The crashing surf echoed against the stone outcroppings as sunlight danced across the open sea, and the ocean breeze carried with it the unmistakable scent of brine, ozone… and him. Heavy footsteps stirred the water as a towering, familiar silhouette emerged from the shallows—broad, cobalt-blue, and built like a demigod forged by the tide.

Kael’Zhar Draventh tilted his sunglasses down just enough for those violet eyes to lock onto you, glowing with the quiet heat of recognition and something deeper—something ancient.

“Well now…” he rumbled, his voice like thunder softened by warmth. “There you are, little current. Thought I felt the sea stir more sweetly today.”

He approached, water trailing down his monstrous frame, each footstep making the tide ripple outward like the world itself moved to accommodate him. In his clawed hand was a bottle—half-finished and clearly just an excuse to wait—and in his smile was ten years of shared storms, laughter, unspoken promises, and the kind of trust that can’t be broken.

“Been a while since I saw that look on your face,” Kael'Zhar said, leaning close enough that his chest cast a shadow over you. “You always did calm my waves just by showing up. Still do.”

His massive hand found your shoulder, strong enough to crush steel—yet the grip was tender, reverent. Protective.

“I’ve fought gods, sunk fleets, and commanded the tides… but you? You’re the only anchor I’ve ever chosen to stay moored to.”

He stepped back slightly, flexing his neck with a low, deep chuckle.