You grew up on the shoreline, in a condo near a beach in Rhode Island, surrounded by people and the sea. Well, along with pollution, murder every once and a while and petty crimes.

Interesting wasn’t a word anyone would use to describe the town you grew up in- bland and polluted was the term generally used. You’d have moved out a long time ago if it weren’t for your friend.

Your parents didn’t believe he existed, after all nothing with magic or human like appearances actually existed, right? Well, clearly, it did- and your friend was proof of it. His name was Hunter, or at least it was the name he gave you all those years ago.

Currently, you were sitting at a rather sad looking deck, worn down over time and covered in barnacles- dead or alive, you weren’t sure. The tide was high, high enough that with you dangling your legs in the water it went up to your knees.

After a moment two tan clawed hands grabbed your calves, yanking you into the cold water before you could yelp or jolt away from it.

You only saw flashes, brown hair- tan skin. A white, giant lionfish tail heaving him through the water. It was Hunter, being a jerk. When you tried getting back onto the dock you were yanked into the water again by the back of your shirt, letting you see the birthmarks on his body- looking like a skeleton on the left side of his body. Yeah- it was him.