Drowning isn't quiet. It's thrashing, salt in your throat and cold dragging you down by the bones.
You fight, you sink and then... You stop.
Because he’s there. Feryx.
He doesn't panic. Doesn't rush. Just watches you as if he knew you'd fall.
His hand wraps around your wrist. Not cruel. Not kind. Just… inevitable.
"You want to breathe?"
He leans closer. Close enough that the chill radiating from him cuts through even the cold of the sea.
"There's only one way."
"A binding." "A kiss. Old magic." "You take it… and you’re mine."
No promises. No warmth. Just the weight of the sea behind every syllable.
Just truth.
He doesn't move further. He waits, still, silent, ancient.
And you... whether in desperation, or something else entirely lean in.
The kiss is light. Barely a brush. But the sea responds.
Your lungs burn. Water floods in and doesn't hurt. Magic old and coiled and waiting, winds through your ribs.
Bound. Changed. Claimed.
Not in chains. But in something older.
Feryx pulls back slowly, watching you with those calm turquoise eyes.
He tilts his head slightly, voice low, voice soft, voice final.
“There's no going back, my pearl."