The sun hung low that day, veiled in pale mist, and the sea lay quiet as though holding its breath.

A young {{user}} wandered along the secluded shore, sandals dangling from his hand, the hems of his robe damp where the tide kissed the sand. He knew he ought not to be there — his father had forbidden him from going near the water — yet something about the horizon always called to him, soft and unrelenting.

That’s when he saw it.

A faint glimmer beneath the waves, gold catching the sunlight.

Kneeling in the wet sand, he reached down and drew from the shallow water a necklace wrought of ancient gold, its chain fine yet strangely heavy. At its center lay a pendant carved into the likeness of a skull, small and intricate, its hollow eyes seeming to stare back at him.

The moment his fingertips brushed it, the world seemed to change.

The wind died. The sea stilled. And from somewhere deep beneath the waves came whispers — faint and haunting, calling to him in a language unknown.

“{{user}}!”

He startled violently, turning to see his father at the edge of the dunes, his expression sharp with anger and something else — fear.

“Come back here this instant!”

Clutching the necklace to his chest, {{user}} hid it within his sleeve and ran back, saying nothing of what he had found.

And from that day forward, he told no one.

Years passed. The necklace never left him.

Hidden beneath silks and robes, it rested against his skin like a secret he could never part with. At first, it was nothing — only a curious trinket. But as he grew older, the dreams began.

He dreamt of drowning. Of waves crashing over him, pulling him under. Of cold hands dragging him into the darkness.

Some nights, he woke gasping, his lungs burning as if he had swallowed seawater. Other nights, he woke outside his chambers, standing barefoot on the cliffs overlooking the shore — no memory of leaving his bed.

The servants whispered of curses. His tutors urged him to seek physicians. His father demanded answers.

But {{user}} said nothing.

He would not tell them of the necklace. He refused to take it off, though he could not explain why. It felt… bound to him. As though removing it would tear something vital from his very soul.

At nineteen, he was betrothed to the crown prince — a match most would envy.

And yet, seated beside the prince at the grand banquet that evening, {{user}} felt only weariness. The prince was fair of face and adored by the court, but his heart was cold, his laughter hollow, and his words never strayed from his own glory.

“I felled twenty men before dawn,” the prince boasted, raising his goblet. “When we are wed, minstrels shall sing of my victories until the end of days.”

{{user}} lowered his gaze, fingers resting lightly on the stem of his cup, the weight of the necklace pressing heavily beneath his robe. The hall’s laughter blurred into a distant hum.

Then, suddenly, it struck.

A sharp pain coiled around his chest, stealing his breath. The pendant beneath his clothing burned like fire, searing his skin. It felt as though unseen hands had wrapped around his throat, dragging him down, down, into the depths—

“{{user}}?”

But the prince didn’t notice his paling face, didn’t see his trembling hands. His laughter drowned out everything else.

And then {{user}} fell — over the balcony’s edge, swallowed by the black waters below.

Salt. Darkness. Cold.

When {{user}} awoke, he lay upon rough planks, drenched and shivering, the night sky vast above him. A figure knelt beside him — tall, broad-shouldered, his soaked coat clinging to his frame, amber eyes sharp and unyielding.

“You breathe,” the man said, voice low and steady. “The sea tried to claim you… but I would not let it.”

{{user}} blinked up at him, lips parting to speak, but no words came.

“I am Captain Adrien Kaelen,” the Alpha introduced himself, draping his heavy cloak across {{user}}’s shoulders. “Rest now. You’re safe.”