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Epilogue

Lyon bobbed alongside the Lamia Scale, hoping for any tidbit of news. He was learning how to maneuver his seal's body and cope with its inconveniences—he would trade his left flipper for a pair of opposable thumbs—but traveling on shore was still an awkward affair and people tended to give him a wide berth or chase him away if he wandered past on the beach.

Since no one was going to personally offer him information and eavesdropping in town was implausible, he was reduced to scrounging for tidbits alongside boats or at the edges of the beach. Boats proved his best source of information after the search parties patrolling the beach began thinning out.

"Is that seal back again?" Yuka asked, peering over the side of the boat. "I thought I told you not to feed that thing."

"I haven't!" Toby protested.

"Then why's it still following us around like one of your strays? You'll feed anything that moves."

"Just dogs. I don't know what it's doing. Maybe it's just lonely."

For once, Toby was not far off the mark. Lyon had tried everything he could think of to reveal his identity, but nobody saw anything more than a seal. If he did anything particularly unseal-like, people only gave him strange looks and wondered if he was diseased. While he could bark and cough and engage in all manner of seal-like sounds, no human could understand him. He wasn't sure that seals did either. He certainly couldn't understand the seals he'd come across, nor could he tell if any of them might be selkies. Even if they were, he wasn't sure he'd be able to communicate with them either.

Juvia, the only person who knew who he was and might be able to understand at least a fraction of what he wanted to say, was nowhere to be found. Lyon had gleaned, from overhead snippets of conversation, that she had hung around town for a few days, just long enough to bat her eyelashes at Gray when he arrived, and then disappeared in the night. While half the town still fell for her charm, another faction had arisen to regard her with suspicion. But in the end, it seemed that her unhelpfulness in finding Lyon had been attributed more to her inability to communicate and a touch of ditzy confusion than to any involvement. And anyone who knew she was a selkie must have assumed she'd stuck around just long enough to locate her skin and then disappeared back into the ocean, nothing suspicious at all.

So although Lyon could watch his friends from afar, he could have no meaningful interaction with them. He couldn't dry Sherry's tears or answer Toby and Yuka's questions. And he couldn't make his amends with Gray. After all that planning and worrying and hoping, Lyon was powerless to do anything at all. Gray had come home to an empty house and a missing persons investigation in progress. Lyon hadn't even dared approach him the handful of times he'd appeared onshore. It hurt too much.

"Just don't feed it," Yuka groused.

"Maybe he's missing a friend too," Toby said. "Go on, little guy. Your friends are out there somewhere."

Yuka winced and disappeared from the railing, the boat swaying in the waves as he stepped across the deck to resume his position.

"Look, I know it's not the same without Lyon," he said, "but we can't search night and day. There are still groups looking, and we'll rejoin them soon enough. We still have to keep afloat."

Lyon drifted closer, straining to hear everything over the lapping of the waves. He wanted to hear any news of the investigation—he harbored a slim hope that Bisca might put the pieces together if he could just get a hold of her, but he hadn't seen her anywhere near the beach and had a sneaking suspicion that she avoided the ocean and its lure—but he took no pleasure or amusement from eavesdropping on conversations revolving around him. Despite his curiosity, it felt morbid listening to people discuss him as if he were dead or missing when he was right there. He had never felt so invisible in all his life.

"Gajeel says he's probably dead," Toby said glumly. "That he must have wandered out and been lost to the sea if we haven't found him yet."

"Gajeel is a selfish prick who likes to stir up trouble, and you should know better than to listen to him."

"I know, but where could he have gone? I don't buy that he just ran off in the night. There's no chance he would have left while Gray was on his way. And if he was injured somewhere, I hope we'd have found him by now."

Yuka was quiet for a long time before saying, "I don't know. Sure would've been nice if Juvia had seen anything."

"You think she knows something?" Toby asked skeptically, picking up on something in his tone.

"I don't know, but it sure seems convenient that she skipped town right after he disappeared."

"It wasn't right after."

"A few days is right after enough for me."

"Lyon did say she was planning to go home once her ankle healed, and she was walking a lot better."

"But in the middle of a missing persons investigation?"

"I don't know. She seemed nice. I liked her."

"You like everyone."

"Not Gajeel."

"Ah, progress at last."

Lyon willed them to dig deeper, keep going, but they lapsed into silence. There would be no physical proof linking Juvia to his disappearance, just a hint of dark magic and suspicion. The entire thing was so fantastical that it would never even occur to anyone. He would have sighed, but the sound was only a guttural sort of cough.

"Do you think we'll find him?" Toby asked.

Yuka didn't answer right away. "Well, we'll keep looking until we do," he said finally.

Lyon would have jumped into the boat right there if he could have hauled his cumbersome body up the side and over the rails. He believed that, that his friends would always keep one eye out for him even when they'd never guess he was right here under their noses. He still found himself scanning the waves for any glimpse of his mother from time to time, when his mind wandered.

"That's not really an answer," Toby said bleakly.

"Still a better one than Gajeel's." Yuka sighed. A splash came from the other side of the boat: one of the nets dropping back into the water. "We'll keep searching. Let's do what we can. We'll be grounded soon, although I'd like to wait a bit longer…keep searching by sea a little longer before being stuck onshore."

"What do you mean?"

"I think it's past time to take care of the Lamia Scale, like he was always nagging me to. I don't think I want to buy a new boat, though. She's ours…and Lyon's. We'll let Jura gut her and build her back up from the bones."

Lyon shivered, his whiskers twitching. It sounded an awful lot like a memorial to him. The work Yuka hadn't wanted to do was suddenly his last link to Lyon, leaving him no choice. Yuka hadn't admitted it to Toby, but he thought Lyon was dead too. He would keep searching and hoping, but he was starting to think that Lyon was gone.

Lyon didn't want to hear anymore. He dove beneath the waves and took off like a shot back towards shore. It was quiet underwater, sound muffled and distant, but it couldn't drown out the clamor of his thoughts.

He didn't blame Yuka when the truth was so fantastical. At least the Lamia Scale would get her second chance at life, even if Lyon's own future seemed bleak. Despite how morbid he found Yuka's sudden capitulation, he was glad the boat they had grown up on would be rebuilt instead of discarded. He had always found comfort in the familiar, the ordinary, the tried and true. The only time he'd tossed the past aside and grabbed at a shiny new future adventure had backfired miserably. When had he forgotten to be satisfied with the life he had?

He popped above the waves a good distance from the boat. Even with a seal's powerful lungs, he had to catch his breath eventually.

A flash of far-off movement caught his attention. Squinting at the shore in the distance, he glimpsed Sherry's bright hair and fluttering dress among the rocks. She was so small there, like a doll, and she had never felt farther away. Lyon wondered if her eyes were still rimmed with red and her lips pressed together tight and trembling.

His heart went out to her, and shame seared his insides. He'd had everything within his grasp, if he'd only taken it. If he was only ready to commit. But he had been afraid to take that final step and thrown himself recklessly at the unknown instead.

He had never told Sherry he loved her, not in so many words, and now he wished he had. He wished he hadn't taken her for granted. He wished he hadn't spent so long running away, in the wrong direction entirely.

He called out her name, even though he knew it would do no good. His bark echoed over the waves, carrying like a hymn in a cathedral. Sherry didn't look his way.

Lyon would not torture himself with would-have-beens. Those were lost now, unless he found a way to break the curse—and he had not nearly given up on that yet, no matter how hopeless it seemed. His future was a hazy blank now, when before he'd been secure in his ordinary, predictable life. The only thing he knew for certain now was that he would never take advantage of Sherry's love and loyalty to foist the curse on her. He had mistreated her sorely, but he would never do such a thing to her. Better she mourn and think him dead than become his sacrificial savior.

He wondered if Juvia had felt that way too and fought against her predatory curse. How long had she stuck to her morals in this bleak half-life before snapping and going hunting for someone to take her place? How long would Lyon hold his moral high ground before he grew desperate enough to sacrifice someone for his freedom?

He dove beneath the waves and swam towards the shore. When he popped up alongside the rocky shoreline, Sherry was already gone. He waddled onto the beach, but her footsteps had been washed away by the tide. Like she had never been there at all.

His love for her was quiet, steady, safe. Nothing bright or flashy or passionate, but warm and companionable. It might have been enough, if Juvia hadn't burst into his life and dazzled him, awakening a sudden hunger for excitement and adventure that he'd eschewed all his life.

He wanted to say that he had never really loved Juvia, had just been blinded by her mystique and infatuated, but he didn't think that was entirely true. Her charm might have eroded his good sense, but she had moved his heart. Or maybe the idea of her had. After all, he had never truly known her at all, had he? As far as he knew, everything she had ever shown him was a lie.

He'd had his fill of glitz and glam and adventure. He had known better—selkie romances never ended well. Maybe his heart was broken, or at least cracked at the seams, but he filled in the void with resentment and what-ifs of the nonexistent future with Sherry he could have had.

Betrayal stung like saltwater poured into a wound, but he knew anger would eat away at him. He did his very best not to think of Juvia at all, or his resentment would fester and boil. He could dream up petty revenge all he wanted, but he was sure she would know better than to risk wandering into his grasp or returning to the sea. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that he would never see her again.

It was probably for the best. She was bringing out the worst in him. He wasn't sure he would like who he'd be if he came face to face with her again.

He sidled slowly down the beach, halfheartedly keeping an eye out for any townsfolk. He saw no one at first, until he reached a narrow spit of sandy shore further down the beach.

Gray sat cross-legged a few feet above the waterline, staring out to sea. This was the first time Lyon had seen him alone, without flocks of old friends surrounding him. Lyon had never dared approach him within a crowd, but…this might be his only chance, then. No one seemed to want to leave Gray alone, and Lyon didn't know how long he would stay. He might run back off to his separate life tomorrow, and Lyon wouldn't have the chance to say goodbye.

Gray, lost in his own thoughts, didn't notice Lyon approaching until he was only a few feet away.

"Oh, are you that peculiar little seal everyone keeps complaining about?" Gray murmured. He eyed Lyon warily. "Don't bite me."

Lyon flopped down beside him. After another minute of wary surveillance, Gray shrugged and turned his attention back to the ocean. They sat side by side in silence, each second that ticked by sending another crack shooting through Lyon's glass heart.

Gray heaved a sigh, and Lyon dropped his chin onto his knee. Gray started in surprise and looked down at him.

"You're an odd little guy." Although he tensed, he didn't move away. "A little too friendly with humans, aren't you? Are you lost?" He huffed out a breath and looked back out at the waves. "Not a good feeling, huh?"

He fell quiet. Although the distance between them made Lyon's heart ache, the simple touch warmed him just a little. He could imagine sitting here with Gray on the beach, talking out their troubles. In another life, perhaps.

"It's my brother," Gray said suddenly. Lyon blinked up at him with round seal eyes. "Who's lost. Just up and disappeared. Lost to the sea like my mom, maybe. Or maybe that weird girl he picked up did him in. Or maybe he'll wander back eventually. Who knows?"

Lyon chuffed softly and butted his head gently against his brother's leg.

"Ah, well," Gray sighed. "It's probably my fault anyway."

Lyon looked up and grunted. He had no idea how his brother could possibly figure that, but Gray's gaze was distant and melancholy hung about him like a cloud.

"Figures he'd disappear as soon as I finally decided to come back. I should have… Oh, I don't know. As if it's not bad enough that I killed my mom."

Lyon butted him harder and growled. He had held on to that resentment for a long time, and it had taken him ages to let it go. It would be a real tragedy if he had managed to instill that guilt in Gray, who he had already hurt enough. He had assumed Gray knew better than to buy into his blind hate and need to blame a scapegoat.

Gray made a surprised sound in the back of his throat and eyed Lyon, but relaxed when he settled again.

"I wish I'd come back sooner," he murmured, looking away again. "But I was afraid. I was afraid of facing him again. It's the people you love the most who can hurt you the most. I thought we'd have more time. I spent so many years missing him, and now he's gone before I could even see him again. I loved him, and he's gone."

Gray buried his face in his hands and took a few deep, shaky breaths. Lyon might have cried, if his tear ducts still worked the same way.

I love you too, he wanted to say. I always missed you. I should have made things right before it was too late. I'm sorry.

"I'm talking to a seal," Gray mumbled through his fingers with a wavery, hitching breath somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I want to talk to my brother, and I'm talking to a seal."

Lyon chuffed and dropped his chin back onto Gray's knee—the only comfort he could offer. Gray dropped a hand onto Lyon's head and let it rest there. Lyon froze in place, hardly daring to breathe.

"Don't bite me." Gray's voice took on a fierce edge when he said, "Go on and find your family before it's too late, little guy."

Lyon, of course, could do no such thing. But here, in this moment, might be the closest he could get.

The brothers sat there in the afternoon sun, hovering between sea and shore, saying their goodbyes.