Of Blood & Water

Kymara The Cyan sun had just crested the horizon, painting the eastern sky in hues of soft lavender and rose. Its light lingered, unhurried, stretching the morning thin as the already vibrant Saffron sun climbed higher, casting a warm, honeyed glow across the vermilion sands. Mornings like this always felt long, wide with possibility, as if the day itself hadn't yet decided to move forward. Kymara's small feet pressed into the yielding dunes, leaving delicate trails that the whispering breeze would soon erase. The air carried the sharp, iodine scent of the receding tide, mingled with warmth that clung even this early. It was an unmistakable sign of the long stretch after the Spring Equinox, when the suns moved a bit slower and the days carried a cool breeze. Five-year-old Kymara Silvertide wandered along the familiar stretch of beach, her small feet kicking up sand as the tide murmured beside her. Her black, tightly coiled hair bounced with each step, catching hints of iridescent sheen in the sunlight. Her eyes, softly shifting in color like a tiny rainbow, fluttered with curiosity, brightening as she scanned the waves. Just ahead, her mother stood near the smoke shack, careful to remain beneath its deep overhang where stacked planks cast thick, deliberate shade. Illenisie Silvertide was a slender figure etched in silhouette against the weathered wood. Wisps of dark hair had escaped her braid, framing a round bronzed face usually alight with warmth, but today, it was shadowed with quiet worry. The crackling fire hissed and popped at her side, flames licking at rows of drying fish. Smoke curled upward in a thin blue ribbon, twisting into the salty breeze as if trying to shield her further. Mamau looks troubled, Kymara thought. Why? Her father, Gresham Silvertide, was further out in the shallows of the estuary. Sunlight danced across the iridescent green, yellow, and deep red scales that shimmered over his upper body. His umber skin contrasted sharply with the bright scales, and even from a distance Kymara could make out the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw. As he bent to harvest swaying kelp, his slicked-back hair revealed the pointed tips of his ears. The Cyan sun rose higher behind the Magnolia one, lending a pale shimmer to his movements. His slanted eyes, one green and one reddish-blue, glinted with thought as he worked. Beyond these shores, the wider world believed beings like her father belonged only in sailor's songs and half-forgotten faery tales. Here, though, he was simply Papau. She sent a thought to each of them, a gentle brush against the bond they shared. Mamau. Papau. I'm walking. Stay where we can see you, silverfish, her mother's voice echoed warmly in her mind, though that underlying concern still threaded through it. Don't go into the forest, deeaha, her father followed, gentle but firm, carrying a weight that made Kymara's small heart flutter. The palm forest loomed nearby: a dense tangle of slender trunks reaching toward the suns. The fronds rustled like giant, feathery hands in the breeze, their shadows pooling and shifting across the sand. It was inviting in its coolness, and unsettling in its depth. They shared a deep mental connection, a language of thought, love, and history. Her mother was an ancient vampire. Her father, a mythical merman. Their bond was both steel and silk. In Merspeak, tihilali'amnaht, "Papau" meant father, and "Mamau" meant mother. The word for daughter was Dohogutiheroo, but her parents called her deeaha, meaning day. To them, she was more than their daughter. She was their day, the light that gave warmth and meaning to their lives. Though they often spoke Commowai, the common tongue of Darse, strong emotion always pulled them back into Merspeak."Papau," she'd asked, her voice still thick with sleep, "why do the waves sing different songs each day?" Gresham knelt beside her, the water lapping softly against his calves, his slanted eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Because the sea listens to the sky as much as it listens to itself," he said gently. "Right now, it's harkening the Summer Solstice." Kymara blinked, curiosity sharpening through the haze of sleep. She leaned her full weight against his side, her small arms winding around his scaled thigh. She anchored herself to him, seeking the cool dampness of his skin. "This is Decar," he continued, resting a steady hand on her head as she clung to him. He brushed a few traces of damp sand from her fingers. "The second month of spring. The tides rise higher now. They linger longer. The sea stretches, just like the days do, and it sings louder because of it." Illenisie, leaning in the doorway's shade with sapphire eyes warm, added softly, "By the time Janor comes, the song will change again. The tides will begin to pull away from the shore, and the sea will grow quieter, preparing to sleep." Gresham nodded. "Three months from now, little one, summer will be upon us. The waves will call instead of whisper. That's how the sea keeps time: by remembering when to hold close, and when to let go." Kymara had smiled then, small and content, pressing her ear toward the sand as if she might hear it already. Now, walking the shoreline, Kymara tried to listen. The melody began gently: the soft susurrus of waves keeping a steady, comforting rhythm. Then something shifted. A discordant note threaded through the sound, sharp and unfamiliar. A frantic pulse beat against the ocean's steady breath. She stopped. Her small hand instinctively reached for the smooth, cool surface of one of the enchanted necklaces her mother had given her. Loose tendrils of her tightly coiled hair clung to her damp forehead. Looking back toward her home, her parents appeared suddenly distant, small figures against the vast horizon. That heartbeat... it feels wrong, she thought, unease knotting in her belly. Like a fish caught in a net. Curiosity tugged at her, dangerous and insistent. Avoid strangers, her parents always said. The words echoed in her mind. But the panicked rhythm called to something deeper, older, inside her. The air felt tight, as if the world itself had turned its attention toward her. The sound came from the palm forest. The shadows there were deeper than they should have been, even beneath the combined light of the three suns. This darkness didn't move with the fronds. It wasn't a tree. It was a figure, slumped and still. The wind shifted, carrying the sharp scent of iron: thick and cloying. It repelled her, and yet stirred something distant and hungry in her blood. The vampire part of her recoiled even as another part leaned forward, compelled. She glanced once more toward Mamau and Papau. Then she slipped into the cool shade of the trees. The forest floor smelled damp and green, earthy beneath her feet. Beneath it all lingered that coppery scent, drawing her deeper. Beneath a thick canopy of fronds lay a young woman, blood pooling darkly in the soil. A gaping wound tore across her abdomen, edges ragged and raw. The copper skin pulsed faintly, straining to close, but she was losing blood too fast. Kymara crouched beside her and dipped a finger into the blood. She tasted it. Sharp. Familiar. Her breath caught. She's a vampire... Like Mamau. Like me.