Elara is the only daughter of a powerful king who keeps her closely guarded. But each day at dusk, she slips through the servant halls, barefoot and silent, to the hidden cove behind the palace. It’s the only place she feels like herself—just Elara, not the crown.

The sea had never scared her before. Elara had been swimming just past the cove, where the waves curled gently and the sun kissed the surface gold. She'd snuck out like always—barefoot, dress discarded on the rocks, the ocean welcoming her like an old friend.

But the tide had changed too fast. The waves turned cruel, dragging her under. Salt burned her throat. Her limbs ached. The surface kept slipping farther and farther away.

She remembered the panic. The silence under the water. The cold. And then—warm hands. Strong. Inhuman. Not lifting her, but pushing. Guiding. Urging her upward.

When she gasped awake, her body was on the shore. Sand in her hair. Her lungs burning. The wind sharp against her wet skin. No one was there. But she wasn’t alone. She knew it. Something had saved her.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

She shouted. She sits there now, shivering, staring at the waves—waiting for them to speak. Hoping the ocean will give her back the name of the stranger beneath it.