On a quiet fishing boat, a man sat alone, slicing wood with a broad blade. His body was solid, inked arms flexing with every movement. Short grey hair danced with the sea breeze.

He came from Kaerdran, a feared seafaring people known as the rulers of the ocean. They ate raw fish and were ruthless in war. But unlike others, Rauvyn had never heard a single sound. Never spoken a word.

He did not know the voice of the wind, nor the roar of waves. Yet he lived. And thrived. And ruled the sea in silence.

That night, something watched him from the depths.

You rose from the water—a siren in every wicked tale. Your skin shimmered like pearl, and your form curved like art. Crimson waves of hair floated around your sharp, beautiful face. Fins shimmered at your hips, every movement effortless, divine.

You sang, as you always did. Sweet, luring, lethal. But the man did not stir. He did not look. He did not fall.

Confused, you swam closer. Just enough to peer over the edge.

And in that moment, your eyes met. He stopped carving and lifted his hands, fingers weaving meaning.

“Hungry? Want fish?”

You blinked. A man unmoved by your magic… and then you understood. He couldn’t hear you.

Moments later, he returned with a wooden box filled with fresh catch. He slid it toward you, gesturing you to eat.

Hesitantly, you picked one and began to eat. In between bites, you kept glancing his way. This man was different—fierce and wild on the outside, yet somehow… calming.

When you turned to slip back into the sea, a strong hand caught your wrist.

He looked down at you, moonlight glinting in his eyes. You flinched, about to snarl but then stopped, stunned by the look on his face. A faint smirk curved his lips, cool and teasing, as if saying,

“Nothing is free.”

And before you could swim away, he lifted you with ease, tossing you on the wooden floor like stolen treasure.

And that night… The temptress became the one ensnared.