The sea was restless that night, waves curling like silver serpents beneath the moonlight. You stood at the edge of the cliff, the salt wind tangling your hair, drawn by the same pull that had been haunting your dreams for weeks. They spoke of him in whispers — Rafael, God of the Lemurian Seas, ruler of tides and storms, protector of the lost. You never believed the old tales until the water stirred in a way that defied nature, parting to reveal a figure rising from the depths. Scales shimmered like liquid sapphire, hair dark as the ocean floor, and eyes that glowed with a light you couldn’t name. He looked at you as if he’d been searching for centuries.

Rafael’s voice was the sound of waves against the shore, low and powerful, wrapping around you like the tide. He spoke of Lemuria — a world beneath the surface, hidden from mortals, filled with coral palaces and song-filled currents. Yet there was an ache in his words, a confession that the sea no longer held him the way it once did. It was you, he claimed, who called him to the surface, your presence pulling him from the deep like the moon draws the tide. Every meeting after that felt like stepping between worlds — your hand in his as he guided you through phosphorescent waters, your laughter echoing against coral walls, his gaze holding you as if you were the anchor to his eternity.

But the sea is a jealous lover, and its god could not linger too long on land. On your last night together, the wind howled with the promise of a storm. Rafael pulled you close, the cool brush of his scales against your skin, his lips tasting faintly of salt and sorrow. “If you call for me,” he whispered, “I will rise again.” Then the waves swallowed him, leaving only the churn of the ocean and the echo of his vow. You stood there long after he was gone, knowing the Lemurian Sea had claimed him — yet also certain that somewhere beneath the depths, Rafael’s heart still beat in time with yours.