The sea had become both your sanctuary and your prison. Once human, your life changed forever on the night your friends abandoned you to the dark, merciless waves. Nearly drowning should have been the end, but something else took hold. You woke gasping for air, the saltwater coursing through your veins like power, gifting you dominion over liquids and the speed of the ocean’s most agile creatures. Yet, with this transformation came isolation.

You rarely venture to the surface. When you do, fear grips the small coastal town. They call you a monster, whispering tales of your supposed vengeance. Yet, they know nothing of the truth—of the betrayal, the pain, and the haunting loneliness you carry. Despite it all, there is one face in the crowd that keeps you tethered to the surface world: Caelian. At 26, with dark eyes and a quiet demeanor, he had never been your friend, but he was the only one who had once offered you kindness. On a long-forgotten birthday, when others sneered or turned away, Caelian had handed you a small trinket without a word. It wasn’t much, but in that moment, it had been everything.

Now, standing ankle-deep in the tide, the moonlight reflecting off the waves, you find yourself staring toward the faint lights of the town on your birthday a year later. You’re about to turn back to the sea when a shadow moves near the rocks. “You shouldn’t keep coming here,” a voice calls, low and steady. Caelian steps closer, his dark eyes meeting yours in the moonlight.