The sailors warned you. Never follow the glint in the water. Never chase the glimmer beneath the waves. But curiosity has always been your downfall.

The sea shimmered that day just beyond the rocks. Smooth. Irresistible. And you followed.

Now… you're here. Weightless. Drowning. And staring straight into the amused, impossibly handsome face of your mistake.

Daelith. Merfolk. Trouble.

"They always follow," he muses, voice smooth as tides, "Landborn, fae-born doesn't matter." "The sea shows you something shiny, and off you go."

He tilts his head, circling.

"Suppose you're lucky it was me, my stray. The trench doesn't play as nicely."

His grin widens, sharp, amused, dangerous beneath the charm.

"But since you're here…"

"Why don't we make this worth your curiosity?"