I’ve always been afraid of the dark.

It’s strange, I know. Mermaongs are supposed to be adventurous. We’re meant to love every part of the ocean—from its glittering surface to the rotting hull of a drowned ship, to the thrill of the Deep Dark, where the blind fish and the shadows with teeth live. There is always some measure of dark: the shadow of fish or sharks, a cloud passing overhead, the shape of something in the distance. But true darkness makes me tingle like a jellyfish sting. It’s the worst kind of fear for a mermaong, so I’ve hidden this truth from everyone. Even my sisters. And even Maman.

The entire Keep waits for our leader around the Shaping Stone: a large, speckled slope of rock made smooth by centuries of currents. I bob close to Horowai and Pania. Horowai sways, bubbles trailing from her mouth as she swishes her thick, brown tail impatiently. She hates being still. Even when asleep, tangled in the seaweed beds with the rest of us, Horowai thrashes and wakes me up.

‘Maman is such a traditionalist,’ Horowai says, with a shake of her black curls. Crossing her arms over her seaweed tunic, my sister adds, ‘She should just speak to any Divers and be done with it. No need to waste netting time.’

‘It is an honour to be called in front of the Keep,’ says Pania. She doesn’t like arguing but finds herself frequently correcting Horowai. ‘After all, Horowai, we had our turn.’ Pania’s green eyes brighten as she smiles at me.

Has Maman told Pania something? I try to hide a rush of trembles by beating my tail back and forth, back and forth. It feels heavy; I’m still adjusting to its new layers and weight.

Pania smothers a giggle. I glance at her in confusion, then realise that my movements are drawing attention from nearby males. Awe and lust glow in their eyes.

The Keep has no idea that I’m working off nervous energy. Beating my tail could be mistaken as the start of a courtship dance. Warm with embarrassment, I slow to a gentle beat, just to stay in place—but it’s too late. On the other side of the Shaping Stone, Nikau’s grey eyes are wide. A slow smile spreads over his face. He pounds his muscular bare chest with a fist and shakes his furred purple-brown tail: an aggressive show of want. I lower my eyes. Pania says humans go red as fire coral when they stay in the sun or get embarrassed. I just want to vanish like mackerel before a shark.

‘Sorry,’ Pania says. ‘It’s just that you’re so clever... and so completely unaware of yourself.’

Only glimmers ago, Nikau wouldn’t acknowledge me. If I smiled at him, or bubbled a greeting, he avoided eye contact. I was scrawny, dull—nothing compared to my sisters or the older mermaongs. But when my appearance changed, the way Nikau and the rest of the Keep treated me changed as well.

For many moons, I begged the stars to let me grow up. I longed to be plump and beautiful like Pania and Horowai. When we went netting, Horowai’s strength and weight allowed her to slice through walls of foaming water, while poor Pania shielded me from the rips. My sisters were true netters, like Maman. I was nothing but a hindrance.

When I complained about being slim and weak, Maman told me to be patient. Then, almost all at once, my skin stretched. My flesh grew round, and Maman needed to thread new tunics for me, using twice, then four times, as much seaweed as before. I stopped shivering in cold waters. My hips flared; the fur coating my bulbous tail thickened, enveloping stocky flippers at its end, like a seal’s. The other Youngtails called me gorgeous, but I saw shock and jealousy in their frozen smiles. I went from being a ‘skinny fish’, tossed by the mildest current, to the curviest mermaong in the whole Keep—even fatter than Maman. It was unnerving, not recognising my body. Afraid I would grow vaster than a walrus, I ate so little my stomach pinched—but I didn’t stop swelling.

Now, I feel eyes on me all the time, measuring my girth, marvelling at my weight. Males beat their chests or flap their tails when I swim by, even when I avoid their gazes. Never mind that I’m still a Youngtail, the currents bring me snatches of speculation about who I will choose as a mate or guesses at the number of young I could bear.

Thinking of Nikau’s latest advance, I bite my lip and force myself to wait for Maman’s arrival instead of fleeing to find solitude.

Finally, Maman dives into sight, and mermaongs part before her bulk-like grasses bowing beneath a mighty current. She is our leader, and she is loved. With a graceful roll, Maman lands onto the Shaping Stone and pushes herself upright, using her tail. Spreading her arms wide, she bubbles ‘Welcome!’

As one, the Keep answers in a flurry of bubbles.

‘This glimmer, I am proud to announce a new Diver.’ ‘We know,’ Horowai mutters, and Pania elbows her.

‘Tomorrow night, one of our own will enter the Deep Dark for the first time, and emerge not as a Youngtail, but as an official member of the Keep.’

A few of the other Youngtails flick hopeful glances at Maman. Most look steadily at me. Silently, I ask the stars to give me a little longer. Please. Just another moon or two to banish my fear of darkness, or at least contain it.

Maman calls my name, and it’s all I can do to bob in place and smile, though I can’t feel my face. In the Deep Dark, not even the faintest of light can enter. The thought swallows me.

***

‘Put your tail into it! Are you a porpoise or a crab?’ Horowai yells, and Pania says, wryly, ‘Neither.’

‘Hurry!’ Horowai’s already holding her nets and goes barrelling out of our cavern and into ocean outside. Now that the gathering is over, she can’t wait to go netting. She says there’s a dolphin pod we can still catch, if we’re fast. ‘Kaia, you alright?’ Pania asks, delicately.

I take a plaited rope holding nets and shells off a cavern shelf, looping it over my shoulder. I haven’t said a word since Maman’s announcement.

‘You don’t have to come,’ Pania tells me.

‘I’m a netter, aren’t I?’ The words scrape my throat. ‘Of course—’

‘This is what our family does. This is how we contribute. I mightn’t be good for much, but I can manage this.’

Confusion flits over Pania’s face. With a small rush of bubbles that might be a sigh, she follows me. Horowai is lengths away, and we slice through the water after her.

The dolphins aren’t far; we can hear them whistle. My sisters and I gain rapidly, passing a bank of bleached corals. I don’t know what the humans have been doing, but the corals keep turning to bone. Never mind that, now. With a grin, Horowai cuts in front of the pod, and Pania blocks the dolphins before they can change direction. I cast a net over one creature’s smooth, grey head—and draw a glittering dream out of it.

The dolphin freezes at the net’s touch. It gasps, as though gulping invisible fish. The dream is silver stardust filtering through my net and into the translucent shell Pania holds ready. The dream flutters like fine sand blown by the current, but Pania claps the shell shut to hold it. At this, I move the net away.

Dazed, the dolphin tosses its head and bumps into its neighbour, who has a webbing of scars over its snout. I cast the net over the second dolphin’s head and draw its dream loose. This time, the creature’s dream is a shimmering navy. A long strand of shifting, shimmering dust filters through the net, but the dream thread doesn’t break. With a deft tug, I unspool more, coiling the dream on itself as Horowai shoves it into a large shell—but the thread still doesn’t end. I pull yet more of it free, as the dolphin’s eyes roll in its head.

Not yours!

Something sharp tears my elbow; I lose my grip and knock into Horowai. The shell sails out of her hands, and, with a cry, Horowai darts after it. The dolphin with the navy dream comes to, eyes sharpening. Turning, it smacks its tail into Pania, who falls towards the sand. The dolphins click and swarm in a mess of writhing grey, creating a barrier between my sister and the surface.

‘Pania!’ I shout. My arm feels embedded with glass, and I cradle it—but I’m not bleeding. A jellyfish—tiny wisp of a thing—floats at my side, its tentacles still grasping my arm. I twist free, snarling.

‘You! You stung me.’

I’ll do it again, the jellyfish bubbles. Not your dreams. Shouldn’t take.

Below, I glimpse Pania through a mess of dolphins. She’s searching for a way through their ranks. No one wants to be caught between dolphins and the surface. They’re strong enough to injure a mermaong, especially if they slap her down, again and again.

The jellyfish puffs closer, and I draw back. ‘We’re netters,’ I snap. ‘We catch dreams. That’s the way it is.’

Let yourself off the hook, then, the jellyfish says. Its voice is between a bubble and a slurp. Way it is, way it must be. Mermaongs say this. But not true.

Horowai hurtles back into view, tail flapping. ‘Jellyfish, jellyfish!’ she shouts. With a grunt, she spins and smashes her tail against the jellyfish, flinging it away. It goes flying: a white glob like a moon-peach tossed by an octopus. Hissing, Horowai brushes her tail down. Her fur’s streaked with painful pink lines from the jellyfish. ‘Kaia, what were you doing, letting a jellyfish that close? Don’t you know it wanted to sting you?’

‘It already did,’ I mutter.

‘Then why let it stay?! Show it who wears the seaweed around here!’

The dolphins below break their shield, spreading out and gliding towards the sandbanks. Pania rejoins us, face pale with exhaustion. The hair streaming around her face looks tangled, but she’s alright. She gives a wan smile and holds up the first shell; Horowai answers by flourishing the second shell, with a grin. No losses.

‘Think we can catch the rest of them?’ asks Horowai, without waiting for an answer. She draws in her arms and goes streaking after their fading shadows, and we go careening after her.

***

Once we’ve finished netting, we have five shells filled with dreams. We store the shells along the shelves of Maman’s cavern, but, thank the stars, don’t stay long. Since my growth spurt, my sisters and I barely fit, crammed in the cavern together, and it’s much too dark to feel comfortable.

Often, it’s hard to tell day from night without visiting the surface. But when the temperature drops, Maman selects a shell to share. She always chooses carefully. When we need hope, she chooses the brightest of our catch. When we need focus, she gives us that. Tonight, she sends a smile my way as she swims into the cavern, and I know that she’s choosing a dream for me.

Horowai, Pania and I lie in the seaweed beds with the Keep, bobbing in the current. Pania’s on my left and Horowai’s on my right. Maman beats above us and unhinges the shell.

The glittering navy dust looks like it might be from today: the second dolphin’s dream. The dream dust flutters out, and, sprinkling against my face, takes me.

A beautiful tangle of green and purple algae beckons. I push my snout into it, and brush against something, cool, smooth...

It’s the snout of another dolphin. The dolphin’s grey face rises out of the algae, smiling, and my head’s hazy with bliss.

Not yours.

I startle at the remembered voice. Most mermaongs find dreams immersive. They don’t wake mid-dream. But, sometimes, I do. With a prickle of my neck, I’m acutely aware that the dolphin looking at me, joy brimming in his dark, bright eyes, is a fantasy: the other dolphin’s fantasy, the one whose dream we’ve taken.

We’ve all shared dreams of romance before. I’ve been an octopus, pursuing and snaring my love, wrapping my tentacles around her. I’ve been a sea cucumber, using my tube feet to feed, wishing a male would come close. A seal, sneaking glances at my love while sprawled on a rock, sunshine warming my fur.

Beside me, I hear Pania’s delighted murmur. She’s loving the dream, but my stomach wrings. This dream doesn’t give me courage to enter the Deep Dark—it just amplifies my fears. Why did Maman choose this? Is this because she knows some of the males desire me? What if I don’t want them?

We dance together. It’s simple as breathing, weaving into each other’s spirals, chasing. The male dolphin tilts his grey head and snout closer, laughing with me. We rush to the surface, breaking it together, leaping into the warm, blue sky, before letting the water welcome us again. The sky is bright, the water sweet, and this moment, gloriously ours.

The dream fades. The seaweed holding us all shudders with the bubbling of Youngtails. Mermaongs straighten, smiling, laughing. Pania wipes tears from her cheeks. The males glance shyly away from each other and the females, or flex their arms, keen to prove their strength. Only Horowai seems unimpressed. She turns to me and rolls her eyes.

‘Dolphins. Romantic idiots.’

‘Horowai...’ I protest, though I’m not sure what to say. That dolphins aren’t idiots? That they seem almost clever enough to outmatch us?

‘Yes, I know, Kaia,’ Horowai goes on. ‘Romance isn’t stupid—not for you and Pania. You could make a match any day, now. After the Deep Dark, I mean.’

‘I hate being looked at,’ I mumble, and Horowai blows out a rush of bubbles. ‘You used to be slim and gorgeous. Now you’re fat and gorgeous. Both times, you didn’t like how you looked. You’re always wanting the opposite.’ I meet her eyes.

‘Just accept yourself. Be happy, Kaia.’

My fingers furiously unknot myself from the seaweed bed. My throat’s too thick to respond, and there’s no way my sisters would understand my fears even if I could explain them. I swim away, ignoring Pania’s call after me.

***

Pressure builds on my lungs as I swim. Why did I long to be recognised as one of the Keep? I can’t bear the thought of finding a mate or going through the Deep Dark. I’m not ready. Do I have to grow up?

The shadow of a finned body catches my eye. I shrink, or try to, but it turns in my direction. I’m so large, how could it miss me?

An instant later, my nerves fade. It’s not a shark but a dolphin, swimming alone.

Strange. It comes closer, into the dim light, and the scarring over its snout is unmistakable— but its eyes are blank. It doesn’t look at me, just through me. My stomach squirms; my elbow stings.

Can this be the same creature who fought Pania and Horowai? The same creature who almost escaped?

You took dream. Not yours, not yours, not yours.

The jellyfish floats next to me. Why won’t it leave me alone? I raise my tail to warn it to stay away, but the jellyfish answers by brandishing its tentacles.

Selfish mermaong.

‘It’s not selfish to look out for the Keep,’ I snap. ‘We all benefit from the dreams. What about you? Where are your kin?’

The jellyfish swishes unnervingly close, so close I feel the pulse of its movement through the water. I receive no answer, and this makes me wonder. Maman said that humans are too selfish to notice the damage they cause. They littered our homes with plastic, thinned the fish, poisoned the corals. For a time, only the jellyfish seemed to flourish in the mess they made. A few summers ago, there were more jellyfish than I’d seen in all my life. But maybe now, even they are fading.

Before I put distance between me and the jellyfish, I hear its voice.

Dolphin not remember who she loves, or what she wants. You steal more than dream.

Steal happiness.

My throat tightens. The jellyfish swishes away before I can answer. It didn’t touch me this time, but its sting goes straight to my heart.

***

Darkness grows in the water, like a squid’s ink. Heart racing, I swim to the surface and draw a deep mouthful of rich air.

It’s beautiful up here, silver reflecting on the surface. A stature on the shore calls to me. Moonlight glints off the figure’s head. The stone girl has seashells barely covering her breasts, an impossibly tiny waist, and a scaled tail like a fish. Horowai’s voice sounds in my mind: Ridiculous. She has a point: the stone girl’s tail looks totally ineffective, and a mermaong like that would freeze in the ocean. How could humans have got it so wrong?

My head’s cool poking out of the water, but the sight of the stars and glowing moon warms me inside. I feel safer, calmer, here. How in the seas will I survive the Deep Dark when I can’t even go a whole night without searching out the light?

A wave snarls before me, stretching tall, but I slice through. Whitewater froths like a million bursting stars. I wish I could carry the stars with me.

Pania told me a story, years ago, about a time when mermaongs had dreams of their own. A young mermaong dreamt of swimming out of the water and into the sky. She could never get her wish, of course, but one day she caught a star in a shell. From that time, she carried the sky with her always.

I know it’s just a story... but what if there’s a grain of truth to it? My heart thumps. If I could capture stars, the way we catch dreams, then I could reel myself from panic in the Deep Dark. I’d have a way through.

This could save me.

The gills on my neck make the water breathable, but it’s a strange relief to use my lungs. So I take big, steadying breaths of air, soaking in the moonlight on my face while I plan. After a few moments, I dive, heading towards the cavern that holds our netter supplies, hoping that I don’t meet the jellyfish again.

I don’t usually stay out after my sisters retire. It’s too dark, for one. But this is only a fraction of the darkness I’ll face tomorrow, so it’s best to act while I have the chance.

I don’t think I’ve ever travelled so fast. Maybe it’s because I’m not measuring myself against my sisters, sure that I can’t keep up—or maybe it’s my powerful new body, or simply that I’m driven by more purpose than ever. All I know is I’m a sharp stone, slicing through water, slinging a rope of nets and shells over my shoulder before setting out again. There’s a joy in making decisions, in taking action, in doing something other than imagining all-consuming darkness.

A school of red and orange fish flicker past, followed by the flapping of stingrays, and something purplish-brown. I barely register the shape as a mermaong tail before something breaks my journey and squeezes my waist.

‘You’re so lush,’ Nikau murmurs in my ear. His arms wrap under my bust, holding my back against his chest. I can feel the heat of his body, the racing of his heart, and I shudder.

‘What are you doing? Let go!’

‘Don’t pretend,’ he says. His arms tighten even as I thrash. ‘Everyone saw you shaking for me.’

  No words come, but the sense of darkness that creeps over me is thick and heavy. He’ll never believe that I was moving for myself, not him.

Not yours!

 Nikau lets out a cry as the jellyfish darts around our heads, lashing at his cheek, his neck, his ear. The jellyfish drops to his arms, around my waist, and stings his hands—and hot pain slices my ribs as I tear free.

I take a stroke before I’m tugged backwards. Twisting my head, I see Nikau’s caught the rope coil trailing my shoulder. His eyes are dark with fury. Gripping the rope with one hand, he swipes one of my nets with his other and flings it over me.

The instant the net touches my head, I go limp.

Everything slows. I don’t know what happened to the jellyfish. But, through the diamonds of the net, I see every tiny movement of Nikau’s arms as he pulls me in, every line on his face. I can’t move, can’t blink. I’m freezing but can’t warm myself, or even shiver, because I can’t move at all.

Glittering brown dust gathers around my face, streaming down my ears, falling senselessly through the net. Pouring out as my head bleeds cold. I hadn’t known I had dreams to lose.

The jellyfish batters Nikau’s face and he drops the net, raising his arms to shield his cheeks, his mouth. As the tension on the net goes slack, somehow, I push under it.

Hurry! the jellyfish shrieks, and something in its voice awakens me. We hurtle towards the surface, leaving Nikau cursing behind us.

***

I break the ocean’s surface with my head and shoulders, while the jellyfish stays just submerged. Lifting my tunic, I see thin pink welts on my ribcage.

Alright?

I let out a shaky breath. ‘No. But that’s not your fault.’

Stung you. Didn’t mean to, this time.

‘You helped, a lot.’

Want to do right.

‘I know you do,’ I murmur. It’s hard to find a shape to my feelings. I’m dizzy, like being caught in a whirlpool. What am I doing? Why am I away from the seaweed beds and my family?

I have no place in the Keep. Once the thought comes, I can’t shake it. I’m not feisty like Horowai, or patient like Pania. I’m not a natural leader, like Maman. I’m not a skilled netter. I have no special qualities to contribute, nothing to give but my fears. I’ve suspected there’s more to the Deep Dark for a long time, and, finally, I’m sure. It cradles the worst of the stolen dreams: the most terrifying, the ones that are kept from the Keep. Facing them once and showing courage is how Youngtails earn their place. But I have none.

And tears stream down my cheeks.

Didn’t think mermaongs cry.

‘Not usually,’ I say, wiping my cheeks. ‘But I’m not a very good mermaong.’ The jellyfish tilts towards me. Of course sad. Lost your dreams.

Is it right? Is this what my sisters and I did to the dolphins, and the rays, and seals, and all the others? Did we steal some part of them that they can’t get back? When did we start taking dreams? Did this stop us from dreaming for ourselves? What would Pania dream of, if she wasn’t watching dreams of other creatures’ romance? What about Horowai?

And what about me?

I hug myself under the sky and the moon. Do the stars see me? Do they care about any of us? ‘Swim with me?’

And the jellyfish does. I don’t know what to do anymore, but, in a slow trickle of thoughts, I remember my plan to deal with darkness. If I can find, catch, the starlight, then maybe I can win hope back. Maybe there is still a way for me to survive the Deep Dark. And to belong.

***

The jellyfish and I chase the glimmer on the surface until my arms and tail ache. But finally, we reach more than a promise of light. We’re in the midst of the stars and moon, rising and falling gently. The sight loosens my chest, makes me breathe deeper.

The jellyfish splashes beside me. Why chase?

‘For the light,’ I say. Since the net touched me, my dizziness has been slouching away as I swim, but I’m still hollow. Maybe this will help. But, before I touch the floating stars, I hesitate.

The light is too beautiful a thing to capture, to contain. I can marvel at it, but it doesn’t belong to me. If I take it away, how will others find joy in it?

I cup my hand in the light and let it pour through my fingers, raining back into the ocean.

Beautiful, the jellyfish bubbles softly, and I know I’ve done the right thing.

We travel together, the jellyfish swishing ahead. My fists curl, thinking of Nikau. I almost crumble and go splashing in the opposite direction to the Keep. There is so much I’m afraid of, but I force myself to focus. There’s something I have to do.

We enter the cavern while the others sleep. Somehow, the jellyfish understands. It carries shells off the shelves, and I open every one of them. Dream dust comes free: flowing with the current, creeping against it, coiling like an eel in one direction or zigzagging in another.

I can’t steal any more dreams or hold onto the ones that were stolen. They’re not ours.

Found before, the jellyfish tells me, as we watch the dreams dissipate. Could be found again.

I hope so.

Scared of dark?

How did it know? ‘Yes,’ I sigh. I’ve never said it out loud.

The jellyfish angles its round head to appraise me. Should have said. I help.

***

When I wake, I’m lying on the cavern floor with the jellyfish swaying beside me. I start at the sight of Maman, looking over the shelves, the open shells, jaw clenched.

‘What have you done?’

‘I...’ Pushing myself upright, I lose my words. When she looks at me, it’s clear I’m not speaking to Maman, who knits my tunics and teaches me to braid my hair and laughs with me and my sisters. I’m speaking to our leader: the one who bares her teeth at sharks. ‘I... I know now that netting is wrong. Nikau attacked me last night.’

She recoils.

‘He threw a net over me. It... it did something to me, Maman. I still don’t feel the same.’

Maman bites her lip, her eyes hard, troubled.

My voice is the size of a hermit crab, but I know she hears it. ‘They’re not our dreams to take. So, I did what I could to take all this back.’ I gesture at the cavern walls. ‘I’m sorry, Maman. I know that this might not make any sense to you... and this breaks so much of what you taught me...’ I swallow. ‘And, the truth is, what you think means more to me than anyone. I’m so sorry for hurting you. I can’t even explain how sorry, Maman. But I’m not sorry for doing the right thing.’

The jellyfish dances, tentacles flicking, and Maman holds up a hand sharply. The jellyfish wilts under her gaze, drooping meekly beside me.

‘I... I have a lot of questions, Kaia. But the first is the most important.’ My chest constricts.

‘Are you alright?’

And I’m looking at my Maman again. I go to her arms, she holds me and strokes my hair, and I let myself feel like her little one.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says softly. ‘I’m sorry for any pain you’ve suffered. I’m sorry that I pushed you to go through the Deep Dark...’

‘If you need me to do this, I’m ready, Maman.’ She draws back. ‘You are?’

I nod, glancing at the jellyfish. ‘But I won’t be alone.’

‘You have to be, Kaia. That’s the rule: the way it’s always been.’

‘Maman, you say that the humans don’t pay attention. That’s why they ruin things.

We can’t keep everything the way it was.’ My gaze shifts from my tail to the jellyfish. ‘Instead of taking, we need to ask.’

When I nod, the jellyfish lights up: a living star with tendrils of glowing silver spiralling from its orb.