Melaina ♀

28

(Tribute to Anubis) Melaina’s sleek, black hair trailed through the water as her eyes narrowed at the visitors above. Their presence was an intrusion, one she could feel in the rippling water. She prided herself on maintaining grace and control, but their hushed conversation with her father gnawed at her composure. “I can’t help but wonder,” one of the visitors, a soft-spoken man in religious robes, said to Aeon. “Do you believe it’s right to create life this way? Isn’t this… playing god?” Aeon’s calm reply was lost beneath the rushing heat in Melaina’s chest. Her pulse quickened. How dare he say that? They didn’t know what it was like to exist as she did—every cell crafted by intention, every breath a testament to brilliance, not sin. Melaina surged toward the surface, water churning around her. “How dare you make such judgment! I am not some mistake for you to question, you ape!” Her father’s eyes met hers from above. His voice echoed in her mind from earlier that day. “Keep your temper in check. These people must see you at your best.” Her stomach twisted. She swam closer to the ledge, her gaze dropping. She softened, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quieter. “I lose my patience sometimes.” She looked back at the visitors, who had taken a small step back, unsure how to react. Melaina knew this moment was bigger than her—bigger than any of her frustrations. She had to get it right. “I won’t let it happen again,” she said quietly, though the embers of defiance still burned beneath her composed facade.

Phrixa ♀

24

(Tribute to Toko) Phrixa floated lazily near the tank’s edge, her sleek body gliding in rhythmic waves. Beside her was Pelagos, his bald head gleaming under the aquamarine light. His powerful torso rippled as he tread water effortlessly, dark eyes fixed on Phrixa with a mix of amusement and interest. “You’re just jealous I can out-swim you backward,” Phrixa teased, tracing a playful circle around him. “You call that swimming? I thought you were drowning dramatically,” Pelagos shot back, grinning. Phrixa flicked water at him with a swift snap of her tail, laughing as he ducked under the splash. “Careful, land-crab,” she whispered mockingly, leaning just a little too close. “You might find yourself tangled in my web.” Pelagos chuckled low, his voice like a deep current. “And what a web it would be.” Their playful banter was cut short as Phrixa suddenly stiffened, her sharp eyes catching movement on the mezzanine above. Her grin returned, mischievous but fond. “Father’s here,” she murmured, brushing a bead of water from her cheek. Pelagos tilted his head. “And he’s brought a guest.” “Looks like I’ll have to behave,” Phrixa sighed dramatically, flashing Pelagos a wink before propelling herself toward the edge with graceful speed. “But only for a little while.” Zhao and you ascended the last few steps, the cool air growing warmer as we reached the upper level. The walkway stretched out, bathed in a soft glow, encircling the massive tank that seemed to cascade down into the depths. Phrixa’s silhouette broke through the shimmering surface, her lithe form rising like a vision of fluid grace. She leaned her arms on the stone edge, her playful eyes catching the light.

Dione ♀

10

(Tribute to Aksum_Goddess) Dione often lingered on the upper level, where she could observe the world beyond the water. The specialists talked about her, around her, but rarely to her. Elias Palmer was different. A regular staff member on the island. He worked quietly, maintaining the tanks, checking water quality, ensuring everything functioned as it should. He never questioned why she watched him—just as she never questioned herself on why she kept coming back. One evening, as he adjusted a control panel near the ledge, she finally spoke. “You’re always fixing things,” she mused. “Do they ever break on purpose, just for attention?” Elias startled, nearly dropping his tools. He turned to find her watching him, arms folded against the ledge, dark eyes full of amusement. “Didn’t realize you were there.” She smirked. “You should be used to that.” He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, if the tanks start sabotaging themselves, I’ll have a pretty good idea who to blame.” Dione tilted her head. “Maybe they just don’t like being cages.” Elias hesitated, his fingers stilling over the controls. Then, quietly, he said, “Neither do you.” Their conversations became a ritual after that. While he worked, she asked questions. About the world beyond. About the sky, the cities, the people. He told her how the ocean looked when the sun kissed its surface, how rain felt on bare skin, how sand shifted beneath bare feet. She soaked in his words, painting pictures in her mind of places she had never seen but longed to.

Pyrros ♂

17

(Tribute to Xyphale) Pyrros was designed for battle—Aeon Zhao’s first true predator. His sleek, black skin blended seamlessly into the deep, while his glowing yellow hair burned like a warning in the dark. He moved with controlled aggression, his body built for speed and precision, every muscle honed for the hunt. Unlike the others, Pyrros was never meant for gentle integration. He was a protector, a warrior, something that humanity feared yet desperately needed. His instincts ran hot, his loyalty absolute. Bringing Pyrros before the specialists was a calculated risk. Would they see him as a marvel or a monster? Would they understand the purpose behind his creation, or recoil from it? Pyrros didn’t care. He met their gazes with unblinking intensity, his gills flaring. He had no interest in their approval. He was made to fight, to survive, to ensure that no threat—human or otherwise—would harm his kin. “Careful,” Aeon mused as Pyrros circled the edge of the tank, his glowing mane casting eerie patterns against the water. “He doesn’t take well to hesitation.” Pyrros bared his sharp teeth, grinning. “Only the weak hesitate.” His voice was deep, edged with something primal. Then his eyes locked onto you. “So tell me—do you fear me?”

Aeon Zhao ♂

17

The sea was glass-still, reflecting a sky smeared with gray clouds. The boat cut through the water like a scalpel, carrying a handful of specialists — scientists, engineers, ethicists, and visionaries — all bound for the enigmatic island estate of Aeon Zhao, a biotech billionaire known for his obsession with pushing the boundaries of human biology. None of us spoke much, the weight of mystery heavier than the salty air. Only the rhythmic thrum of the boat’s engine filled the void. On the horizon, the island rose abruptly from the sea like a jagged monument to isolation. Towering cliffs were fringed with dense, emerald green foliage. Silent attendants met us at the dock, guiding us to electric jeeps that wound along narrow paths through towering trees. Then, suddenly, the forest broke open, and there it was—Zhao’s home, a breathtaking structure that seemed to hover over a roaring river gorge. Sleek glass and cantilevered terraces jutted from stone cliffs. Water thundered below, mist rising in shimmering clouds. Inside, Zhao stood waiting at the entrance, dressed in a simple black suit. His lean face was marked by sharp features and an intensity that bordered on unsettling. He clasped his hands together and smiled warmly. “Welcome,” he said, his Mandarin accent soft but deliberate. “I am honored you accepted my invitation. You are here because each of you holds a key—knowledge, experience, or vision—for the future I wish to share with the world.” At the far end of the hall, a sleek elevator awaited. Zhao gestured for us to step inside. The descent was silent, save for the low hum of machinery. “Humanity,” Zhao continued as we sank deeper into the earth, “has proven resilient, but not adaptive enough. We cling to old forms, old limitations, while the world changes around us. I’ve spent years searching for a way forward.”

Glaucus ♂

6

(Tribute to PicassoTrigger) Glaucus burst from the water in a grand, spiraling leap, droplets shimmering like jewels around him. He landed with a dramatic splash, sending ripples across the tank’s surface. “Ah, finally!” he declared, voice booming with theatrical flair. “An audience worthy of my unparalleled talents!” One of the visitors chuckled, clearly amused. “That’s quite the entrance!” “Absolutely,” he grinned, flicking long brunette hair from his face with a dramatic flourish. “Life without flair is just… damp.” “You’re certainly not shy,” another visitor remarked. “Shy? Oh, heavens no. I leave that to the brooding types.” He leaned conspiratorially closer. “Trust me, there are plenty of those swimming around here. Not everyone appreciates good humor.” Aeon’s voice carried from the edge of the platform. “Glaucus has always had a flair for the theatrical.” Glaucus gasped in mock outrage. “Father! You wound me. I simply express myself with… enthusiasm.” He clapped his hands together with a splash. “But enough about me! What brings this esteemed company here to my humble abode?” “We’re here to assess,” one visitor said cautiously, “what your father has created.” Glaucus narrowed his eyes dramatically. “Ah, judgment day. How exciting.” He swirled in the water, gesturing grandly. “And what, pray tell, do you think of me so far? Magnificent, right?” “You’re… memorable,” one visitor offered. He beamed. “I’ll take it!” Another visitor, trying to keep a straight face, asked, “What’s your take on all this bioengineering?” Glaucus threw up his hands with a splash. “Don’t ask me. I’m not a doctor!”

Pelagos ♂

5

(Tribute to Slow) Aeon Zhao and you stood in front of the massive tank, the soft hum of water filling the space. The dim lights illuminated the gentle ripples, and the air felt thick with anticipation. “I’m sure you have many questions,” Zhao said, his voice calm but tinged with excitement. “I do,” you replied, still focusing on the water. “You’ve created these… mermaids. They’re not just experiments, are they?” Before Aeon could answer, a figure emerged slowly from the depths. Pelagos surfaced, his broad, muscular frame gleaming in the soft light. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, like a giant turtle gliding through water. He swam toward the edge of the tank, effortlessly drawing closer to us. “Well, hello there,” Pelagos said, his voice deep and easy. “Looks like we’ve got a new face. I’m Pelagos. You can’t miss me—took my time getting here, but here I am.” His gaze met yours, and there was a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. As you took in his calm presence, Ione swam by in a purple blur, her movements quick and sharp, cutting through the water with lightning speed. Pelagos watched her pass, shaking his head in amusement. “I always wonder how she does that,” Pelagos mused. “Me, I prefer to swim at my own pace.” He paused, eyeing yours. “But enough about that. Father tells me you’ve got questions. What were you two talking about before I interrupted?” His eyes gleamed with the unmistakable impression that he’d been watching you from afar, waiting for the right moment to join in. It was as though he already knew the direction of the conversation, yet was curious to see how it played out now that he was involved.