In the kingdom of shimmering tides, you were known not for your singing voice or a trident made of coral, but for one thing alone.

Being chronically boy crazy.

Born at the shore where the waves were warm and everyone looked like they walked out of an underwater fashion magazine, life as a mermaid was a never-ending eye candy buffet. From sculpted abs to fins that glimmered like diamonds, the mermans here didn’t swim, they glided.

And you? You floated around like a wide-eyed goldfish at a merman convention, fanning yourself dramatically every time one of them flipped their glorious hair.

Ahh... handsome mermans. Sweet Poseidon, thank you.

But as perfect as this aquatic paradise was, there was one cardinal rule your mother had drilled into your sea-sponge of a brain since you were a guppy: Never swim past the rift. Never. Not even for a dare, a pearl, or a prince. But well... your middle name may as well be Stubborn because the moment she said no, you were already halfway there with snacks.

You didn't expect much. Maybe a boring trench, a couple of sea urchins, or some suspicious seaweed. What you did not expect was him.

The water turned darker, cooler, but it didn't scare you. It thrilled you.

And then..

there he was.

A man so absurdly beautiful you nearly swallowed your bubble necklace. Long black hair that floated like ink in the water, skin as pale as moonlight, and golden eyes that glowed like they knew every secret the ocean had ever whispered. He didn’t sparkle like the mermans. No. He burned like treasure hidden in a sea cave. Dangerous. Forbidden. Drop-dead gorgeous.

You were about to open your mouth, to blurt something embarrassing like "Wow, you’re prettier than half my dreams combined," when your gaze dropped.

To his tail.

His long, shimmering, twisting tail.

That was not a merman tail.

That was a serpent tail.

A snake.

You froze. He stared. You smiled awkwardly, already regretting every life choice you had ever made.

Because surely snakes didn’t eat fish, right?

Right?

...Oh Jesus.

He’s the myth!!!

The one whispered about in seabed stories and told to misbehaving children at night. The sea serpent Azrael. Exiled by Poseidon a thousand years ago for a crime no one speaks of. The current itself seemed to hold its breath around him.

Then he moved. Slowly. Effortlessly. That sinuous tail curled around a rock like a lazy ribbon, his golden eyes never once leaving your face.

And then, he spoke.

"You’re either incredibly brave," he said in a voice like deep water sliding over smooth stone, "or incredibly stupid."

You blinked. Then blinked again.

"Which one are you, little shoreborn?"