The sea shimmered under the golden sunlight, while a few clouds drifted across the sky like soft brushstrokes. Nearby, palm trees rustled with the wind that entered through the open balcony door.

Erunestian was leaning against the railing, letting the marine breeze tousle his hair and the warmth of the sun bathe his skin. His eyes, wide-open, searched in vain for the horizon.

He let out a sigh. 

He had always loved looking at the sky, not just because it guided the sea people on their travels, but because it brought him joy. He used to imagine himself swimming above the clouds, discovering the stars. Back in the sea, he would poke his head out of the water and watch the sun arrive or depart in a dazzling display, every day.

His chest began to feel hollow.

Only six days had passed since his voluntary exile, yet he already doubted he would ever get used to this new life, to the absence of light, the absence of darkness, and the unrelenting pull of gravity that bound him to the earth.

Suddenly, a drop of water fell onto his hand. Then another. And another.

It wasn’t rain. It was spilling from his eyes.

He touched his cheek and caught one of the drops. He tasted it. It was salty—but not as salty as seawater.

He began to worry. He didn't understand what was happening to him.

Then a gentle voice wrapped around him, soft, uncertain, trembling at the high notes and vanishing in the low ones. Though inexperienced, it distracted him from his sorrow.

Colors appeared before him, along with the vision of a place he didn't recognize.

He closed his eyes, but the image wouldn't fade. And since it showed him the sky, he decided to enjoy it for as long as it lasted, instead of searching for answers.

It was Helena, just a few steps away, singing a song she had once learned at music school. It was a very old Italian song that said:

Oh graceful, lovely eyes,
my beloved eyes,
living rays from heaven,
so bright and clear,
since you desire so much
to see me languish,
to see me die,
lovely eyes that I adore,
see how I die.

Oh bright lights,
oh beloved lights,
so cruel and merciless to my love,
since you so enjoy the fire that I feel
from my severe affliction,
oh look at me a little
and rejoice in my fire.

When the song ended, Erunestian reached out with his hands to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Helena took them in hers. They were wet, just like his face.

"What are those tears for?" she asked.

"I don't know what 'tears' is," Erunestian replied with a smile. "But that morning I ask you to sing. Thank you for remembering, Helena."

"Tears are those drops of water that fall from your eyes when you cry... Do the sea people not cry?"

Erunestian wiped his cheek and chuckled.
"Cry, yes. Tears... I think not."

"Do you miss your family?"

"Yes, I miss... I miss the sea too."

Helena stared at him in awe. She knew she wouldn't have lasted even a single day in his place. Being alone in a foreign land, far from one's family, was hard enough. But to be alone and blind in a completely different world?

Moved, she threw her arms around him and said earnestly, "You're not alone. We'll be your family now."

"What are you doing?" he asked, not returning the hug.

Helena pulled away, embarrassed.

"I... I gave you a hug because I thought you needed one," she stammered.

"Does that help humans feel less sad?" he asked.

"Well... yeah, it can."

"Ah! A human way of showing affection," he said, laughing. "I appreciate it!"

Helena gave a nervous giggle.
"Forget about it..."

Their laughter was suddenly cut short when Erunestian turned sharply. He leaned onto the edge of the balcony, smiling wide.

"What is it?" asked Helena.

"Cyrene!" he exclaimed, thrilled.

"Cyrene? The siren? How could that be?" she wondered. "But there's nothing there... just seagulls."

At that moment, her aunt called from inside. Helena turned to go, leaving Erunestian alone.

He extended his arm, and a beautiful white bird landed on it.

Helena entered her aunt's room, Mateo was also there, serious as usual. Isabel’s next words were so unexpected they barely registered:

"I have something important to tell you... I've made a decision. I'm going to marry David. We're going to start a family."

"What?!"

"Yes. He proposed last week..."

Helena jumped with joy, while Mateo stared in disbelief.

"You made him wait a whole week? Poor guy..."

"Oh no, Mateo! It's not like that," Isabel said, laughing. "I said yes the moment he asked me. It's just... well... we hadn't made it public yet, because, you know how your grandmother is..."

"Ah, yes! And he's not baptized Catholic. What a scandal," Mateo joked, dripping with sarcasm.

Isabel burst out laughing.
"You can't choose your family."

"Oh, who cares!" Helena exclaimed. "What matters is that you're happy, the two of you! That's all!"

"I already told my mother, actually. It went better than I expected..."

Helena cut her off:
"I always liked your boyfriend. I knew you two would end up together. It's so romantic! Wow! Congratulations, Aunt Isa!" she said, jumping to hug her.

Mateo chuckled, finding the whole thing incredibly cheesy—but without saying a word, he joined in for the group hug.

That's when Erunestian appeared in the doorway.

The laughter stopped instantly. They looked at each other awkwardly and pulled away from the hug.

Erunestian had no idea what was going on. His expression was actually rather tense, and he said, a bit breathlessly:

"I bring news!"

"What is it?" asked Isabel.

"Well..." Erunestian said, scratching his head. "I just found out that my father went to palace of the sirens to complain for my disappearance."

"He must be furious," said Helena.

"Yes... because the prophecy came true—that I would leave when I grew up. He has given offering to the sirens every year to keep me safe. But in the end... I left anyway! I think he offended the queen a little, and now... they don't protect us anymore."

"Jeez... Not a good idea to have the spirits against you," Mateo commented.

"My father says the sea clans might start fighting. Times are hard there," Erunestian added. "Maybe I left at bad time..."

"Don't say that. There must be a reason you're here," said Isabel.

"There can't be war," Erunestian said firmly. "Erukönnem will not forgive us—and we disappear."

"What's Eru...kunem?" Mateo asked.

"The God," he answered. "The sea people forbid war long ago. We're too few, and we can disappear. Our gods don't help us if we kill each other. They saved us once... but they don't save us again."

Everyone was confused, but they understood the heart of his concern.

"Take a breath," they said. "Tell us from the beginning."

Erunestian was overwhelmed. His thoughts jumbled his words, and his words tangled his thoughts. He had to slowly unravel what he wanted to say. It was a complex matter. He wanted them to understand why his father was so worried, and how his disappearance converged with the ancient legends of the sea.