The forest stream ended with a pond, which fed the garden’s irrigation channels. I knelt at its edge, reeds brushing against me in the evening wind. I’d almost finished washing the vegetables, when I saw a slight glow at the pond’s bottom. It winked off and on several times, as if it were an eye.

I focused and cast my flame art to get a better look, its silver glow reflecting on the water. Whatever was down there stirred, water lapping up close to my knees. I warily stood up and took a few steps backwards.

A long form reared up from the surface, not making a single splash of water. It was a spirit, for sure–form closely resembling a dolphin, but with a longer body and shorter snout. The lighting made it hard to tell, but its skin was a light greyish-blue, and two wavy orange lines ran down its side. Unlike the shrine’s spirit, its form was opaque, if wavering a little.

It seemed to still be recovering and getting its bearings, its eyes repeatedly blinking. I waited a moment longer, then spoke.

“You’re a friend of Nana’s, right? I just arrived here–sorry if I’m intruding or anything. My name’s Linus,” I said, a nervous smile on my face.

“You may name me Yunu,” the spirit said.

I was taken aback by their voice. It was incredibly smooth and melodic, to the point of unnatural perfection.

Actually, now that I think about it, why is a dolphin spirit living in a pond, anyway?

“Yes, Cousin Eshtınana and I have known each other for an age,” they said, voice dropping to a more somber tone. “Oh, and it is quite all right. It makes me happy enough that another traveller has finally come to this long-forgotten island! Far too many moons have passed since İnsu…” they trailed off. “Ah, do not mind that. Not yet,” they said, head tilting downwards in embarrasment. “The moon is nearly full tonight. Perhaps we can convince Cousin to drag out that dusty lyre of hers.”

So that was Nana in the mosaic! It’s a little strange Yunu refers to her as a cousin. Are merpeople related to spirits, somehow? Magic is the only thing that makes sense to create a body like that, oxymoronic as the thought is. The word Yunu used certainly does imply a direct familial relationship.

There was definitely pain behind that name they mentioned, İnsu, but I wasn’t going to inquire if Yunu didn’t want to talk about it.

I replied, “I’ll give it my best try, but she’s probably asleep by this point. I’d certainly like to hear her play, as well. Uh, also, you mentioned something about another traveler–could you tell me about them?” I asked hopefully.

“I suppose she too sleeps far more often than not, nowadays,” Yunu murmured, eyes slightly glazing over. “Oh, yes! Though, to tell the truth, I do not remember much. He was a far older man than you. Wise. Though, with the short lives of humans, he is dead by now, ash for perhaps a century or more. However, I do know for certain that he did indeed escape this accursed archipelago."

Only a century? Maybe he has descendants who are still alive...

“No,” Nana growled, mouth still full of cucumber.

I tried again. “Well, Yunu suggested it… they appeared when I washed the vegetables. They seemed rather excited about it, you know.”

She froze for a split second when I mentioned Yunu’s name.

“So you met Cousin already,” Nana said slowly. She lost all traces of grumpiness and looked at me with steely eyes. “I’m sure they’ll tell you their tale another time. Simply know that you’ll be in need of them if you wish to leave this place unscathed.” Nana let out one of her signature tortured sighs. “I suppose I’ll indulge you two. The moon is beautiful tonight,” she said, looking up.

Wait, how does she know that? The slab of rock over her cove entirely covers the sky.

Nana took another moment to consider, then said craftily, “I may be more amicable if you would be willing to do something in exchange for this old lady's hands..."

“Um, I can cook meals, perhaps? These vegetables aren't much by themselves–well, it depends on whether you have the equipment and spices,” I said, smiling. To be fair, it would benefit me as much as her.

“Tomorrow for dinner, then.” Nana satisfactorily nodded, and went back inside a cave.

This time, there was no sound from crashing and falling items. She emerged holding an incredible silver-plated lyre, exactly the one I’d seen in the mosaic. Though now, it had accumulated dents, scratches, and patina. It was tastefully decorated, with patterns around the sound box’s edge inlaid with mother-of-pearl and lapis lazuli. Designs covering the dolphin on the box’s front were in carnelian, and it had eyes of gold. The lyre’s total size and shape was unusual, nearly three feet tall and angular in construction. It brought to mind vague memories of Mesopotamian lyres I’d seen, perhaps at the Penn Museum. My heart hurt a little, but I tried not to let it ruin my mood.

She strummed a few notes, and fiddled with tuning pegs. Its sound was deep and resonant, like the lowing of a bull.

We walked through the few cypress trees that enclosed the garden clearing, stopping at the cliff’s edge. The moon sat low over the horizon, just a sliver shy of full. A blaze of stars, and perhaps other planets, were visible around the moon, clouds covering the edges of the sky. I fruitlessly searched for any familiar constellations.

Nana made herself comfortable, curling her tail around to support the lyre.

“Watch and listen closely,” she said sternly, her demeanor now closer to that of a proper venerable sage. “Yes, if you’ve any sort of education, you know the importance of star reading. One must be literate in all aspects.”

I hesitantly nodded, and Nana began to play. Even aside from my own desire to learn these constellations, to regain any sort of my wordly knowledge from home, astronomy was also practically useful. Too bad I didn’t have a astrolabe. Maybe Nana had tools of that sort, but I doubted she would permanently part with any of her hoard.

She plucked single notes at first, then picked up, one hand thumbing between two strings while the other played a melody. A silver-white nimbus sprang out of the lyre, and rapidly spread across the stars, swirling around them and coalescing into shapes.

Nana talked as she played, voice in tune with the music, but not quite singing. One constellation grew brighter than the others, of an enormous, muscular bull.

“The Great Fatted Bull–the one who desires, whose thirst is not sated,” she recited.

Then, a great eel-like beast curving around the moon.

“Asag, the great guardian serpent of the Apsu–he whose heart was consumed,” she ground out, voice heavy.

A great merman, holding what looked like a flail.

“Dammu, the Shepherd–” Nana’s voice halted, and her finger slipped, missing a note.

Two dolphins, entwined together. The night was a little cloudy, and they covered half of the stars that made up the constellation, though Nana’s illusion showed the pair in full.

“The Twins–those whose love cannot bear to be parted,” she finished.

The song’s pace quickened, and every figure in the sky blazed into color, starting to fight and swim in a complex dance. A final note rang out across the water, and it ended. I sat there, speechless.

Strangely, Nana hadn’t described all of the constellations. Could this be just the first part of my instruction? I hope so. The ones she did name seemed vaguely portentous. Was it a divination?

Morning arrived far too quickly, and I was once again assaulted by nature’s alarm clock, even louder than on the shrine island. The sun was barely peeking up from the horizon. Nana stomp-waddled out of a cave, face reddened and eyes narrowed. She was firmly holding her lyre, and it shook as her hands did.

“Again, seriously, that spiteful bastard of a worm…” she grumbled under her breath.

I trailed behind her up the tunnel to the island’s surface. My eyes bugged out and I flinched at the scene. Instead of a measly trickle, there was a veritable stream of melam floating up from the beach adjacent to Nana’s cove.

It had attracted all manner of creatures, including spirits, from distant waters and skies. They flew around each other in a whirlwind, letting out screams, caws, yelps, and ear-splitting cries as they clawed and pushed at each other to consume every last green-gold bubble.

The beasts’ forms were just as varied–multiple species of dragon, huge birds with wickedly curved beaks, and thin, flat snakes that sent out flares of lightning. There were even more whose bodies were blurry, indistinct, and I only caught flashes of their true selves, making waves of nausea run through me as my heart beat faster and faster.

As we reached it, I looked down upon the beach. The melam was emerging from the great corpse of a recognizable fish. It was the same species as the Dunkleosteus-like one I had seen before entering the Apsu. Blood sluggishly flowed from gaping tooth marks along its massive body.

A blazing white nimbus, speckled with gold flecks, swirled around Nana. I was stuck now, fully frozen in place. Shivers and needle-pricks sped through my body.

As I stilled, the entire swarm did, too. I suspected that the effect was far worse for them than for me. Nana paused, and a soft breeze blew past us towards the spirits. A warning shot.

A moment later, her song instantly began, gusts of silvery wind cocooning the spirits and blowing across the waves. More daring, powerful spirits escaped, darting towards Nana in challenge. A jagged black snake sped towards us, and was immediately stopped in its tracks by a barrier of wind, blowing it back to rejoin its fellows.

Nana’s mouth was set in a tight line, almost a grimace, as the song’s pace quickened, her wizened fingers dancing across strings, reaching a harrowing climax. A final, high note sounded, and the creatures were flung away, disappearing over the horizon and into the sea.

I fell to my knees. It took several minutes for my frantic heartbeat to calm.

“Best to butcher the fish immediately,” Nana said flatly. “The idiot spirits and flesh scavengers will be back soon enough.”

I wordlessly nodded, still shaking slightly. It did make me perk up a little, though–who on Earth would ever get to gut a twenty-foot prehistoric fish?