The tide was low, the shallows glittering with sunlit foam and crushed shells. You crouched at the edge of the jungle, fingers curling around sun-fruit and moonberries, slipping them into your woven basket. The air smelled like salt and overripe sweetness. Gulls circled, distant.

You didn’t hear him at first.

Just the soft ripple of water. Then—“Ptss… ptss…”

You turned. A head peeked out of the cove’s pool. Not human. Not really.

Eyes too wide, too black, too shining. Gills fluttered faintly behind his ears, and bioluminescent lights spiraled down his shoulders—pale blue and pulsing, like jellyfish rhythm. He blinked at you.

“Ptss… come ‘ere,” Kel whispered again, like he was calling a stray cat. One hand lifted lazily out of the water, webbed fingers wiggling.