Weeks went by in the same quiet rhythm. Every other morning, Dylan would leave camp, and would head straight to the dock where Yve waited. Their meetings were brief, secret, sacred. Trust grew like moss on stone—slow, steady, impossible to ignore.
One morning, Dylan gathered a handful of flat stones and flicked one across the surface. It skipped once, twice, then sank.
Yve watched. "How did you do that?"
Dylan smirked. "You've never skipped rocks before?"
"I've thrown them," she said, tossing one. It plopped.
"That's not skipping. That's drownin'."
Yve narrowed her eyes. "Show me again."
He stepped beside her, brushing his fingers over her to guide her grip. "Flat stone. Angle your wrist. Flick low and fast."
Yve mimicked him. Plop. Dylan laughed. "Better. Try again." She threw again; this time it skipped once before sinking. Her eyes lit up. "I did it!"
"Barely," Dylan teased, but his smile was genuine.
~~~
A few days later, Dylan crouched near of the dock. His gaze stayed locked on the surface, waiting. Watching. Then, just a few feet away, the water broke. Yve's head emerged.
Dylan flinched, "…Damn," he muttered under his breath.
Yve blinked up at him, chuckled softly.
Dylan narrowed his eyes. "What's so damn funny?"
She tilted her head, "It just baffles me, to this day I still can't believe I made a human friend."
Dylan scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I feel the same way too." His gaze drifted to her eyes, they shimmered unnaturally, but slowly, they began to shift. The glow dimmed. The sharpness softened. Her irises adjusted, becoming more human, more familiar.
He leaned in slightly. "I've been meanin' to ask…why're your eyes like that? Why do they… change?"
Yve swam a little closer, her voice calm. "Its simple biology really…one we call 'Predator eyes'. Did you know our eyes were never made to transform? It just… evolved over millions of years."
She reached the edge of the dock, and Dylan instinctively knelt, offering his hand. "Like Darwin's theory of evolution," Dylan muttered.
Yve blinked, then tilted her head. "Well… I don't know who that is. But yes. Evolution."
Dylan shifted, reaching into the small pouch clipped to his belt. "Oh hey," he said, almost awkward. "Brought you somethin'."
"What is it?", she asked.
He pulled out a few small, foil-wrapped pieces and held them out in his palm. "It's chocolate. Hershey Kisses. Ain't much but figured you might wanna try."
Yve leaned in, eyes narrowing at the tiny shapes. She traced her fingers over one. "They look like mountains," she murmured.
Before Dylan could say a word, she popped one into her mouth—foil and all. He blinked. "Whoa—wait, wait! You ain't supposed to eat the shiny part!"
Yve paused, lips pursed, clearly confused.
Dylan chuckled, gently reaching out. "Here," he said, peeling one open. "You take off the wrapper first. Like this."
She watched closely, then spit the unwrapped chocolate and followed Dylan's instructions before putting it back on her mouth. Her eyes widened instantly. "…What is that?"
"Sugar," Dylan said, grinning. "Sweet stuff. First time?"
Yve nodded slowly, still savoring the taste. "It's… strange. But good."
He leaned back, watching her with quiet amusement. "You're welcome."
Yve licked the last trace of chocolate from her lips, still marveling at the taste. "Where did you get these?" she asked, eyes flicking to the pouch at Dylan's side.
Dylan hesitated, then scratched his jaw. "…Stole it."
Yve blinked. "You stole it?"
He shrugged, not even trying to look guilty. "Yeah. From David."
"Who's David?", she replied.
Dylan leaned back, arms resting on his knees. "Someone I consider a brother. Been through hell together. He's loud, stubborn, eats like a damn bear."
Yve tilted her head. "What if your brother gets mad?"
Dylan chuckled, shaking his head. "David's already eaten enough chocolate in his life. He ain't gonna die if a few go missin' from his pouch."
Yve smiled, amused. "So, you steal from your brother… for me?"
Dylan gave her a sideways glance. "Don't make it sound romantic."
Yve wiped her mouth, still savoring the lingering sweetness. "Let me repay your kindness," she said. "I actually brought you something as well."
Dylan raised a brow. "You don't have to."
"You're gonna like it," she said confidently. "I know you humans cherish this."
Before he could ask what she was doing, Yve turned and slipped back into the water, her body vanishing beneath the dock in one smooth motion.
Dylan leaned forward, squinting down at the ripples.
A few seconds passed. Too quiet.
Then—
SPLASH.
Something heavy slammed onto the dock.
THUD.
The boards rattled under his boots.
Dylan jumped back fast. "HOLY—!"
A king crab lay sprawled across the dock. Massive. Alive. Its shell was thick and ridged, bristling with sharp spikes. Long legs scraped against the wood as it thrashed, claws snapping hard enough to make Dylan flinch. Seaweed was wrapped tight around its joints, bundled like restraints, but even tied up it looked mean—like it was just waiting for the chance to tear something apart.
Dylan froze. "…Nope. Nuh-uh."
The crab snapped one claw shut with a loud clack.
He took another step back. "Yve, that thing's a damn tank."
Her head surfaced beside the dock, dark hair slicked to her shoulders, eyes bright. "You don't like it?"
"Like it?" He pointed at the crab. "That thing's got spikes. And knives. On its face."
The crab scraped its legs harder, wood screeching under the sound.
"I like crab," Dylan said. "I do not like crab that's still fightin'."
She blinked. "It's fresh."
"I can tell."
"I caught it for you."
The crab suddenly jerked hard, the seaweed bindings stretching. One claw snapped free and slammed against the dock with a sharp crack.
"Oh hell," Dylan muttered. "It's breakin' out."
The crab twisted violently, spikes scraping, legs flailing. It reared up as much as it could, claws wide, clicking like it was ready to throw down with the entire shoreline.
Dylan backed up fast. "I ain't touchin' that."
THUNK.
An arrow struck the crab's shell, punching into a softer seam at its sides. The creature convulsed once, claws snapping wildly—then went still.
Dylan stood there, breathing hard. Slowly, he lifted his head.
Yve rested her arms on the edge of the dock, bow still in her hand. "There," she said softly. "Now it's safe."
Dylan looked at the crab. Then at her. Then back at the crab. "…You coulda done that before it tried to kill me."
She frowned a little. "But then you wouldn't know that it's a fresh one."
He snorted, rubbing his face. "Swear to God… every time you bring food, I'm gonna lose a year off my life."
Her smile widened.
Dylan blinked. "Where the hell'd you get a bow and arrow?!"
Yve looked down at the weapon in her hand. The solid form shimmered, then dissolved into water, dripping through her fingers and rejoining the ocean below.
Dylan stared, mouth slightly open. "You serious?"
She nodded. "Yes. This is how we summon our weapons. It's called Rite Forging."
Dylan looked at the crab, still twitching but now defeated. "Remind me never to piss you off."
Yve giggled. "So… how are you gonna eat it?"
Dylan crouched beside the crab. "We're gonna boil it," he said, brushing his hands off.
Yve raised a brow, amused. "Really? Why?"
Dylan smirked. "So the inside gets cooked. Problem is, we don't got a pot big enough for this beast."
Yve tilted her head. "I do have one back home…want me to get it?"
Dylan looked around, scanning the trees and shoreline. His eyes narrowed, then lit up. "Not necessary, there's a few houses nearby," he said, pointing off into the distance. "I'll go grab some pots 'nd firewood. Won't take long."
Yve nodded. "Okay." She swam toward the dock, graceful as ever. Dylan reached out and helped her up again.
He picked up his tomahawk, slung it over his shoulder, and started walking. The houses were about fifteen minutes away, another fifteen back. If all went smoothly, he'd be back in half an hour. Assuming no crab-related revenge attacks happened while he is gone.
~~~
Dylan walked through the thin forest, boots crunching over dry leaves. He glanced back once, catching a glimpse of Yve's silhouette in the distance, he smiled faintly, then bent down to pick up some firewood.
A few minutes later, he reached a house, old, rusted, barely holding together. He gave it a cautious kick, and the door creaked open.
He raised his tomahawk, eyes sharp, senses alert. He stepped inside slowly, checking corners, listening for shriekers or movements. Nothing.
Then the smell hit him. Foul. Rancid. Like rot soaked in gasoline. He pulled his shirt up and gagged. A body lay on the floor, head split open. Maggots crawling through it. On a chair nearby, a woman slumped forward. Same thing. Mouth open like she never finished screaming.
"Damn," He muttered. He crouched, looked around. Flies. Dust. Old. "Been dead a while," he said quietly. "Ten months. Maybe more."
Then—a clang rang out.
Dylan spun around, hand on his tomahawk. Just a can. Rolled off the counter. He stepped closer, then a big rat shot out from under the deck and vanished. He sighed. "Damn rats. Always actin' like they own the place."
He checked the kitchen. Found a pot. A knife. Some firewood. And a box sturdy enough to pack the cutlery inside.
A few minutes later, he reached the shore—but stopped cold.
Whispers. Low. Faint.
"Yve?" he called out.
She turned toward him slowly, calm as ever, but the water behind her shifted.
A second head emerged.
Not hers. A creature rose from the depths—massive, ancient, serpent-like. Its mane drifted through the waves like tangled seaweed caught in a storm, eyes glowing with something primal and furious.
Dylan's breath snagged in his throat.
The box slipped from his hands and crashed against the sand. In the same motion, he yanked the tomahawk free from his belt.
The serpent surged forward. Water exploded around its body as it coiled protectively in front of Yve, growling low enough for the sand beneath Dylan's boots to vibrate.
His pulse slammed against his ribs. Every instinct screamed at him to run. But his legs locked in place. "Yve!" he shouted hoarsely. "Swim away! Now!"
Yve raised a hand quickly. "Dylan, wait—he's not—"
"He's starin' at me like I'm his next damn meal!" Dylan barked. His grip tightened around the tomahawk so hard his knuckles whitened. "I ain't dyin' like this!"
Yve shot through the water toward the shore, cutting through the waves like a blade.
"Dylan!" she called. "Lower your weapon!"
"The hell I will!"
The serpent hissed louder and rose higher from the water, towering above the dock. Dylan stumbled back a step, boots planted hard against the sand. His breathing turned shallow. Fast.
Yve stopped at the shore, eyes fixed on him. "Please," she said firmly. "Lower your weapon. He will not attack unless you attack first."
Dylan hesitated. The tomahawk trembled slightly in his grip. His eyes darted from the serpent's massive jaws to Yve's face. She wasn't afraid. Not even a little.
"Dylan," she warned more urgently, "do not make yourself look like a threat. He could crush you like a sardine."
"That ain't exactly comfortin'," he muttered under his breath.
The serpent shifted again with a deep rumbling growl.
Dylan swallowed hard. Then slowly—very slowly—he lowered the tomahawk. His arm remained tense, ready to raise it again at the slightest movement. He lifted his free hand cautiously, palm outward, like calming a feral animal.
The serpent leaned closer. Hot breath washed over him.
Dylan froze as massive nostrils flared inches from his face.
The creature circled him slowly, coils brushing against the sand and dock, hard enough to make the wood creak beneath his boots.
Dylan's muscles stayed rigid, pulse hammering violently in his ears, but he forced himself not to move.
He trusted Yve.
The serpent sniffed him from head to toe, slow and deliberate, as though tasting his intentions from the air itself. Then, with one final rumbling growl, it turned away and slithered back toward Yve.
She knelt at the shore, hand outstretched.
The creature lowered its massive head and nuzzled her palm before sinking halfway beneath the water, though its glowing eyes never fully left Dylan.
Dylan exhaled sharply, knees buckling. He dropped to the sand, heart still racing. "What… what is that?" he asked, voice hoarse.
She stroked the creature's mane gently. "He's Nierven, my companion."
Dylan still catching his breath, eyes wide, heart thudding. "You have a damn dragon as a pet?" he wheezed.
Yve chuckled as she gently stroked Nierven's mane. The serpent hissed low, eyes never leaving Dylan, watching his every move like a guard dog with trust issues.
"He's not a dragon," Yve said calmly. "He's an ancient water serpent." Nierven's head tilted slightly, tendrils swaying, still locked onto Dylan.
"He's been with me for a hundred and fifty years," Yve added, her voice soft, almost proud. "I raised him myself."
Dylan blinked, then let out a short, breathless laugh. "You're tellin' me you raised a sea monster for nearly two centuries…"
Nierven hissed again, louder this time.
"Alright, alright," Dylan muttered, hands up again. "No disrespect, big guy."
"Nierven's just trying to sense if you're dangerous or not," she explained calmly. "And since you're still here… and not inside his stomach, that means you're not." She turned to Nierven, gently petting his scaled head. "Right?"
Nierven hissed softly, then nudged Yve's shoulder with his nose—like a silent confirmation. She looked back at Dylan. "Come here. I'll introduce you."
Dylan, still half afraid and half amazed, slowly stood up. His legs felt like jelly, but he moved forward, step by cautious step. Nierven watched him like a hawk, every swing of his arms, every shift in his weight, every breath.
"Open your palms," she said. "Let him come to you."
Dylan hesitated, then slowly raised his hands, palms open, fingers slightly trembling. He held his breath, bracing for whatever came next.
Nierven slithered forward. He sniffed the air, then leaned in, hissing low. His nose hovered just above Dylan's palms, tasting his intentions. Then—he nudged Dylan's hand with his nose.
A sign. He didn't see him as a threat.
~~~
Things finally settled. The crab was almost done, its shell turning red in the boiling pot. Nierven floated nearby, only his head above the water, eyes moving as he watched the shore.
After a moment, he drifted closer, tilting his head at the pot like he was trying to understand it.
Yve noticed and smiled. She felt the question move through their bond. "He's cooking the crab we caught earlier," she said.
Nierven hissed—not angry. More like a breath.
Dylan, still a little on edge but calmer now, glanced at Yve. "Where'd you get him?" he asked.
Her expression softened. "I found him years ago. I was exploring a sunken ship in the Mediterranean. One of the big ones. Forgotten." She paused. "Inside a room, I saw this huge, round rock. Beautiful. I took it home, even though it was heavy as hell."
A small smile crossed her face. "For years, I thought it was just a rock. I even sat on it." Then her voice dropped. "One day, it cracked. I thought I broke it." She looked back at Nierven. "Turns out it was an egg and years of me sitting on it somehow nurtured this massive beast inside."
"He was a tiny, baby serpent," Yve continued. "Curled up. Asleep. He was so cute."
She hesitated. "After that… I guess I somehow became his mother."
Dylan watched Nierven circle the pot, then looked back at her. "Where're his parents?"
Yve's expression dulled. "I don't know." She sighed. "There's a story actually. A legend."
She spoke slower. "Long ago, there was a war. Not just humans. All kinds of creatures."
Her voice dropped. "Bloody. Brutal. Billions died."
Nierven drifted past again, quiet, unbothered. "Maybe that's when his parents were killed," she said.
Dylan frowned. "Poor thing," he said. "What started the fight?"
Yve shook her head. "No one knows. There's no one left from that time to tell it." She shrugged. "Maybe it's just a story." Then she looked at him and smiled faintly. "But sometimes stories hide the truth."
The crab was done. Dylan cracked it open, hands steady, splitting the meat into three parts. Steam rose, rich and salty.
Yve's stomach twisted at the smell. "You should eat more," she said. "I can always catch another."
He shook his head, smirk creeping in. "True," he said, "but they ain't cooked."
She laughed softly and nodded. "Fair point." She handed the last portion to Nierven. He snapped it up and swallowed it whole, barely chewing. Yve blinked, then smiled. "Well… someone liked it."
She tried her own. And her eyes widened.
It was good. Really good. Rich. Warm. Nothing like the raw taste of the sea. Something in her chest fluttered as if a door had opened. She turned to Dylan, excitement spilling out. "You have to take me with you."
He paused mid-bite. "Where?"
"To land," she said, eyes bright. "I've always wondered what it's like."
Dylan stepped back from the pot, shaking his head. "No. Don't like that. It's dangerous."
Yve lifted her chin. "I can take care of myself."
"But why surface?" Dylan asked, low and rough. "There's nothin' here but decay and pain."
Yve looked at him, calm and steady. "Maybe I wanted to see the world that shaped you."
Dylan paused. His breath caught. He'd thought about it once. Just once. What it'd be like if she walked beside him on land.
He shook his head. "How're you even gonna walk? You've got tails."
Yve blinked, then laughed. "Oh yeah. Right. Don't worry—my birthday's coming soon. Hoping I get legs this time."
Dylan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"When a siren turns two hundred, we get legs," Yve said, like it was nothing.
Dylan's eyes went wide. "You're almost two hundred? But you said you're 23!"
Yve nodded. "Also right. I'm 230."
Dylan blinked. "What?"
She smiled, reading his confusion. "Time flows differently for us. Ten human years… one siren year. So I'm 230 in your world, only 23 in mine."
Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. "But you said sirens get legs at 200. Where's yours?"
Yve's expression darkened a little. She traced the faint Gemini-shaped birthmark on her wrist. "One downside of having this mark," she said quietly.
Dylan leaned closer. "I've been meaning to ask… what's that?"
Yve shrugged. "I'll tell you later. Just… later."
He shook his head, eyes scanning the horizon. "Okay, but still… it's dangerous. Not just shriekers. People too. I've met folks who'd kill for a sip of water."
Yve leaned in, calm but firm. "I can take care of myself." She gestured at Nierven, tail flicking lazily in the water as he munched on a fish. "I have him." Then she touched the water. It shimmered and solidified into a sleek, glistening sword in her hand. "This."
Dylan's eyes widened.
Yve wasn't done. She tapped his shoulders gently. "And most importantly…" Her voice softened, steady. "You." For a moment, the world went quiet. She held his gaze. "I know you're scared, Dylan. I may not know your past… but I can see it in your eyes."
Dylan's jaw tightened. "See what?"
Yve's voice softened, steady. "I saw it the moment I first saw you. The way you flinch in your sleep… the nightmares. The fear. The guilt. The pain of losing someone."
Dylan froze. Her words struck something raw. Memories clawed back—faces, screams, smoke, crying, silence. His breath caught as he tried to speak.
Yve didn't push. She just sat there, calm, steady, like the ocean itself. Then she said something that cracked a piece of his wall. "I'm stronger than you think…don't you think maybe it's time someone walks beside you?"
Dylan blinked, shaken. "No one's ever told me that," he whispered.
Yve nodded. "I'm not asking you to be responsible for me, Dylan. Just… let me walk beside you, don't stop me from fulfilling my dream of seeing the wonders the surface can offer."
It wasn't love. Not a promise. Just… understanding. Comfort he hadn't felt in years. Not since before the world fell apart. And for the first time in a long while… he didn't feel alone.
Dylan sighed, the weight of it pressing on him. He looked at Yve, eyes locked, calm but steady. "Alright," he said, low and hesitant. "You can come with me."
Yve's eyes lit up, but Dylan raised a finger. "One condition."
She tilted her head.
"If you're ever in a life-threatening situation," he said, firm, "I'm taking you back to the ocean. No arguments."
Yve blinked, surprised. Then she nodded slowly. "Deal."
Dylan didn't say more. He just stared at her a moment longer, trying to understand what he just signed up for.