Page 27 of Cerban
The words sent a shiver through me. “A what?”
He crouched beside the sphere, his fingers tracing one of the glowing symbols. “They were used by my ancestors – long before the first archives were built – to store memories and history. But this one… this one is far older than anything I’ve ever seen.”
The light flared again, brighter now. The figures moved, becoming clearer, more detailed. Their faces were distinct: finfolk and humans, working side by side, speaking, laughing. One scene showed them planting coral together, the living structures weaving themselves into elegant arches. Another showed them gathering beneath a vast dome of glass and water, their reflections mingling on the surface.
The longer I watched, the harder it was to breathe. This wasn’t just evidence – it was proof. Proof that humans and finfolk hadn’t just met before; they’d lived together.
"When Fionn found those records," Cerban muttered, almost to himself. "We thought Ma'vel and Jonet had been an anomaly. A finfolk-human couple, getting together despite the odds. But this... This is proof that they weren't alone. Other unions between the two species happened. Here, far away from Scotland. And look - is that a fingirl?"
I followed his gaze. A child was sitting at the feet of a human woman, a girl with webbed feet and gills, but her greenskin was shorter than usual and her skin was the pale pink of a human.
"A hybrid," I whispered. "They were able to have children together."
"Just like Jonet and Ma'vel. I have been wondering if their offspring was a miracle. This shows that it was not." He sucked in a deep breath. "It feels like a dream, Maelis.”
His voice trembled slightly. I found myself reaching out, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Maybe it’s not a dream. Maybe it’s a memory your people forgot.”
He turned to look at me. The turquoise light rippled across his face, softening the sharpness of his features. “If this is true… Then there is hope. Not just for my clutch-brothers and me, but all finmen. We came here to find mates, to fulfil that yearning to not be alone any longer - but we didn't dare to hope. When Fionn found Elise, we all rejoiced for him, of course, but there was still that lingering doubt. What if it was rare to find a mate among humans? What if he would be the only one?" Cerban smiled slightly. "This is hope for my species, Maelis, but I don't need it. I already know that my mate is on this planet. I don't need a dating agency or an ancient artefact to tell me."
My skin grew cold suddenly. He had a mate. Somewhere on Earth. He'd find her, either with the help of the Hot Tatties or by some other means. And then he'd be gone, with her, and I'd be-
What? Alone? I liked being single. I had been a long time now. I loved my independence. I loved that I could quit my job any time I wanted to and move elsewhere, without having to think about others. I loved that I could decide what to watch on TV at night, without having to compromise. I loved to starfish in my double bed, lying diagonally on the mattress. I loved...
Him.
The thought hit me like a current, sudden and unrelenting. My heart stuttered, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. I’d known it, somewhere deep down, since the first time I saw him on the beach, water gleaming on his skin. But saying it – even to myself – was dangerous. Reckless.
I dropped my hand from his shoulder before he could notice the tremor in it. “That’s… wonderful, Cerban,” I managed, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m happy for you.”
He frowned slightly, the faintest crease forming between his brows. “You do not sound happy.”
“I’m just…” I gestured vaguely at the orb, desperate for a distraction. “Overwhelmed, I suppose. This is huge, isn’t it? You’re standing in front of proof that everything your people thought was lost might still exist. That’s – well – it’s a lot.”
His gaze lingered on me, sharp and searching, but then he nodded slowly. “It is,” he said softly. “And yet, the only thing I can think of is how right it feels to be here. With you.”
The air between us thickened. My heart stumbled again. He shouldn’t say stuff like that. Not when another woman was out there, somewhere, destined for him.
I took a small step back, needing space but finding none. The cave suddenly felt too small, the air too heavy. “We should record everything,” I said quickly, crouching to reach for my camera. “We’ll need evidence for Paul and the others. If this orb can create air, we can bring instruments down safely, get proper footage–”
“Maelis.” His voice stopped me, low and steady. “You are shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, even as my hands trembled over the camera housing. “Just cold.”
He stepped closer. “You are not cold. You are frightened.”
I looked up sharply, ready to deny it, but the words caught in my throat. Not because he was wrong – but because it wasn’t the cave, or the memory orb, or the strange, ancient light that scared me.
It was him. What I felt when he looked at me like that. What it meant.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said quietly.
His eyes bored into me. "Then what are you scared of?"
I couldn't tell him. It was too embarrassing. Too cruel. I knew how desperate he and his kind were. I should be happy for him. Delighted, even. But I was not a good person. I couldn't give him my happiness, nor the unknown woman.
Actually, I was a terrible person. Because I despised her. Hoped he'd never meet her. Wished her all sorts of bad things.
