Where the Water Remembers Song
The water in the Canary Wharf canal was phosphorescent that night, glowing a soft green-blue where the bioluminescent algae had bloomed after the last rain. Kaelan Soren drifted through it with practiced silence, her webbed hands cutting the surface in clean, efficient strokes, her gill-slits fluttering along her ribs as she filtered oxygen from the thick, warm water. She was twenty-eight years...
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