Page 26 of Make Out With A Merman

The lake is colder than it should be for late summer. The wind’s blowing west when the clouds say east. And this morning, I pulled three silver scales off the dock that weren’t mine and theyhummed.

No one else noticed. Not yet.

But I do.

I’ve lived in this skin too long not to know when the deep is whispering.

And it’s not whispering anymore.

It’s warning.

“Julie,”I say, stepping into her office mid-lunch, clipboard in hand but forgotten. “We need to talk.”

She looks up from her soup like I just handed her a dead fish. “Oh no. That tone. That’s your ‘camp’s doomed’ tone.”

“I’m serious.”

She gestures at the seat across from her. “That’s even worse.”

I sit, hard. “The lake’s changing.”

“Because of the rift?” she asks, already reaching for her notes.

“Yes. But it’s more than that. It’s behavingintentionally.”

She arches a brow. “Water doesn’t have intent.”

“It does when it’s ancient,” I say, voice low.

That gets her attention.

“Ryder,” she says slowly, “how ancient are we talking?”

“Pre-human settlement. Maybe older.”

Julie sits back like someone pulled the floor out from under her chair.

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”

I pull a soaked page from my bag one of the old ward maps Torack sent up. She leans over, eyes narrowing.

“This symbol,” I tap it, “only activates when sentient aquatic magic starts probing borders. It’s glowing.”

Julie swears again. “You’re sure?”

“I felt it in the water.”

A beat.

She looks at me, careful. “And how bad is it?”

I pause.

My instincts scream the answer.Bad enough I should be pulling every camper from the water and ringing the old bells.

But I also know panic spreads faster than magic.

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