The final chapter! Enjoy! Oh and some bonus content on the glossary chapter 😉

Returning to normal life hadn't been as easy as Aria had anticipated. Nine months had passed—nine months she could never reclaim but would have to find a way to make up for. It was early April when she finally escaped the merman's hold, and with only three months left in the school year, her family decided it was best to wait. She would return to school after the summer, rejoining the year below her original class to avoid missing anything important.

Speaking English again felt strange at first. The twins had taken a keen interest in the language Aria had learned during her captivity, and it wasn't long before they persuaded her to teach them. Now, at school, they often used it as their own secret way to communicate, chattering in phrases no one else could understand. Each time she heard them speak or taught them something new, a familiar pang of sorrow stirred in her chest. They had the freedom to learn it; she hadn't. Kaelen had forced her to learn his language, never once showing interest in her world or culture. Yet, despite the sting of those memories, a smile would tug at her lips as she watched her younger siblings running through the house, laughing and shouting "felor elor lunara," whatever imaginary game they were playing. Aria could only wonder what kind of adventures they dreamed up.

Months had passed since Aria's return to the surface, and while she was slowly adjusting to life, the memories of the ocean lingered like salt on her skin, refusing to be washed away entirely.

She spent much of her time outside, sitting on the porch and listening to the rustling leaves in the wind, the distant chatter of passersby, and the fresh air she inhaled deeply into her lungs. It was a constant reminder that she was free—that the damp, oppressive cave was behind her. She could go for a walk, a run, or simply exist without fear. Yet, there were moments when the weight of her time beneath the waves crept over her, pressing down like a tide she couldn't escape. Especially when strangers passed her by, their silent, pitying, or judgmental gazes cutting through her. No one but her family knew the truth of what she had endured—not even her best friend, Holly.

Holly had been the first to welcome her home, arriving with a warm embrace and a new romance novel in hand. Aria had hesitated at first, surprised by the gesture, but as she flipped through its pages, she remembered: these were the kinds of stories she loved.

Sitting outside, letting the wind play with her hair, Aria often smiled despite herself. This was freedom—true and tangible. She felt warm, safe, and surrounded by family. There was nowhere else she'd rather be. But in these quiet moments, her emotions would surface, raw and unbidden. Grief—for the innocence she'd lost. Longing—for something she couldn't quite name. And freedom—pure, unyielding, and powerful. It was a reminder that her choices were her own once more.

That afternoon, Aria walked the short distance to Holly's house. Her best friend had been her anchor in the weeks after her return, filling the silence with laughter, hugs, and stories about the world Aria had missed.

"Aria!" Holly's voice rang out as the door swung open. "You're late!"

Aria grinned, stepping inside and slipping off her shoes. "Only by two minutes."

"Two minutes too long!" Holly grabbed her arm, dragging her into the living room. The scent of freshly baked cookies wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the soft floral fragrance of the candles Holly always kept burning.

They settled on the couch, and Aria felt herself relax in the familiar comfort of her friend's presence. Holly's chatter was like a stream, lively and unrelenting, and Aria let herself be carried along. They played board games, laughed over silly videos, and devoured half a plate of cookies before collapsing onto the couch, stomachs full and sides aching from laughter.

"I missed this," Aria said softly, looking at Holly.

Holly's smile faded, her expression growing serious. "I missed you more." She reached out, squeezing Aria's hand. "You're doing better now, though. I can see it."

Aria nodded, her throat tightening. "I'm trying. Some days are harder than others."

"Those days will get fewer," Holly said firmly. "And I'll be here for all of them."

When Aria returned home that evening, she sank into her bed with the romance novel Holly had givted her upon her return. The cover was garish, with a couple locked in a passionate embrace, but the story inside was charming and escapist in all the ways Aria needed. She found herself smiling as the characters bickered and flirted, their banter light and easy.

But sometimes, as she read, her thoughts would drift. The sound of waves crashing against the shore would echo in her mind, and the weight of the ocean's embrace would seep into her chest. She would blink and force her attention back to the page, clinging to the fictional world as a lifeline.

Sleep was something she never expected to have trouble with upon returning. But during these peaceful moment, the ocean would call out to her.

It wasn't a sound, exactly. It was more of a feeling, a pull deep in her chest that made her breath hitch and pulse quicken. She would lie away, staying at the ceiling and feel it – a presence, a voice that wasn't quite audible but was unmistakably his.

Kaelen.

He was calling her, begging her to return. To be with him.

Her fingers would curl into the sheets, her knuckles white as she resisted the pull. She didn't want to go back. She couldn't. The very thought of the ocean made her stomach churn with fear. Yet, there was a part of her – a small, traitorous part – that almost missed him.

She hated that part.

Holly had always been the one to suggest spontaneous adventures, her energy boundless and her optimism infectious. So when she brought up a day at the beach, Aria froze. Holly's voice was bright, filled with excitement about the idea of sand between their toes and the ocean breeze on their faces. But Aria couldn't hear it without her pulse quickening, her chest tightening as if an invisible weight had settled there. The suggestion lingered, pressing against her like the tide she feared, and her smile faltered. She managed a quiet, "Maybe another time," but the words felt brittle, fragile, like they might shatter under the weight of her fear. Holly noticed—the way Aria's shoulders tensed, the way her hands gripped the armrest of the couch—but didn't push further. Instead, she steered the conversation elsewhere, leaving Aria to grapple with the shadows of a world she couldn't yet face. That night, the pull of the ocean felt stronger than ever, and she lay awake, tears slipping silently down her cheeks, caught between the lingering call of the deep and the freedom she'd fought so hard to reclaim.

~

Months had passed before she dared to approach the beach. Months of mental breakdowns at the mere idea of seeing the ocean.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting the sand in hues of gold and orange. The wind was gentle, carrying the tang of salt and the distant cries of seagulls. Aria stood at the edge of the dunes, her feet buried in the warm, grainy earth.

Her heart raced as she looked at the waves. They rolled lazily onto the shore, innocent and inviting. But to her, they were a barrier – a reminder of all she had endured. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself.

She took a step forward, then another. The sand shifted beneath her feet, and the closer she got to the water, the heavier her steps felt. Her breathing quickened as the tide reached out, the foam licking at her toes before retreating.

She stopped just short of the waterline, her pulse thundering in her ears.

The call came again, stronger this time.

"Aria."

She could almost hear his voice, rich and smooth, weaving through the air like a melody. She knew he was out there, watching, waiting. Her heart ached, but it wasn't love she felt. It was something deeper, more complex – a mixture of gratitude and sorrow.

She looked out at the horizon, the endless expanse of blue that had once been her prison.

"Kaelen," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the waves.

There was no response, but she felt his presence as surely as she felt the wind on her skin.

She took a deep breath, letting the salty air fill her lungs. "I don't hate you," she said in Alathai, her words carried by the breeze. "But I can't come back. What you felt for me – it wasn't love."

The wind tugged at her hair, and for a moment, she imagined it was his hand, brushing a strand from her face.

"I hope you find peace," she said. Her voice grew firmer, more resolute. "But I need to live my life now. And this is goodbye."

She hesitated, then added, "Lanka selor."

The words hung in the air, a final thread between them that she had now severed.

The waves continued their endless rhythm, indifferent to her pain.

Aria turned and walked away, her steps growing lighter with each one she took. She didn't look back.

For the first time in months, she felt free.

Translation: "felor elor lunara," = sacrifice the ocean "Lanka selor." = stay safe