"Lysanthir?" Y/N queries, turning to face the murdukann.

He tilts his head in that curious manner of his, peering at her wordlessly.

Then he smiles. A wide, toothy grin that shows off his sharpened fangs. She flinches, which only makes the smile grow wider.

Freaky, overgrown fish.

She thinks, then chides herself for thinking it.

Lysanthir's eyes narrow slightly.

She honestly wonders if he can read her thoughts. She really, really hopes not.

His beauty can sometimes seem so perfect, so divine. With his soft caresses and velvet words, he draws her in.

But features like this ungodly smile provide a glimpse of what lies behind the facade. Something dangerous. Something ravenous.

And she has to admit that it entices her.

They're in the sitting room. She can tell it's getting late by the shadows creeping across the room, the water swirling gently in the twilight. Outside, a lone shark roams over the depths, on the prowl.

She doesn't want to go to bed. She has questions to ask.

"Why didn't you tell me about the ceremony?"

He stares at her, unblinking.

"If you are referring to when you become murdukann," he leans forwards, "It is because you did not need to know yet."

Annoyance flits through Y/N.

"I had a right to know. It's my body and my future."

"Our future," Lysanthir cuts in, the spines on his tail rippling, "Do not forget that."

"You can't just keep me in the dark like this. If we're to have a future together, I need to be able to trust you."

She knows she's being bold, talking to him like this, but she needs answers.

There is a pause as he mulls over what she just told him.

"You have tried to run away twice," he finally says, "And now you want to talk to me about trust?"

She purses her lips.

He has a point.

"I know that, I know and I'm sorry," Y/N scrambles to arrange the thoughts in her head, "But please, don't keep things from me."

Silence. Lysanthir's black eyes remain fixed upon her. In the gloom, they stand eerily stark against his pale skin.

He's not going to say anything. She doesn't even know why she asked.

She looks down, fiddling with the silk fabric of her dress. This one is a deep burgundy, the flowing skirt glistening underwater.

"The ceremony," Lysanthir's voice breaks the quiet, "is the most sacred of our rituals."

Y/N's eyes meet his.

"It is the union between a murdukann and their mate, the moment they let the bond enact the turning."

He traces a hand along her smattering of scales, making her shiver. His touches are always so intimate, laced with desire and longing.

"You were born marked, meaning you were always destined to become murdukann. During the ceremony, you will shed your human bindings."

Y/N wraps her arms around herself, conflicting emotions raging within her. Exchanging her legs for a tail would mean embracing an existence underwater and a home in Athtar.

Gifted with other murdukann abilities—healing and who knows what else, she'd also be less vulnerable. More powerful.

But as tempting as those prospects are, the ceremony means permanently giving up her past life on land.

She doesn't know if she'll ever be prepared for that.

"Thank you," she murmurs, "for telling me about it."

She sighs.

"But I'm not ready."

Eying Lysanthir warily, Y/N is apprehensive of his reaction.

He simply nods.

"I know," he says, reaching a hand out to stroke her cheek, "But I won't wait forever."

It is a constant battle with Lysanthir. While she tries to pull back, he is eager to push forwards.

At least he is trying to be patient with her.

"Can I ask you something else?"

He raises his brows but says nothing, so she continues.

"What's going to happen to Ryfon?"

Lysanthir bristles.

"You don't need to concern yourself with—"

Seeing the vexed look on Y/N's face, he clears his throat.

"The punishment for his indiscretions is a hundred-year exile from Athtar. He will be sent to the northern territories."

"One hundred years?"

"Though it may seem long to human perception, it is but a mere blink in the life of a murdukann," Lysanthir states, "I have no pity for him. This isn't his first banishment. He knew what the consequences would be."

One hundred years in the North. At least she won't be seeing Ryfon around for a long while.

Though that means...

"Will Katerina go with him?"

"Separating him from his mate would be too cruel."

Even though she knows it isn't her fault, Y/N can't help but feel sorry for the girl. Having no say in the matter, Katerina has to suffer the fallout of Ryfon's actions.

"Enough now," Lysanthir asserts, sensing Y/N isn't yet finished with her queries, "I am done talking."

He leans down to press his lips against hers, sealing his decree.

She quickly forgets her questions, her worries over the ceremony, as she tilts her head back, melting into the kiss. Warmth spreads through her, a tingling feeling she rather enjoys.

Her murdukann has this inexplicable effect on her.

His fingers glide over her silvery gills, sending tremors down her body. She lets out a small gasp. He takes advantage of this sensitivity, brushing against her sides ever so gently.

It's over far too soon for her liking. Lysanthir pulls away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's time to rest," he says, "Tomorrow there is a ritual at Athtar's northernmost gate to send off Ryfon and Katerina. It is customary I attend, and as my mate you shall join."

~~~~~~~

Evidently, Athtar is much larger than Y/N had previously thought.

Lysanthir takes her by the hand as they twist and turn through tunnel after tunnel, room after room. Each one is intricately carved and many have murals. She wonders if Maxim did all of them.

A hundred years.

As they swim, those words dominate her thoughts. Katerina was the first friend she made in here, and now she's leaving.

The temperature of the water begins to grow frigid, and Y/N huddles closer to Lysanthir as a brisk current presses against them.

They turn a corner, a large cavern opening up before them. At the far end, sculpted pillars stand imposingly on either side of a marbled double door.

A small group of murdukann wait at its base. Even from a distance, she can see Ryfon's crimson hair. Next to him is a smaller form, pink tail flapping in the current.

When they reach the small congregation, Y/N notices that the other murdukann are quite different to those she has seen in Athtar.

These ones look much closer to sea creatures than humans. One has the head of a shark, another resembles an octopus. Barnacles and sea weed cover their ridged, speckled bodies.

Y/N notices that the murdukann closest to her carries a spear, and straps along his waist and tail hold knives made of sharpened bone. In fact, apart from Ryfon and Katerina, each member of the group is heavily armed.

They're guards.

One of the unknown murdukann approaches Lysanthir. He lowers his head, bowing reverently.

Y/N looks to her mate in confusion.

"Kyren," the guard says, his guttural voice gurgling in his throat, "We are honoured by your presence."