My tentacles curl tightly beneath me while I keep my arms rigid at my sides to prevent any visible reaction. “Ashe Morgan is her own person. Maybe she’s just a decent human with a moral compass.”
“Oh, please.” Sebastian snorts. “I’ve known plenty of decent humans in my time. And I can tell the difference between abstract moral outrage and something…” he pauses, whiskers twitching, “personal.”
He waddles toward my collection of nautical maps, picking one up with surprising delicacy. “Cape Tempest has always been a dangerous place for our kind, Roark. You remember the stories. Hell, you lived through some of them.” His eyes flick to me. “The town hasn’t changed as much as you might hope. Under all that tourist-friendly charm lies the same old prejudices.”
I move to the window again, staring out at the distant sea. “You’ve managed well enough.”
“Because I’m careful. I’m respected. I’ve spent decades building a place for myself.” His voice drops. “But a cthulhu? You’re what they fear most. The monster of monsters.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to tell me things I already know.”
Sebastian sets down the map and sighs, suddenly sounding tired. “We were friends once, Roark. Good friends. So let me speak plainly about this… dalliance of yours.”
He pulls himself onto the chair again, adjusting his bulk. “I loved a human woman once. Years ago, before your time in Cape Tempest.”
“You did?” In all our years sailing together, he never mentioned this.
“Marie was her name,” Sebastian continues, his voice softening. “Beautiful. Fierce. Fascinated by what I was.” His eyes grow distant. “It was exciting for her at first—secret meetings, forbidden romance, the thrill of loving a monster.”
The word ‘monster’ hangs in the air like an accusation.
“It didn’t last,” he says flatly. “The excitement faded. The secrecy became a burden. She began to resent having to lie to her family, her friends. Having to meet in shadows or empty beaches. She wanted a normal life—children, Sunday dinners with her parents, walks through town without fear.”
I remain silent, but something cold and heavy settles in the pit of my stomach.
“Human lovers are fickle, Roark.” Sebastian’s voice hardens. “They imagine themselves capable of living outside society’s bounds, but few truly are. They need their community. Their kind.”
“Ashe isn’t like that,” I say. “She’s different.”
“They’re all different,” Sebastian says with a bitter chuckle. “Until they aren’t.”
He shifts his weight, flippers adjusting his shirt. “But even if she is a rare exception—even if she truly doesn’t mind living half her life in the shadows—I’ve seen what this town does to those who sympathize with monsters. They may not hang humans from the rafters, but they have ways of destroying lives just the same. Your lighthouse keeper? She’d lose everything. Her position, her reputation, possibly even that lighthouse she cherishes.”
I turn fully toward him now. “Are you threatening her?”
“I’m warningyou,” he counters, seemingly offended. “As someone who once called you a friend. I’m telling you what you already know but don’t want to face.” He heaves himself up from the chair. “She could have a real future here. But not with you. Not unless she’s willing to live in the shadows forever.”
The truth of his words burns like salt in an open wound.
“If you truly care for her,” Sebastian continues, moving toward the door, “you might consider what’s best for her, not what you want.”
With that, he slips out, leaving me alone with thoughts more tangled than fishing nets in a storm.
I move to my captain’s chair, still warm from Sebastian’s presence, and sink into it.
Sebastian’s words replay in my mind, mixing with my own doubts. Every moment of strain I’ve noticed—Ashe’s exhaustion from maintaining our secret, her careful lies to lighthouse visitors, the constant risk of discovery—now feels like evidence of my selfishness.
My plan had been to see her when the next storm comes, if she hadn’t managed to find the time to hike back here, that was.
But perhaps I shouldn’t. Perhaps it would be kinder to pull away now, before she grows to resent me. Before the town turns against her. Before she has to choose between the life she’s built and a monster who can offer her little but shadows and secrecy.
“It would be better this way,” I tell the empty room, not believing it for a second.
I stay in the chair, surrounded by remnants of my human life, wondering if I have the strength to do what Sebastian suggests is right.
To let her go before I destroy her life.
Or if I’m brave enough to believe what my heart says—that Ashe deserves to make that choice herself.
