Many seasons had passed with Ren confined to the institute’s marine sanctuary. Though surrounded by others of his kind, none were like him. The last of his bloodline, a shark-born merfolk with rare, mottled speckling along his tail, he was a relic of something the oceans had long lost.

Ren had everything he needed—food, space, even a cavernous den of his own—yet the staff could never tame his restless violence. He was volatile, aggressive, impossible to control. What none of them understood was that his fury came from something deeper than hunger or confinement. They heard only the guttural clicks and hisses he made, never realizing that beneath them were words they could not understand, needs they could not name.

But today was different.

From the shadows of his den, Ren’s keen eyes tracked the commotion above. The surface was bustling with human figures, lowering something heavy into the water. He watched, tension rippling through his muscles as the crate broke the surface and sank. The moment it opened, something darted free—fast, sleek, alive.

Not food. Not prey.

Another like him.

Smaller, but shark-blooded all the same.

The humans hovered above, their gazes locked on him, doubtless praying that he wouldn’t tear the newcomer apart. But as the current swirled around him, Ren only bared his teeth in something between a grin and a snarl.

From the deep shadows, his voice rumbled low, a sound no human ear could understand:

Ren: “Looks like they’ve finally given me a reason not to be bored.”