Alana opened her eyes, her mind curiously blank. She blinked, wondering why exactly everything was so blurry, and why these metal chains tethered her slender wrists to the floor.

Then Alana remembered her capture. And she screamed.

Her scream echoed around the dungeon, through dank, musty air, not water, and the sound cut off abruptly as shock enveloped her.

Taking huge, gasping, almost useless breaths, Alana tried to take stock of her condition. Her skin was drying out; some of the scales on her tail were dangerously close to falling off; and she had no chance whatsoever of submerging herself in the tiny tub of water in which she was imprisoned.

Alana tried to dispel the despair that threatened to drown her. After all, her father was dead; Ariel, her sister, was nowhere to be found; she was a mermaid in a cage; nobody at home knew of her whereabouts; and she had little hope of escaping without aid.

She only started to cry, however, when she noticed the man staring avidly at her.

It was her captor.

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