When Two Worlds Collide

Chapter 7: The Sea Wears Shoes

Arielle's POV

The water shimmered around me as if it were reluctant to let me go. Every current, every ripple, pressed against my skin like a hand trying to hold me back. I floated near the edge of the royal reef, staring upward where the sunlight broke into silver ribbons above. That was where I would go. To the land. To the world of humans.

“Are you certain you must leave?” My grandmother’s voice wavered, soft with age but weighted with sorrow. She clutched my hands, her palms cool and thin as sea glass. “The land is cruel, Arielle. You belong to the ocean. You belong to us.” I call her grandmama, she is my mother's mother, and I am her favorite grandchild.

“I do belong to you,” I said, squeezing her hands back. “But I belong to the throne as well. And the throne demands I protect our people. If the humans will not stop poisoning the waters, then I must act.”

My brother Elias swam closer, his expression a mixture of pride and frustration. His hair drifted in golden strands, his jaw set in a way that made him look older than his years. “Act, yes. But must you go alone? I should accompany you.”

“You would draw attention,” I told him, trying to smile though my chest ached. “You are too tall, too loud, too… Elias.”

He scowled. “You jest when this is no laughing matter.”

“I jest because I must. Otherwise I will drown in my own fear before I ever reach the surface.”

He pulled me into a fierce embrace, arms wrapped so tightly I could feel his heartbeat through his chest. “If anything happens, if you are in danger, I will come for you. I do not care what Father decrees.”

I pressed my forehead against his. “I know. And that is why you must stay. One reckless heir is enough.”

Father swam into view then, his face carved from stone. The weight of the crown never left his brow, even when it was not physically resting there. “Arielle,” he said simply.

I turned to him, searching for warmth in his eyes, but found only resolve. “I will make you proud.”

“You already have.” His hand touched my cheek, unexpectedly gentle. “Do not forget who you are. Do not forget why you go.”

“To save us all,” I whispered.

He nodded once. “Go then. The ocean waits for your return.”

I walked towards my paternal grandmother next. She chanted some protection spells, and gave me some magical artifacts to help on my journey. She said to me with tesrs in her eyes "How much you've grown, my love. Be safe, and bring the ocean relief."

I kissed my grandmother’s cheek, hugged my grandmama, clung once more to Elias, and let my father’s hand linger a heartbeat longer than usual before I pulled away. The water seemed colder without their touch.

Then I swam upward. Toward the surface. Toward the unknown.

---

The first gulp of air seared my throat. The waves lifted me, salt clinging to my lips, and then I stumbled onto the pier where the wood planks were rough and hot beneath my bare feet. Legs. I had legs.

I stood. Or rather, I tried. My knees buckled at once and I toppled forward, catching myself on my palms. “By the gods of the deep,” I hissed. “These limbs are treacherous.”

A fisherman nearby gave me a strange look. “You all right there, miss?”

I lifted my chin, regal even as I sprawled like a crab. “Of course. I am… acquainting myself with this form.”

He blinked. “Acquainting yourself?”

“Yes.” I attempted to rise again, wobbling, before promptly falling backward onto my rear. The fisherman stifled a laugh.

“First time wearing heels?” he asked.

I glanced down at my bare feet. “I wear no heels, only these fleshy stilts humans call legs.”

His laughter burst out then, loud and uncontrolled. I scowled, gathering whatever dignity remained, and forced myself upright. My spine stiffened, my steps measured. I must have resembled a queen with a sword shoved where no sword should be.

“See?” I announced. “Grace itself.”

“Uh huh,” the fisherman muttered, still chuckling as he walked away.

I initially wondered to myself why he didn't freak out seeing my form, and the magic covering me. Then I remembered what grandmother told me, that the magic would look like clothes in the eyes of a mere human, but it won't last long.

I hobbled further down the pier, attempting to imitate the gait of humans I observed, but every stride felt wrong. Too stiff, too unbalanced. My body longed for the fluid embrace of water, not this clumsy shuffling on splintered wood.

Clothing soon became my next concern. My scales had vanished with my tail, leaving me covered only in a thin shimmer of magic that would not last long. Fortunately, fate—or perhaps pity—placed a line of drying garments nearby.

I crept to it, whispering, “Forgive me, stranger, but your sacrifice aids a kingdom.”

The line offered me a faded polo shirt, bright butterfly patterned shorts, shoes far too large, and a wide beach hat. I donned them all with the seriousness of donning royal armor. The effect was… peculiar. The shorts barely clung to my hips, the shoes clomped like anchors on my feet, and the hat sagged over half my face.

Yet I strode into the city with my chin high.

The first sight of it stole my breath. Towers of glass and steel stretched like cliffs into the clouds. Carriages of metal roared down black stone roads, their wheels spinning faster than dolphins. Lights blinked in colors I had never seen undersea. The air thrummed with voices, music, and the pounding heart of thousands of humans moving at once.

“Incredible,” I whispered. “The land is alive with sorcery.”

A man carrying groceries glanced at me. “Sorcery?”

“These iron monsters,” I declared, pointing at a bus as it screeched to a halt. “What spell propels them so swiftly?”

The man frowned. “Uh, that’s just a bus, lady.”

“Bus.” I tested the word on my tongue. “Bus, the land beast of iron.”

The man shook his head and hurried off.

I moved through the city square, eyes wide, questions spilling from my lips before I could stop them. “What strange glowing boxes are these?” I asked a teenager holding a phone.

“It’s a phone,” she said slowly.

“A phonestone,” I repeated, nodding solemnly. “And you trap voices inside?”

She laughed. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Another man selling pretzels shouted, “Snack for the lady?”

I peered at his cart. “You forged bread into knots. Curious. Does it grant strength?”

“It grants salt and butter,” he replied.

“I accept this offering,” I said regally, handing him seashells from my pouch. He blinked at them.

“Lady, we take cash.”

I tilted my head. “Is cash a different form of shell?”

By then a crowd had gathered, whispering and giggling at my strangeness. I walked on, undeterred, my eyes still drinking in every glittering detail.

And then, disaster.

A boy running past with a bottle stumbled, crashing into me. The liquid splashed across my arm, cool and unmistakable. Water.

For a heartbeat I froze. Father’s warning screamed in my mind: twenty seconds for droplets, less than ten if submerged.

Panic surged. I clutched my arm, heat rushing through me as faint scales shimmered beneath the skin. No, not here. Not now.

“Sorry, miss!” the boy called, oblivious.

I bolted. Shouts followed me as I pushed through the crowd, legs clumsy but driven by fear. The shimmer spread, glittering silver crawling down my wrist.

I needed cover. Anywhere.

Then I saw it. A bridge arching above the river, its dark water waiting below. My heart pounded. It was a risk, but better than transforming before the eyes of hundreds.

Without hesitation I climbed the rail, ignored the startled gasps of passersby, and leapt.

The plunge hit like freedom. Water wrapped me in its embrace, and my body shifted at once, tail unfurling in a rush of silver scales. Relief sang through me as I swam beneath the bridge, away from the eyes of the humans above.

I surfaced only when the city was a faint shadow on the horizon. My chest heaved. My hat floated away downstream, abandoned.

I dragged a hand through my wet hair, glaring at the skyline. “Avoiding water, blending in, enduring these cursed legs…” I muttered. “I am doomed to suffer.”

The river carried me slowly, mocking my frustration with its gentle current. I sighed, tail flicking once in agitation.

“Tomorrow,” I promised myself. “Tomorrow I will be better. Stronger. Ready.”

But even as I swam back toward the sea, one truth settled in my bones: surviving the land would be far harder than any battle beneath the waves.