"Of course I know a secret back way in."

Zane and Myli swam most of the night before catching up with the others. Indeed, if Myli hadn't known where they'd be camped, they might never have found them at all.

Now they drifted in a small crevice that expanded into a cave beneath a particularly overgrown patch of some sort of fluffy green stalks that Zane didn't know the name for, but grew in anemone-like clusters and reached upward four or five times his height. This over-abundant field of sea plants was more than enough to conceal their narrow crack of an entrance, and if he hadn't been led directly to it he'd have assumed it was just another shadow.

Duon and Faihar rested closer to the opening, ready to intercept anyone who might come to do the prince harm.

Leor sat cross-legged, his pale purple fins and glowing hair rippling in phantom currents, a mischievous smile on his face. "This is not the first time the Curranti has been involved in important events, nor will it be the last. The acoseers told me what I needed to know, though I didn't at the time know why."

"And all this is to somehow help you reclaim your throne, is that right?" Zane kept his voice low to avoid disturbing the two resting mer by the entry. "I'm afraid we were interrupted before I could get the full story."

"I am not seeking to reclaim anything, but to continue to protect my people as my duty requires. Whether as acoseer or dynast, the responsibility remains the same. Guidance and protection from any evils within my power to stop."

"What exactly is an acoseer? Something magical, but... what?"

"Acoseers read the flow of the future and seek the paths to reach it. It is a difficult position, and not one undertaken lightly." For the first time since they began speaking, Leor's voice grew solemn. Still light, but no longer with any trace of flippancy.

"So, when you said 'prophecy', back when you first summoned me, that was an acoseer's work?"

"No. The prophecies are what all acoseers work toward fulfilling. None but their creator knows the source of the prophecies. We have added much in our understanding of them through the years, but many remain unfulfilled."

"Not all?"

"Seven have come to be. Each has heralded a new era of peace, or strength, or expansion, or growth. Everyone hopes this one will be the same."

"Isn't it a bit... generic?" The pattern had shown only their mythic trident surrounded by worshipers, with one mer standing out from the crowd. If they'd had multiple kings through the years... "Couldn't it have been fulfilled already?"

"Prophecies fade when they are completed. The vibrancy goes out of them, as their power is released into enhancing the lives of our people."

"And you think visiting the acoseers will help with this one?"

"We never presented the other Called to Currantine. Despite our best efforts, they all failed. We have run out of chances. You must succeed."

Despite the seriousness of Leor's words, Zane couldn't help but grin. He was going to merman magic school to help safeguard an exiled prince on the run from an evil tyrant. What could be better than that?

"But first," the young prince continued, "we must rest."

Sleeping as a merman was a difficult concept for Zane to wrap himself around; it felt wrong to close his eyes and let himself drift, but it felt equally unnatural to stare out at the world and expect himself to be able to rest.

Everyone else drifted in place, moving only with minuscule adjustments, a twitch of an arm or slow flap of a finned leg. Faces calm, expressions vacant.

He found himself watching Myli, the faint iridescent rippling of her scales, the tiny movements of her gills.

Then Leor shifted, stretching, and Zane realised he must have fallen asleep after all. Or at least into some sort of resting trance. Soon the others stirred as well. Duon approached Leor for a brief consultation, which almost immediately turned into an argument.

"It's not safe. Send the Called if you must, but you should not return to Currantine."

"I will go."

"I can't let you do that."

"You can't stop me."

Duon advanced on Leor, his deep red scales and broad frame intimidating enough that Zane worried for Leor's safety. But the prince only drew himself up and steadily stared down the older mer. Duon swam closer, face set in grim determination, and still Leor did not back down.

"Enough." Myli swam between them, breaking their stare-down. "Called Cerulin wishes to visit Currantine. Prince Leor wishes to accompany him. It is our duty to protect them, not command them."

Duon glared at her, the frills on his arms flexing and tightening.

"My daughter is right," Faihar interrupted. "We may advise, but not command. Stand down, Duon."

Only then did Duon finally turn away. "Then we go to Currantine. I pray my fears are unfounded."