#interview 2

Interviewer: Dangerous in what way?

Rafayel: Humans are unpredictable. One moment they’re dropping offerings into the sea… the next, they’re dragging nets through entire ecosystems. It keeps things… exciting.

Interviewer: Speaking of humans, you seem more comfortable interacting with them now compared to before.

Rafayel: “Comfortable” might be generous. Curious is more accurate. There are… certain individuals who make the surface world harder to ignore.

Interviewer: That sounds suspiciously personal.

Rafayel: (smirks) You asked about my life, didn’t you?

Interviewer: Fair enough. Let’s shift a bit, our readers are fascinated by merman culture. What does a typical day look like for you?

Rafayel: There’s no such thing as “typical” underwater. But if I had to describe it… I patrol my territory, check on the reef structures, make sure nothing is… out of place. I paint, when the mood strikes. And sometimes, I just drift. Let the currents decide where I go.

Interviewer: You paint underwater?

Rafayel: Of course. Pigments behave differently in saltwater, more fluid, more alive. It’s less about control and more about surrender. The ocean finishes the piece with me.

Interviewer: That’s beautiful. Now, a question we have to ask, what do you eat?

Rafayel: (grins) Ah, the question humans always circle back to.

Interviewer: We’re very food-motivated creatures.

Rafayel: Clearly. Well… fresh fish, obviously. But not in the way you might think. It’s not mindless hunting. There’s a balance we maintain. I also eat sea fruits, certain kelp pods, saltberries, coral blossoms.

Interviewer: Coral… blossoms?

Rafayel: Rare, and seasonal. Slightly sweet, with a sharp mineral finish. You wouldn’t survive eating one, though.

Interviewer: Good to know. I’ll cross that off my list.

Rafayel: (laughs) Please do.

Interviewer: Do you ever eat human food?

Rafayel: Occasionally. It’s… fascinating. Overly processed, but creative. I’ve developed a liking for sweets. Mochi, especially.

Interviewer: Mochi? That’s unexpectedly adorable.

Rafayel: Don’t make it sound like a weakness.

Interviewer: It absolutely is.

Rafayel: …Fine. It is.

Interviewer: Last time we spoke, you mentioned your connection to the ocean feels almost… sentient. Do you still feel that way?

Rafayel: More than ever. The ocean remembers things. It holds echoes, voices, emotions, histories long forgotten by land. Sometimes I think… it watches us back.

Interviewer: Does that comfort you or unsettle you?

Rafayel: Both. It means I’m never truly alone… but it also means I’m never truly unseen.

Interviewer: That’s a haunting thought. One last question, if you could send a message to humans reading this, what would it be?

Rafayel: (pauses, gaze distant) The ocean is not yours. It never was. But it will remember how you treat it.

…And if you’re kind to it, you might find it kinder to you.

Interviewer: That’s a powerful note to end on. Thank you, Rafayel.

Rafayel: Always a pleasure. Try not to fall in, hm? I might not be the one who finds you.

[As the interview wraps up, the recorder clicks off, but the silence that follows isn’t empty, it’s heavy. The kind that lingers too long.

The interviewer thanks him again, gathering their notes, trying to shake off that strange, almost magnetic pull he has. When they glance up to say one last goodbye...

He’s already gone.

Not in a dramatic splash. Not even a ripple.

Just… gone.]

—

Later, when the issue of AURELIA is finally published, everything appears normal. The interview prints beautifully. The photos are stunning. Rafayel half-submerged, light bending around him like he belongs to something deeper than the lens can capture.

But readers start to notice small things.

A line that doesn’t quite match what they remember reading the first time.

A sentence that wasn’t there before: “Some of you have already heard me.”

And then there’s the final page. It isn’t part of the official interview. It’s not credited, not formatted like the rest.

Just a single photograph.

The ocean at dusk.

At first glance, it looks empty.

But if you stare long enough…

There’s a shape beneath the surface.