Prompt: If you speak when passing under the ancient sea arch, it will steal your voice for its own.

Must use words: Golden, Whisper, maelstrom.

I

The house sat like a bird perched on the edge of the tree. The slope from the shore to the house was steep and had been getting steeper. Nimi found it upsetting that her siren couldn't reach the house anymore. When Iravan first arrived here, she would swim along the shore, her long hair plastered across her face like of an eloped human bride, her scales shimmering like the remains of luminous algae, and she'd call out to him like a true mermaid. Although, 'true mermaid' made her sound more like her mother. Nimi longed for those days. They'd talk until midnights, laughing at whatever gossip she brought from the sea. Their friendship seemed heavier now.

Thick green hills surrounded this section of the island, making it difficult for the seafarers to find. Not that many had not, because those who did paid a high price. On Nimi's left, Vibha was playing beneath the ancient arch. Nimi wished her serpent friend didn't run under the arch, yelling unintelligible words, and laughing every time it took her voice. It was the cursed arch that stole several mortal voices to itself. If any of the islanders, those who hadn't killed themselves yet or were abandoned for being a liability, saw her right now, they'd hate her without a doubt. The demonstration of immortality had never been so ridiculous.

"Vibha, would you stop that madness now?" Nimi yelled, rising out of the water. The sea was unnaturally warm today. Nimi had known warmness like this only when she swam past the sunken boats and saw humans being devoured by the sharks and the piranhas, their blood soaking into the salt water.

Vibha childishly shook her head, faking innocence, most likely because she'd run under the arch once more and was robbed of her voice. 'She is such a—' Nimi thought for a while, staring at her friend. 'Gods, she looks prettier than me in her human form.' Vibha's cheeks turned enviously pink from all the running, and she looked like she belonged there. Unlike Nimi, she never felt confined or ashamed of her human side.

Nimi wondered why she compared herself to one of the few beings who wholeheartedly accepted her. Without Vibha, Nimi would have never had the chance to meet Iravan or experience all those pleasant evenings with him. What did she become? Why the envy and the guilt? Nimi found no way of answering those questions. She'd to bear them just like how she was bearing the truth that she might not meet these two in a while.

"Are you hungry?" said a voice above.

Nimi rolled around in the sand and watched Iravan standing right above her. His chest was naked to the warm afternoon sun and his pants were shorter, barely reaching the ankles. He looked like the lost humans from those wind-tossed boats, wishing if they could find treasures on this tiny island.

"What have you cooked?"

"Our carrot crop has been successful this year." Iravan kneeled, bringing the wooden bowl close to her face.

Nimi took the bowl from his hands and emptied the contents without hesitation. The sweetness of the dish dissolved on her tongue, and she savoured every bite. "You blessed son of a god," Nimi said, swallowing gently. "Those humans in your house don't know how lucky they are. This is the food of the heaven."

"I am grateful for your opinion."

"Regardless of your humble behaviour," Nimi said, handing him the empty bowl. "Can I have more?"

"Sure. Not yet. I will get you—"

"Hey." Vibha's scream reverberated between them, and they both turned. Below the arch, Vibha hopped up and down on the slippery ground. The waves bashed over the arch in a bitter torrent, washing over her and the rock every couple of minutes. But Vibha didn't seem to care; she waved both hands and smiled like a mad beast. Her silver saree was so wet it became her second skin. "I got my voice back. Again."

"Forget about me. Bring her a bowl and put some sleeping potion in it." Nimi spoke quickly. "I'll get you a golden anklet from the depths of the sea in return."

Iravan snickered. "I'm more concerned she'll slip and hurt her head."

"Are you stupid?" Nimi pointed the bowl at him. "She's running under an ancient arch, sacrificing her voice just for the sake of it. That's as crazy as an immortal can get. She hurting herself should be the least of your worries."

"But she can hurt herself."

"She knows she can heal." Nimi raised an eyebrow. "But if she slips, bangs her head, and falls unconscious, that would be nice. The island can use a bit of peace and quiet."

Nimi noticed Iravan's concern even after her ironic comfort. She didn't want to bother him today. She put her hands around her mouth and screamed: "Would you come down here or should I swim up there and beat your serpent face against a rock?"

Vibha stepped back near the arch, surprised. Nimi could see her glaring down at them. It wasn't late before the reply came. "You swim up here and I'll tie your dumb mermaid tail to the arch."

Nimi paused and settled in the sand. She looked at the arch beyond Vibha, the dark azure of its stone surface rivalling the endless blue of the deep sea. The arch was chipped on all sides owing to the recurrent abuse of the waves. Still, it stood as tall as the day Vishwakarma, the divine architect of gods, had built it. Swans were carved into stone columns, appearing to carry the arch from the heaven. Yes, the circle of mermaids considered it a legend. The evil arch, the cursed arch, and the forsaken arch—the one that took the voices of Nimi's many sisters. Originally, the arch was meant to be a door. A gateway for the gods to enter this world until it was cursed and started stealing mortal voices for itself.

Nimi recalled her mother's words about mermaids descending from heaven. 'We came and settled in this wretched place. If I didn't know better, I'd say we were banned, and this is our punishment.' Her mother's voice was crystal clear in Nimi's head. When was it not?

"I think you shouldn't swim up there," Iravan warned.

Nimi nodded. "I think I should leave before she changes her mind and drags me there."

She heard Iravan burst out into laughter beside her. He fell back into the sand, tossing his wild hair to one side. Nimi watched him with a blush. The sand seemed like an extension of his skin, and his eyes shared the colour of the arch. That might explain why she was always speechless around him. Too bad she'd only a little time to stay true to her heart.

II

Nimi crawled back to the shore after a quick swim. The water soothed her. Outside, the sand stuck to her scales like how the silver saree had stuck to Vibha a while ago. Anyway, the saree was gone now. Nimi found Iravan sitting with his feet buried in the sand. She noticed the trampled wet saree beside him and searched for Vibha around. The serpent reverted to her original form, coiled her bottom half around Iravan's left hand and curled her top half around his waist and rested her head in his palms.

Iravan must've seen her staring as he said, "You can say I'm bound against my will."

"Don't I know." Nimi simply smiled.

Nimi was aware of their closeness, though it hurt her to regard herself as an outsider. They had never treated her as one, of course. Asking for the same intimacy when they had known each other for decades would be unfair. Nimi recalled Vibha telling her she had first met Iravan right after he left heaven. Vibha was also possessive of those close to her. Nimi had once invited her to join her in the company of her sisters. Throughout the evening, her serpent friend would frown as her sisters coddled and embraced her incessantly. Although Vibha did not speak, her actions spoke for themselves. Once, she chased a band of raiders, who had attacked Iravan's camp, down into the sea and didn't stop until their bodies were at the bottom.

Vibha hissed at her, and Nimi nodded back. The night sky was a mirror of darkness. No stars. No moon. A mermaid, an immortal serpent and a son of God need not worry about their vision in the dark. Although, Nimi could tell those two would've had a fire running if not for her.

"How are the humans coping up?" Nimi asked.

Vibha hissed again. She never encouraged talking about the humans. For her, they were a liability. She believed their minds were fickle, like a candle flame in a thunderstorm. Still, Nimi had learned that Iravan found great satisfaction in helping these humans. They'd been wronged and abandoned, and some were simply unfortunate. He saw himself in these people. She never asked him why he'd left heaven. It seemed to be a personal matter.

"Well, they are mute, no thanks to the arch," Iravan said.

Half of the humans in Iravan's camp were retired pirates and reformed soldiers who'd scoured the seas for the arch, only to lose their voice and be trapped here forever. There was a lot of misinformation about the arch's powers, and they were those who took the bait. The other half had been the slaves whose ships were raided and wrecked, and they washed up this shore with their lives in their hands. Only to fall at the mercy of a humble son of a God. Now, the slaves worked here as free people, along with the likes of men who used to exploit them. Nimi thought the irony couldn't be lost on any of them.

Iravan added, "I wish I am helping them."

"You are. I hope they appreciate the help and don't turn against you one day."

"Enough with this," Iravan said, straightening up. Nimi noted his chest loosen a bit. Something stirred in her. "I want to tell you a story."

Vibha tried to rise out of his hands, but he caught her and pulled her back in. He was always telling stories, and Nimi liked some of them—the one about the blind pirate who regained his sight, and the one about the woman who sold her long hair for two pearls. However, among the three of them, Vibha had chosen him as the dull storyteller, and it didn't sit right with him.

"You're going to listen to this," Iravan said, and Vibha spiralled in his hand.

Nimi pursed her lips and nodded. "Yes, we are."

"A man in the camp passed away today. When I first met him, I was looking down at the barrel of his pistol. He thought of me as the protector of the arch. It was the early days of my life on Earth, and I still didn't understand humanity. He said he came to save his daughter. She was paralyzed from the waist down and someone told him the arch would cure her. I tried to explain to him he'd been misled, but he silenced me with a smack across the mouth. I laughed at his stubbornness."

"Wait," Nimi said. "I recall it was a woman who came here to save her daughter."

Iravan sighed, annoyed at the interruption. "Yes, there's a woman too. Can't it be both?"

"What do you mean by that? Are you making these up?"

He cocked his head back, perhaps hurt. "You can ask the woman herself."

"Okay. Fine. It can be both."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd guess you intentionally cut me off."

"Dare I?"

Iravan mocked a smile and continued, "I finally persuaded the man, and he was distressed to learn that there was no miracle cure. I gave him all my coin and requested him to take his daughter to Varanasi for proper medicine. Or somewhere else. Anywhere."

"But he returned the men and his daughter on their own. I urged him to go with her. He refused. He said he would earn this coin if he worked here, and I believed him. I didn't expect him to change so quickly, to be honest. However, I had no idea that he was running away from his responsibilities. He knew there wasn't a cure, and he wouldn't have found one. And that was why he sent his daughter away and stayed behind."

"Did she not ask him to join her?"

Iravan shook his head, smiling crookedly. "Oh, she begged. And she cried. But she was crying for a man who had lost all hope. A father who was broken beyond redemption. A fresh change from all the brave tales of fathers, if you ask me."

"A fresh change?"

A voice spoke in Nimi's head, and she saw Vibha crawl out of his hand toward the trampled saree. The black serpent slithered under the cloth, and in an instant, Vibha was back in her human form. She half-draped the saree around herself, struggling to avoid being naked.

"Fresh change?" Vibha shouted, firmly pressing the declining saree over her body. "What is wrong with you? It was tragic, Iravan."

"Who gave him the coin, Vibha?"

Nimi knew that calling each other names meant a fight was starting. She slid a step backwards, knowing Vibha's habit of throwing hands when challenged.

"That doesn't make your words any less wrong."

"Why do you think you have the authority to decide what is right and wrong? The man jumped into the sea earlier today. He took his own life."

"Do you suppose it's a refreshing change, too?"

Iravan exhaled, glaring down at Vibha. "As time passed, I watched him lose hope. He was angry at first, then sad. For a year, he'd been so quiet, I worried he paid a visit to the arch. Before we could grasp what was troubling him, he drifted down to the shore, cold and lifeless. He simply couldn't live knowing that he'd failed. Yes, it's fascinating to me. What a lack of faith does to a man. The moral of the story, if you have the heart to call it that."

Nimi wasn't prepared for his last words. And Vibha's expression changed from anger to something else. Sorrow? Pity? Just relentless despair? That the son of the God Varuna, the one who was supposed to control the winds, seas, and waters, had given up on everything? Where did they fail him?

III

Nimi drew a breath and felt the sea was angry. A bolt of white streaked across the sky. The sea responded with a rise in the water. They must be talking to one another at the cost of the planet itself. Nimi remembered her mother's wisdom of not underestimating the fiery sea. 'Always Swim away from the storm and pirates.'

Neither of the three of them had noticed the storm coming. Vibha looked worried. Nimi wanted to ask her what she was worried about but stopped herself. She looked into Iravan's eyes, cold and detached, and wondered if he had sensed it coming but didn't bother to share.

Nimi heard the gurgling of waves crashing on the coast. The storm had possessed the trees on either side of the shore.

"It doesn't look good," Vibha said, fully and properly dressed, her saree half-dried, and she didn't seem to care.

"It's just another storm. Let's go inside." Iravan turned towards the slope.

The wind pounded against Nimi's skin and slapped at her scales. It was either fleeing the sea or dancing with its turbulence.

Another bolt of lightning split the black sky, and the storm roared.

"This is bad."

"It came out of nowhere," Vibha said.

"Would you stop making—?" Iravan's voice stopped midway. He faced the sea. Nimi and Vibha switched between the sea and Iravan, deciding which way to focus.

A long thread of wind swirled in the middle of the sea.

"Impossible." Vibha rose and walked towards the shore.

Nimi sat trembling on the sand. Thunderstorms and torrential rain had been common on the island for months, but still, a maelstrom? Not in this part of the sea. She was worried about her family. They wouldn't have been far from the whirlpool that had been launched. Mermaids could sense storms coming, but she did not.

"You can't say this is another Sunday, Iravan," Vibha pointed at the storm.

The sea rushed inwards, then up, caught in a vortex. The wind blew out of the hills and toward the sea, as if summoned.

"It looks like the sky is churning the sea," Nimi whispered to herself.

"Let's get inside. Everything will be okay." Iravan rose to his feet, brushing sand from his hands. "Do you want me to carry you up?" he asked, offering his hand to Nimi who was staring at him in shock.

"Tell me you're jesting, Iravan. Given some time, that storm will chew this island and spit it out." Nimi raised her voice. "Let's forget about you and us for a second. What about the humans? They won't be able to escape it in a thousand years. Are you keen on witnessing their deaths firsthand?"

"What do you want me to do?" He said, simply shrugging.

Vibha frowned and replied, "I'll bring out a canvas. Why don't you paint it?"

Nimi pulled at his legs, "Please, Iravan. You can control it. You can end the storm."

"You must've confused me with someone else." Iravan chuckled. "My father wouldn't have abandoned me if I could do that."

Nimi refused to believe Iravan was powerless. She remembered the fateful night a few weeks ago. She stumbled to this shore, barely able to breathe, desperately seeking something to hold on to. Her whole body ached to exist. A small ship had attacked her. She'd figured the men had never seen a mermaid before, and they weren't pirates. For she knew how pirates reacted to mermaids; they set traps or led her down the narrow caves of the islands until she'd nowhere else to go. These men attacked her on the spot. Only when the cannons fired did Nimi realize the royal soldiers were pursuing her, determined to capture her, alive or dead. And they threw axes at her too, for heaven's sake.

As she approached the coast, the sea raged almost as violently as it did now. The waves cut her scales like knives, spinning her around and making it impossible for her to swim. She was bleeding all over, and for a moment, she believed she would die. Then she saw Iravan bending over a rock and picking her up. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was Iravan slashing a wave midair before it hit her. Her bloodshot eyes and hallucinating head made him appear like a knight slaying a water dragon. It was marvelous. Later, she'd asked him about it, but he denied it. She didn't want to bother him about it at the time.

Now, as the maelstrom advanced at godspeed, Nimi desired him to embrace his divine self. The sand was fogging up the surroundings. A tree on the shore was uprooted and flew into the sea. They were running out of time.

"Iravan, don't tell me you're going to let those humans die." Vibha still stood near the shore, braving the winds.

"If their fate is to die tonight, who am I to stop it?"

"You're not a coward, Iravan."

He laughed weakly. "I might as well be."

"Don't fear the past." Vibha approached him. "No one will get hurt this time."

"Can you promise me that, Vibha?"

Nimi tugged at his legs one last time. "Please Iravan, you will get nowhere if you don't have faith in yourself."

"Call me when you want to get inside the camp," Iravan said, walking back up the slope.

Vibha stood frozen, seeing her friend abandon hope. Nimi felt bad for her serpent friend. Vibha had told her so many times that she wanted to show him his worth, that it had become her life's mission.

The bitter taste of failure lingered on Nimi's tongue too. For her part, she had been caught in a whirlwind of choices lately, and she kept hoping that Iravan would save her life, no matter how selfish it seemed. Her mother told her that the King had promised them a safe passage to his ponds, where the mermaids could live in peace. Nimi didn't believe his empty promises. She waited for Iravan to come to his senses, accept his birthright and move past his earlier mistakes. It was too much to ask of him, but she hoped. She dreamed of leaving everything behind and going to heaven with him.

She didn't realize guilt could wreck an immortal. They were too late to help him. He was too far gone.

"Why didn't you tell Iravan that you healed the paralyzed girl? Also, if that man had known that his daughter was healthy and alive, he wouldn't have taken his own life."

"It's not my job to uplift every broken man on the planet," Vibha said, trying to sound unconcerned. Nimi caught the tremor in her voice. She added, "Let me carry you inside."

"Leave me be."

Vibha kneeled, taking Nimi's hand. "Come with me. I'll protect you."

"How long?"

"As long as I should. You don't have to bend to the king's will."

Nimi saw her friend trembling with rage. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Iravan's too much of an idiot to not see your value." She wrapped her hands around her friend. "It's okay, Vibha. Everything will be okay."

And it slowly began to rain. Vibha nudged her out of the embrace, turned and walked away.

"Where are you going now?" Nimi watched her walking towards the arch.

"If I'm crying over you stubborn cowards, I'd rather not hear my voice."

Nimi let her go and lay back uncomfortably. She blamed the sand for the tears. The maelstrom was nothing but a whisper now. A modest calamity. An afterthought.  

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P.S. - You look like a mistake done right. Why don't I let you hurt me more?