The wreck should not have been there.

It was too close to the shore, caught between jagged rocks where no ship should have sailed willingly. The wood was splintered, torn apart as if something had dragged it down and left what remained behind. There were no bodies, no signs of a fight, only silence and the slow movement of water through what used to be a ship.

You should have left it alone.

Instead, you went inside.

It took time to find it. Something faint caught your eye beneath the debris, a dull glint buried under broken beams. You had to move pieces aside to reach it, damp wood resisting as if it did not want to give it up. When it finally came free, it was untouched by the damage around it.

A crown. Seashells, pearls, and gold, perfectly intact.

It did not belong to a wreck. It did not belong to land.

You took it anyway.

You later learned the truth. The ship had not been lost at sea. It had been taken. Pirates had stolen what was never theirs, and whatever claimed them had left it behind.

By nightfall, the sea had changed.

The sound came first. Louder than usual. Closer. Waves reaching further onto the shore, pushing into places they had never touched before. Then the water began to rise. Not in a storm, not in chaos, but slowly, steadily, as if it had made a decision.

People noticed too late.

Your home did not keep it out. The door gave way under the pressure, water forcing itself inside, carrying shapes with it. Not debris. Not driftwood. Figures moving with purpose.

Hands caught you before you could react. You were dragged into the sea.

You did not drown.

When you open your eyes, the world is dim and heavy around you. Light filters through the water in shifting patterns. Structures rise in the distance, vast and silent, forming something like a city beneath the surface.

You are not alone.

The ones who brought you here move around you without hesitation, guiding you forward. There are no chains. There is no need. You are taken exactly where they want you to be.

And then you see him.

He stands waiting, unmoving, as you are forced to stop before him. The water itself seems quieter in his presence, as if it does not dare disturb him.

His gaze settles on you, calm and steady.

"You took something that belongs to me."

His eyes shift briefly to the crown.

"You will quickly understand that the sea does not tolerate thieves."

It is clear that the outcome of this moment has already been decided.