“Are you okay?” Mateo asked, half-asleep.

“Yes... Not worry.”

“You’re having nightmares again,” he complained. “You have nightmares almost every night.”

“Really? Oh... Sorry.”

“Try to sleep, count sheep...”

“What is sheep?”

“Those fluffy animals... that eat grass...” he said in a whisper before drifting off again.

It was the third night in a row that Erunestian had trouble sleeping. He got out of bed and went to the balcony to get some fresh air and listen to the sound of the waves. He didn’t understand why it had suddenly become so difficult. He slept without effort the first nights, but little by little he began spending more and more time lying awake in bed, sometimes until the birds started singing outside.

He wondered if it was because he was a man of the sea. He had never needed to sleep through the night until he became human. For him, it had always been normal to nap throughout the day, surfacing to breathe now and then. One would never find the entire clan asleep at the same time, each one rested when they needed to or when they could.

“Did you sleep last night, Eru?” Helena asked one day.

“Not much...”

“I’m sorry. I want to help... Maybe I can read you stories!”

“Oh! I would love that, truly!”

That night, Helena sat beside his bed and, like a devoted mother, began reading him stories. Erunestian lay down comfortably, trying to let himself be carried away by the rhythm of her voice. He wanted to imagine the stories, but he couldn’t. There were too many words he didn’t know. His mind focused on deciphering meanings instead of rocking to the melody, and he couldn’t help it.

She started with classic fairy tales, then moved on to a mystery novel. But when sleep still didn’t come, Helena began reading him an encyclopedia, until she started nodding off and eventually fell asleep.

Erunestian chuckled quietly, admiring how Helena’s method was infallible, on herself. He woke her gently, and she yawned her way back to her bed.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work, Eru...”

“Don’t say sorry,” he whispered. “I am grateful, I like to hear your... stories.”

He got up to drink some water.

He groped around for a glass and accidentally knocked over some cutlery. The loud clatter woke up Isabel, who slowly came down to the kitchen and turned on the light, blinking.

“I’m sorry for waking you again... I...”

“You can’t sleep,” she said, finishing his sentence. “Don’t worry, Eru. It’s normal.” She bent down to pick things up from the floor.

“Normal? Everyone sleeps all night, and I can’t.”

“It’s normal for you... If your eyes don’t perceive light, your brain doesn’t know when it’s nighttime, and it doesn’t make you sleepy.”

“What I do?”

“Don’t worry. For now, just find something to do, and when sleep comes, you’ll sleep. I promise, tomorrow—this time for real—I’ll buy medicine to help you sleep.”

Erunestian thanked her. She turned off the light and went back to her room.

For three more days, Isabel forgot to buy the medicine, and for three more nights, a white ghost wandered through the house.
In the mornings, unaware that the sun shone high in the sky, the sleeping prince could be found sprawled in any corner.

Erunestian wished Cyrene would come visit him for a talk, but instead, he was visited only by nightmares: vivid dreams in which he was still in the sea, witnessing some death he couldn’t prevent. Upon waking, he was left not with a clear image of his dreams, but with the salty taste of seawater in his mouth.

So during those sleepless nights, Erunestian began going barefoot into the garden to perfect his art with the spear.

The wind cooled him, the sound of the waves kept him company. In front of him stood a young tree whose small leaves whispered with the breeze. He would take a step, dragging his foot across the ground, carefully feeling the terrain. He liked the texture of the prickly grass on his feet.
He was lucky not to have been stung by any bugs yet... but what does a sea prince know about land insects?

He held his spear in his right hand, gripping it tightly, slashing and thrusting into the air. Unsatisfied, he repeated the same movements countless times. He was an expert warrior trying to adapt underwater combat techniques to land.
His movements were powerful, designed to be swift underwater. But his new body wasn’t yet used to fighting. He had to train hard.

Without the light of the moon or the stars, it was the birdsong that announced dawn.

Sweat dripped from his brow as the sun began to rise. Satisfied, he returned home and slept without a care.

Everyone wondered why he was so tired in the mornings. They didn’t know what he did at night.

He had become quieter and withdrawn.

“What’s wrong, Eru? You’re not like this... Tell us something! Tell us stories from the sea,” said Helena.

Mateo nudged her.
“Shh! Don’t you see he’s like this because he misses the sea?”

“But if something’s wrong, he has to talk about it to feel better.”

“It’s my fault he’s like this! I have to buy him Melatonin, but I’ve been so busy and I keep forgetting...” Isabel lamented.

“Stories from the sea?” Erunestian thought to himself. “What is my father doing? I hope everyone in Erymannen is safe...”

He didn’t know that, at that very moment, his father had already set out on a long journey to the north.

He had returned from his meeting with the mermaids more alarmed than ever. He had a terrible feeling he couldn’t shake from his heart.

He went to the domain of the Nontreiemannen clan, ruled by King Beriadan.

Their meeting was not exactly friendly: Máfortion and his guards were received by soldiers with spears who surrounded them.

“Is this how you treat your own kind, Beriadan?” he demanded.

Beriadan appeared before him. Imposing, muscular, and older than Máfortion, but not more powerful; the Erymannen clan was more numerous. Even so, Beriadan was adorned with jewels and noble decorations. He wore coral necklaces and pearls on the belt crossing his chest. On his head, he wore a golden ornament. All his soldiers also wore pearls on their belts, even the civilians bore exquisite decorations.
The Erymannen people, by contrast, were more modest in their appearance. Their ornaments were made of seaweed, and sometimes, hanging from their necklaces or belts, were shells, snail shells, or carved bones and teeth from animals they had hunted. Only King Máfortion wore pearls on his headdress, along with a coral crown on important occasions.

“Traitor,” Beriadan said coldly. “Your son is a traitor.”

“Last time I saw you, your clan had at least twice the people,” Máfortion commented defiantly.

The other king glared at him but said nothing.

“What happened? Pollution? Famine? Epidemic?”

“Silence, Máfortion! Worry about your own people's misfortunes!”

“Well... if you dare speak of my son, I could return the favor...”

“What do you want?”

“You know you should’ve informed me. We were going to unite our clans through their marriage.”

“Rumors travel fast. As soon as I lost my daughter, the news of your son’s exile reached us.” He stepped closer and said in a low voice, “They say Prince Erunestian was exiled for trying to be friendly with the filthy land men...”

Máfortion snorted, his face filling with bubbles.

“And you haven’t managed to find him?”

Máfortion remained silent, his expression sour.

“Forgive my behavior, Máfortion. We are going through harsh times. I will not give you a harsh time now.”

The soldiers lowered their spears, and Beriadan led him to his palace.

This clan was not as nomadic as Erymannen. They lived in colder waters near rocky formations with caves. There they could hide, rest, and breathe.

Máfortion and Beriadan, escorted by their guards, entered the cave and continued their tense meeting.

Beneath the dark rock dome, lit only by the sunlight filtering through the cracks above, echoed the voices of the rulers of the Pacific Ocean. They spoke in Regemdinhu, the official language.

“I want to put an end to this misery once and for all,” Máfortion began.

“What hypocrisy. Your people have the best territory and plenty of food.”

“We’re on the brink of extinction,” he protested. “If you feel such envy, imagine the other clans. Conflict is starting to boil. We’ve seen Urudémannen spies in our waters several times. And since neither of us has an heir, we need to form an alliance or we’ll be left defenseless.”

“A war in Manglülanig?” he scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh!” His soldiers laughed too. “This one’s as crazy as his son!” he mocked.

“And you’re as dead as your daughter,” Máfortion shot back, unfazed.

The laughter stopped abruptly and the soldiers aimed their spears at one another. Beriadan glared at him, boiling with rage.

“There are billions of humans across all of Ardenlanig,” Máfortion continued. “And us? Just a handful left across Manglülanig. Two moons ago, we had to send half our children to the depths because of the Ahta-suru disease. Don’t tell me you're not going through something similar.”

Beriadan signaled for the weapons to be lowered.

“Now let me ask you, King Beriadan, are you going to watch silently as your people suffer until they get tired and cut off your head, or until the king of another clan does it?”

The Northern King’s gaze burned, not with rage anymore, but with the fire of a warrior on the edge of battle.

Ahta-suru, which in the sea people’s tongue means “hand of the spirit,” was a disease that caused confusion and seizures in those it afflicted. They called it that because it seemed like an invisible spirit was choking and shaking the victim violently. It was worst for the youngest, and often affected many at once.
It seemed like a curse was haunting these people.
If only they knew that fish, their main food source, was poisoned by mercury spilled by humans.

By nightfall, the meeting had ended. Máfortion had convinced Beriadan. The clans had a strong alliance now, even without the prince and princess. They would defend each other unconditionally in case of attack or revolt.

The kings exited their dark chamber and bowed to each other.
Máfortion and his guards returned to their clan, while Beriadan went away accompanied by his beautiful wife. He often saw others die, but the death of his own daughter tormented his soul. At times, the thought came to him that it might be better to join her in her rest.

After that meeting, several messengers from both clans were sent to look for Erunestian.

Máfortion recalled the prophecy given at his son’s birth: “The prince will leave the sea because he will love humankind, but he will never see the land”, and he began to wonder if meant that Erunestian would lose his life trying to connect with humans. Deep down, though, he felt his son was still alive. He had to find him, but there were thousands of miles of coastline in the Pacific. Where to start?

He summoned the messenger Satragtinel and gave him a special mission:

“There’s a beach with warm waters to the east. Before you get there, you’ll see some islands with plenty of food in that direction. Go straight, and once you pass the islands, in a few days you’ll reach the coast. I want you to search for my son there. Give him this message and bring him back.”

And so, the prince would wait for news from his world, unaware that it would not be Cyrene who was going to bring them.

The anguish of being cut off from his people made him feel powerless. And that’s what pushed him to resume his training, to make his body once again a weapon, to protect himself, and to protect those he cared about, at least on land.

One night during dinner, Isabel finally gave Erunestian the medicine and put an end to his sleepless nights. He could hear the others talking around him, but he didn’t understand them. His mind was shut off, his head too heavy. He went to bed early and fell into a deep sleep.

He didn’t dream. He simply sank into darkness.
At last, his mind rested, and his worries vanished.

Or so he thought...

“Eru... Eru!” a voice echoed from afar. “Eru! Sweetie, wake up. It’s time.”

Erunestian woke slowly. As he came to, he realized Isabel was calling him.

“Eru, you have school. Get dressed now,” she said.

He sat up, startled. He remembered that they had been talking about this all along, about school. And he, lost in his concerns, had ignored them.

He heard Helena and Mateo rushing to get dressed, running around looking for things. He felt their nerves and got nervous too.
If school scared humans...
What was going to become of him?