The World Above the Waves

By Jessica Rose

A prince or a pirate? Ever since Dwyn Atlantia was young, she's dreamed of visiting the surface: the world above the waves. On her eighteenth birthday she's finally allowed to fulfill her dream. When the human ship that she's watching explodes into flames, she risks her father's wrath to save the humans' lives. Longing for more of that world, Dwyn

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessica Rose
• Release date: Aug 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798218061876

Jessica Rose

Jessica Rose is a writer, editor and arts organizer who lives and works in Hamilton, Ontario. A passionate advocate for people and places, she works for a number of not-for-profit organizations focused on literacy, the arts, the environment, health and food security. A graduate of Carleton University’s School of Journalism, her writing includes the essay “Reclaiming Hamilton Through Artistic and Environmental Interventions” in Reclaiming Hamilton: Essays from the New Ambitious City (Wolsak and Wynn), Creating Healthy Communities (Rubicon Publishing) and the City of Hamilton Biodiversity Action Plan (BAP).

Book preview

One

Dwyn

The pristine walls, towers, and thrones stood tall and mighty in their home underneath the waves. The palace was flawless, orderly, and not a single artifact was out of place. Life under the surface was so far detached that one could hardly picture what the world above looked like. Ever since the queen’s death, the palace had been the shining pillar of detachment. There was no room for chaos, no room for blurred lines, no room for pain or confusion or clutter. Not in a world that was perfect.

Perhaps that was why the cavern was held in a place that was so close to her heart.

The cavern was everything that the palace was not. It was small and cramped and messy. No alterations had been made to the way that the ocean had carved the space centuries ago: full of crevices and outcroppings of jagged rock. Those same rocks served as a home for all of her forbidden treasures taken from the world above. Waterlogged old books leaned against each other, their ink having been long swept away by the currents of the sea. Warped shards of metal sat on sharpened points of outcroppings. They were rusted and chipped beyond any semblance of recognition or repair, serving as nothing but pieces of art for her eyes and her eyes alone. Splintered pieces of wood, which were so determined to flee from the world in which they were trapped that they had to be weighed down by an assortment of rocks and shells and sand, lay cluttered amongst the piles of treasure. Shiny silver and gold disks, jewelry, goblets, spheres, and prisms and cones all shone against the edges of the rock. The cavern looked as if it might overflow from the sheer number of trinkets packed into its tiny confines. It had become her own treasure hoard.

And in the middle of it all, there was a girl who was an artifact of her own. She too could never hope to belong to the world in which she was so hopelessly trapped within.

Maybe that was the reason why Dwyn loved the cavern so dearly. Like her, everything that it held belonged to a different world. A world that wasn’t its own. Like her, everything here was chaotic, confused, and uncontrolled. It was messy. It was cluttered. It didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to be.

She hadn’t felt at home in the too-perfect castle with its too-shiny walls and its too-happy faces in years. The pressure—the pressure to be perfect, to fit in—was just something that she couldn’t handle every moment of every day. Her actions reflected on her father’s, his actions reflected on the kingdom’s, the kingdom’s actions reflected on merfolk as a whole. She understood the importance of being perfect, even if her father seemed to think otherwise. It was just that being perfect all the time was so hard.

The cavern never judged her. It never expected anything of her besides her presence, and even that was negotiable. It opened its arms and welcomed her into a portal filled with treasures from a world that wanted her to be a part of it. A world where she could surround herself with treasures and exist in peace.

It was as much of a home as she’d ever had.

A shout from the outside echoed off the stone walls. Dwyn! the voice called, high and lilted like the dolphins chattering in their little pods. Cordelia. The mermaid frowned. She could only expect to stay hidden in her own little world for so long. Still, she flattened herself against the rocks in a feeble effort to gain more time away from everything else. Maybe if she stayed still for long enough, her pursuers would just leave her to her own business.

She peered up at the entrance of the cavern just in time to see eyes the color of seagrass lock on her. A deeper, softer voice called out, I found her!

Dwyn sighed. Well, there went that plan. Hello Beryl, she greeted. With a flick of her tail, she propelled herself towards her sisters at the entrance of the cavern.

There you are! Cordelia exclaimed, launching herself forward so that she was no more than a few inches away from Dwyn’s face. "What were you thinking? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Do you want Father to kill us?"

I lost track of time. Dwyn crossed her arms. She glanced at Beryl, who was lifting one sandy eyebrow. It’s a good thing Beryl found me, she hastily added, Otherwise I might’ve missed the dinner entirely.

One could only dream.

Beryl’s green eyes narrowed, but if she caught onto her younger sister’s deception, she didn’t say anything of it. Dwyn let out a relieved breath.

Cordelia tugged on Dwyn’s arm impatiently. Well, let’s get moving then! Father’s been planning this for months and if we get in trouble for you making us late I swear on every grain of sand in this freaking ocean that—

Dwyn tuned her out, shaking her head as she followed her older sisters back to the palace. She would be content to hold off Cordelia’s violent threats until another day. The mermaid chatted on, oblivious to Dwyn’s lack of attention. She smiled fondly.

Are you excited about tonight? Beryl asked softly.

Dwyn bit her lip. I don’t know, she admitted. I mean, I’ve been waiting to visit the surface since I knew what it was. For as long as I can remember, it’s been the only thing that feels right. That world…it calls to me. You know? I mean, you’ve seen my cavern. She frowned. But…I just…What if it’s not everything that I’ve imagined it to be?

It will be, Beryl placed a hand on Dwyn’s shoulder. I mean, I don’t love it like you do. But I’ll never forget the first time I saw it. She sighed, a wistful look in her eyes. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. There’s nothing quite like it. She gave her a jagged-toothed smile. With you and your whole obsession with the humans, I think Father’s going to have a hell of a time even getting you back down here.

I’m not obsessed, Dwyn mumbled, even as a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She knew that she was lying to herself. Obsession couldn’t begin to describe her fascination with the world above. It couldn’t do it justice. The surface called out to her like a siren’s song. It was like the air from that place above the waves ran through her veins. She remembered sitting on her mother’s lap, asking question after question about that unknown, magical place. No tether had ever been as strong as her need for it. She sighed as the thought sobered her. I don’t know if I’m ready. I’ve been wanting this for so long…

You’re ready. Beryl’s voice was confident. It left no room for Dwyn to argue with her, even if she wanted to. Most merfolk visit the surface throughout adolescence. It’s only us Atlantias that have to wait until adulthood. There was a note of bitterness in her tone that Dwyn couldn’t help but sympathize with. You’ve been ready since you were born, Dwynie. You’ll be fine.

I hope you’re right.

Don’t be stupid, I’m always right.

Come on slowpokes! a blur of orange scales and hair called from the distance. If you make me late, I’ll kill you before Father does. Dwyn rolled her eyes, but both she and Beryl picked up their speeds to catch up to Cordelia.

From there, the day passed Dwyn in a blur. Flashes of the shiny white castle, decoration, and servants rushing by her stuck out in her mind. She was adorned with golden ornamentation hanging from her neck and ears. Her hair was done, flowing elegantly behind her in the water. But the first thing that she really processed was the ballroom.

If Dwyn had to choose a place in the castle that she hated the least, it would be the ballroom. The room was tall and circular, with a roof that was open to the sea above. All sorts of sea creatures swam by, peering into the palace below. If they were lucky, they might catch a glance of the royal family. At the bottom, a gaping crevice in the sea floor made way for a whirlpool. Sea water rapidly circled around the center of the room, keeping unwanted debris at bay. Only the merfolk were strong enough to swim through the churning water comfortably. Even so, the speed of it lent itself to the slow, ever-present movement of the guests that inhabited the space. On a raised pedestal above all of the chaos and movement sat the thrones of the royal family.

King Arvav, Dwyn’s father and king of the merfolk of the Iastarian Sea sat on the throne furthest to the right. His was a cool gray metal, unrusted from the saltwater that surrounded it. It was rare that a firstborn merfolk survived all the way to adulthood, but her father had been ruling since his mother’s death thirty years ago. He was all the more renowned for it. Some suspected that he had been graced with the blood of a god, others thought he’d made a pact with one of the great leviathans of the sea in order to gain immortality. Those notions always made Dwyn laugh in disbelief. Her father wasn’t anything other than a powerful ruler, and far too cautious for his own good.

The reason for that caution sat to his left. It was one of the four thrones that was empty, but it was the only one that had remained that way for fifteen years. It stood there, golden and pearlescent, pastel shells adorning every open surface. Dwyn swallowed around the lump in her throat. The throne had once belonged to Kailani, queen of the Iastarian merfolk and Dwyn’s mother. Dwyn had been only three when she died. Perhaps that was why she was the only one in her family who actually talked of the fallen queen.

On the left of that throne sat four others, all made from white quartz, shrinking in size the further left they progressed. Only one was occupied. On the largest throne sat Avisa, her storm-gray eyes scanning the ballroom as if every guest inside was actively plotting her assassination. As Father’s heir, they hadn’t left his side since she turned eighteen. They and Dwyn had never been especially close. Ever since adulthood, Avisa had become almost as distant as their late mother.

She had half the mind to hurl herself into the whirling water and swim around the various merfolk in the room before she could be spotted. But before she had the chance, Avisa was whispering in Father’s ear and his eyes locked on Dwyn’s. She winced. Dwyn, his voice boomed through the crowd, rippling towards her like a wave might crash against the shore. My youngest daughter. Come.

Dwyn hesitated for a moment. She was acutely aware of the fact that every pair of eyes in the room was boring into her. With a gulp, she swam over to stand by her father’s side. His grin was proud as he clasped a hand on her shoulder. He turned that smile to the ballroom around him. Everyone, he said, just in case there was a single merfolk that wasn’t already watching Dwyn. It is my youngest daughter’s eighteenth birthday. It is time for her to dive into adulthood. The merfolk in the room cheered, and a shy smile split across Dwyn’s face. The king continued, Ever since my beloved Kailani passed away, I have done everything in my power in order to keep my children safe. And after today, we will have four adult heirs to the throne! There was another round of cheers, although the smile on Dwyn’s face faltered this time around. Today we celebrate my youngest, Dwyn, and how far she’s come. I’m sure some of you remember her ‘explorations’ of the palace. The merfolk chuckled, causing Dwyn to blush a deep red. Father smiled too, ruffling the young mermaid’s hair. But now she has become a young woman, time for her own new adventures. I know that she will make all of us so proud. So please, enjoy the party, and let us celebrate my daughter! One final round of cheers echoed through the ballroom as the music picked up again and the king turned to her.

She saw the shift in his eyes as his posture softened and his eyes—the same sea-blue as her own—twinkled. His voice was soft, nothing like the booming rumble of the voice that he adopted when speaking to his subjects. Happy birthday, my little wave.

Thank you, Father.

How does being an adult feel? He put one big hand on her head, ruffling her hair. She groaned, pushing him away, much to his apparent amusement. Do you like the party?

It’s excellent, said Dwyn. She glanced around the room. If she was being completely honest, it was far too fancy and poised and forced for her tastes. But with the amount of work that her father had put into it, he didn’t need to know that. She quickly said, But really, more than anything, I’m just excited to go to the surface.

The smile dropped from his face, his mouth forming a line. I suppose, he sighed. Just remember, be cautious and—

—don’t be seen, I know Father. I’ll be careful. I just want to see it all.

You’re too much like your mother, he shook his head. Just be careful. And please, try to enjoy the party.

Dwyn smiled. I will.

He gave her a grin back. That’s my girl.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of swirling water, streaking colors, and loud music. Dwyn danced around it all, trying to skirt the edges. Quite a few merfolk wanted to dance with her. Try as they might, they just didn’t impress her. There wasn’t anything wrong with them. Each person who took her hand was polite, beautiful or handsome, and they were incredibly respectful. But they just couldn’t captivate her. It wasn’t their fault; the whole palace knew that no merfolk would ever be able to hold the youngest daughter’s attention the way the humans did. Still, Dwyn took it all in stride, smiling politely and sharing her fair share of dances with each guest that requested her hand until the night had passed her by.

When the party had finally died down and the lights and music had faded into the background, Dwyn was almost bursting with excitement. She all but shoved the last few guests out the door. Thank you for coming, yes yes we’re very busy. Have a good night! she said hurriedly as she shut the door and turned to face her family. Her father was watching with a disappointed frown on her face, her sisters right behind him. Dwyn sighed. She wasn’t upset. She wasn’t even surprised. Most of her childhood had been spent on the receiving-end of her father’s frown. It was hardly a shock to her now.

The guards will escort you to the surface. From there, you’ll be on your own, the king said. Please be safe. And Dwyn—Dwyn, look at me—it is crucial that you are not seen.

I understand, Father. I’ll be careful, I promise. She hoped her words sounded like they had more sincerity than she felt they carried.

Her father frowned as he ran a hand over his face, looking like he was seriously regretting his decision to let Dwyn go to the surface—looking like he was regretting his having Dwyn for a daughter at all, actually. But he merely sighed and, with a nod to the guards, said, Be safe, little wave.

Dwyn squealed, flinging herself forward. Thank you, thank you, thank you! She wrapped her arms around her father. In the blink of an eye, she was at the door to the ballroom. She turned to the guards. Come on, let's go! And with that, the young princess was out the door.

She would’ve outswam the guards escorting her if it wasn’t for their constant calls to her, in which she’d turn and wait impatiently for them until they caught up. She did a few flips in the ocean water as she swam. Bubbly ecstasy coursed through her veins and drove her movements. She felt silly and giddy and entirely too enthusiastic, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Dwyn couldn’t help but notice the changes in the water as they approached the surface. The blues became less deep: lighter, clearer, and warmer. The sea creatures she passed were smaller and the plant life was more vibrant. She peered at a fish as she passed, tiny and as brightly orange as her hair. When it swam at her, she let out a surprised breath. Startled by the bubbles, it fled.

She frowned, readying herself to continue the trek upward, when one of the guards called out for her to stop. She huffed, tail flapping impatiently in the water. This is where we leave you, the guard said, resting her spear over her shoulder. The journey to the surface is yours to complete.

Be safe princess, said the other guard. He reached into the pack he carried over his shoulder, pulling out what looked like…a conch shell? Dwyn narrowed her eyes. He handed it out to her. When she only tilted her head in confusion, he sighed and said, If you run into any danger or need anything at all, just speak into this shell and we will be there.

Her genius reply to that was just, Oh. She took the shell with a grateful nod, placing it into a similar bag slung over her shoulder. She hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt. Um, thank you.

Of course. Good luck, Your Highness. With a nod, the two guards readied their spears and retreated back into the depths below.

Dwyn looked around. With the exception of the colorful fish swimming by her, she was alone. Above her, she could see the place where the ocean met the surface. Golden light spilled down around her. It was too far away to see what lay on the other side of that barrier that she had been longing to cross since she knew it existed. Her throat felt tight. She tried to take a breath, swallow around it, but found that she couldn’t. For the first time, the idea of crossing that line scared her.

She’d waited her entire life for this one moment. What would happen if she messed it up?

But Dwyn was Dwyn, and she could hardly stay scared of something that was so dear to her for long. The anxiety gave way to excitement so strong that it fueled her movements as she launched herself above the waves.

And she gasped.

Never in her entire life had she seen a sight so beautiful. Every tale that she’d ever read, everything that she’d ever heard, had vastly understated the beauty of the surface. She supposed that she couldn’t blame them. After all, the sight in front of her was absolutely indescribable. The sky wasn’t blue as she was told it’d be, but instead a vibrant array of oranges, pinks, reds, purples, and golds. The colors lit up the sky above her, their light reflected on the sea’s waves. It was like she was in her own little world with only these beautiful colors exploding around her. And the green, there was so much green. Everywhere on the horizon there were miles of brilliant green. She’d never seen so much of it in one place: tufts of it covered everywhere that she looked. She let out an amazed breath. If this was what so much green looked like on the surface…she’d never get tired of seeing the color again. Green on every piece of land—that must be land, then. She let out an amazed, if somewhat hysterical, laugh. What would the dry sand feel like underneath her fingers?

The sun beat down at her, starting to dry the salty water on her skin and leaving behind a tickling sensation. She’d never been this close to the sun before, and the feeling of being dry was an unusual one. She frowned as it pulled her away from her awe at the beauty of it all, just for a moment.

And that was when she spotted the ship.

It was far off, far enough away that she might’ve missed it had she still been distracted. It looked big and festive, nothing at all like the remains from warships she’d seen at the bottom of the sea.

It occurred to her that there would be humans on board. She frowned. The temptation to go there was almost overwhelming. She worried her lip between her teeth. On one hand, she’d promised her father that she’d be careful. On the other hand, she’d wanted to see humans for her whole life. She really did think it over for a few moments, but in the end it hadn’t mattered. The decision was obvious, really. This opportunity was just too good to pass up. She had to see them. She had to see them. Besides, her father had told her not to be seen. He’d never said anything about what she could or couldn’t see.

She approached with much less caution than she should have, speeding through the water with an excitement that couldn’t be contained by fear or morbid warnings. The sounds of laughter, voices, and music hit her ears. She frowned. The humans’ voices were far too hollow and light. She wondered how the sound carried through the air at all.

The ship was indeed quite large, all dark wood and billowing cloth. People were laughing and playing games and manipulating instruments to their will. Dwyn was instantly captivated. She watched them maneuver around the deck of the ship, her