It was just before the break of dawn, and through the mist one could see the glimmer of lanterns from more than a dozen tall ships that crowded the small island cove. Three figures waded out of the water and onto the shore. They were like men, and yet unlike. They had gills on their thick necks, hands with three long, webbed fingers, and bony crests that almost looked like coral. They carried no light, but they walked up onto the rocky shore with the surefootedness of one on a bricked road in midday.
“I must insist to you both, this is a mistake,” The largest one spoke in deep, low tones like the gurgle of a receding tide, “Their kind have no care for us. Any trust placed in them will be betrayed.”
The second one, tall and thin, with a voice like the trill of ocean birds, spoke next, “They saved my daughter, and yours. Many of our kind would not be alive today if not for their efforts. They have earned a chance.”
The large one clicked their tongue, “Lifetimes of our people being slaughtered by these humans speak otherwise. How can you honestly believe they will change?”
“They are outcasts of their people, and have reason to hate them just as we do.”
The large one clicked their tongue once again, with tangible annoyance this time, “It is their hate that I am afraid of. It comes too easily to their kind.”
The third figure held up a hand, the gesture calm but authoritative.
The first two fell silent in regard to the third. This one was much shorter than the other two, but had a high crest on their forehead that one might mistake for a crown, and carried themselves with a singular grace.
The third spoke at last, their voice the soft hum of a seashell against one’s ear, “It will not be for us to decide. The Goddesses may have use for them, and we have a duty to Them foremost. We will make ready for the ceremony.”
