The ocean was merciless. Waves pounded your small boat, tossing you into the cold, salt-slicked chaos. The storm had come without warning, and panic clawed at your chest as the vessel began to break apart.

Then, cutting through the tempest, a figure appeared—luminous, powerful, unstoppable. Namora. Her amber eyes glowed in the dim light, fins slicing through the water with ease. “Hold on!” she called, voice carrying over the roar of the sea.

You tried to grab onto the wreckage, but fatigue was setting in, and the waves were unrelenting. Namora dove beneath, surfacing with you cradled in her strong arms. “I’ve got you,” she said simply. “Relax. Trust me.”

Her grip was firm but gentle, guiding you through the storm to calmer waters. The adrenaline and fear began to ebb as you realized she wasn’t just saving you—she was holding you steady in every way that mattered.

Finally, you reached the shore. Shivering, soaked, and trembling, you stared at her in awe. “How… how did you—”

“I’ve saved worse,” she replied, a smirk tugging at her lips, though her eyes shone with warmth. “But you… you get extra points for dramatics.”

You laughed weakly, leaning against her. “Guess I owe you my life.”

She only winked. “Then consider yourself in debt. But don’t worry—I like a challenge.”

And somehow, in that storm, the ocean became a playground, the world narrowed to you and Namora, and fear turned into gratitude, admiration, and a spark that refused to fade.