Zanya wasn't entirely sure how she'd survived the rest of the school year.
Not cleanly.
Not comfortably.
But she had.
Containment had become a constant drain—like holding a muscle clenched for months at a time. She learned to ration herself carefully: shorter showers, fewer beach walks, blackout curtains even during the day. She stopped swimming entirely. Stopped dreaming, too.
By the time the summer ended, she felt thinner on the inside, worn smooth by resistance.
Still human.
Still breathing.
Barely.
When the new school year began, everything else felt… steadier.
Emma laughed without flinching now.
Cleo neared water without panic, cautious but capable.
Rikki still burned hot and sharp, but the wild edge had dulled into confidence.
They were stable.
Mermaids who had learned the rules of their bodies.
Zanya watched them from the sidelines, a quiet, aching pride lodged beneath her ribs.
And envy.
The first full moon of the term hit her like a tidal wave.
It started as pressure behind her eyes halfway through the day—low, insistent, wrong. By nightfall it had become agony. Not sharp pain, but a crushing, rhythmic force that pulsed in time with the tide charts she refused to look at anymore.
She curled on her bed, hands pressed to her temples, teeth clenched against a whimper.
"This is getting worse," she gasped.
Moonlight bled through the cracks in her curtains anyway, silvering the floor like spilled water. The air vibrated faintly, humming just below the threshold of sound.
Mako.
Not calling.
Resonating.
The Labyrinth crystal orb—long dormant on her side table—shuddered.
Zanya froze. "Don't you dare."
The orb rolled free on its own, rolling onto her bed, light blooming within it like trapped starlight. Images flickered across its surface in a slow, merciless sequence:
A mermaid's tail, luminous and unfamiliar.
Iron chains stretching taut beneath black water.
And then—
Eyes.
Enormous. Luminous. Awake.
She screamed and hurled the orb across the room. It struck the wall and dimmed instantly, inert once more.
Her heartbeat thundered, uneven and panicked.
"That's not a vision," she whispered hoarsely. "That's a progression."
Outside, the ocean answered.
Not with a wave or a pull—but with sound.
A deep, subsonic hum that vibrated through her bones, through the foundations of the house, through her soul. It wasn't directional anymore.
It was everywhere.
She slid down against the wall, hugging her knees as nausea rolled through her. The containment she'd relied on for months felt paper-thin, strained to translucence.
"I can't ignore you," she said to the empty room. "I know that now."
The System manifested fully for the first time in weeks, text blazing bright and undeniable.
[PRIMARY MISSION UNLOCKED]
[BECOME WHAT YOU ARE — PART 1
Context:
Sustained resonance incompatible with current host form.
Containment failure imminent.
Objective:
Initiate adaptive pathway.
Warning:
Delay increases risk of catastrophic collapse.]
Her vision blurred.
"And if I do this," she whispered, voice shaking, "I don't get to go back."
The System did not soften the truth.
[Correct.]
A final line appeared, heavier than the rest.
[Mission Reward (Upon Completion):
Grishaverse — TIDEMAKER SURGE (MAJOR)
Status: LOCKED (Conditional)]
Power.
Not as temptation—but as aftermath.
Zanya laughed weakly, pressing her forehead to her knees. "So that's it. Survive the change, and you let me breathe."
The hum from the ocean deepened, answering not her words—but her acceptance.
For the first time since containment began, she didn't push the sensation away.
She let it sit.
Let it hurt.
Let it wait.
Outside, the tide rose under a full moon, and Mako sang like a struck bell—no longer asking, no longer warning.
Just waiting for her to stop pretending she could remain exactly what she'd been.
Human.
And unchanged.