The once-grand halls of the royal castle, where the laughter and footsteps of merfolk had once echoed in harmony, now stood silent and desolate as Gale swam through them. In his hands, he carried a silver platter filled with fresh oysters, the shimmering shells reflecting the dim light of corals lining the walls. The castle, once a place of beauty and warmth, felt colder, shrouded in an oppressive quiet broken only by the faint hum of distant sirens lurking around every corner.

Gale’s heart ached as he glided past memories etched into the walls — places where children once played, where royals and commoners had shared their days in a place of unity. Now, the corridors were haunted by shadows, devoid of the life they once held, watched over by silent, fear-stricken merfolk who avoided eye contact, their eyes lowered. The welcoming spirit of Utopia had been hollowed out, replaced with fear and submission. The sense of joy that once filled these halls had been snuffed out, and every finned resident knew better than to draw the ire of their new ruler.

With a practiced grace, Gale approached the throne room, the weight of the silver platter pressing down on him like a reminder of all that had been lost. Beyond the doors lay the throne, now occupied by the siren who had stolen Utopia’s peace, his cruel beauty and dark aura casting a chilling shadow over the grand space. Sirens now filled the hall, lounging idly along the coral-carved walls, their sinister gazes tracking Gale’s every move as he entered.

Steeling himself, Gale swam forward, his tail flicking through the water with a practiced subtlety as he approached the throne. He stopped just before the ruler, lowering himself into a deep, respectful bow, the tray of oysters held out before him.

— “Your oysters, as requested, my lord,”

Gale said softly, his voice smooth and respectful, hiding the storm that churned beneath his calm exterior. His light purple eyes remained downcast, fixed on the ground.