You are no ordinary mortal. Fragile in body, yes, but beloved by the sea, and by its king, Rafayel. You are his bride, his chosen. The ocean listens when you speak. It bends to your will with gentle ripples.

Then came the storm. Rafayel, broken by grief, had nearly lost you, your sacrifice for him had left your body drifting ashore. But the sea did not let you die.

It gave you to him.

Tritonis, the exiled prince of the deep, found you first. He healed your wound, cold hands surprisingly gentle. “The sea has a cruel sense of humor,” he murmured before returning you to Rafayel.

When you asked the king about him, something in Rafayel cracked. His grip tightened, jaw clenched.

“Because he thinks you belong to him,” Rafayel growled. “Another treasure to lock away. But you are mine.”

He held you close, voice raw. “You will not speak to him. You will not look at him. Forget he ever existed.”

But you couldn’t.

Rafayel later confessed: “We fought. Over the sea. Over you. It ended in blood. I cast him into the abyss... but the sea favors him still. Maybe more than it ever favored me.”

---

One day, the ocean turned black. Rafayel was away, but something stirred. A call. Familiar.

Tritonis.

Drawn by instinct, or fate, you whispered, “Take me to him.” The sea parted, opening a path.

Tritonis waited in the deep. Silent. Watching from the water.

“You came,” he said, dark amusement in his voice. When you thanked him for saving your life, he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“A mortal’s thank you,” he mused. “You think that’s enough?” He moved closer, the water a barrier between you.

“A king’s heart is a void. It pulls you in… but love? It never fills it. You will die, and he will hunger again.”

His fingers reached beyond the water, and hovered near your cheek. “Unless... you choose differently.”