Awareness flooded into her mind, followed by the flashes of broken memories from the day prior. The beach, the vagrant, the inn and the two men— those moments she could recall with clarity, but after that there seemed to be some blurring and bending in what she remembered. Whatever had happened after she had been taken seemed to fade and scope in detail.

One solitary light flickered in the corner furthest from the bed. It cast a small halo of dim light that did more to deepen the shadows of the room than to illuminate it. Shifting under the weight of the blankets, she registered the spongy softness beneath her. It was a strange sensation. A fragmented recollection of images came back to her and she recalled the two men moving her around, placing her on another soft surface, much more dense than this, but still softer than the floor. She dismissed the act as a strange mortal custom. If she needed to rest, she could have just settled down into a small enclosed area, and wrapped her fin around—

No, she paused at the thought, she couldn’t. At some point she would need to stop thinking like an Abyssal if she wanted to survive in the mortal world above the waves.

Her eyes focused on the shape of a body sprawled ungracefully across the chair next to the foot of the bed. A arm dangled over one side, and a leg propped up propped up onto the bed rested over the other. Everything else was hidden beneath a thick blanket similar to the one that she had managed to wrap herself up in during the night, with the exception of the mop of dark, wavy hair that popped out the top.

Rubbing at the back of her neck, she searched for the names she had heard them use to refer to each other. Serik and Reza, her captors, and yet, apparently also her saviors.

They were not particularly good captors, but she assumed for that, she could be grateful. They hadn’t tied her up or been brutally harsh to her to get what they wanted. In fact, if she recalled correctly, which at this point was probably a vague guess, they had planned to barter her in exchange for safe passage from the Abyssals. They had believed she had been on some sort of mission from her kind— little did the two know that the Abyssal wanted nothing more to do with her. However misguided their plan, thankfully it required her to be alive and healthy. Yet, she still questioned their thinking in bringing a potentially someone so potentially dangerous on board a sailing vessel. Did that make them exceedingly brave, or immensely stupid. Time would have to tell on that one.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, they dangled slightly before she brought them to the floor. If she wasn’t already uncertain about the reliability of these clumsy limbs, she had even less belief in her ability to use them in such a weakened state. Gingerly shifting her weight from the mattress behind her to balance on her feet pressed firmly to the floor, she was amazed at how easily she was able to move forward with ease. A pained realization struck her that she was getting used to the mechanics of being mortal.

The room was small, and Serik showed no signs of rousing. Padding slowly towards an inelegant drape covering what she assumed to be a window out of the ship, she slowly pried it open with the hope of gaining information on her location. Despite the darkness in the room, she was shocked to find painfully bright sunlight hiding behind the drape. It had done a deceptively good job of concealing the fact that it must be somewhere near midday. The light sliced through the darkness and pierced her eyes, destroying her night vision completely, disorienting her to the point she reeled away from it until she had stumbled into the corner, smacking the meeting place of the two walls with a hollow but firm thunk that echoed through the room. Clipping the edge of the bedside table as she flailed, a metal bowl filled with water and a washcloth rocked, once, twice, and then toppled to the floor with a clank and a splash. The contents created a miniature tidal wave as they went spilling forth across the floor and the spinning bowl came to a stop.

Stirring violently, Serik made an unintelligible noise, quickly pulling a knife from an unseen sheath, striking out in the wrong direction to attack the darkness. As he gained his bearings and he surveyed the room, assessing there was no immediate danger, he turned to face her as the flood of water came spilling against his feet. Silence filled the room once more, with the exception of the faint, panicked breathing of the startled pirate. Foot falls from outside the room became louder, more pronounced as they neared the door, and it swung open in an powerful thrust as Reza came barreling into the to room, as alert and shaken as Serik.

“She lives.” Reza announced to nobody in particular.

He laughed, putting away his own weapon, a curved blade smaller than a sword but longer than a knife, hooking it back onto a strap against his leg. Serik slid his own knife away, offering his hand to her as she crouched, half fallen, half sitting in the corner, propped up awkwardly by the wall.

“How do you feel?” Serik asked.

The question was more loaded than he realized. To respond that yes, she did indeed feel better, was to insinuate that she had returned to feeling normal. Considering the events of the last few days, that was a profound statement to make. As long as she was still fumbling around on land in a strange body, she could not truly say that was the case.

“I will survive,” she managed, settling on a statement that was matter-of-fact, and true enough no matter her circumstances. And taking the proffered hand. “For that, I am grateful to you I would suppose.”

“Reza did most of the work,” Serik admitted with a dismissive lift of the shoulder. “I just played nurse— damp cloths on your forehead and and maintaining fluids. He’s the one who broke your fever.”

“Simple tea of willow bark,” Reza replied. “Not exactly advanced medicine.”

“You did not need to care for me, yet, you did so, even with the understanding that I might be dangerous.”

“You weren’t a danger to anyone in your condition,” Serik scoffed. “I wasn’t exactly worried.”

“Still, it is a curious gesture to me… and I am unsure how to replay such a dept of kindness. Where I come from, little attention is paid to the dying.”

Serik knit his brows together. “You don’t care for the dying?”

“The strength of our kind is measured only by our weakest kin. Culling ensures only the strongest survive.” She paused, examining the contemplative look he gave at her statement. “You have much to learn about Abyssal kinship… which is why, as your companion pointed out, your plan for bartering my life would not have worked.”

“Is that because they view you as weak since you have been cast out?” Reza posed.

“Culling is a means of strengthening our clan, but cursing is a means of controlling them. To them, there is strength is conformity.”

“The more I learn about the Abyssal the less I like them,” Serik said.

“Their practices do reek of barbarism,” Reza added. “The Bast may be a Forsaken race, but we are not so heinous as to ignore the suffering of our sick and injured.”

“We do what we must to survive,” she spat, more defensively than she intended. “With the exception of our Infinite Father, Valen, no Paragons ever showered us with the graces and blessings they bestowed upon the land-dwellers.”

“We may have been born on desert sands rather than the barren deeps, but my kind had it no easier than yours, Abyssal, especially when compared to the mortals.” Reza countered. “Still, I like to think that we were able to overcome our base instincts. Valen may have created us out of spite, a gesture of bringing balance to life in the world, but we have grown as a race.”

“So, you are to tell me that the stories I have heard of tempting mortals with promises of magic favors, only to punish them by twisting that magic later— those are only rumors?”

Reza stiffened and the tension in the room seemed to increase.

“The Bast are scholars, healers, inventors, much like our Pyran cousins. But, unlike them, we are the keepers of knowledge beyond their comprehension. We know more about the Infinite than the Paragons themselves.” Realizing his defensive posture, he let his shoulders relax. “When someone has wilfully hunted you down and enslaved you for your magic, then we may talk on more equal terms.”

“As we shall when you have known what it is to survive as the only race resigned to those barren depths, like we Abyssal.”

Stepping between the two, Serik interrupted, “You’re not Abyssal anymore, though.”

Again, she had forgotten her new circumstances. She chastised herself for still seeing herself as one of them, for defending the very beings who had deemed her no longer worthy to be one of their kind.

“A fact that I am still learning to accept,” she sighed. “You’re correct. I am no longer Abyssal. Which is why, in repayment for saving my life, I am willing to help you with your plan.”

Serik quirked his head oddly, as if he had not heard her correctly, and the new angle would afford him a better understanding.

“Um, but… you said it yourself, lady— “

“Arlenis.”

“Ar - what - now?”

“Arlenis,” she repeated. “You are called, Serik.” She pointed to the Bast. “And, he is called Reza, correct?”

“Yeah?”

“I am Arlenis.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Of course, you have a name… Arlenis, then,” he corrected. “You made it very clear, Arlenis,” he said, hesitantly, trying out the name to make sure he understood the pronunciation, “that the Abyssal would not make a deal with us, and that they did not want you back.”

“That does not mean I do not wish to return,” she corrected. “They are not willing to make a deal with you, but I am.”

“What is the promise of one cursed Abyssal?” Reza asked, the ever-present sense of reason in the room. “Besides, what could you possibly have that we would want?”

“All you had in your possession was the coat.”

Serik pointed to a discarded pile of dirty fabric in the corner of the room. For the first time, Arlenis realized that she was clothed, wearing a long, light blue linen shirt with pearly buttons. From the length and fit on her body, she surmised it belonged to Reza. She was too close to Serik’s size for his clothing to provide any kind of reasonable amount of coverage. Land-dwellers seemed to have some strange aversion and preoccupation with covering and decorating their bodies.

“Thanks, no thanks. No amount of chemicals in the world is going to save that wretched pieced of clothing. That we burn.”

“You need my help. Even if you could get one clan to agree, there is no reason why the others would honor it.”

“I’m failing to see the benefit in your help, then.” Serik said.

“No Abyssal will make a deal with you because they do not see you as equals— they see you as prey. They deem themselves superior to you because they know that you have no inherent defenses against them, no way to fight back.” She paused, waiting to see if they could put the pieces together on their own, but clearly they were failing to follow her argument. “I know their methods of attack.”

“You would teach us how to evade them, to protect yourselves.” Reza finished the thought fo her.

“Yes.”

“How does that help you return home?” He returned.

“My Elders cast me out for disloyalty, and to them, that is a weakness. My insubordination to an Elder is considered a dereliction to my kind, when truly it is only a dereliction of the Elders. If I were to return and manage to outwit them, to show that even cursed in a mortal body I was stronger and more cunning than they, the other members of my clan will follow. As leader of my clan, in return for your help and saving my life, I would make that deal you seek.” She paused, breathlessness reaching her head as a dizzy sort of high, mixing with adrenaline as she found power in her words. “Not every Abyssal sees the need for wanton bloodshed of mortals.”

“What about the other clans?” Serik asked.

“As a clan leader, I would have a say amongst my kind. I could argue for the institution of neutral territory. I wouldn’t bring an end to all conflict, but it would create avenues of safe passage for vessels.”

“How do expect to accomplish all this? You’re talking about a revolution among your kind.” Reza added.

“The specifics would have to be worked out, obviously,” she relented. “This wouldn’t happen overnight. It would take time. I know you were hoping for something more immediate, and honestly, more exclusive, but think of the implications for mortals everywhere. It’s a chance to establish peace between two violently opposing races.”

Serik exhaled a forced breath from his nostrils, slowly raking a hand down the features of his face.

“When I had the idea to kidnap you, interracial peace negotiations weren’t exactly what I had in mind here. I just wanted protection for my ship and crew— “

“Basically, us...” Reza interjected quietly.

“Although,” he stated in a sing-song tone. “I do rather like the idea of going down in history as the man who brought an end to eons of bloodshed between mortals and Abyssals.” He bit his lip and ticked his eyes upward in thought. “That would would earn me a statue at least, right?”

Reza shook his head just out of Serik’s line of sight, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“Do we have a deal then?” She asked.

Serik turned regarding Reza’s input. The two men exchanged thoughtful glances between them that seemed to be the equivalent of an entire conversation. Reza pursed his lips in his own deep thought.

“If you die, I am free.”

“Not if you let me die!” Serik responded by literally pouting like a child, glaring at Reza. “The thing about a life debt is that you have to at least attempt to save my life if I am in danger, preferably sacrificing yourself in exchange for my own continued survival.”

“My friend,” Clamping his large hand down on Serik’s narrow shoulder, Reza smiled. “I can ensure that if you are ever in imminent danger, I will expel great amounts of energy to protect you…” Then, Reza tilted his head, giving Serik a knowing look. “Yet, accidents do happen… especially when you have the annoying habit of acting prior to thinking.”

Turning abruptly, he narrowed his gaze on her in again, sizing her up as he had done when they had first met at the inn. He chewed introspectively on the nail of his thumb.

“What did you do?”

“I haven’t— 

“No,” he shook his head, closing the gap in the space between them in a gesture too intimate to not be deliberate. “What I meant was, what did you do that they considered so horrible they would curse you?”

The intimacy felt uncomfortable, and she considered this was his motive in approaching her. Perhaps this was some sort of mortal posturing for dominance. She fought the urge to step back away from him.

“It’s irrelevant.”

“Humor me.”

Flashing the charming smirk she had noticed he used on her at the inn, she swallowed and stood a bit taller.

“I refused to kill a mortal child.”