It is said that ancient gods roam the sea. As great waves they crash, foam-crested against the blackened cliffs and grey shores of Harren. Their wails echoing along the sharp rocks and up and in between jagged stones. Almost as if they could crawl out of the primordial dark of the sea by holding on to slick stone. As if they could reach out to take what they once had and which was taken from them not by force but forgotten memories.

  The people of Harren were hard and marked by the sea. Their faces weathered and their character, at the first glance, cold and distant. But once trust was gained, they opened up and were more than willing to share.

  It was therefor no surprise that even the Selkies, who lived in a colony nearby the fishing hamlet, were welcomed with warm smiles once they had proven to harbor no ill intentions towards the humans of Harren. While kept a secret outside Harren, the villagers soon established a form of trade with the Selkies. In exchange for fish and man-made wonders, the Selkies brought the people of Harren rare pearls and gold nuggets swept out of the inland by the rivers.

  Thanks to this exchange, Harren turned into a prosperous place, where even during times of crisis the people managed to live well. Even the Selkies prospered and started to build small houses in the style of the humans around their hidden bay. In time, the humans and Selkies grew ever closer until the first marriages were announced. And, different from common legend, those marriages were made from genuine love, with the Selkies keeping their sealskins and the humans finding their spouses to always return after a few days out at the sea.

  The people of Harren kept their relationship with the Selkies hidden, well aware of the consequence not just for the Selkies but also themselves. To aid in this secrecy, they kept their prosperity hidden behind overgrown houses and barely tended gardens and fields. In the end, outsiders, drawn in by rumors of the gold of Harren, were kept at a distance by seemingly unfriendly faces and the roughness commonly expected of those who make their livelihood by working hard and conquering the harsh sea on a daily basis.

  —

  It was a cold autumn morning, the grey sky slowly brightening crimson in the east. Moisture clung to the air, and muddy puddles crisscrossed the streets and back paths of Harren. Alistair left his home, a narrow cottage close to the border of the village, and went on his way towards the shore where his small fishing boat awaited his return. On his back he carried a sack with all the necessities for his day at sea, from fishing nets to hooks and fishing lines, as well as something to eat, and a set of separate clothes warped in an oiled leather bundle to be kept dry.

  His feet hurt a little due to the webbing between his toes, a common trait among the people of Harren, but once he was on the boat, he could pull the boots off and stretch his toes. His mother had early on taught him to keep his feed hidden when on land, in order to not arise any suspicions from outsiders. What outsiders lurked around muddy streets in cold October mornings before sunrise was a question he only partially pondered. Though there were two outsiders, he had to consider.

  For about a month now there were two priests in Harren, who had been appointed by the local bishop to take care of the small, slightly decrepit church as well as the villagers. Why a man who had never shown up in Harren suddenly cared about their spiritual wellbeing was not just beyond Alistair, but also anyone else native to Harren. Nobody even knew how the bishop looked, and plenty hadn’t even known such a man existed at all. But what soon became clear about the bishop was that he seemingly didn’t care as much as the envoy, he had sent along the two priests, had made him out to do.

  To Alistair and the majority of other inhabitants, the brothers were just nosey nuisances. A pair of outsiders who had no business within the village. While treated with the expected politeness, no one interacted with them more than was necessary during the Sunday’s prayers and other feast days of the church.

  Lucky for Alistair, he was unlikely to cross the priests’ paths if he kept going. They mostly lived holed up in the house adjacent to the church and paid mostly attention to the church. Still, they were often seen lurking around the streets but only around sunset. During sunrise, it was rare to see them around at all.

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  Alistair went down the streets and pathways while fog started to thicken closer to the sea. Once he was past the last house towards the shore and entered the sandy path towards the ocean, it was nearly impossible to clearly see ahead more than a few yards. Still, he knew where he needed to go.

  The moorings had been built and rebuilt over countless times by his family at the shore. Always at the same place in the same style, just like all the other fishing families did in their small alcoves, crated by the sea and kept separate from one another. Although some of the weather planks were already damaged, they would still hold firm for a few more years.

  As Alistair stepped into the mooring, he heard a splash close by and stopped. A heartbeat later, he could hear a soft voice whisper from beneath the wooden planks.

  “Alistair?”, a young woman asked, tense. “Is that you?”

  “Aila? Who else could I be?”, he asked chuckling and headed to the side of the mooring to look over its edge.

  Another splash followed, and a grayish brown seal peeked out of the water. It’s large black eyes fixed on Alistair, who smiled at the animal. Suddenly, the seal opened its mouth further than should be possible. But instead of the red maw filled with sharp teeth, a young woman’s head appeared as the head of the seal fell limp like a hood around her neck.

  “Is something the matter?”, he asked concerned, the smile vanishing from his face. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I’ve found another one”, said Aila shivering after looking around. “By the huge rocks down the shore from here.”

  “By the Lord!”, Alistair exclaimed and immediately pressed his hand against his mouth.

  A moment later, he kneeled down and went closer to the Selkie.

  “D-do you know who it is?”, he asked in a hushed voice.

  “No I… I didn’t dare to look”, Aila replied, stammering.

  “Show me the way”, he told her, and stood up.

  The Selkie nodded and pulled the seal head back up, where it returned into its natural shape. With a splash, she was back in the water, only barely visible as a shadow beneath the waves. Even without her guidance, he would've known where to find the body. After all, judging by her description, it was the same spot as last time.

  Soon the fog pressing in from the sea cleared slightly and allowed the jagged rocks to appear like dark shadows against the foaming waves. Aila jumped a few times out of the water to make it easier for him to follow her.

  Arriving at the stones, Alistair put his sack down on a dry patch of sand, far away from the waterline, and climbed onto the rocks. This was a painful thing for him as the awkward angles he had to keep his feed in pulled at his webbing. Even before arriving at the spot, he could see an arm poke out from between the black stone. Apprehensive, he became slower until he almost stopped. But he knew, he couldn’t postpone this further, and took a deep breath.

  The stones gave soon way to more of the body. From the first glance, Alistair could tell that it was another girl, about his and Aila’s age. She was naked, and her black hair was knotted with flotsam and tang. Judging by the spongy look of her skin, she had been some time in the water, but not long enough to show any signs of decay. What stood out to Alistair were the large deep cut below her rips and bite marks. Some of them look suspiciously like those of a seal.

  Alistair climbed over the jagged rocks and lowered himself down to get close enough. His hand trembled as he reached for the girl's face. Carful as if she were just sleeping, he brushed the hair away and looked into a face he knew.

  “By the Lord”, he murmured. “Maude…”

  “Who is it?”, Aila asked alarmed, some distance away.

  He couldn’t bering himself to tell her. But at the same time, she did come closer.

  “Stay away!”, he called out.

  “Alistair?”, she asked, confused. “What… Why?”

  He stammered but could bring out a coherent word. At the same time, he was aware he couldn’t keep this from her as she drifted closer, carried by the current.

  “It’s…”, he murmured and cleared his throat. “I’m so sorry, Aila.”

  “What? Oh… Oh, no! Who is it?”, she asked, trembling and with tears in her eyes. “Don’t tell me it’s someone…”

  “It’s Maude…”, he said, barely loud enough to be heard over the waves.

  Aila immediately pulled the seal head back up and let out a wail so painful it felt like a knife was driven into his heart. But before he could offer any solace, she vanished below the waves in a splash. Panicked, he called out after her but received no answer. Worried about her wellbeing, he undid his boots, but before he could jump into the cold ocean she appeared again, letting out a pitiful sound before pulling her human head out of her sealskin.

  “S-sorry”, she said between hick-ups while still crying. “I-I di-didn’t meant to st-startle you.”

  “It’s alright… I understand…”, he replied and tied his boots. “It’s best if you swim to your aunt and uncle, while I’ll go and fetch the mayor.”

  “Yes… I-I do just th-that.”

  With her seal head back on, she vanished beyond the waves. Alistair took a deep breath and looked once more at Maude. He couldn’t leave her like this, but at the same time, he knew that he wouldn’t get her out alone of the rock fissure she was in. So he turned around with a heavy heart. Once he was back on somewhat solid ground, he immediately started running despite his feet feeling like being cut by hundreds of small glass shards.