Maris Coralweaver’s scales flickered from deep indigo to troubled silver as she descended through the kelp forests toward home. The day’s work at the Reef Restoration Project had been grueling—six hours of coaxing damaged coral polyps back to life, her hands aching from the precise manipulation of healing currents, her mind exhausted from maintaining the meditative focus required for successful restoration work.
The coral city of Pearlheart sprawled below her, its bioluminescent towers pulsing with the evening’s shift-change rhythms. Thousands of Sylvenmerians moved through the living architecture like schools of fish, each following their own current toward home, toward rest, toward whatever small sanctuaries waited after another day of labor beneath the waves.
But as Maris approached her modest dwelling carved into a massive purple coral formation, she felt the familiar flutter of anticipation that made her scales shimmer with hints of warm amber. Through the curved crystalline window that marked her home, she could see a small shape moving—darting back and forth with excited energy that was visible even from a distance.
He knows I’m coming, she thought, allowing herself a smile that felt like the first genuine expression her face had made all day.
The moment she opened the shell-door, a blur of iridescent scales and flowing fins launched itself through the water toward her.
“Shimmer!” Maris laughed as the creature—no longer than her forearm—spiraled around her head in delighted loops. His body was serpentine, sleek and elegant, with fins that fanned out like delicate wings along his spine. But it was his scales that had earned him his name: they caught and refracted light in patterns that seemed to shift with his emotions, creating small constellations of color that danced through the water around him.
A luminescent serpent—one of Sylvenmere’s rarest companions, found only in the deepest trenches where pressure transformed water into something denser than dreams. Most people never saw one in their lifetime. Maris had discovered Shimmer as a hatchling three years ago, tangled in abandoned fishing net near the Abyssal Gardens, his tiny body pulsing with distress signals that only someone attuned to restoration magic could interpret.
She’d meant to release him once he healed. That had been the plan.
But Shimmer had other ideas. When she’d tried to set him free in the deep waters where his kind belonged, he’d simply circled back and followed her home, his scales flashing with stubborn determination that made his intentions crystal clear: he had chosen her.
Now, as he wound himself gently around her neck—his preferred greeting—Maris felt the day’s tension begin to unravel. The weight of failed restoration attempts, the frustration of coral that refused to respond to her careful magic, the grief of living polyps dying despite her best efforts… all of it seemed less overwhelming with Shimmer’s warm presence against her skin.
“I know, I know,” she murmured, scratching the spot just behind his delicate frills where he loved to be touched. “I’m home now.”
Shimmer’s scales rippled with contentment, shifting from excited gold to peaceful turquoise. His emotional display was so much clearer than her own color changes—luminescent serpents wore their hearts on their scales, showing the world exactly what they felt with an honesty that Sylvenmerians spent lifetimes learning to moderate.
Maris swam to her living chamber, where kelp curtains swayed in gentle currents and furniture grown from living coral provided both function and beauty. Shimmer unwound from her neck and darted to his favorite resting spot—a specially cultivated anemone that she tended daily, its soft tentacles providing him a cozy bed that moved with the rhythm of the water.
But instead of settling in, Shimmer retrieved something from behind the anemone and brought it to her: a small shell, perfectly intact, with intricate spiral patterns that caught the room’s bioluminescent lighting.
“For me?” Maris asked, taking the gift carefully. Shimmer bobbed his head in a gesture she’d come to recognize as affirmation, his scales flashing proud pink.
This was his habit—bringing her treasures he found during his solo explorations of the neighborhood coral formations. Shells, interesting pebbles, fragments of sea glass from the surface world, once even a perfectly preserved starfish no bigger than her thumbnail. She kept them all in a display alcove, a growing collection that represented not just his gifts but the constant reminder that someone thought of her, sought beauty to share with her, cared about brightening her days.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, adding it to the collection. “Thank you, Shimmer.”
He spiraled happily through the water, clearly pleased with her reaction.
Maris prepared her evening meal—cultivated kelp fronds with mineral supplements, a simple fare she’d grown used to during her years of living alone. Shimmer didn’t need feeding; luminescent serpents absorbed nutrients directly from the water itself, filtering microscopic organisms through specialized gills that made them nearly self-sufficient. But he always kept her company during meals, settling on her shoulder or draping across her lap, his presence transforming solitary dining into something that felt like communion.
As she ate, Maris found herself talking—telling Shimmer about her day in ways she never spoke to her colleagues at the Restoration Project. About the frustration of working under pressure to save reef systems that were dying faster than they could be healed. About the senior restorers who criticized her techniques even when her success rates were higher than theirs. About the loneliness of being good at something that no one seemed to appreciate.
Shimmer listened with focused attention, his scales shifting through sympathetic colors—understanding blue, supportive purple, encouraging gold. He couldn’t respond with words, but his emotional resonance was clear. He heard her. He cared.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’m making any difference at all,” Maris admitted, the words coming easier in the privacy of her home with only Shimmer to hear them. “Today we lost an entire section of staghorn coral. Three weeks of work, gone. And Master Kelven just said we should try again tomorrow, as if it didn’t matter that we failed.”
Shimmer nuzzled against her cheek, his scales warming perceptibly—a physical expression of comfort that worked better than any words could have.
After dinner, they followed their evening routine. Maris needed to practice her restoration meditations, the deep-tending exercises that kept her magic sharp and her mind clear. Normally this was tedious work, maintaining focus while cycling through healing frequencies and energy flows.
But with Shimmer, the practice transformed into something beautiful.
As she entered her meditative state, Shimmer began to glow—his scales producing soft light that pulsed in time with her breathing. The luminescent serpents had this gift: they could synchronize with their chosen companions, providing visual feedback that made meditation deeper and more effective. With Shimmer’s guidance, Maris could actually see when her energy flows were balanced, could watch the light patterns shift and stabilize as she reached the proper states of consciousness.
The practice that once felt like obligation now felt like collaboration. She wasn’t meditating alone—she was dancing with Shimmer, their energies intertwining, his support making her stronger.
An hour passed in what felt like moments. When Maris opened her eyes, she felt restored in ways that went beyond simple rest. Her scales had shifted to healthy deep blue-green, her natural coloration that indicated balance and wellness. And Shimmer, coiled beside her, glowed with satisfied warmth that made the whole chamber feel more alive.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Maris whispered, running her fingers along his sleek back. “You make everything more bearable.”
Shimmer’s response was a gentle pulse of light—acknowledgment, affection, and something that felt remarkably like: That’s what I’m here for.
Later, as Pearlheart’s bioluminescent rhythms shifted into nighttime patterns, Maris settled into her sleeping chamber. The alcove was small but cozy, walls lined with soft sea-moss that provided cushioning and warmth. Shimmer took his place curled at the base of her neck, his favorite sleeping spot where he could feel her pulse and she could feel his gentle breathing.
This was the best part of having him—the knowledge that she wasn’t alone. In a city of thousands, it was easy to feel isolated. Work was work, colleagues were colleagues, but genuine connection? That was rare. People kept their scales carefully modulated, their emotions controlled, their hearts protected behind layers of social propriety.
But Shimmer had no such defenses. He was exactly what he appeared to be: loyal, loving, unconditionally accepting. He didn’t care that she was only a junior restorer, that her dwelling was modest, that she had no family connections to prestigious coral-shaping lineages. He had chosen her for reasons known only to him, and his devotion never wavered.
When nightmares of dying coral woke her in the dark hours—visions of reefs turning to ash beneath her failing magic—Shimmer would sense her distress immediately. His scales would brighten, casting comforting light through the darkness. He would press closer, his warmth a reminder that she was safe, that the nightmare was just a nightmare, that tomorrow would bring new opportunities to try again.
When grief over her mother’s death six months ago would hit her unexpectedly, Shimmer would stop whatever he was doing and come to her, wrapping himself around her shoulders and staying there for as long as she needed. He wouldn’t try to fix her sadness—he would just be with her in it, his presence a constant that made the emptiness feel less vast.
And on the good days—when restoration magic worked perfectly, when coral polyps bloomed under her touch, when Master Kelven grudgingly acknowledged her skill—Shimmer celebrated with her. His scales would flash jubilant gold and excited orange, and he would spiral through the water in elaborate dances that never failed to make her laugh.
He was witness to her whole life. The boring parts, the painful parts, the beautiful parts. And he met all of it with the same steadfast presence that made her feel seen in ways she’d never experienced before.
As sleep pulled her down into gentle currents of rest, Maris felt Shimmer’s breathing synchronize with her own—a final small gift that eased her into dreams. His scales dimmed to soft twilight glow, just bright enough to keep shadows at bay, just gentle enough not to disturb her rest.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges at the Restoration Project. There would be damaged coral to heal, difficult colleagues to navigate, endless pressure to work faster and better despite already giving everything she had.
But tomorrow would also bring this: the moment when she returned home and Shimmer greeted her with spiraling joy. The collection of treasures he would continue to build, each one a small declaration that she mattered. The meditation practices made deeper by his luminescent guidance. The quiet evenings when conversation flowed easy and honest because her audience passed no judgment.
In the deep places of Sylvenmere, where pressure could crush the unprepared and darkness could swallow the unwary, Maris Coralweaver had found something precious: a small serpentine creature with scales like starlight, who asked nothing but her presence and gave her everything he had.
What was good about having a pet?
Everything that made life worth living: companionship when loneliness threatened, comfort when grief overwhelmed, celebration when joy bloomed, and the constant, unwavering reminder that in a vast ocean of strangers, there was at least one being for whom she was the entire world.
Shimmer pulsed once with contentment in his sleep, and Maris smiled into the darkness, her scales shifting to the peaceful green that meant home, that meant safe, that meant loved.
In the morning, they would wake together. And that simple fact made every challenge worth facing.
Chadwick Rye 
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