grew. "It seems the signs are clear," she said when he finished. "Two merboys running around. My oh my, what shall I do with myself?"

"I can help you take care of him," Lior said eagerly. "I can help feed him, and put him to bed, and teach him how to Pitch his voice, go with him on Droughts to make sure he's safe."

"I shall be happy for the help," Mother said. "Tell me of your list of names. Last we spoke of it, you had thirty. Have you thought up of more?"

He grinned. He liked talking about the names. "Yeah! Did you?"

"One or two. How about John?"

His smile disappeared. John? "But that's so..."

"So?"

He shifted. "Boring," he said.

"Hmm... How about Jacob, then?"

"That's boring too!" he cried.

"Really? I thought it was nice."

"It's too plain," he protested. "He's going to be special — he needs a special name."

"John and Jacob are special names," Mother argued.

"Not as special as my names," he said.

"How dare you — all the mental labor I endured to come up with those two..." She poked him in the belly, and he squeaked and folded. "And yet they're so easily dismissed. What a cruel son I have. What mermaid will want to marry you when you grow up?"

Lior rubbed his sore stomach. "Well... I guess I can add them to the list," he said reluctantly. When her eyes sparkled, he said, "At the bottom, though. Like, the very bottom." That's where he put the worst of the possibilities.

"I suppose that'll have to do for a start," Mother said. She began to speak, then took a sharp breath, her face pinching up again. Lior waited, his fingers digging anxiously into the blankets, but before he could worry, her brow smoothed out again, and her breath came easier. She put her fingers into Lior's long hair.

"All right, tell me the names at the top of your list again," she said. "I've forgotten them."

He did, starting with some of his best candidates: Dalphon, Korah, and Sergius. The list went long: Mother was right, he had over thirty possibilities now, and it had taken a while to memorize them all. Some he'd gotten from their family tree, like Tilon, Father's father, or Uel, the uncle of Mother's father, or even Jalt, his great, great, great, great grandfather. Others he'd pulled from the fantastical stories that Father had told him: Jairus, one of the kings from the Era of the Kingdoms; Gaddiel, who spearheaded the charge onto land during the Cataclysm; Helek, the high priest of the Kyogre Kin, the sorcerers that summoned Kyogre from the depths; Elisha, a legendary explorer who was swallowed by a Wailord...and lived. And Cheber...

"The Man of War," Mother said with a knowing smile. "Your hero."

It was Lior's favorite story, and he never tired of hearing Father tell it. Cheber, a military commander, and his retinue of soldiers had nearly been wiped out by an opposing force of Sea Knights during a border dispute with another kingdom. The enemy pursued him back into his own territory, hoping to finish off the survivors to prove a bloody point to Cheber's king. They were nearly overtaken when Cheber's company came upon a deep trench, long and dark and supposedly treacherous. Cheber knew that his troops were tired and rapidly slowing, and that if they were caught, they would be put to death in a brutal fashion, their tails chopped off and sent back to the king. So instead of swimming above the trench, he led them into it, down through a natural choke point that would force their enemies into a single-file line.

And he was right — in this narrow channel, the darkness was great and the pressure was greater, and it was easy for Cheber's men to pick off the enemy soldiers biting at their tails. Quickly, they were able to set up a defensive formation, and within an hour, they were close to driving the enemy force back altogether.

Until the Gyarados appeared.

Lior had never seen a Gyarados before in real life, but back in his family's old atoll, their nearest neighbors had been an elderly couple living in a kelp forest; the lady had been a Gyaradon, her tail long and thick and bristling with dorsal fins, and whenever Father told the story of Cheber, he pictured that tail attached to a larger beast, a scary, fanged one, and could almost imagine how Cheber and his men had felt when this creature had risen out of the depths beneath them. The trench had been the Gyarados's home, and it attacked Cheber's retinue immediately, without warning and with a savagery that Lior could scarcely imagine. A quarter of Cheber's men died with the Pokémon's first attack, and from there, the original border dispute was all but forgotten— every soldier's sole focus was now clawing their way out of the trench alive. But the Gyarados was faster than the lash of a whip, and the warriors were addled by the intense pressure and disoriented by the swarming darkness — it was a hopeless slaughter.

Seeing his men dying around him, Cheber had a dreadful realization: the only way to save what remained of his retinue was to take out the Gyarados, or distract it long enough for some of his men to get out of the darkness safely. The only other option was to keep trying to mindlessly bolt to the surface, a choice to which he'd already lost too many.

And so he'd ground his teeth, swallowed his bile, and reversed course, charging the ferocious Pokémon straight on with a group of his most trusted men at his side.

He'd died. So did most of his remaining men.

But some survived, managing to reach the top of the trench and flee back into safer waters while the Gyarados was busy turning Cheber into chum. One of those soldiers was Merariy, a lieutenant that became king nearly a decade later. It was Merariy who raised Cheber, posthumously, as a hero and gave him the title of Man of War, both for his sacrifice and for using the Gyarados's trench to his tactical advantage in combat. "Man of War" later became an official military position in the royal army, one held by the senior military strategist.

Whenever Father finished Cheber's story, he always reminded Lior that it was more than just a harrowing account of survival and battle: there was a hard lesson to be found between the clashing blades and bites of the Gyarados.

"In life, you may find yourself in Cheber's position," he'd tell Lior. "A situation where there is no 'right' choice or 'wrong' choice. There is just an option that is more right than the other. One that gives you more time than the other. One that sheds less blood than the other. One that saves more lives than the other."

Afterwards, Lior would think about Cheber and the difficult decision he'd made. Almost everyone in the tale had died; would more have survived if Cheber hadn't decided to go down through the trench? Or if they'd just tried to flee instead of fighting the Gyarados? It made him wonder, and frightened him a little — he hoped he would never have to make a nasty decision like Cheber in his lifetime.

"If he's Cheber," Mother said, "he will have a quite a reputation to live up to. Are you sure you want to put such a burden on your brother's shoulders?"

Lior thought about it. He knew that his brother was going to be special — he just knew it — but Mother was right: what if he didn't live up to the Man of War's heroic mantle? It would be cruel to saddle him with such expectations. "No," he decided.

She let out another strained breath, rubbing at her swollen belly as though to quell it. "My boy, it looks like this one isn't going to wait much longer. We should start narrowing down our list of candidates."

He agreed, but there were so many to choose from, excluding John and Jacob. He considered. "My favorite is Lael," he said. Short and simple, but appropriately exotic, by his standards. And he liked how well it fit with his own name: Lior and Lael.

"Lael." Mother tried it out. "That sounds like a girl's name."

"It's not. Father said it was the name of his great uncle's grandfather."

"Lael." Mother chuckled. "Oh no — I didn't want to like it, because you didn't like my names...but I fear it's growing on me already." She winced, hand patting her belly again. "Looks like Lael likes it too." She took Lior's hand and put it on her stomach. "Can you feel him?"

He could — somewhere deep inside, his brother was flexing and stretching, moving restlessly beneath the palm of his hand. Eager to come out into the world, just like he'd been. "He's excited," he said.

"Two of a kind, the both of you." Mother banded her arm around Lior, tucking him against her side. "Come now. We've decided on a name. Until Father gets back, tell me more about your day."

He obeyed, starting with the stone-flipping game and round of Sea Knights he'd played with Nightlight. Then they talked about the different stories he would tell Lael once he was born, and the shipwrecks they would visit when he was old enough. They even discussed the possibility of visiting the Shelf, the chilly edge of the open ocean. Not for a while, Mother told him — they'd wait for that journey until Lior was at least sixteen, and Lael seven. After that, Lior forgot what they talked about — he began to feel sleepy, and soon he was dozing at Mother's side, dreaming of racing with Nightlight and Lael across the seabottom.

He woke to the sound of Mother groaning. Sleepy as he was, he didn't think much of it at first, but when she gasped and shuddered, he leapt up, fully conscious. "Mother?"

He saw her sheet-white face through a film of red. Red. He could see it in the reflected light and taste it — wisps of it slipped into his gills, past his lips, lining his tongue with the taste of copper. "Mother," he said, more urgently.

She didn't respond: her eyes were closed, her breaths coming out in pained wheezes. The red was coming from beneath her belly — there, a red splotch expanded across the blankets, escaping in ribbons through the creamy fabric. He watched the red wind up towards the far ceiling and felt sick. "Mother!" he cried, shaking her shoulder.

She still didn't answer — Lior didn't think she heard him. She opened her mouth once, but only to let out a horrifying cry, of a Pitch so high that he felt it in his bone marrow. Terrified, he backed away, covering his ears. Mother arched, letting out another piercing scream. What's happening? Is the baby coming? He didn't know, but this didn't look right. Didn't feel right. What do I do? He glanced up, to the rusted walls of the boat, the entrance. Where are Father and Shem?

Mother wailed again, and the sound rippled across his skin, raising stretches of gooseflesh. She was in such pain... It was terrifying to behold. Pain. The sticks. Would they help? They were better than nothing, and Father had said, a season or so ago, that they would prevent Mother from shattering her teeth during the birth. Shooting up, Lior found the bundle tucked beside a big bin on a higher ledge, below the shrine. Prying the kelp rope apart with his fingernails, he found the most flexible of the bunch and then kicked back down to Mother, who was writhing within a cloud of red, clutching at the sheets. She still couldn't hear him, even when he said her name, so he swam high above her and then worked to situate the branch between her teeth. It wasn't as strong as he thought — mere moments after he got it into place, Mother cracked it in half. He ran back to get another, despairing. What do I do? Father, where are you?

Arceus answered his prayers moments later: as he was adjusting the second stick in Mother's mouth, he heard Father's high Pitch resonating inside the ravine in a long-call. Jumping up, Lior shot up through the ravine, through the door, and rose high above their home, looking for his Father's brightly-colored tail in the sun-bleached landscape.

He spotted him coming from the east, tailfin pumping hard. Taking a breath, Lior cupped his hands around his mouth and projected from deep in his stomach, as Father had taught him: "Father, please hurry!"

Father visibly accelerated, and soon he was there — Lior dove into his arms, shaking again. "Something's wrong with Mother," he said, clutching at Father's tunic. "She's bleeding and screaming, and I didn't know what to do!"

Father's face tightened. "Stay out here," he commanded. "Let me see what's happening." He pointed in the direction he'd come from. "Do you see Shem? Long-call to him so that he can hear where he's going."

Lior squinted as Father ducked down into the house. Yes, he could see the Karpon — he was at least half a mile away, swimming towards them at an infuriatingly slow pace. What's he doing? Didn't he know how urgent Mother's situation was? He cupped his hands around his mouth again.

"Shem! This way!"

Like Father, Shem kicked his tail harder, and yet he continued to move at the same agonizing pace. By the time he finally reached the boat, Lior was struggling to contain his anger. Luckily, Father reappeared before he could say something to the merman that he might regret.

"How is Hulda?" Shem asked. He was panting and out of breath, and not just because he was Karpon, some of the worst of swimmers. Shem was also old, the oldest merperson that Lior knew around here: squat and hunched, with scant tufts of white hair, he had a face that was little more than a collection of sagging wrinkles pocked with strange pink marks. He wore a dark, ragged robe banded twice around the middle with a braided sash made of green and brown seaweed, and cradled in his bony hands were two parcels, both wrapped in layers of thick kelp.

"She's in a bad way," Father said tightly. "Bleeding."

Shem hurried past, but not before Lior grabbed his black sleeve. "It's going to be fine, right?" he asked the old merman. "You'll make sure they're both okay?"

Shem bowed his head. "I'll do all I can, boy." Then he turned and disappeared into the boat. Father put a hand on Lior's shoulder before he could follow him inside.

"Stay out here," he said. "Shem needs space to work and think."

The look on Father's face frightened him — never had Lior seen him look so bleak. But then he remembered the blood floating up from Mother's body, and knew he probably had the same look on his own face. But Mother said that pain was normal. And sometimes pain makes you bleed, right? So this was normal. Right? There was nothing to worry about, and even if there was, Shem would handle it.

Right?

Right, he tried to convince himself, but his body wouldn't listen. He backed away, settling on a tall rock a few yards from the entrance to the icebreaker, but anxiety sent a restless energy coursing through him, setting his fingers a-tapping and his tailfin a-sweeping. His father, too, suffered: he remained outside of the boat with Lior, pacing restlessly before the entrance. For the longest while, they waited like that, silent and fidgety.

Then Shem called Father inside. Soon after he disappeared, Mother began to wail again. The sound was just as high and frightening as it had been the first time; Lior covered his ears again, horror rushing through him anew. What is happening? She sounded like she was in agony, like she was dying... But that couldn't be! She's not dying. It hurts! They told you it would hurt! But this... It felt like something was wrong horribly wrong. I want to know. But he didn't. To know was to make it real. And if she was dying, then he didn't want to know.

She's not dying!

The sound grew louder and louder, until Lior couldn't take it anymore. Rising, he shot away from the boat, streaking through chunks of fuzzy rock and back out into the open plain where he and Nightlight had played earlier that day. The Chinchou was still there, dozing in a hollow beneath one pile of boulders; he jumped up, alarmed, when Lior came down on the other side, tucking himself against the back of the rock and covering his ears. Puzzled, the Pokémon crawled out and poked Lior with one of his antennae. After a moment, Lior pulled the Pokémon into his lap and squeezed him hard; Nightlight squeaked in surprise and wriggled.

"Sorry, sorry," Lior mumbled. "Just...let me hold you for a moment." He could still hear his mother wailing, even from this far away, but holding Nightlight made it more bearable. Shem's there, he reminded himself. He's helping her. It'll be fine. Maybe all births hurt this much. Maybe, even for how terrifying it was, it was all normal. Shem will help... He'll get her through it. And then it'll be over, and I'll get to see my little brother. Lael. Mother would rest, and he and Father would swaddle the baby in blankets and put him in the little basket that they'd found for him in a shipwreck, and Lior would tell him about the name he and Mother had chosen. Father would pretend to be mad that they'd chosen without him, and he'd attack and tickle Lior, and then after their scuffle they'd feel tired and finally sleep, Father tucking in with Mother, and Lior tucking in beside Lael.

This is just the hard part, he reassured himself. Once this is over, everything will be better.

He didn't know how long he sat there, rocking and holding Nightlight, but after a while it occurred to him that the wailing had stopped. He opened his eyes; he'd dozed off. For a while, too — the sea was turning orange as the sun dropped in the sky and set the water aflame. In his lap, Nightlight had drifted asleep too — he snorted a little as Lior set him down onto the sand, back beneath the rock, and rose. Three beats of his tail and he was shooting for home.

Is it over? It had to be, if Mother wasn't crying anymore. His heart pounded. My brother is here! Had they already put him in the basket? He pushed himself harder. Wait for me!

He crested the hill where his home lay, then pulled to a screeching halt. The setting sun bathed the hilltop in a burning orange, and in the fierce light, he saw something coming out of the boat.

It was a cloud: massive, amorphous...and red.

--

Featured Artwork: Lior's Home

My brother's in the Coast Guard, and he used to work on an icebreaker when he was stationed up in Maine.

Editing Trivia

This is currently version 3.0 of this chapter, and a major change I made here was making Lior a little older than he was in version 2.0, from seven to nine. This becomes important much later in the story (I hope!).

The "FLOOD" Merfolk

Topic: Merfolk variants

Mer differentiate between themselves by their fluke types (like skin color with humans). But there are also subtle differences in mer physiology and ability between each variant.

Milotica: A merperson with the fluke of a Milotic. Very fast swimmers, but with poor maneuverability thanks to their lack of dorsal fins.

Gyaradon: A merperson with the fluke of a Gyarados. Strong swimmers, with high endurance and maneuverability. Deep divers.

Dewgonga: A merperson with the fluke of a Dewgong. Thrive well in colder climates. Do not have gills like other mer — must surface to take in air once every three hours on average.

Jeager: A merperson with the fluke of a Huntail. Maneuverable tails that can operate like a third limb. The tip is barbed with a needle containing a sedative/toxin that can incapacitate foes. Deep divers.

Karpon: A merperson with the fluke of a Magikarp. Most common type of mer. Nondescript, with no known innate skills.

Kingman: A merperson with the fluke of a Seaking. One of the most exotic-looking types of mer. Strong swimmers, even moreso than the Gyaradon variant; known to be able to swim up waterfalls. The elaborate fans at the end of their tails contain a horn that can crush stone.