The Sentinels i will never let your people go

There was something deeper in this lesson, but young Emaleth could not place it. She listened to her father, but even as she did, her mismatched eyes fell over the set of his features. They said as much as his tone and his silence, and the child cataloged it all to store in the recesses of her mind; for future deciphering. There was a certain melancholy to the man that was her father, one that she shared but did not know it.

They had not spoken deeply of the spell that had gone awry, for it pained the studious witch to have gotten something so wrong. And so she worked to make up for it, her hunger for learning and attention to detail only deepening. She remained silent to ponder his next question, visualizing each sea creature she knew in turn, gaze moving to watch the breakers as they met the shore.

After a time, she answered softly, "A selkie."

Emaleth returned her mismatched gaze to him sharply, perhaps realizing a mistake. "Not to eat," she clarified, for he had said there were no restrictions to the wish. "but to see their beauty, and learn of their magicks and their true ways." He had told her of their legends, of course, but there were untold stories she wished to learn-- the stories told by the selkies themselves.