I am Erunestian, son of Máfortion and Thurwaithiel, prince of the Erymannen clan.
I was born sixteen years ago, not far from here, in the warm waters of the Odavayanna—what you call the South Pacific.

My mother, Thurwaithiel, died giving birth to me, and my father chose to raise me on his own, despite the heavy burden he bore as chief of Erymannen. He was very strict, because I was meant to one day inherit his position. In our language, the chief is called Rí—it means "king." It's a difficult role. We are nomads, and the king must guide the route, protect the people, and become the strongest and wisest of the clan.

The king faces the hunger and death that stalk us every moment.

Thanks to my father's teachings, I learned to be brave. I was trained in the use of nets and spears, both to fish and to fight. I learned to be cunning, to stay hidden from humans, and alert to animal attacks. My clan trusted me. They respected me. They used to call me "the heart of Erymannen," because it seemed I could feel what others felt, and I was always willing to serve.

But there was one thing that always drove my father mad: my fascination with humans. I wasn't afraid of them. In fact, I believed they might hold the key our salvation.

My father punished me severely whenever I tried to spy on a ship, or when I said I thought maybe—not all humans were cruel.

The more people there are on land, the fewer there are in the sea.

We have not had contact with the people of the land in thousands of years. Back when our people once shared and traded with them, a time came when human greed grew too great, and a terrible war broke out amongst them. They destroyed each other.
The sea people fled to avoid being dragged into such disgrace—and never showed themselves again.

Eventually, humans forgot us. Perhaps we made a mistake in letting them believe they're the only intelligent species in the world. But it's too late now to undo that.

But it tormented me to watch how we retreat in fear instead of fighting for our survival. I felt there had to come a time when humans would find us—because if that time never came, we'd vanish in silence.

I lived with that feeling for years—until the day arrived when I couldn't take it anymore.

It happened during a food-gathering expedition with a group of young men. There were no fish, and the water reeked of death. I knew something was wrong.

In the distance, we saw a boat approaching. My companions wanted to flee, but I stopped them. I had to know what was going on.

What I saw made my stomach churn. I had seen human boats sometimes dumping waste into the sea—but this one was throwing bodies. Human bodies. The water around them got stained with blood.
The last one was still alive. His hands and feet bound. Sent to a slow death.

"Your highness! We have to leave!" said one of my companions.

"No. We must rescue him," I said, gripping my spear. "He's still alive."

The boat left as the poor soul struggled to free himself. My companions refused to go near him. To them, he was a creature so vile he deserved the worst death. But to abandon him like that—without knowing whether he'd committed a crime—wouldn't that make us just as vile?

I tried to swim toward him, but my companions held me back, clutching my arms.

"We can't go near him!" they insisted.

I struggled, but it was useless.

As we drifted away, I saw the man stop fighting and sinking into oblivion.

My mind went blank. All I could see was the infinite abyss of the ocean—the same abyss we will all one day join. But I didn't want my people to go like that, like that man—tortured, silenced, blinded, defeated...

I let my companions drag me back. A part of me died that day. I stared into the deep blue of the sea, feeling insignificant. It didn't matter if I swam, if I lived, or if I died. In the end, all creatures perish so others may be born, and the sea will remain blue.

So why do we believe we are the children of the God of all things, and the most beloved of the god of the sea?

And yet, I had the power to think, to speak, and to lead people. If that was true, then I couldn't be so insignificant. I could change things.

When we returned to our clan, my companions wasted no time telling my father what had happened. I had never seen him so furious. I knew I was about to receive a punishment I'd never forget.

"So—you wanted to help our enemy. Do you have any idea how many lives you endangered for that whim of yours?" he shouted, grabbing my shoulder.

"Only one life was in danger. And one life was lost because of our inaction," I replied.

His face filled with rage and he struck me across the face.

"A thousand human lives aren't worth a single one of ours!"

"You can't know that. Every life is different. Believing we're better than them only puts us on their same level of arrogance."

"Erunestian! I can't believe my own son would speak of such disgusting treason! Maybe the punishment I give you today will finally knock those foolish ideas out of your head!"

My heart pounded. "Send me to exile. Beat me with all your strength. No punishment you give me will hurt more than seeing our people suffer. And if you won't do something to stop their misery... then I will!"

There are two things strictly forbidden in our world, both punishable by death. One is to take the life of another one of us. The other is to make contact with—or reveal ourselves to—a human.

And in that moment, the most reckless idea of my entire life took shape: to go to the forbidden domains of the sirens—ancient spirits of the sea—and ask them for a favor: to give me a human body so I could walk on land.

If I didn't do it then, I probably never would. I was ready to offer my life if it meant saving my people.

"Fine!" my father shouted. "Do as you please, but get out of my sight! I can't stand your insolence anymore!"

He didn't know what he was saying. But I obeyed.

I grabbed my spear. I put on the ceremonial adornments that only nobles wear for important rites—the same belt made out of kelp that Mateo and Helena would later find me wearing. And I swam off toward my fate, leaving behind the silent stares of a people watching their beloved prince disappear after a fight with the king.

If humans were the cause of so much of our suffering—weren't humans also the only ones who could stop it?

But I couldn't appear before them in my sea-born form. I'd only scare them. So I thought: maybe, just maybe, if I became one of them... they would listen.

And so, I began my journey. I swam for days into lost waters, searching for the mythical palace said to lie beyond the horizon of death, where the sirens dwell. And only if they found me worthy, would they appear and grant me a favor.