The Salt in her Voice

The myth says mermaids sing to lure sailors to their death. But why? The ocean is huge. Only 5 percent has been discovered by man. Why would a creature of the sea with that much space to roam ever care about the fate of men on ships?

The answer, as it turns out, is not a simple one at all.

The truth about the myth is older than the tides. Long ago before the first ship ever cut across the surface, the sea made a pact with the sky. The sky would take the souls of the drowned. Anyone who died in storms or any quiet accidents of the deep would have their soul lifted upward to the Heavens while the bodies would remain below, feeding the oceans endless hunger. The greedy sea however wanted more souls than the sky would claim. So it created mermaids. It gave them beautiful voices woven from currents and moonlight. It commanded them to sing. "Bring forth the ones who float where they should sink." it instructed them.

So they did.

They never killed out of malice but out of obligation. They sung to summon, not to seduce. A mermaid's voice could loosen the tether between the body and soul, making any man step willingly into the water. The sea would take the body and the sky would take the soul. Balance maintained.

Perla was born without a song. Among mermaids, this wasn't just unusual. It was unheard of. Song was a mermaid's identity. A mermaid's first cry was supposed to ripple through ocean water like a silver thread, announcing her arrival to every creature that inhabited its depths. Perla's first cry was a rasp. A single scrape of sound like a stone being dragged across coral.

Her mother, Stella Marina, hid her disappointment behind a smile. "She will find her voice," she told the others. But the fish folk talked. A mermaid without a song was like a wave without motion.

Perla grew up surrounded by the gossip, but she still learned to swim fast and to dive deep. She taught herself to braid kelp into nets and carve hooks from drift bone. She watched from the sidelines while the others practiced their harmonies. Her heart ached listening to the shimmering chords that could bend like water itself and she pretended she didn't mind.

She did mind though, so much it hollowed her.

🪸

Perla was nineteen tides old when she saw her first ship. It rose above the surface like a floating cliff with sails swollen with wind. The other mermaids gathered beneath it, their tails flickering like shards of moonlight.

"Stay back." Stella Marina warned Perla. "You can't join the chorus."

Perla nodded, though her chest ached. She watched as the others surfaced, their lovely voices braiding into a single shimmering thread. The song vibrated through the water and into the hull of the ship. Men leaned over the rails with glazed eyes. One by one, they stepped off. The sea accepted them with open arms. Perla felt sick. It wasn't because of the death, she knew about the pact, but because she felt nothing in the song. She didn't belong. She was a mermaid who couldn't do the one thing mermaids existed to do.

🪸

Three nights later, Perla found a body tangled in a net of kelp. He was a young man with dark hair drifting like ink around his face. His skin was pale, but not yet the color of death. He was alive. His soul hovered like a fish caught between currents. Perla touched his cheek.

"Why did you jump?" she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open. She jerked back. No drowned man should ever wake after the song. His brown eyes focused on her.

"I didn't jump," he rasped. "I followed a voice."

Perla's chest tightened. "A voice?"

"It wasn't like the others," he coughed. "It was... broken? Like someone trying to sing through salt."

Perla froze. She hadn't sung. She couldn't. But she had been thinking that night as she watched the others. Thinking of what it might feel like to have a voice that mattered. She had been thinking so hard it hurt. The sea listened to thoughts as much as it did sound. Had she called him without meaning to?

🪸

His name was Fortirocco, but Perla chose to call him Tiro.

He should have died. The pact had never faltered before. A soul summoned by a mermaid belonged to the sea. But Perla could not bring herself to finish what she had accidentally begun. She hid him in a cave where the tides weren't so strong and brought him seaweed broth to eat. She taught him which shells carried fresh water and watched as the color began to return to his cheeks.

He thanked her for the seaweed broth but told her how much he missed real food. Like his Nonna's spaghetti alle vongole and gelato. Perla had no idea what either of those things were. He tried to explain it, but the only ingredient she understood were the clams.

They sat together. The cave glowed faintly with reflected moonlight, the water outside licked at the rocks. Perla watched Tiro lift the shell cup to his lips, sipping the warm seaweed broth. He smiled at her.

"You really like it?" she asked, her sparkling tail curling gently around her.

"I do." he said. "It taste's like the sea is taking care of me."

Curiosity flickered in her eyes. "Humans have so many foods. You've told me about spuh... spa?" she grimaced.

"Spaghetti alle vongole." he chuckled.

"That." she smiled. "And... what was that cold thing again?"

"Gelato!" he said.

Perla leaned closer, fascinated. "Tell me again. What is it?"

Tiro laughed, setting the empty shell aside. "It's... hard to explain. It's cold. Very cold. But sweet. And soft. And it melts the moment it touches your tongue."

Perla blinked. "Ice cold food. Why would anyone want that?"

"Because it feels like magic," Tiro said. "Especially pistachio gelato. It's pale green, like the inside of a seashell. And the taste..."

He paused, searching for the right words. "It's gentle. Nutty. Sweet. The kind of flavor that surprises you, but stays with you."

Perla tilted her head. "Like a memory?"

He nodded. "Exactly. Like a memory you want to taste again and again."

"You speak of it like it's precious." Perla smiled.

Tiro's gaze drifted to her lips, then back to her eyes. "Some things are." he said.

She moved a bit closer. "If I tasted it, would I like it?"

He swallowed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Oh, I think you'd love it."

"How do you know?"

"Because..." he hesitated, then smiled in a way she'd come to adore. "Because it reminds me of you."

Her breath caught. "Me?"

"It's soft and sweet in a way you don't see coming. Unexpected." He reached up and caressed her cheek in his hand. "And once you taste it, you can't forget it."

Perla's heart fluttered like a startled fish. She leaned in.

"Tiro." she whispered.

He didn't answer with words.

He closed the space between them, his lips brushing hers in a kiss as gentle as the first touch of tide on sand. Warm where gelato would be cold.

When they parted, her forehead rested against his.

"So," she murmured, voice trembling with wonder, "that's what gelato is like?"

Tiro smiled, thumb brushing against her cheek. "No," he whispered. "Gelato wishes it tasted like that."

Perla smiled.

"You saved me." he told her.

"No, Tiro." she sighed. "I doomed you."

He laughed, thinking she was joking.

She wasn't.

🪸

The sea knew there was a survivor. It wanted what was owed.

Storms grew more violent and the once gentle waves turned currents into twisted knots. Fish and other creatures fled from the regions they had lived for generations. The sea was throwing a tantrum.

Stella Marina confronted Perla with eyes as dark as the trench. "The sea is restless, Perla! It demands what you have taken!"

Perla's throat tightened, "How did you...?"

"Return it at once!" her mother demanded.

"I didn't mean to call him."

"Intent doesn't matter. A summoned soul must be surrendered, Perla. Give the sea what it wants."

Perla shook her head. "No. He's not a soul. He's alive!"

"For now." Stella Marina whispered.

Perla felt her insides twist. "There must be another way!" she cried.

"There isn't, Perlina. We're not the authors of the pact. We're only its instruments."

Perla thought of Tiro's laugh and the warmth of his lips against hers. She thought of the myth the humans told and that mermaids never bothered to correct. Mermaids lure sailors to death. It left out the part where they had no choice.

Perla decided then that she would choose.

🪸

The sea sent a wave the size of a mountain to claim Tiro. Perla met it with her body. She pushed him deeper into the cave and told him to stay hidden before turning to face the water's fury. The waves crashed against her, slamming her into stone. Perla's ribs screamed and her vision blurred. The sea's voice boomed through the water.

"Give him to me." it roared.

"I won't!" Perla gasped.

"You cannot defy me! You are nothing without song."

Perla's throat burned. She had tried her whole life to sing and failed. But now, with the sea itself bearing down on her, something inside her snapped open.

It wasn't a gentle and beautiful sound like the others. Perla's voice tore out of her like a wound. It was raw and jagged. It was full of salt and defiance. It scraped the water and split the current, making the sea recoil in shock. The sound that ripped through her was something the sea hadn't heard since before the pact. Perla screamed again and the water retreated. The cave was silent except for the sound of Perla's ragged breath.

"Perla." Tiro crawled to her side, "Your voice. What was that?"

She wanted to answer, but her throat felt flayed. Dark, shimmering blood drifted from her lips. She shook her head. "I don't know." she whispered.

Perla's voice had never been missing, just refusing to serve the pact. It didn't want to be used to lure and kill. So, it had waited until she was ready to choose something for herself. The sea, weakened by her scream, withdrew its claim on Tiro. But she would never be forgiven. A mermaid who defied the sea couldn't remain a mermaid. Her tail began to split. The shimmering scales dissolved into foam. Her gills sealed shut. Her lungs convulsed, reshaping themselves for air. Tiro caught her as she collapsed.

"Perla! What's happening?"

Her body trembled. She would live, just not as a mermaid.

🪸

*One month later*

Perla walked along the shoreline with Tiro, the sweetness of the pistachio gelato still lingering on her tongue.

She wasn't sure what she was anymore. She could no longer breathe underwater, but she could still hear the sea whispering. It wasn't kind. It resented her. Her feet still felt a little unsteady on land. The other mermaids never approached her. She was a traitor. She could still feel a vibration in her bones. The memory of the song she was never able to sing.

She felt a little sad, but ultimately proud. The sea had demanded mermaids use their voice to feed it, but she had chosen to use hers to live and to save Tiro's life. No myth would ever tell her story. But a new story had began to form. One about a mermaid who refused to be an instrument. A story about a girl who found a voice sharp enough to cut the sea itself.