NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 23: The Tribute
The sun had begun to dip below the distant mountains, painting the sky in fiery strokes of orange and purple. The Black Lake, in turn, transformed from a sheet of dark glass into a vast, liquid mirror, reflecting the twilight sky. It was time.
Evelyn moved from her hiding spot behind the boulders, her heart a steady, rhythmic drum against her ribs. The casual, boisterous energy of the daytime students was gone, replaced by a profound, watchful silence. The air grew cold, carrying the damp, loamy scent of the water's edge and the faint, clean smell of distant rain. This was no longer just a part of the castle grounds; it was the border of a sovereign, alien territory, a place where the rules of the surface world no longer applied.
She clutched the small, silver music box in her hand. It felt cool and heavy, a stark contrast to the raw, chaotic energy of the Whomping Willow branch. This mission wasn't about power or domination; it was about respect and artistry. It was a different kind of test, one that her maxed-out stats couldn't guarantee she would pass.
She walked to the very edge of the water, to a flat, moss-covered rock that jutted out over the deep. The water lapped gently against the stone, the only sound in the twilight stillness. She knew from her research that the Merpeople were most likely to observe the surface world during the liminal hours of dusk and dawn, a time when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest.
She didn't speak. Her voice would be a crude intrusion here, an unwelcome noise in their silent world. Instead, she knelt on the rock, her movements slow and deliberate, projecting an aura of calm respect. She opened the seashell-shaped music box. The haunting, melancholic melody drifted out over the water, a fragile, beautiful sound in the vast silence. The notes seemed to hang in the air, a tribute of wind and sky offered to the creatures of the deep.
She carefully placed the open music box on the edge of the rock, its silver casing gleaming in the fading light. Then, she stood up, took three respectful steps back, and waited, her hands held loosely at her sides in a non-threatening posture.
For a long time, nothing happened. The only movement was the gentle ripple of the water and the slow, inexorable creep of darkness. Doubt began to prick at the edges of her confidence. What if the lore was wrong? What if this was just a foolish gesture, a beautifully crafted piece of trash left on a rock? Her entire plan hinged on a single paragraph in an ancient, crumbling book. It was a gamble, and the silence felt like the universe holding its breath.
Then, the surface of the water broke.
It wasn't a violent splash, but a silent, graceful parting. A head emerged, then another, and another. They were not the beautiful, human-like mermaids of Muggle fairy tales. Their skin was a sickly, grayish-green, mottled with darker patches like the stones at the bottom of the lake. Their hair was like dark, tangled seaweed that floated around their heads, and their eyes were a milky, luminous yellow, holding no warmth, only a deep, unnerving intelligence. Their faces were angular, their features sharp and predatory. They were magnificent, and they were terrifying.
They didn't speak. They simply floated there, their heads and shoulders above the water, watching her, their yellow eyes unblinking. More appeared, their numbers growing until a silent, intimidating semi-circle had formed around her rock, their presence a palpable weight in the air.
One Merperson, larger than the others, with a tangled beard of seaweed and a trident of sharpened bone clutched in his hand, glided forward. This was the chieftain, the leader of the faction. He swam closer to the rock, his gaze fixed not on Evelyn, but on the music box. The delicate, haunting melody continued to play, a tiny, brave sound in the face of their immense, silent scrutiny.
The chieftain reached out a long, webbed hand and gently, almost reverently, touched the silver shell. He didn't take it. He just rested his fingers on it, his head tilted as if listening not just to the notes, but to the magic, the intent, the sheer artistry woven into its creation. He was assessing the tribute, judging the heart of its creator.
Evelyn stood perfectly still, her hands at her sides. She didn't move, didn't speak, didn't even breathe too deeply. This was the critical moment, the reputation check. She had made her offering. Now, she had to wait for their judgment. Any sign of fear or impatience could be interpreted as disrespect, and the mission would fail.
The chieftain let his hand fall away from the music box. He turned his luminous yellow eyes from the tribute to its creator. He looked at Evelyn, his gaze ancient and unreadable. He held her stare for a long, silent moment, a silent communication passing between the girl from the world of air and the king of the world of water. He was judging her worthiness, her intent.
Then, he gave a single, slow, deliberate nod.
He had accepted her tribute.