Ash Turner’s entire body shook with the violent, barely suppressed yawn that tore through him. This class was already boring, but the professor was making it even worse. This was stuff he had already learned in his freshman and sophomore years of college. Having to go over it again was more painful than listening to his sister gossip about the girls at her high school.

 He already knew the history of the Devil Gods, the Veil and Divine Realms. He knew that over a hundred and thirty years ago, during the Great Separation, that mortals, mythics, and Divine came to recognize each other and the chaos that ensued when that happened. He knew what the High Divine had done to bring everyone together, what the Devil Gods and their family went through to secure the Veil and, subsequently, the Mortal Realm. He also knew the difference between “x number of years this side,” or “y number of years that side.” 

He wasn’t taking this course as a recap of the stuff he already knew and could recite verbatim if necessary, he was taking it because it was supposed to teach him more about the mythic civilizations established in the Mortal Realm and the roles they played in the continued rebuilding of the new world.

So far, six weeks into the first semester of his junior year at Albright University West Coast, he’d learned jack-shit.

Ash let his chin fall into his hand as he gazed longingly out at the sprawling campus outside his classroom window. It was a beautiful day, early fall, and the weather was perfect for being outside, not trapped in a stuffy room with a stuffy professor, droning on about stuffy, mindless stuff Ash knew everyone in the class already had shoved down their throats for the last however many years since they were kids. 

If he could, he’d be out on the shoreline or the pier, watching the waves come in and out. Maybe he’d take his bike to the park and ride the ramps to burn off some steam. Of course, there was also the possibility of heading over to the local arcade and playing some lazer tag or paintball with Scott…

He froze, his mouth going dry as his nails dug into his palm.

No…Scott wouldn’t be going. He’d never be going anywhere with Ash again.

His green eyes slid to a desk near the front of the room near the door, far from him but still within eyesight. There he sat…as calm and serene as ever, blonde, blue eyed, and beautiful. The image of angelic innocence.

Fake-ass little bastard.

Scott Tulle was nothing but a lying, manipulative, cheating asshole. He might look the image of perfection to the world around him, but Ash knew better. He knew firsthand what a slime Scott was and he wanted nothing to do with him. He just wished he’d seen it a year or so earlier.

He glared at the twenty-year old from his desk in the back of the class through a curtain of dark hair, the bags under his eyes belying the numerous sleepless nights he’d endured because of Scott Tulle. He wondered once more why the little prick hadn’t changed classes after Ash had caught him red handed in their bed three weeks ago, why he hadn’t just left town after Ash threatened to…

“Mr. Turner, would you care to explain?” 

Professor Wyatt’s voice cut through his commiserations, bringing him back to the present. He jolted slightly in his chair, his attention swinging from the prick to the drone at the front of the class, his tired brown eyes steady on Ash’s face.

“Uh…what?” he said stupidly, flipping through his text book…the one he’d barely touched since starting this class.

A soft chorus of snickers and giggles washed through the room and Ash bit his lip, fighting the heat rising in the back of his neck.

Professor Wyatt’s lips turned down in a frown and he sighed. “Apparently, you weren’t paying attention as I thought,” he said in his lazy drawl. 

“Sorry,” Ash muttered, slouching in his seat.

“As I was saying, please explain to the class the repercussions of the Reconstruction as it relates to the merpeople in the Pacific regions.”

“O-oh, yeah, right,” Ash muttered, flipping through the book as he straightened in his chair. He found the necessary page, but barely looked at it. Again, this was stuff he had learned over a year ago. He cleared his throat, ignoring the pointed stares of his classmates, specifically that of Scott Tulle’s.

Angel prick.

“Before the Reconstruction,” Ash began in a flat tone, “the merpeople of the Pacific regions tended to stay fairly close together, their cities and villages following the major fault lines near the coast, presumably because that’s where more of the energy they draw from is located. However, following the devastation wrought by the Reconstruction, many of the tribes were forced to separate and move further out in order to keep themselves and their sacred items safe. It was postulated that the Devil Gods knew they were disrupting the natural order of the merfolk, among many other mythics, but that’s never been proven, even after over a century of research.”

“How close is the nearest tribe to the western shores?” Wyatt asked.

“Roughly twenty miles,” Ash responded automatically, almost bored. “But none of them ever come to Marina Bay or the surrounding areas. There is a temple to Poseidon about thirty miles south of here, but if any of the merfolk have gone there in the last few decades, we wouldn’t know.” He shrugged, twirling his pen between his fingers lazily.

“Why do you think they won’t make contact with us if other mythics and Divine have so readily integrated with the mortals?”

Another shrug. “No one knows,” he said, fighting another yawn. “Probably because there’s nothing we can offer them. They’re well protected, their city well-fortified, and they have enough magic power to bring down the entire west coast if they wanted. We don’t mean anything to them.”

“And before?”

“We were an anomaly, a curiosity. Some of them came up here as humans to learn our language and customs, but ultimately they saw no real value in communing with humans. Merfolk are proud people, fierce warriors, and avid devotees of their sea gods and the High Divine. We’re just zoo animals to them. Interesting to look at, but not enough to interact with.”

Ash shifted in his seat as he felt Scott’s glare intensify on his face.

“Since the Reconstruction, the merfolk have kept to themselves, protected and defended their own, and drifted out of the public consciousness as much as possible. They have enough to worry about on the seafloor, they don’t need us.” 

“Hm,” Wyatt said, his arms folding over his polo-clad torso. “Interesting assessment, Mr. Turner, thank you.” He turned back to the rest of the class and sought out the opinions of other students, much to Ash’s relief.

He sighed quietly and slouched again, his gaze going back out the window. He tried to look beyond the campus, beyond the mass of trees between here and the shoreline. He wished he was there now, wished he could part those waves with his body and swim out to the city he knew was there…

Except he would likely drown ten feet out into the water.

Still, he wanted to know more about those people, more about their civilization and their culture. It sucked that not a single merman had stepped onto their shores in decades, if not longer, leaving no evidence of who they really were behind for him to research. If he could meet one…just one…

His phone buzzed in his pocket, making him jump involuntarily with a tiny sharp inhale of surprise. His friend next to him glanced over, his eyebrow dipping.

“Dude,” he whispered. “What’s with you?”

Ash gave him a pointed look as he pulled out his phone, tapping the screen under the desk so as not to be noticed. It was a text from Lynn, his sister. He frowned as he read and reread it, making sure he wasn’t seeing things.

LYNN: Daddy said to go to the hospital, it’s important. There’s a merman there and he’s freaking out bad.

What the fuck? 

As stared at the phone screen a moment longer before typing out his reply.

ASH: What do you mean a merman? 

It took Lynn no time at all to respond: I mean a MERMAN, buttmunch. Just get to Embers Medical right away.

ASH: I’m in class!

LYNN: Yes, cuz that matters. JUST GO! And tell me everything when you get home cuz you know daddy won’t.

Ash heaved a heavy sigh and started shoving his things into his backpack. Colin stared at him, flabbergasted.

“What the hell, dude?” he hissed, his dark eyes filled with surprise. If his skin wasn’t so dark, Ash could swear he was flushing from excitement. Colin was going to be filled in soon enough, they both knew it.

“Tell you later,” Ash mumbled, shouldering his bag as he exited his seat and made his way to the door, ignoring Scott’s confused glare as he passed.

“Mr. Turner?” Professor Wyatt called out after him. “Where are you going?”

“Sorry,” Ash said, pushing the door open without looking back. “Family business.” He was out and gone before Wyatt, or anyone else for that matter, could protest.

**