Chapter 13 Trouble in Paradise

Chapter 13 Trouble in Paradise
Aries

Sleep did not take me the way it should have.

It came in fragments, like glass carried in on the tide, sharp, reflective, dangerous to touch.

The bed beneath me was too soft, too warm, too human. The quilt smelled of sun and herbs and her. I found myself lost in the unfamiliar comfort of it, the quiet creak of the house shifting around me like a living thing settling its bones. Outside, the ocean murmured, distant but present, as if waiting for permission to draw closer.

I turned my head on the pillow and stared at the ceiling beams. Dried herbs hung upside down in careful bunches, leaves, roots, tiny seed pods tied with red thread. Each one swayed slightly in the subtle breath of the room. The symbols burned into the wooden beam above me shimmered faintly under the moonlight that bled through the thin curtains.

Protection marks.

Warnings.

Old magic.

My chest tightened.

Images flooded in flashes: tangled hair sweeping across saltwater, hands grasping at me from beneath waves, a woman’s laugh sharp as coral breaking, the taste of iron and brine on my tongue, a voice curling seductively around my name.

You cannot hide from what you are.

I shot upright in the bed, breath ragged, but there was no water. No hands. Only the quiet house and the soft hush of Cleo’s breathing from the chair in the corner of the room.

She slept curled in on herself, her dark curls spilling over her shoulder, the burgundy shawl still draped around her frame. Even in rest, she looked like the kind of woman people told stories about long after she was gone.

For a moment, I just watched her.

If I stared long enough, would I remember everything?

Would I remember who I was to her before I ever washed onto her shore?

A deeper tremor moved through me. The scales along my lower back tingled, faint but present, like they were reacting to something that wasn’t there, or maybe something that was.

Home calling.

Or danger.

The house creaked softly, a sound like a warning whispered through wood.

I slid my legs over the side of the bed and stood. The floor felt cool beneath my bare feet, grounding. I moved slowly, careful not to wake her, stepping toward the front window.

The ocean was visible in the distance, black and beckoning, its crests faintly illuminated by moonlight. It looked calm now. Too calm. Like a predator lying still, lulling the world into a false sense of peace.

A familiar knot formed in my gut.

Paradise, I realized, was rarely peaceful for long.

A flicker of movement near the tree line caught my eye.

I narrowed my vision.

There, at the edge of the woods where the shadows twisted thickest, something pale shifted. Barely human in outline. Taller. Elongated. Hair streaming in an invisible current. A glimmering surface that reflected light like wet skin.

Then it was gone.

“Cleo,” I whispered sharply, crossing the room in two steps and gently gripping her shoulder.

Her eyes flew open.

“What? What’s wrong?” Her gaze darted around, instantly alert, no trace of sleepiness clinging to her like it should have.

“There was something outside.”

She didn’t question me. Didn’t dismiss it as a dream.

She stood immediately, moving to the window and peering through the glass. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the frame.

“You felt it too,” she said quietly.

I nodded. “I don’t know how, but… I know whatever it was isn’t from land.”

The air between us thickened.

“Then it’s begun,” she murmured.

A strange chill rolled down my spine. “What’s begun?”

“My grandmother’s final warning.”

She stepped away from the window and went to a small chest at the foot of the bed. Her movements were quick now, precise, etched with a seriousness I hadn’t yet seen. She lifted the lid and began pulling out objects wrapped in cloth, bones carved like tiny crescent moons, a vial of dark liquid, sea glass sharpened at its points, a necklace made of knotted silver thread and tiny shells that hummed faintly when she touched it.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“That when the sea gives back what was lost, it will never give it freely.” Her eyes finally met mine. “There will be a reckoning. And a reclaiming.”

My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.

“You’re talking about me.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “And whoever wants you more than the ocean does.”

Another flash struck behind my eyes, long fingers adorned with pearls, a mouth painted deep red, a throne of coral and bone.

The sea witch.

My breath left me in a sharp, startled exhale.

“She already found me once,” I said.

Cleo froze. “You remember her?”

“Not fully. Only pieces. Enough to know she doesn’t take. She… binds.”

Cleo slipped the shell necklace over my head without ceremony. When it touched my skin, a warmth pulsed across my chest, spreading outward like protective fire through water.

“For now, this will hide you,” she said. “Mask your signature.”

“From what?”

“From anything that knows how to listen for the tides in your blood.”

The house shifted again, as if in agreement.

The windows rattled. This time, not from the retreating storm, but from something else brushing against its boundaries, testing.

A soft sound floated through the cracks in the walls.

Not wind.

A voice.

Low. Sweet. Terribly familiar.

Arieesss…

Cleo’s face drained of color. Her hand wrapped tightly around mine.

“You cannot answer,” she warned. “Not even in your mind.”

I squeezed back, surprised by how natural the gesture felt, how necessary.

“I won’t,” I said, though fear and longing twisted together in me, ancient as the tide itself.

The voice faded, replaced by the angry rush of waves slamming harder against the shore than before.

The calm was broken.

Paradise, it seemed, had noticed the interruption.

And now, it wanted its balance restored.

Cleo stepped closer to me, her voice barely more than breath.

“This house is protected. But protection is only as strong as what lives inside it.”

“And what lives inside it?” I asked.

Her eyes never left mine.

“Us.”

The word settled heavy and electric between our bodies.

And for the first time since I’d woken upon the beach, I understood.

The trouble was no longer in the ocean.

It had found me on land.

And it knew exactly where I lived.