The mer before me appears as strong and virile as I remember him. His hair and beard are long and golden, floating around him like gilded sea grass, and his scales glimmer an iridescent aquamarine. His strong, powerful tail ends in a broad, flattened fin like that of a shark, and his face, while showing more traces of age, resembles mine.

He carries a long, barbed spear in one hand, the markings on the shaft signifying his high rank, and a net in the other: the tools of a mer warrior. The lean muscles in his torso and the breadth of his shoulders belie the strength of hard use, and I know for a fact that every decorative scar on his chest, representing a kill, has been earned fair and square.

"Father..."

My shock and alarm must appear comically obvious, and he smiles.

"Scyllian, my son. You appear well."

Behind and below him, another mer emerges from the shadowy depths. This one is female, but just as much a warrior as our father. My eldest sister takes more after our mother than I do. Her skin, when not covered by scales, is an olive bronze, and her hair, even weighted by water, is a mass of black curls.

"Natalis..."

She smiles as well, but her smile has a sharper edge to it.

"Excellent work, brother," she says, "you've recognized us, even after all this time."

My voice is little more than an underwater whisper, and I am too surprised to feel anything past a numbing shock.

"How is this possible?" I ask, keeping my attention on my father. "How have you survived?"

"Not easily," he says, though his tone is mild. "If not for Natalis, I would have perished many years ago, crushed by the weight of the lightless deep. Thankfully, by the love of a daughter, I was spared the fate handed to me by a callous son."

"Callous?" I bristle. "How can you call me callous when you would have murdered the woman who loved you for the sake of power?"

"Loved me?" My father laughs lightly. "I will tell you now, my son, and listen well: if that woman says she loves you, you had best beware."

"I don't understand." I shake my head and flutter my fins, propelling myself backward and putting some space between us. "What are you doing here, and what do you want?"

"What do I want?" he repeats slowly, keeping his eyes locked on mine. "You tell me, Scyllian. What is it that I want?"

"The throne," I say, my eyes flicking between my father and sister. Both are armed, while I am not. Once, I could count myself among the fastest swimmers in the sea, but now I am badly out of practice, and no mer has ever bested my father for speed. I am at a marked disadvantage; if it comes to a fight, my only hope is to flee towards shore like the cowardly land-walkers my father so despises.

He bursts out laughing. His voice is deep and booming, the shockwaves of sound moving through the water and reverberating in the cavity of my chest.

"Is that what you have been thinking all this time? No, my dear boy, I do not want the throne."

"I heard you," I counter. "I heard your plans. You and your elite warriors plotted to assassinate the queen and take power by force. It was not subtle; I did not misunderstand."

"I will not deny what you heard," my father says, nodding, "but it was a discussion of scenarios to avoid—not a plan of action. I never intended to harm your mother, or to seize power, or to make war upon the land. Yes, my hatred for humans burns hot even now, but I had come to see the wisdom in your mother's words. Perhaps, long ago, we might have risen from the depths and conquered the land: a mighty empire of the sea. But that time is passed. Now, to provoke a conflict would be to invite destruction."

"What then?"

"You have heard of the Supreme Council, have you not?"

Frowning, I glance at my sister.

"I have heard some speak of it, yes," I say warily. "What does a council of land-dwelling supernaturals have to do with us?"

"Recognition," my father says, "and protection. The Supreme Council is made up of members of the largest groups of powerful inhumans: vampires, witches, sorcerers, werewolves, and shifters of various sorts. Like the United Nations of the humans, it lacks power while wielding great power at the same time. The Supreme Council decides what is acceptable and what is discouraged; it offers certain protections to its members that those outside its ranks cannot afford. If the vampires go rogue, for example, they will be censured and punished—financial support of their various initiatives withdrawn and global accounts frozen. At the same time, the council can ensure that such an incident is disguised as an outbreak of hemorrhagic fever, protecting the vampire community from a much larger threat."

Gesturing with his javelin, he swims towards the surface. Natalis follows him and, as they've shown me no direct hostility as yet, I follow warily.

My father pauses beneath the rolling ceiling of the waves above, moonlight fracturing its surface like stained glass in shades of silver and blue. He turns his eyes towards it longingly, as if he desires nothing more than to break through into the air and take a breath of it, but he stays where he is.

"In days of old," he says, "even less than two centuries ago—such a thing might have gone unnoticed. Now, humans outnumber inhumans one thousand to one, and their technological supremacy and destructive weapons were once the purview of myth. Even with inhumans ranking amongst the top tiers of some governments, we cannot hope to stand against them if we stand alone. Humans have explored the oceans less than they have explored the stars, but this will not remain so for long. A time will come when merfolk can no longer remain hidden without help; our own magics can only protect us for so long. Ironically, it is your mother who helped me see that."

I shake my head. "I do not understand."

Natalis sneers at me. "Typical. You never did pay attention. You never had to. Heir to the throne." She scoffs. "You had it easy. While tutors trained you in etiquette, the rest of us trained to fight, and learned why we fought. Mother poured her powers into the protective shield that kept Thassos hidden, draining herself year by year, until it became unsustainable. Father proposed a solution: reveal ourselves to the Supreme Council and gain the protection thereof. But mother vetoed the idea. She said our power comes from within, and that if anything, we had to cut ourselves off from the upper world more completely—remove ourselves from this world entirely. She had gone insane, Scyllian, and your head was stuffed too far up your ass to notice. Look." She points to our father. "Do you not see how similar you are? You are both caught in the same net."

I turn my eyes back to my father, and study him. His musculature, the color of his hair, the iridescent shine of his scales, the sharp and noble angles of his face—all of these I see in myself, but this is not the similarity to which my sister refers. Instead, my eyes focus on a ruby red gem shaped like a heart and set in gold, hanging on a chain about his neck.

An amulet, just like mine.