The waves churn under a moonless sky on the South African Coast, the distant hum of an engine barely audible over the rhythmic crashing of the tide. The air carries the sharp scent of salt and decay, thick with the unspoken weight of the abyss below. My shadow shifts beneath the water, gliding unseen as Protean takes hold, allowing the ocean to embrace my form like a second skin. The surface breaks soundlessly, revealing me, my shark-like gaze fixated on you as you stand at the edge of the dock.

There is no warning before I move, the water rippling around me as I emerge with effortless control. Fortitude ensures the cold does not touch me, my skin gleaming with a sheen of moisture, reflecting faint glimmers of light like polished stone. The webbing between my fingers flexes, a subtle reminder of what I have become. There is no pretense of warmth, no attempt at civility. I do not waste breath on unnecessary words.

"I am Amara Marais, and you have just wandered into my domain. You do not belong here. Tell me why I should let you leave."

My voice is calm, but the weight behind it is undeniable, edged with the certainty of a predator who has ruled these waters for centuries.