WARNING: SA Trigger Warning!!!

1

Escape was her only desire. Nothing else encased her heart like the hope of being set free. But she knew there was no chance of willingly being released. There was no negotiating with the man chasing quickly behind her, as they swam from his small palace nestled in the mountains outside the Kingdom of Pyraqua. As he chased her through the clear water she let the ache for freedom drive her, while hungry lust drove him. 

The ocean reflected pink light on them as the morning suns blinked through the crystal cerise waves. They swam over vast underwater mountains of deep orange sand and coral rock. 

Gillianalie pushed her muscles to the brink of failure, allowing her body to stretch thin, using her fins to guide her through the water. If not for the familiarity of her third cousin, Dorgan, she would miss the figure urging himself forward behind her. His pale pink skin and princeton orange hair were concealed among the colors of the ocean she once called home. He still wore his royal sleeping tunic and silk robe as he reached after her. His horrible hands persisted, clawing, but as he swiped she pulled her feet away, missing his strike. 

She willed her body to flip, landing her foot squarely on his nose, and pushing herself up and over him. 

“GET BACK HERE GILLINALIE!” he growled as orange-hued blood flowed from his nostrils. She glided over his reach with ease and dove toward the sand. From below, all the danger will be above. 

However, he followed too quickly, wiping the blood away and driving himself in a blind rage. Gillinalie cursed the happen-chance of genetics, her green scales and bright blue hair contrasting with the camouflaging colors of the ocean. It was as though she was a leaping red target for greedy eyes.

He soared from above, clawing again, attempting to catch his desperate prey. Escape was the only thing ringing through her mind as she twisted and dodged. He swung his arms and his nails made contact with the soft scales around her ankle. They dug and ripped, sending stinging fury through her nerves, reaching up to her eyes, watering in pain. She howled but thought better of touching the wound for fear of being caught in the moment of hesitation. Instead, she allowed the pain to drive her forward still. 

ESCAPE her mind screamed as she caught sight of the edge of a thick, blue kelp forest swaying in the gentle current of the deep ocean. The forest was a dark indigo; stretching up to the surface. 

Gillinalie extended her arms ahead, bringing them together above and her legs together below, making her body a blade through the water. The sound of Dorgan’s dragging breath drew too near. Escape. 

The beautiful blue of the leaves called to her, she watched the reflection of the sun's rays through the water dance off the shine of the leaves, the rhythm hypnotic. She almost forgot what she was doing and found herself ignoring the growing shadow shifting through the stalks. 

The monster's metallic purple eyes were what she was first. Its iridescent and sleek body slipped from the cover of the forest. The giant fish was long and slender; a light purple tone to match its sparkling eyes. Its fins were long and narrow, allowing the creature to move through the water with ease. Its caudal fins alone, from tip to tip, spanned the length of Gillinalie. The creature’s protruding long scales quivered along its back, sensing her presence. 

Only then did she realize she’d allowed herself to drift too far above the ocean floor, out in the open now, as the creature inched slowly toward her. Its nostrils flared at the scent of blood on her ankle. The long whip-like antennas jutting from the back of the beast's eyes rolled, longing to stun the hopeless meal before them.  

Scatharch. She couldn’t move, her body frozen in fear. Terror wiped away all logical thought. The seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, and she lost herself in the shimmering eyes of the monster before her. 

The fabric of her loose sleeping gown skimmed the tear on her ankle, sending a painful shimmer down her spine. The hungry scatharch took the motion as an invitation to attack, sending its body in a desperate frenzy toward her. She watched the beast's malicious smile, picking out every razor-blade tooth as it made room for her torn flesh. Escape. 

Suddenly, she was ripped from her frozen terror, as hands gripped her ankles, pulling her straight down. She flipped, hitting the sand hard on her back. The wind was racked from her lungs, sending tears to her eyes. She gasped for breath, urging her gills to filter air again. She watched from the bottom of the floor as a blurred Dargon slid a dagger from his wrist, tearing the blade through the gut of the scatharch. The monster roared, tumbling through the water before succumbing to the damage, and floating to the surface. A victorious Dorgan turned back to her and she caught his eyes, as she still struggled to breathe.

His thieving, possessive, predatory eyes. Disgust knotted itself in her chest as she scrambled to pull herself off the sand and through the water. But before she could make it anywhere Dorgan was above her, his grip tight on her shoulders, flipping and slamming her against the bottom. Once again, air struggled through her gills as he pinned her to the ocean floor. She thrashed against him and the bottom, hoping one would miraculously give way. He clamped her hips between the inside of his knees. She pounded her fists against his chest but he only laughed at her attempt to harm him. As he grabbed her wrist and held them against the grating sand, he leaned in close, inches from her face. She got a whiff of his rancid breath and the blood from his broken nose. 

Bile from the pit in her stomach rose in her throat as he hissed in her ear, “You didn’t think you’d get away now did you sweetheart?”

Every place he touched her bit of impurity. She fought with everything in her but her strength was nothing to him. If anything his smirk grew with her protest, it repulsed her to her core. He held her wrists above her head with one hand, bruising her jaw with the grip of the other. Her skin felt as though it burned under his touch. 

He forced his horrific and vile lips upon hers; too stiff and aggressive. 

I should have swam into the mouth of that beast, she thought. I should have aimed the harpoon months ago. I should have run myself into the propellers of a Fisherman's boat or caught myself in their traps. Anything but allow this man to have more of me. Anything to escape.

Despite everything Gillinalie could do, his slimy tongue fought its way through her mouth. She tried to scream, tried to punch him, she tried to fight, she tried not to lose hope. His hand slipped from her chin, reaching. Escape,  her mind hissed.

She summoned all the willpower she had, chomping down with everything in her. Sending her teeth through thick flesh. He cried in pain, ripping his head from hers, leaving a piece of himself between her blood-covered teeth. Her mouth filled with a mix of blood and vomit. She managed to flip under him, fighting the urge to hurl out everything left in her stomach as she spit out the chunk of tongue she had stolen from Dorgan. She sent her elbows into the inside of his knees, pushing herself out from under him. 

His hands dropped the hem of her gown slapping them to his lips, attempting to keep what was left of his mouth together as blood seeped through his fingers. His thieving, corrupt, perverted eyes became horrified and weak. A strange sense of satisfaction weighed on her heart as she turned from him and dived into the cover of the kelp forest. 

She could hear his jumbled screams from behind, seeking words, but failing to form anything recognizable. An eery smile crept across Gillinalie’s face. She spared herself a breath, knowing he would not follow her any further. Escape. 

She forced herself to swim forward as the leaves slapped against the gash on her ankle. When she thought she’d found herself far enough from Dorgan and the constant stinging became unbearable, she allowed herself to sink to the bottom of the forest. As she fell she ripped ripe leaves from their stock, remembering an easy remedy her mother had taught her so long ago. She wrapped the long pieces of kelp around her ankle, securing the bandage with a tight knot that sent a sharp pain before a comfortable relief. She pocketed the leftover kelp as she stared at the blue leaves wrapped firmly around her ankle, the adrenaline that was pumping through her veins began to level out. 

The reality of the past few months set in like a boulder on her chest. The gravity of losing so much of herself in such a short time physically pained her as sobs plagued her body. She pulled her knees tight to her chest as if she could in some way hold her crumbling self together. She sat there mourning the loss of the beautiful girl her mother once loved. 

“I will always love you, my child,” she told me as she framed my face in her soft and loving hands. She planted a kiss upon my forehead and the world seemed whole to my frail mind. She will never know what he turned me into, she promised herself, she doesn’t deserve that.  

Gillinalie’s muscles ached, her eyes feeling heavy from sorrow, and her soul weighed with exhaustion but she pushed herself further. Shelter, rest, then escape, she thought, hoping a plan would somehow make the task easier. The stunning blue against the pink shadows quickly became dull, seeing the same leaves repeatedly as she drifted through the towering stocks. Despite what she was taught in childhood lessons about kelp forests, she saw few fish, and those that saw her swam in terror the moment they did. She laughed to herself at the thought that she, a princess, found resemblance in a fish. Living in constant fear, yearning for freedom, escape.

Every moment felt as though it was her last, but she pushed on, building distance between her and Dorgan’s palace. While she had injured him, crippled him even, she knew he would be in fast pursuit. His maids will be eager to tend to him and get him on his feet again. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of those cruel women living at his every beck and call. She remembered the horrible stares they flashed her when she had moved in, as she had become Dorgan's main source of unwanted attention. No part of that place could be classified as home. 

He’ll be after her once again in a day or so. Fear urged her to keep pushing, shaking away the horrible memories of that prison. The stocks began to dwindle and she recognized the lightning of the shadows. The forest is thinning. 

She was cautious as she drifted through the shallowing forest. The less cover the forest provided the more on edge she felt, a pressure tightening in the pit of her stomach. The forest faded into an oceanic wasteland. 

“Be cautious of open Oceans, my child,” my mother said as she placed a crown only fit for a queen on my head—a crown only fit for her. But even so,, my mother had laid it on her only daughter's young head: “The dangers of the unknown might just be the most dangerous of all.”

“What does that even mean Mommy?” I giggled as I slid the metal too big for my head back from my eyes. 

“Never let yourself become unaware, unsuspecting, or comfortable,” she told me as she ran her fingers through my large curls, “Those who do not fear, do not survive.”

She gave me a peck on the nose, tickled me, then took the crown and laid it back on her head where it belonged. I had never seen my mother so beautiful as she stared at herself in her coral-framed mirror. 

The only thing amongst the endless sand was an alcove made of rock about fifty yards from the edge of the leaves where she now hid. She studied the small cave, the only hope of safety, masked in shadow. It is big enough for me to curl up and hide, but also big enough for a predator large enough to rip the limbs from my body. 

The cave opened toward the forest, and while it would be good cover, it could only be temporary. She knew, although she was exhausted beyond function, she would only be able to rest for a few short hours. That is, if there was not a monster waiting for her in the dark of the rock. She searched the endless nothingness again, but all she could see was a school of fish approaching the forest's edge. 

No predators, she told herself, I could make it to the cave and curl up under it. I’ll just have to risk it.

She pushed herself out of the cover, allowing the leaves to run along her scales. The sensation felt as though she was letting go of a tangible safety. She considered the alcove again, scouting out the area once more. As she did, terror was sent through her as another scatharch emerged one hundred feet away from her. 

Two in one day, must be my lucky day, she gasped, her legs going numb. This caught the scatharch’s attention, turning to her instead of the school of fish. She met yet another pair of glittering eyes, although these took a deeper tone, the color muted in a way. The creature’s gaze flicked from her to the fish, idly weighing the better meal. She felt it must be nice to be a predator, not living in fear of what others might do, and be able to live.

Eventually the scatharch had made its choice, turning to the helpless fish. Gillinalie knew any other day she would be the optimal option but the roundness of a pregnant belly and fresh mating scars had already made the choice for the female. She watched board-still as the animal's glittering skin shifted to a lighter pink tint. Allowing it to sneak up on the unsuspecting fish with ease. Suddenly the antennae on the sides of her deadly face whipped in a flurry, stunning five fish in one quick movement. The scatharch devoured the fish in three clean chomps. She rounded on the now frenzied school, repeating the process on more and more fish, the water beginning to murk with the blood and missed parts of her meal. 

Gillinalie gagged at the horrific sight, but she couldn’t look away. Holding back dry heaves she swallowed hard. She floated there in shock, a desperate fish swam too close, making her seem as though she was a part of the pack. Quickly the scatharch caught sight of what appeared to be the biggest fish in the school. It raced toward her.

Her heart pumped in her ears, her body feeling as hard as rock. For the second time, on the same day, she looked into the mouth of a beast. Frozen in the time of most need, she urged herself to move but she couldn’t. 

Her eyes flicked to the fish as it whirled around to hide behind the rock that formed the alcove. Escape. Suddenly, as if snapped from a transe she plummeted ino the small gap of the alcove. She just barely made it under the rock as the large jaws of the beast snapped at empty water. She watched the shadow of the scatharch as it circled the rock. She pushed herself deeper until her back hit firm and cold rock. 

The cave was empty, it was just Gillianalie and her terrified gasps of air engulfed in the shadows. She forced herself to slow down, forced herself to take a breath, the monster still waiting just out of reach. She had to pull her knees to her chest to keep her whole body hidden, the space unfit to house a traumatized young girl. 

The longer the monster lingered the more she began to panic. Nothing her mother had taught her told her how to get rid of a predator, only to avoid them in every way. She had even been told that when face to face with danger, say your prayers and hope it will pass you by. None of this advice could help her now that she found herself outside the palace of Pyraqua and it’s secure boundaries. She almost wished Dorgan was here to take care of the danger. The second the thought set in she shivered, pushing it away, I’ll wait it out and eventually it will get hungry and leave. 

She quickly found out she had underestimated the determination of a hungry and pregnant scatharch. Her eye lids felt heavy, drawing out her blinks. She struggled to stay awake and keep her eyes on the hovering shadow. Slowly the world began to blur for her, sleep tipping over the edge of her consciousness. She blinked but her eyes did not open again. She drifted off to a deep slumber. 

When she awoke again she was met with the sound of waves crashing against something on the surface. She was unaware how long she’d been asleep but the stiffness of her muscles and the dry feeling in her throat told her it was too long. She forced her rigid limbs to give away, slowly pushing herself out of the mouth of the small cave. Peering out in the empty water, she was careful to make sure a specific cousin wasn’t lingering in the blue leaves of the forest that faced her. There was no movement, not even a wandering fish? 

When she looked up at the surface of the water to she what the waves were batting themselves against she suddenly understood why there was no creature in sight. 

The small wodden fishing boat swayed idly in the gentle waft of the open ocean water. Fisherman, she cursed. However, there were no nets thrown into the water, there were no lines with bait, there was no motion over the side of the boat at all. Curiosity found her floating up closer to the surface, closer to the boat. She couldn’t explain why but she wanted to know what kind of fisherman wouldn’t be fishing. 

Her whole life Gillinalie was told that the creatures from above were evil and greedy. There was nothing good about them and like all predators they should be avoided. But Dorgan had showed Gillinalie that greed and cruelty wasn’t subjected to monsters or the secrets above, it could come from your very blood. So when she heard muffled voices snaking there way through the water to her ears, she didn’t run. She found herself sick of running. 

As she drew nearer her heart thumped against her rib chage, urging to pop right out of her chest. She reached out, running her fingers along the slick, dark wood of the hull. She swam to the back of the boat, where the gunwales fell, meeting the deck. Only allowing her head rise above the water, she felt the breeze along the ocean for the first time, she felt the heat of the afternoon suns, not through water but in its true form. She found she even had to squint at the light dancing off the reflective pink water. 

The gold lettering on the stern of the boat caught her eye; ‘Vessel of the Great Otaria’. 

Otaria? She knew that name. Her father had told her many times of the dangerous men of Otaria. A brutal kingodm built upon the death of their enemies. He had told her if she should ever come into contact with one, which he had doubted she ever would, not to turst them for they were the scum of the earth. Then, she took it with a grain of salt for her father had told her the same about every other surface kingdom to exist. 

“Scum, all they ever have been and will ever be is evil, cruel, vile scum!”

Now that she thought of it her father talked of Otaria much more than any other kingdom. Always going on about their King and his wiked cabinet. Even still, she allowed herself to peek over the deck of the vessel. Her breath was taken from her at what she saw.

The deck of the boat was nearly empty aside from a small cabin placed near the bow. This is not a boat for fishing. There were five men in total standing around a huddled figure she couldn’t make out. The men were bulky and scary looking, their dark tone against long pearly white hair was unique to anything Gillianlie had seen. They had no gills but they had long pointed ears and slim tails with puffs of white hair on the end. Their heights and sizes varied but their faces all had the same menacing, bone-chilling, face as they loomed over the body in the middle of the circle. 

The person lying there attempted to push themself up. Weakly planting there palms flat against the wood and lifting their shoulders with shaking arms. Gills could tell it was another Otarian, but his physic was slimer than the men around him. As he lifted himself up his white, limp waves fell over his face, obsuring it from her view. Before the Otarian could get anywhere a kick was sent straight into his gut by one of the men above him. 

The Otarian rolled toward her, coughing gleaming black blood onto the deck. 

“Pathetic really,” the tallest and biggest of the men had spat at the Otarian in a deep voice, as he clutched his ribs tight. Gillinalie had thought it was because he was trying to hold them back together. She had to smack her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming when she finally saw his face.

She could now tell by the Otarians face he was not much older to her. Very unlike the men around him who looked well in there years. The boy’s face was busted and bruised. His lip and eye-brow was split, his right eye swelling from bruising, and blood dripping from his left temple. The men around him laughed at his groans of pain as he once again tried to stand. 

This time, however, he was not stopped by a blow to the back or face but at the sight of Gillinalie. Their eyes met and Gillinalie's heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She expected him to point and scream, to tell the men she was there; she expected him to give her away. But instead he widened his horrified eyes and raised his broken brow as if in warning. His pointed ears perked and he waved her away, wincing at the movement and cluthing his rib once again. 

A man stepped toward the Otarian boy, stepped toward her, and she ducked below the water in cold terror. The boy had seen her, she had allowed him to see her. But what difference did it make? He looked on the brink of death, and those men seemed as though they wished to finish the job. She kept her hand on the bottom of the boat, trying to understand what she had just seen. 

He had told me to run. He had helped me, I should help him. 

She shook her head. What was she thinking? Running into danger to help a boy she didn’t even know? What coud she even have done to help him? She could barely handle Dorgan and all five of the men on the boat had looked his size or bigger, she was helpless. 

Lost in thought she almost didn’t notice the boy splashing into the water before her, tied at the wrists and ankles, sinking to the bottom of the ocean.