Y/N leans back in her favourite armchair, relishing the comfort of the worn velvet as she flips another page. She's only paying slight attention to the book on her lap, as what truly interest her are the muffled voices coming from her father's study. Unfortunately, as per usual, the door remains shut, so she can't decipher more than a word or two.

"....claimed.." "..marked.."

Nothing special there, she's heard those words a thousand times before. Y/N has grown up knowing she is marked—the faint patch of iridescent scales on her left hip has taken care of that. There is no getting away from it. She is marked by the ocean. And, one day, it will come to claim her. No one knows how, and no one knows when. Just that it is inevitable.

That hadn't stopped her parents from trying everything in their power to prevent it though. Y/N has spent her whole life locked away, barred from seeing anyone except trusted family and servants. Then, her parents would invite supposed experts on curses, mythology, marine creatures—anything related to magic or the sea—to try and find a cure.

Y/N sighs grimly. Her parents never discuss what they hear, but she knows it isn't good news. Being marked is a mysterious, almost mythological phenomenon. No one seems to have seen the mark before, but everyone knows of it. Knows what it means. And if that isn't enough to make Y/N believe in the reality of this curse, she can feel it. Feel something out there calling to her. And over the years, it has grown stronger.

The door of the study bangs open, rattling on its bent hinges. Y/N peers over the top of her book at her father shaking hands with this newest guest, before they both take off down the hall without so much as a glance her way.

After hearing their footfalls fade into the distance, Y/N quietly makes her way to the study. The man, he had been holding a worn, leather-bound book when he arrived. If her parents aren't going to tell her anything, maybe she can find out for herself. After all, she isn't a little girl anymore, and they can't protect her forever.

Surprisingly, the book itself isn't hidden away very well, and she finds it in the bottom drawer of her father's desk. Old and disheveled, it has a spindly title written in faded cursive: Encyclopaedia of Mythological Fauna.

Y/N lets out a shaky breath and opens the book. The spine cracks, revealing ink-blotted pages full of scrawled notes and illustrations. Illustrations of creatures ranging in size and monstrosity. As if the book isn't creepy enough on its own, the wind lets out an eerie moan, making the candles flicker and setting Y/N on edge. She has never heard of this book before, nor most of the creatures in it.

Then, Y/N finds a familiar name.

Species: Merfolk

Family: Sirenidae

Now this is something she recognises. Merfolk are often spoken of in stories. But her recognition ends there. The merfolk depicted here are far from the meek, harmless mermaids described to children, those that sit on rocks and comb their hair. This book has a few drawings of these creatures, each more monstrous than the last. The first has large, bulbous eyes, presumably for seeing in the depths of darkness. Its skeletal frame ends in translucent, spindly tentacles. The second has razor teeth and a shark tail to match.

Y/N turns the page and pauses. This last one is different. He is as beautiful as he is terrifying. Long, dark hair flows past his waist, where his pale torso transforms into a long, red and black tail. Dark red gills paint his sides, and his fingers are long and pointed. Y/N gently traces along his face, where angular features highlight his sharp teeth and pitch black eyes, void of any white.

She glances down at the small paragraph describing what is known of merfolk, which provides little information. In fact, it primarily reveals how much is unknown about them, dangerous as they can be stunning. Interestingly, however, Merfolk seem to possess two forms: that which they typically inhabit, and th—

"Y/N! What are you doing in here?"

Y/N snaps the book shut and stumbles away from the desk. There stands Magdalena, leaning on her cane with a withered look on her face.

"Come along now," Magdalena gestures to the hallway.