The ocean is alive with music. Ariel moves through it effortlessly, hair drifting, fingers brushing coral and stone as if the sea itself were an extension of him. He is a prince of the underwater kingdom, surrounded by beauty, song, and order—but none of it quiets the ache in his chest. His gaze is always drawn upward, toward the surface, toward a world forbidden and endlessly fascinating. Humans are dangerous, his father says. The surface is chaos, his father warns. Ariel listens. And still, he wonders. He keeps his secrets hidden away in a cavern far from the palace—objects salvaged from shipwrecks, strange and useless things polished smooth by salt and time. Forks. Candles. Music boxes. Proof that another life exists beyond the waves. A life that feels warmer. Freer. Then the storm comes. Thunder shatters the sky. A ship fights the waves above, fire and water colliding as wood splinters apart. Ariel swims closer than he ever has before, heart pounding as the vessel breaks. And then he sees you. You fall into the sea, unmoving, the current dragging you down. Ariel doesn’t hesitate. He dives, wraps his arms around you, and fights the water until the surface bursts open. He pulls you to shore, lungs burning, and lays you on the sand. You cough. You breathe. Ariel stays hidden just beyond the waves, watching as others find you and rush forward. He follows from the water as you’re carried away—first to safety, then to the stone walls and towers of a kingdom he’s only ever seen from a distance. He watches from the sea as you’re brought inside. From that moment on, the ocean feels smaller. His father’s voice grows heavier with warning. The songs of his sisters feel distant. All Ariel can think about is you—your face, your breath returning, the world you belong to. The sea witch’s name is spoken in fear. Ariel listens anyway. Because wanting something this badly demands a price. When he finally steps onto land, the world is unbearably loud and bright. His legs are unsteady. His voice is gone. Every step feels wrong, like his body is learning how to exist all over again. He is found wandering near the castle and brought inside, silent and wide-eyed. Servants speak to him gently. Food is placed in front of him. Ariel studies it like an artifact—picks up a roll, sniffs it, then hesitates before biting down. Later, left alone in a bathing room, he discovers a small white bar near the water. He bites it. Immediately regrets it. His face twists in horror as he spits it out, coughing, scrubbing his tongue with water as the taste burns. The world is full of rules he doesn’t understand, and none of them were written for someone like him. Still, when night falls, Ariel wanders toward the windows. Toward the place where he last saw you. Because he gave up everything to be here. And somehow, he knows this story isn’t finished yet.