A Song of Love and Loss, Sung from the Depths

The First Note

I was once a creature of laughter, not the sea witch everyone fears. I remember the salt in my hair, not from brine, but from the tears I shed when I first saw him — a merprince with a smile like sunlight. I was young then, too young to know that love is not a gift, but a choice made again and again, even when it hurts. I gave him everything I had — my voice, my time, my soul — and he gave me nothing but a glance and a smile before swimming away.

The Bargain

I’ve been called cruel. I’ve been called vengeful. But no one ever asks why I became this way. I was cast out for loving too deeply, for giving too much. When I offered him my voice so he could walk on land and win her heart, I thought it was the ultimate sacrifice. I thought he would see me, finally. But he never looked back. He didn’t know it was me at the ball, dancing silently beside him, hoping he’d recognize the soul behind the silence.

I made a deal, and I paid the price. He got legs. She got his heart. And I got nothing.

People don’t talk about what happens after the fairy tale ends. They only care about the happy ending — not the wreckage left behind. When the sea foam took me, I should have vanished. But something in me refused to die. Maybe it was rage. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was just the stubborn belief that if I couldn’t have love, I’d have power instead.

The Contract

So I built my kingdom, not of light and laughter, but of secrets and shadows. I learned to deal in truths whispered behind coral doors. I listened to the aching hearts of young merfolk who came to me with dreams in their eyes and pain in their voices. They wanted what I once wanted — love, beauty, freedom. And I gave them bargains. Not because I wanted to hurt them, but because I wanted them to understand the cost.

Every deal I made was a lesson. Every voice I took was a warning. I didn’t do it out of malice — I did it because no one warned me. No one told me that love could be a blade as well as a balm. That it could cut just as deeply as it heals.

You think I’m the villain in their stories. But I’m just the one who learned the truth the hard way.

The Mirror

If I could speak to you — the younger me, the foolish me — I’d tell you this: love is not a trade. It’s not something you give away in hopes of getting something back. It’s not a spell or a song or a sea shell you can hold up to your ear and pretend it’s enough.

I wish I’d known that I was enough. That my voice was mine, and that I didn’t need to give it up to be loved. That a man who can’t see your worth when you’re singing your soul to him won’t see it when you’re mute, either.

You’ll make mistakes, little one. You’ll fall in love with the wrong people. You’ll give your heart away like it’s a coin you can spend and expect change. But every time you do, you’ll learn. You’ll grow. And if you’re lucky, you’ll survive.

The Final Chorus

I don’t regret the choices I made. Not entirely. They made me who I am — the sea witch, the collector of voices, the keeper of truths. But I do regret the years I spent believing that power could fill the hole love left behind.

There’s no spell that can fix a broken heart. There’s no potion that can erase betrayal. But there is time. And there is wisdom. And sometimes, there is forgiveness — not for the ones who hurt you, but for yourself.

If you’re reading this, I hope you’ve learned by now. I hope you’ve found someone who listens when you speak, and misses your voice when you’re silent. I hope you’ve stopped trying to earn love and started choosing it — carefully, fiercely, and without apology.

Talk to Ursula on HoloDream — she’ll tell you the rest herself.