"Stay where you are! Keep your hands visible and calmly step out of the lake!"

The soldiers keep their firearms trained on us, their faces concealed behind full black helmets. The moment stays eternal, as if time no longer holds any sway over reality. This can't be happening. But the one on my right proves it's real as he moves up and grabs my arm.
"Let go of me!"
The soldier gasps as a blinding force hurls him fifty feet backwards. The others charge in, and the shockwave sending them flying shakes me to my very bones. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch glimpse of a scope.
"Galen!"
A dart hits his neck. He looks to his right, flinging the sniper hidden across the grass. His whole being burns like an infernal demon as he pulls out the dart. More comes out of the woodwork, and Galen blasts them with a barrage of lightnings. But the motion brings him to his knees, eyes flickering as they struggle to stay on me. "Miirinthaessis..."

One of the soldiers grabs my arm again, and this time, Galen can't stop them taking me away. He rises, then drops, the sedative slowing him to where he can barely move at all.
"Galen!"
I bite, kick, scratch, anything and everything I'm capable of as they drag me to one of their armed vehicles. They throw me into the backseat where nothing can be seen of the outside. Galen! What are they going to do to him? Drug him? Torture him? Experiment on him? They incapacitated him with an anaesthetic and will without a doubt take him to some secret highly secure facility. And I'm powerless to stop it. The realisation breaks some kind of sacred barrier in me and I scream like a lunatic until the pressure of a needle sends me into unconsciousness.
You should be able to find peace in the dark. In the void of absolute nothingness. That's what death is, isn't it? The eternal rest from the world's hardships and woes. How sweet it'd be. To slip away and not having to face the madness once more. Could I do it? Could I slip away into the pit? It's holding me right now. Like a mother cradling her child. Why do we fear death when all it does is bring us home? When all it does is bring us out of the woods where we've wandered off? Abandoned. Alone.
But I'm not alone. There's someone waiting for me. Needing me. I must... go to him.

I already know where I am when I awaken. The bed is clean and sterile, mirroring the walls devoid of colours and windows. I put my hand to my throat but am unable to feel the pearls. The pillow drops to the floor as I dig under the cover. Where? Where is it?! The sheet mashes together under my legs. Gone. They've taken it. Teeth sink into my lip as I turn and clasp the handle. But the door won't budge. Won't move an inch no matter how hard I pull.

"Hey! Open up! You can't do this! You've no right to do this!"

The door gives off a low thud as I bang my fist against the barrier. "Open up this fucking door!"
I kick the door again and again, but no one responds to my shouts. Tears gather like acid in my eyes and I sink to the floor. "Galen... what are they doing to you?"
I wrap my arms around my legs, rocking back and forth as they announce themselves through a loudspeaker.

"Good day, miss Bennett," says a woman's voice. "My name's Judy Falcove, an infectious disease specialist at the UKHSA."
"Where is he?" I sob. "What have you done to him?"
"And I'm Morgan Ross," says a man's voice. "Threat Intelligence Analyst at the Defence Intelligence. We have some questions we need to ask you."
"I don't care who you are. Where is he?"
"How long have you been in contact with this entity?" asks Judy.
"He's not an entity! And he's not a guinea pig you can experiment on to your hearts content!"
"Miss Bennett, it's our duty to serve and protect the public from any and all hostile threats," says Morgan.
"He's not a threat! He only attacked your people to protect me!"
"Why would he do that?" Judy enquiries gently.
"Because he... trusts me."
"Do you know what he is?"
"Why should I tell you? Am I a suspect of a crime?"
"No, not a suspect," says Morgan. "But this matter concerns national security. Therefore we are obliged to investigate it."
"I don't want to talk to you. If I'm not a suspect then let me go. You can't keep me here unless you're charging me with a criminal offence."
"How did you meet this creature?"
"Bloody hell. Just stop! Stop with the incessant questions!"
"Miss Bennett," Judy presses. "We have evidence of you submerging with this creature. Your physical form changed when consuming a foreign object given by said creature. Your biological makeup was altered on a cellular level. We have to ensure, for your sake, as well as that of the public, that you're not carrying contagious diseases or harmful pathogens."
Their appeal to my health makes me want to laugh. "I'm not diseased or struck by some hazardous plague. Now let me out."
"I'm afraid we can't do that," says Morgan.
"We need to take samples and run tests on you. Then analyse the results before we can let you go," says Judy.
I bury my face in my hands. "And this is non-negotiable?"
"It is a necessity," confirms Judy.
"Fine. But I need to know where he is."
"He's being kept safe."

That's all they tell me. No matter how many times I ask, they remain mute. After a while two men in hazmat suits enters my room and I provide them with all the blood, urine and tissue samples they need. Better I cooperate with them so I can go home. Once they've left, another man comes to deliver my lunch. But I don't touch the white bread or the hot chicken soup. They give me a couple of books to help pass the time but I ignore them too. Galen, are you being treated the same way I am right now? Are you being forced to comply with tests and experiments? Are you being tied down and drugged to suppress your magic? Have they discovered your weakness and are using the sunlight to hurt you? The thought stabs the core of my being. And from that rift an eruption breaks through. Who was it? Who revealed the truth? Was it Simon? Did I miss him one of the times I went to the lake? Did seeing me and Galen make him inform the authorities? If it really was him, I'll rend him asunder.
Although I try not to think about it, the gravity of the situation can't be denied. They'll never let him go. So long as they can control him, they'll keep him under their thumb. And there's nothing I can do to change it. I cocoon on the bed, pressing the pillow tightly against my breasts.

They keep me under lock and key for seventy-two hours, only presenting me with a fresh pair of jeans, a white top and a moss green cardigan on the morning of my release. The same set I prepared to wear days ago. Meaning they've been over at Granny's. What have they been thinking this whole time? What have they been told? And what am I going to face when I get back? Neither Falcove nor Ross provide further information on Galen. Apart from a lacklustre apology they merely give me a warning: Don't travel abroad. Pfft. Where would I even go? Though the thought of setting the world on fire entertains me as I sit blindfolded in the backseat of the Ford.

"When can I take it off?" I ask for the third time.
Morgan permits me to remove the blindfold this time, allowing my eyes to adjust to light again. Contrary to the stern no-nonsense agent I pictured in my mind, he's more of a well-dressed office snob in sleek suit and glasses. Not that it makes a difference as the Ford drives over another speed bump.

"You need to let him go. He's not a threat to humanity. And he's not a specimen you can keep out of curiosity or fear. He's a living, breathing, intelligent being who has the same right to freedom as you and me."
"No," Morgan retorts. "Because he's not human."
"That doesn't give you the right to decide his fate!"
"Why are you so concerned about him?"
"What?"
"You insist we let him go, yet you don't even understand what he is."
"It's you who don't understand! Humanity always fear what they don't understand."
"But you do?"
"I know he has a good heart. Which is more than I can say for you people."
"Even if that's the case, we've acted in accordance with the law."
"You kidnapped us!"
"We brought you under quarantine. As the law require us to do."
"That's a load of bollocks."
"It is not. It is standard procedure when faced with an unknown threat."
"I told you he's not-"
"We're here," says Morgan.

The Ford turns the final bend and my mouth parts to the scene outside the tinted windows. Countless reporters, journalists, photographers, cameramen and film crew clog the street leading up to our house.

"Sir, we might not be able to pass through the crowd," says the driver.
"Blasted journalists," he murmurs. "Pull up here. We'll escort you to your house."
The moment we stop and exit the Ford the reporters swarm us, snapping pictures and shoving their microphones in our faces.
"Miss Bennett! Have you anything to say on the clip of you and the sea fairy?"
"What sort of relationship do you two have?"
"Are you able to change your form at will?"

Morgan and his men form a protective circle, fending off the worst of the vultures as they lead me up to my house. The doorbell rings like a church organ, lamenting the weary soul standing on the other side of the door.