Page 124 of In Violent Waves

They were all different. Whereas the merfolk were all the same.

The sun rose higher outside her window, but the land around them became cooler. A slight fog crept up from the ground, and there was a thickness to the air here. Trees loomed with widened trunks like the shape of a fan, and the carriage slowed.

Wilder sighed, and when the carriage came to a full stop, he clambered out of the coach and outstretched his hand to her.

Lyra stuck her head out before wrapping her fingers around his. It felt strange here, but a good strange—familiar somehow.

“Do you feel it?” he asked when she held his hand and did not take a step to the ground.

She nodded. It felt as if the land were alive and watching her.

“You’re safe here,” he murmured. It put her fears to rest, and she took a step and then another.

It was like a wall of dense green. It clung to the trees, floated in patches on the clear water, and fluttered in the wind. Nothing but a deep, vibrant green. The green of new life and the dark green of ancient life twining together.

The ground beneath her slippers squelched, and she grimaced.

She was not prepared for a trek through the swamp, and when she wobbled on her slippery shoes, Wilder grabbed hold of her hand to steady her.

“I’m not dressed for this new adventure,” she muttered, tugging on his hand when she almost fell again.

“I’ll hold on to this just in case,” he replied, lifting their conjoined hands.

They walked towards the river a few steps before he stopped. Standing beside her and gripping her hand, he breathed deeply. She watched as his eyes slid closed and his shoulders heaved with a deep breath. His skin seemed to glow a deeper gold with each of his breaths, like the magic was filling him from within.

When his eyes opened, they seemed brighter than the sky above the low-hanging clouds.

“There’s usually a canoe off the bank, but we’ll walk until we find one,” he said to her before turning to the servant who had driven the carriage. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”

They set off together hand in hand, and it didn’t feel strange to her. Almost as if they had done this before, but it was refreshing nonetheless.

She swung their hands as they walked and looked around with curiosity. Wilder had a lightness to his gait compared to his usual tromping, and a small grin pulled up his lips.

Lyra tried not to marvel at the changes in him, but it was difficult. So she opted for conversation.

“You said the swamp was named after the three original sisters?”

Wilder smirked at her question. No doubt prepared for her encroaching onslaught of curiosity.

“Yes. But some claim there was a fourth sister and that her story was lost to time.”

Lyra jolted to a stop, and their conjoined hands yanked Wilder to a halt as well.

“A missing sister?”

Wilder chuckled at the look of horror that contorted her face.

“Not just a lost sister, but a lost brother, too.”

“Alright, now you’re making stuff up. How does history forget two gods?”

Wilder’s brow furrowed, and they continued walking again.

“I didn’t say they were gods. How did you know that?”

Lyra shrugged. “I merely assumed. The three original sisters were all goddesses, weren’t they?”

“Eventually.”