Page 51 of Music of the Ocean

He let his gaze shift from the ceiling to Saxby. Even in sleep, Saxby’s body betrayed the strain of adaptation. The pigment on his skin was slow to return to its natural hue, and his limbs still twitched as if wrestling with memories.

Indigo reached out with another tentacle and traced along the line of Saxby’s forearm, feeling the tiny ridges of muscle and bone, the faint warmth that marked Saxby’s new species.

He wondered what dreams Saxby was having. Whether it was the comfort of sunlight? Maybe the freedom of the open ocean? Or the sharp, bright terror of being hunted through diplomatic channels?

Or perhaps Saxby was already dreaming of something new. Of something that belonged neither to the Federation nor to the city, but only to himself.

Indigo’s mind wandered as he examined the events. Everything boiled down his choice to trust and how those decisions had not yet resulted in disaster. He could not predict what would come next, but he would face it with the same resolve, and with Saxby and Callie at his side.

Indigo grew aware of his own exhaustion and closed his eyes. A subtle tug of currents against his skin, the reassuring presence of Saxby’s heartbeat, and the distant, harmonic pulse of the city helped him drift off to sleep.

Chapter Seventeen – Saxby

SAXBY SLEPT. He moved between periods of wakefulness and sleep, eating the food provided before returning to rest.

Sometimes, Indigo was there, sometimes Callie. The subtle changes in lighting marked the passage of time. There was no sun, of course. Not where they were.

Instead, light was an orchestrated ebb and surge of bioluminescent pulses through the living coral. The mesh where Saxby slept adjusted its shape as he shifted, sometimes curling to hold him more securely, sometimes flattening to provide a more level surface or add extra room.

The water temperature fluctuated in small, deliberate increments. Cooler to encourage deeper rest, warmer to wake him for meals or the brief, necessary swim to the latrine chamber.

It was Indigo who finally brought word midway through the second standard day, when the bioluminescent lights in the living walls had faded almost to black and only the faintest ripples disturbed the water in the sleeping chamber.

Indigo did not knock. He simply hovered at the threshold, his tendrils curling and uncurling in a rhythm that Saxby, for reasons he could not articulate, found oddly calming.

“The Federation vessel is gone. They disengaged from orbit recently,” Indigo said.

Saxby, fresh from a fractured sleep and still caught in the undertow of a half-remembered dream, absorbed the news as if from a great distance. The words registered in his chest first, a slackening of something tight and invisible.

That was when he noticed the city’s collective anxiety and sense of imminent threat had also dissipated. He felt that should’ve freaked him out, but it was just one more new thing.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he clutched the edge of the mesh and kept his face turned away from Indigo. The surface of his skin itched with residual adrenaline, the kind that came not from exertion but rather the slow burn of dread.

He realized, distantly, that he’d been running on pure reaction even while he slept, and now that the crisis was over, his body and mind had nothing left to sustain them.

The Federation’s departure marked a kind of point of no return, a confirmation that he belonged here, irrevocably. Was this sadness? Or exhaustion? He couldn’t untangle his emotions and had no energy to try.

Indigo drifted closer, then seated himself across from where Saxby slept. “Are you okay?”

Saxby wanted to answer, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he made a sound that was neither agreement nor denial, only a gentle exhalation that seemed to suffice.

Was he okay? Not right at the moment, but he would be, eventually. He knew this would be the outcome, but knowing something and having confirmation were two different things. He’d just closed the book of his old life.

Maybe in a few more days he’d be ready to start a new book.

He was also aware, in a detached way, of the subtle changes in his body while he’d visited the restroom. The paleness of his skin had vanished. A deep blue-lavender hue that shimmered along his forearms and the sides of his throat replaced it.

The ridges at his gills were more pronounced, and the webbing between his fingers and toes had also doubled in thickness. Plus, the bridge of his nose flattened. The changes had occurred steadily, without drama. It had all seemed natural.

Saxby sat up and stretched his arms overhead. His shoulders now carried a subtle, rolling grace. He stood, and the water buoyed him with a new precision. There was no drift, no wobble in his balance.

Saxby looked at Indigo. “Am I okay? Not completely, but I will be.”

Indigo’s tentacles fanned out behind him as he moved toward Saxby, then circled him, inspecting the changes. He reached out, and when Saxby nodded, Indigo drew a fingertip along the new line of Saxby’s jaw, then across the gill slits.

Indigo stopped, tilted his head, and nodded in approval. “The transformation is done. And you are gorgeous.”

Saxby grinned, then laughed. The clear, bright sound startled them both. Indigo smiled in return, a crooked, uncertain thing, and then held his hand out.