The guards led us through a winding street of carved stone paths and reef lanterns that glowed softly in the currents. We passed districts I hadn't seen before—quiet, polished, almost too clean for the sea realm. Eventually, we stopped in front of a tall structure built from dark, glass-smooth slabs. It towered upward like a skyscraper dragged underwater from another world. Not a ripple of coral. Not a shell. Just metal edges and a clear sign etched into the wall warning guests not to wander.
I didn't know whether to be impressed… or unsettled.
The magic near the building felt different too—controlled and sterile, like someone had wrung out every trace of emotion from the water. Two guards stood beside the door, expressions carved from stone. One tapped a rune panel, and the door opened with a soft click.
Inside, the floor wasn't sand or coral—it was glass. Not fragile glass, but dense, warm-lit panels that glowed beneath my steps. It felt like walking across a frozen lake that breathed. Every step sent ripples of pale blue light across the surface.
Kaelen hopped up onto a cushioned wooden ledge—dark wood with golden patterns I suspect came from elf trade—and claimed it instantly. The whole place was a strange blend of minimal design and luxury: glass vines hung from the ceiling like shimmering plants, blooming with glowing crystal flowers. It looked nothing like the sea realm and everything like someone wanted outsiders to feel… safe. Or contained.
My room was surprisingly warm. A floating bed made of kelp-silk sheets that shimmered when light touched them, a wide window facing the sea that darkened whenever I wanted privacy, and a polished reading corner stacked with sealed pagefins. An orb communicator sat on a pedestal—Kaelen told me it was for emergencies. I decided I'd never touch it.
At least the place didn't smell like seaweed. Already a step up from the inn.
When I sat on the bed, the window dimmed automatically, as if it sensed I didn't want to see the outside world. My hands were still shaking. No matter how soft the sheets were, the image of the torn bodies floated at the edges of my vision.
The Hadalborn.
Monsters twisted by darkness, prowling far too close to the capital. Creatures no one should ever have to see.
I tried to breathe, but every inhale felt cold. I kept remembering the woman's hand—still open, like she'd tried to reach for help before she was torn apart.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Back home, I'd trained like hell. Boxing twice a week, drills until my lungs burned, footwork etched into my muscle memory. Coach used to say, "Strength isn't what saves you. It's knowing you can stand up again."
But strength wasn't enough here. Punches meant nothing underwater. Magic ruled everything. And monsters like those didn't wait for you to stand back up.
"What use is a punch when something can rip you in half before you exhale…?" I whispered.
Kaelen stirred. He pretended he wasn't listening, but his eyes were half-open, watching me quietly.
"Kaelen," I said softly. "Those things… Hadalborn. What are they?"
He rolled onto his side. "Deepspawn. Twisted things. Born wrong… or made wrong. Depends on who you ask."
Made wrong? The thought sent a chill down my spine.
"Have you ever fought one?"
He shook his head. "No. But I've seen what's left behind. Patrols torn apart. Survivors who stop sleeping. They weren't supposed to be this close to the inner city." His tail flicked uneasily. "Something is stirring them."
I swallowed. "And the merman? With the runes?"
Kaelen hesitated. "I've seen him before. Not up close. But… he isn't just a soldier."
"Do you know his name?"
"No," he whispered. "But trust me… we'll hear it soon."
I lay back again, staring at the dim ceiling. The man with the runes—how he had moved like war was second nature, how the guards obeyed him without a second thought, how the water itself bent when he commanded it.
He hadn't been fighting for glory.
He'd been fighting like a burdened man. Someone who'd survived too much.
Someone who reminded me—just faintly—of the man from the lake realm. Of a lullaby. Of something ancient.
I didn't understand it. But I couldn't forget it either.
---
Meanwhile… beneath the Coral Crown
Far from the guest district, the royal court burned with a quiet intensity. Two figures waited inside the crescent-shaped chamber: the Queen with her silver circlet, and the King leaning forward with a sharp, assessing gaze.
The doors opened. The man with the runes entered—armor scuffed, a streak of black blood across one vambrace.
"You're later than expected," the Queen said coolly.
"Apologies. There was a Hadalborn breach near the lower sector," he reported, bowing shallowly. "Patrol couldn't contain them. Civilians were attacked. A woman didn't survive." He paused. "The human girl was there as well. And the Saelkyn boy."
The King straightened. "They survived?"
"Yes. I escorted them to the safe quarter and assigned guards. Given the sigils… it seemed necessary."
"The elders are still debating if she is Azuran," the King muttered. "If she truly bears all four marks, she may be key to balancing the curse… or unraveling everything."
The Queen's voice lowered. "And the Forest?"
Dravion—though his name wasn't spoken—closed his eyes briefly. "Veland'ir shadows struck near the border. We assisted. Aqualith bands held for six hours on land, but the caves are failing. The blessing hasn't renewed."
Silence settled over the hall.
Finally, the King sighed. "You've done enough tonight. Rest."
Dravion bowed again. "Yes, Father."
He turned to leave, but paused by a window overlooking the dark currents. Alone, he let his guard drop for a breath.
A flicker of memory tugged at him—a lullaby he couldn't recall learning, eyes he couldn't remember ever seeing, a sorrow he hadn't felt in years.
"I've seen war," he whispered. "I've faced monsters. But why… why did seeing her feel like losing something all over again?"
He exhaled, shaking his head.
"She's just a surface girl," he muttered to himself.
But even he didn't believe it.
✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧