Prelude

Some stories are meant to be told. Others are meant to unfold. But Ivy’s story … Well, hers is more than just some mere story. Yes, this is a story of self-discovery, of romance, of strength—both internal and external. But Ivy’s journey is one that faces centuries of fear and answers centuries of questions. The tale of Ivy spans realms and will encompass more than herself—me being one of the more in this context, because this is a legend that I unintentionally stumbled into. Although, if you are of the belief that fate’s strings are plucked whenever needed, then perhaps my appearance was not so unintentional.

            However, all of this will be learnt in time. Your questions will be answered; your quench for more will be satisfied. But for now, all you shall know is that there is much more to this young girl than even she can comprehend.

            And now, her story must be told—or rather, unfold—and I must be the one to tell it. So, sit back, try to relax, and watch as the legend of Ivy Medina is woven into the fabric of time.

Part I

The Girl Who Dreamt 

Sometimes I wonder if all of this is a dream. If my soul is still imprisoned as it once was, and I have merely conjured up something so grand to drown me of my eternal misery.

But even I could not have imagined the emotional turmoil that holds the pieces of this legend together.

1

Most people who spend the better part of their life living on a beach eventually grow tired of the scenery—but not Ivy Medina. At six months old, she refused to leave the water, and at sixteen, she was just the same. Every weekend she would head for the beach in her swimmers and scuba diving gear—which encompassed goggles, flippers, and an oxygen tank as long as her back—and explore the ocean. And while every weekend’s activities occurred as expected, today was rather peculiar to begin with.

Her parents had been arguing, and while that wasn’t particularly unusual, that morning Ivy had managed to overhear the topic they fought over. Her name had been thrown about in the midst of their whispered conversation about some tremor they had felt during the night. Ivy was a heavy sleeper and hadn’t felt any such tremor, so she had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was how in the world that tremor and Ivy were related to the same argument.

In complete honesty, her parents had argued over her plenty of times throughout her life—it was one of the only things they ever did together. However, she never could quite understand what else they spoke about—that unexplainable phenomenon where you only hear your name being said and nothing else—and every time she tried to ask, both her parents told her not to worry. After a few attempts, she figured it wasn’t worth her breath.

After that morning’s usual yet unusual argument, when Ivy was preparing for her weekly ocean exploration, her mother practically shooed her out the door and into the water, muttering, ‘Don’t forget those stories I used to tell you,’ and, ‘Are you wearing your ring?’ When Ivy had questioned why any of that mattered, her mother, rather than answering, stopped them at the water’s edge and held Ivy’s face in her hands, then said, ‘Remember everything I told you. I love you, Ivy. In this world and the next.’

‘I love you too, Mum,’ Ivy replied, confusion lacing her tone. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Now, Ivy climbed up the monstrous rock wall cutting through the ocean of Divided Beach (which was quite impressive while wearing flippers and carrying an oxygen tank), and about halfway up, she stopped on a rocky ledge and faced the ocean.

Her mum was nowhere to be seen—presumably having returned to the house—but further along the shore, an abandoned boat lingered at an old harbour. The boat had always lived there for as long as Ivy had lived there, never being used. Similarly, the harbour itself had also never been graced with the presence of people.

Ivy adjusted her goggles and secured her mouthpiece, before proceeding to jump into the water backwards. The splash caused a school of puffer fish to disperse—but don’t worry, they all found each other and continued on their way.

            Once she was back where she belonged, water coursing around her like the air she breathed, she began searching for new areas of the ocean to explore. Ivy had been exploring the same beach all her life, yet there was always something new to be discovered. She found new anemones and waved hello to the fish surrounding them. Although the fish were unable to wave back, Ivy liked to believe they understood the meaning (they didn’t).

            The sea floor was a canvas of sand, crabs and clams scattered like paint thrown sporadically. Ivy dusted her hand across the sand in search of seashells and collected a few in her palm, admiring the way they sparkled under the rippling sunlight. She kept them in her hand as she watched crustaceans weave between seaweed and rocks, waving to them as she did the fish. To her utter satisfaction, one of the crabs raised a claw to her.

            Not long after that crabby interaction (pun entirely intended), Ivy arrived at one of her favourite places in this part of the ocean: an underwater stone forest.

            Pillars of stone sprouted from the sea floor like magnificent trees. Each pillar was painted in a layer of slimy green algae, some of it creeping into cracks along the eroded stone columns. Most of the pillars were broken, some even looking like tree stumps. This place reminded Ivy of a lost kingdom in a fairytale, the souls of mythical underwater beings weaving between the pillars, reminiscent of the bedtime stories her mother used to tell her. Stories about merfolk and sirens, and other wondrous sea folk living and laughing and loving. Perhaps this was where her mother drew inspiration for those stories.

            As she swam through the desolate kingdom, her finger grazed the band of twigs that made up the ring she wore on the middle finger of her right hand—the ring her mother had asked about earlier. There was no rhyme or reason to this action; it was merely as though a hidden part of her needed the comfort the ring provided.

            She left the forest of stone pillars and swam towards the rock wall she had jumped from, making her way back to the surface for a breath of fresh air and to quickly add her shells to her collection, when she came across something rather peculiar: a hole.

It wasn’t the hole, however, that was entirely peculiar—although it was strange enough considering it had never been there before today—it was what she saw swimming in the hole that was most peculiar.

            Ivy wholeheartedly believed she saw a human man covered in scales. A head of red hair entered the hole, followed by an entire torso, arms, and legs with scales.

            Clearly, her mind was playing tricks on her, because why on earth would there be a human covered in scales swimming in a hole in a rock wall? She must have conjured his presence from the depths of her mind after being reminded of her mother’s bedtime stories. But even more strange was the fact the scaly human didn’t have a tail. Merfolk in her bedtime stories always had tails.

So, just as any curious young person would, Ivy followed her imagination.

            Now, the hole in question was carved into the side of the rock wall, and as she tried to look in, she noticed her entire head and shoulders could fit comfortably inside the hole’s jagged edges. As for what was inside the hole, Ivy could not see a thing—other than those shimmering blue scales in the distance.

            At this point, any logical human would turn around and leave the hole alone for fear of getting lost or ending up trapped. Or perhaps those people would even take their shells to their home first, then return to the hole. However, all logical humans seemed to be adults, and Ivy was quite clearly not one of those. So, off she went, diving into the dark and seemingly dangerous abyss, seashells clutched in her hand, in a hurry to not lose the scaly person.

            The hole became wider the further she swam. So wide, in fact, that she was able to successfully perform breaststroke without hitting the sides. Schools of fish tickled her underarms and tangled in the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid. She shook her head to release them and felt their fins tickle her legs as they escaped. When she readjusted herself after the small moment of distraction, she found the scaled human was gone.

            In her desperate attempt to satiate her curiosity, she continued her path through the tunnel of midnight sky. The tunnel was so dark that Ivy was unaware of the fact that she started to swim down, further into undiscovered territory. You would think that soon she would feel the water shifting around her, encasing her in a tight, pressurised bubble, but you must remember this: Ivy was not consciously thinking about travelling down, and at the ripe old age of sixteen, she was still quite naive.

            This naivety did not last long, however. With no guiding light of scales, Ivy decided she’d much rather turn back. She attempted to spin around effortlessly, but just as the tunnel had grown wider, it had now grown smaller. She twisted her body and tangled her limbs in the hope that she would find some manoeuvre to turn herself around, but she was unsuccessful.

            Ivy was trapped.

            Her heart rate rose; her breathing quickened. Now, Ivy realised, she had made a horrible mistake (as if excitedly swimming into a dark underwater tunnel was ever a good idea). She tried twisting herself again but to no avail. Her limbs scraped the rocky edges of the tunnel, and her clunky oxygen tank was getting in the way, but she couldn’t very well abandon it. The tank would last her four hours; she at least had enough sense to decide that her best course of action would be to continue swimming rather than wasting her oxygen on panicking. After all, this tunnel must lead somewhere.

            She took some slow, agonisingly deep breaths, then continued on her way.

            After what felt like hours but was only fifteen minutes (young people can be quite dramatic at times), scattered dots of light appeared ahead of her. Without a second thought, Ivy hurried towards the light source, the presumed end of the tunnel, her breaststroke hands scraping against the rocks.

            Her heart eased at the sight of a hole signalling the tunnel’s exit. Once out, she took a brief moment to search for the scaled boy who was nowhere to be seen, then swam straight to the surface for the breath of fresh air she had been aching for. She ignored the fish on her way up (they didn’t think too much of it) and broke through the water, instantly removing her mouthpiece and moving her goggles to her head. Air rushed into her lungs; her shoulders released the tension she didn’t realise they were holding. Her fingers instantly searched for the ring on the second finger of her right hand, making sure she hadn’t lost it, before she rubbed her eyes free from water. Vast open ocean greeted her with two dark lumps marking what she could only assume were islands. She spun around, expecting to find the continuation of the beach that her home lived on.

            That wasn’t the case.

            In the distance lay an island with shimmering sand leading towards brown trunks topped with glistening leaves; coloured flowers dotted the ground where the trees grew from. Utterly beautiful, yet the beach was completely void of people. How could that be?

            ‘Hello?’ Ivy called. But alas, there was no response.

Desperate to be on land after her treacherous journey through that dreaded tunnel, Ivy swam to shore, panting heavily as she fell onto the sand of the unknown land. After she caught her breath, she stripped herself completely of her goggles, oxygen tank, and flippers, placing them against one of the nearby trees. Tilting her head back as far as it would go, she gazed upon trees of deep brown with tangles of vines raining down from the treetops. Emerald leaves grew from those vines and shimmered under the sparkling sun. A warmth spread through her, beating like a song in time to her heart. Ivy had thought this place was beautiful from a distance, but now? Mesmerising was an understatement.

            The trees stood in a pool—no, a sea—of purple and red and blue and green and orange and violet and pink flowers more vibrant than any colours back home. And just to the left of where she was standing was a footpath of fallen autumn leaves. She thought it strange that the leaves would be yellow and orange and red when they were green in the trees. If they were old, should they not be brown and shrivelled? If they were new, should they not be green and fresh? She didn’t allow herself much time to think on the matter and instead followed the path of fallen leaves through the forest.

            Her hand shuffled the shells she held, leaves crunching beneath her feet as her eyes wandered, admiring the whimsical forest. Treetops shrouded the sky, only allowing a shred of sunlight to guide her path. But it wasn’t long until her travelling was interrupted.

‘I would not come any further if I were you.’

She froze at the deep, menacing voice and snapped her head in the direction it came from, which was directly in front of her. It was too easy to be distracted in a place as wondrous as this, and if the owner of the voice hadn’t spoken, Ivy would’ve walked straight into them.

            Except, they did speak. And now, Ivy was face to face with a … She rubbed her eyes and blinked away the stars that appeared, refocusing on the foreign being before her. Surely her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her anymore. This must be some sort of fairytale or a dream—and a vivid one at that. Because there, with hooves planted in the soil beneath the fallen leaves, and human eyes watching her, was a faun. A faun with dark skin dotted in beautiful white freckles, what looked to be a human torso beneath his white shirt, black ruffled hair with ears slightly above where human ears would be, their pointed tips dusted in brown fur the same as his legs, branch-looking antlers growing from his hair, and hairy goat legs poking out below his sapphire kilt.

            Without a second thought, Ivy slapped herself across the face, hoping to wake herself from this dream. When that didn’t work, she pinched herself.

            The faun remained.

            I’m definitely dreaming, Ivy thought. Mum also told me stories about beautiful lands with fauns and fairies and other creatures. Perhaps my mind has conjured up an extremely vivid dream. She looked around at the forest and flowers again, then back to the faun. She wasn’t entirely certain a dream could look and feel this real, but nevertheless, she decided it was the only possible explanation. Because what else could this place be?

            Since this was absolutely and most certainly a dream, she chose to ignore his menacing tone. She couldn’t be in any danger in her own mind. However, her next two steps were slow and trembly. And then, the faun spoke again.

‘I told you not to come any further.’

            Ivy froze, then quickly adjusted her demeanour into a more casual stance. With her arms crossed, she stared the faun down and said with feigned confidence, ‘Why not? This is my dream.’ She wasn’t entirely certain about that statement. ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’

            ‘Because,’ the faun explained, seemingly ignoring her comments, ‘as far as I can tell, you do not belong here.’

            Her feigned confidence quickly transformed into slight, yet real, stubbornness. ‘Well, my mind created this place, so I must belong here.’ But did she belong here? If this really were some strange, vivid dream conjured by her mother’s bedtime stories—which it most certainly was—then why would she be told she didn’t belong?

            The faun scrunched his brows at that, crinkling the white freckles along his brow line, and folded his arms across his chest, mimicking Ivy. ‘I am merely being cautious.’

            Ivy had spent her entire life being homeschooled, her only experience with people other than her parents being on small outings to the shops or markets and wandering among strangers. She had never truly had the opportunity to make friends and to learn how to appropriately communicate with new people. In fact, her parents were the only people she truly knew, her mother being her only friend. So, she supposed it was perfectly natural to ignore his statement and change the subject.

In an effort to feel more comfortable, she shrugged and said, ‘I’m Ivy. What’s your name?’

            The faun’s eyes widened, and Ivy could have sworn she heard a slight gasp. ‘Alvaro,’ he answered, before quickly collecting himself and taking a bow. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ivy.’

            ‘Oh, no, just call me Ivy. And please, don’t bow.’ Definitely a dream; no one ever worshipped her in reality. She took another good look at her surroundings and asked, ‘What is this place?’

            Alvaro stammered, ‘W-why, this is the Thidin Kingdom. One of the three kingdoms of Harukai.’

            ‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispered.

            Alvaro twiddled his fingers in a nervous fashion and asked, ‘I-I do not mean to be rude, but uh, how did you get here, Miss Ivy?’

            Her head snapped back to the faun. ‘How did I get here?’ But this is a dream. ‘That shouldn’t matter. This place is just part of my imagination,’ she told him, except the small tremor in her voice betrayed her confidence.

            ‘Yes, you mentioned that. But humour me, will you?’

            Was this a dream? Of course it is, she told herself. ‘I … I swam through that tunnel in the wall,’ she explained, gesturing behind her to the rock wall in the ocean barely visible from this far into the forest. She’d swum into this land, an impossible feat; surely this was a dream.

            ‘Ah, yes, I thought that might have been the case.’ The human girl and the faun stood in silence for a moment before Alvaro asked, ‘Would you like some tea? I trust you have nowhere else to be at the moment?’

            The only place she needed to be was home, but if she were dreaming—which she absolutely was—then she was already home. And a cup of tea would certainly calm her nerves.

‘I’d love some tea.’ She took a step closer then realised she shouldn’t leave her belongings lying around in foreign places, even if this were a dream. ‘I left my stuff at the beach. Can I bring it with me?’ she asked.

            ‘Absolutely.’ Alvaro followed her to where she had left her scuba gear. ‘You certainly should not be leaving your belongings in unknown lands.’ Ivy smiled at the unusual similarity of their thoughts—something that could only happen in a dream. He carried her oxygen tank, remarking, ‘What a strange contraption,’ and she held her goggles and flippers in one hand while keeping her seashells in the other. It was only when she stood next to him did Ivy realise how tall he really was. She would have to say he was at least seven feet tall, but she was never too good with numbers.

            Alvaro gave a close-lipped smile that Ivy returned, and together, a human and a faun walked side-by-side through a whimsical forest.