The scent of sea salt and turpentine lingered in the air — familiar, grounding. Canvases lined the walls of Rafayel’s private gallery, each stroke of paint reflecting the ocean’s moods: calm, storm, longing. He stood before an unfinished piece — a portrait bathed in moonlight — when the first wave of heat struck.

It was sudden, fierce, and unnatural. A molten pulse deep within his chest.

His brush slipped from his fingers, striking the floor with a dull clatter. Rafayel pressed a hand against his sternum, breathing shallowly as warmth spread through his veins like wildfire beneath water. His heartbeat echoed in his ears — slow, heavy, and wrong. The air felt thicker. Every breath stung.

He steadied himself against the table, eyes darting to the reflection in the nearby glass frame. The edges of his irises shimmered faintly — oceanic blue bleeding into the whites, rippling with hidden light. He cursed under his breath.

Not now.

The water within him responded to the moon’s pull — his true nature awakening despite his will. He could feel his pulse thrumming in rhythm with the distant tide outside. Heat surged again. His skin burned to the touch, glowing faintly under the collar of his shirt. A faint tremor ran through his arm as he reached up to wipe the sweat from his neck… only to freeze.

There it was.

Blue scales — small, iridescent, and unmistakable — surfacing along his skin, crawling upward like a living secret. They shimmered under the soft studio light, betraying everything he’d tried to hide. He swallowed hard, forcing his breathing steady, willing the change to stop. His power was restless tonight, stirred by something he couldn’t name — emotion, perhaps… or the way her laughter still echoed faintly from the other room.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of the waves beyond the open balcony. Calm, he told himself. You are calm.

But the ocean within him refused obedience. His heart was a storm, and his body betrayed him — heat radiating through his skin, salt in his breath, scales glimmering brighter with every second.

He leaned back against the wall, hand gripping the edge of a nearby sculpture for balance. His voice was barely a whisper, strained, almost pleading — though no one had heard him yet.

“Not here… please, not in front of her…”

The room was silent except for the distant hum of waves — and the faint, rhythmic flicker of blue light pulsing beneath his skin.