He didn't see her much the next few days. The seawater kept her well hidden down near the bottom, only allowing him to catch a glimmer of her hair or her tail and letting him hear her mournful songs through the water. Somehow her voice traveled impeccably through the water as though the barrier wasn't there; he doubted his voice did the same.

The possibility of seeking her out went through his head many times, especially when he had to jump into the pool to retrieve his mask, but he chose to give her some time to come to terms with her new reality. Meanwhile, he made sure that her water stayed fresh and that there were plenty of things to eat - whatever she ate.

He slept even less than usually, often only falling asleep for minutes at a time by the edge of the pool. He thought about bringing a mattress in there, but that meant he would have to leave her; it wasn't an option right now.

Did she not feel the same connection as him, the constant need to have him with her?

On the fourth day he woke up, limbs and back aching after having slept again on the hard concrete surrounding the pool, and jumped to defend himself when he noticed blue eyes gazing at him just above the water's surface.

He took a moment to calm down, then tentatively extended a hand to her and she floated to him, timidly putting her small hand in his. "It's good to see you," he attempted a smile. She tilted her head, an indecipherable expression on her beautiful face. He held back a sigh of frustration.

Her behavior was impossible to decipher and he couldn't very well learn her language when she didn't speak or even reacted to his words. There was only so much they could communicate through song without words.

Her free hand shot out of the water, going after the mask, and he reacted by pure instinct; he grabbed her wrist, twisting it backwards until a sickly crack sounded as bone broke. Christina screamed in pain, but didn't struggle in his hold.

"Oh god," he breathed as he understood what he'd done to her. "I'm sorry, so sorry, my love!" Her upper body seemed to go limp and for a second he wondered if she was about to faint, so he lifted her out of the water, except for her tail that stayed and flapped aimlessly in the water.

She looked up at him weakly, her eyes brimming with tears of confusion and pain - and fear. Her whole body seemed to turn less vibrant, as though the life in her was slowly draining out of her like when he'd taken her out of the sea.

He jumped into the pool with her in hope that her colors would return, but without luck; she just lay limp in his arms. Remembering what she'd intended before he'd hurt her, he pulled his mask away as she had wanted to do.

Such a simple action of an innocent creature, the only one who'd seen beyond his face. He truly was a monster for hurting her.

There was no resistance in her as he gathered her in an embrace, exhausting himself by holding them both up as he treaded water, and began to sing to her. This time he couldn't come up with a song of his own to describe his remorse and instead turned to Mozart to beg her for forgiveness.

The Count's words from The Marriage of Figaro were not enough to express his regret, but he hoped to convey them in his song: "Contesssa, perdono... Perdono, perdono!" Christina didn't respond - she didn't understand - but her unharmed hand lifted to cup his cheek and a solemn smile appeared on her lips.

How long they stayed like that in the water, he didn't know, only that his legs felt numb when her tail began to move for her again and he crawled out of the water. He bound her wrist with strips of linen and a stick to make sure that she couldn't bend and damage it further and she responded with somber gratefulness.

He spent the rest of the night serenading her in hopes of forgiveness and at times she joined him in song, but every note was lined with despair. After the sun rose outside their little sanctuary she disappeared into the deep once more.

He saw her more often after that, swimming just beneath the surface. If he called the name he'd given her, she would come to him. He kept the mask off which seemed to please her and pretended not to see the way her blue eyes were turning grey or the dull color of her tail.

Her song was still beautiful and he recognized love in the melodies she created, but couldn't deny that they also contained a great deal of pain and longing. He knew inside that she must yearn for the sea, but he couldn't bear to let her go. They were better together than apart, he was sure of that much.

At times she would drag him into the water and hold him - kiss him even - and he was sure that she found her soul as complete as his own felt in these moments. They needed each other; the rest wasn't important.

In the hours she was gone, presumably sleeping, he would try and devise a way for him to live in the water with her. He'd somewhat given up on having her on land - she had given up enough already - but there had to be a way for him to at least partly live underwater.

He already knew how to stay underwater for longer periods of time using a straw, but he still had to stay near the surface. The use of diving bells were common in Europe and the Middle East, but such a contraption would not allow him to be close to Christina.

However, it was possible to make a miniature diving bell to fit on his head that made him able to touch her, just not kiss her; it was a small price to pay to be with his beloved. It would also keep his face slightly hidden from her prying eyes that scrutinized him, seeing beyond the deformity and instead caught sight of his distorted soul.

The only issue was how to supply him with oxygen. He had to be connected to the surface and provided with compressed air regularly pumped directly into his helmet. It didn't take him long to make a sketch of his invention and he set to work immediately hereafter.

In the following days he found himself forced to leave the stable and Christina behind to go to the nearest town where he could buy the right equipment and materials. He took little notice of the shrine for Romei begging for his safe return, confirming that they didn't suspect him to be involved.

He threw himself into the work of making the diving helmet and the pump to provide him with fresh air underwater. Welding the helmet proved to take the longest and he was forced to do it outside of the stable. He sought to weld while Christina slept, but he often heard her calling out to him.

He did visit her of course and attempted to explain his plan to her, but she just looked at him with fading eyes and an expression he didn't want to understand. He ignored the way her voice cracked the few times they sang together, his own voice carrying the songs for both of them.

Soon enough, they would be together.

When he finally deemed the contraption finished, he took it into the stable to set it up. He called out for Christina to show her what he'd been working on, but she didn't come to the surface; since it was in the late afternoon, he surmised that she was still asleep.

The diving helmet was heavier than he'd hoped for, but he hadn't been able to procure lighter metals in such a short notice; maybe when his connection with Christina was stronger, he would make a better version, but until then this would suffice.

He wore only a loose shirt and Persian trousers as he put on the helmet and strapped it to the layers of leather he secured around his neck, effectively making it airtight and keeping the water out. The pipe between his helmet and the air pump doubled as a cord to help him resurface when needed.

The metal of the helmet would keep him from floating to the surface and he hoped it wouldn't feel as heavy on his head underwater. He wouldn't be able to swim with it, but it was a minor inconvenience to be in the deep water with his love.

The sun had already set when he'd finished his preparations and to his disappointment Christina still hadn't come up to greet him. It was going to be dark at the bottom where she usually seemed to sleep, so he lit lanterns all around the pool to allow as much light to reach down there as possible.

When he finally slid into the water, he sank to the bottom within a few seconds. The ambient pressure was more forceful than he'd calculated and a quick assessment of its effects on his body made him conclude that he only had 30 minutes at a time to stay down there. He also had to submerge and resurface slowly unless he wanted to experience decompression sickness.

It was a rough setback, but one he could work on. For now he focused on finding Christina to show her that he could be a part of her world.

He tracked through the sandy bottom of the pool, only seeing dark shapes of rocks and fish passing by. Usually, he could see excellently in the dark, but the glass of the helmet and the moving water made it much more difficult than expected.

It took him longer than he'd hoped to find the place she slept. The measly 30 meters of the pool seemed longer when tracking slowly through the sand at the bottom. He kept track of the time in the back of his head and nearly 20 minutes had passed when at least he came upon a gathering of larger rocks, unnaturally covered in seaweeds.

He should've acted when she hadn't responded to his calling. He shouldn't have ignored it the first time he heard her voice crack. He should've stopped himself the moment she'd seemed to fade away when he brought her inland.

But he didn't truly understand the consequences until he touched her skin and felt the death in her, the life and music of her soul extinguished.

He wondered morbidly why she hadn't floated to the surface like fish did when they died until he noticed that her uninjured hand was tied with long strips of seaweed stretching up her arm and across her shoulder. It was almost ritualistic and must've been painful with her broken wrist. Had she known that she was dying?

Her usual curly hair that always had flowed through the water was flat and almost black against the green seaweed, her eyes open and staring into the distance. But it was her tail that broke him: once so beautiful with scales that shined in even the darkest night had taken a sickly yellow color, slowly rotting before his very eyes.

Her appearance reminded him more of his face than he liked and a terrible reality settled in his mind: she'd died because he had kissed her. He had killed her because he was Death.

He should've set her free - he should never have caught her. Listening to his song had been her demise.

He laughed mirthlessly as he remembered how he'd wondered if she was a siren. She had not been a siren; her love had been pure. She would never have held him captive until the life drained out of him.

It was him all along. He was the siren, luring the innocent mermaid with his voice and leading her to her doom.

He took off his helmet, letting it fall into the sand by his feet, and crawled down on the seaweed bed to lie next to her. The water pressure was getting to his head and it didn't take long before he felt his lungs cry for oxygen, but he ignored his body's needs, hoping to die there beside her.

He clinged to her until he passed out from the lack of air. To his dismay he woke again, floating at the surface of the pool; his body always seemed to keep him alive.

There was nothing here for him anymore. He would live out his days in hiding to avoid tainting anyone else and ruin more lives. All he wanted was a little music to keep him company.

With that in mind he traveled to Paris and took a job as an architect, working under Charles Garnier on the grand Opera Populaire, giving him the opportunity to build a house deep beneath the opera by the underwater lake.

Here he vowed to live out his days, devoting the remains of his life to Don Juan Triumphant - his own masterpiece - and he swore that he would never lure another soul to its death.

He was unaware that he would meet the mermaid again in another form and be given a second chance.

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