Ripples spread across the moonlit surface. Not the darting flash of fish, nor the shadow of some drifting kelp. These ripples were deliberate. Watching.

  Two eyes rose above the surface first, wide and luminescent, reflecting the pale silver of the moon. They locked with Marco’s, and his heart jolted.

  The water broke further, revealing a girl about his age. She moved slowly, almost cautiously, rising until she stood at the shoreline where the waves lapped at her feet.

  At first glance, she was human—but only at first. Her skin shimmered faintly, iridescent like the scales of a fish, catching colors the moon itself didn’t hold. Her hair glowed faintly, threads of it rippling as if it still floated in the tide. Her hands, when she lifted them slightly, revealed slender webbing between her fingers, delicate and alien yet strangely graceful.

  Marco’s breath caught, his hand instinctively hovering near the waters he commanded.

  The girl tilted her head, watching him with eyes that seemed as deep and shifting as the sea itself. Step by step, she began to emerge from the waves, her movements slow and careful, approaching the wary prince who stood rooted in place.

  Marco’s throat tightened as the girl drew nearer, moonlight dancing on her iridescent skin. The whispers of the sea grew louder in his ears, tugging at him like a current he couldn’t resist.

  “Who are you?” he asked softly, his voice barely carrying above the waves. “What are you?”

  No answer.

  She stepped closer, water sliding from her as though it still clung to her body like a second skin. Marco’s instincts told him to retreat, to raise his hands, to summon the tide—but something in her calm gaze rooted him in place.

  When she finally stood before him, she didn’t speak. She simply leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his.

  The moment their skin touched, the world shifted.

  Marco’s breath hitched, his body trembling as a rush of warmth and pressure surged through him—like a wave crashing against stone. His eyes widened, glowing faintly as the sea’s whisper became deafening, not with words, but with visions waiting to break through.

  The world around Marco dissolved. The tide, the stars, the shore—all drowned beneath a flood of images pouring into his mind.

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  He gasped as he was pulled into visions of the deep: vast coral palaces glittering in the darkness, towering spires carved from living reef, and legions of armored warriors with blades that shimmered like pearls. Above them all was a throne of shell and stone, upon which sat a stern figure crowned with coral—his expression heavy, his eyes like storming seas.

  The girl’s voice finally reached him—not with words spoken aloud, but with thoughts pressed directly into his heart.

  “I am Sapphire… princess of Coralyth.”

  The vision shifted, showing Gerald in his prime—young, strong, unyielding—leading soldiers not against enemies of land, but against the sea itself. His greatsword blazed as he clashed with figures in iridescent armor. Marco’s chest tightened as he realized the truth: his father had fought this hidden kingdom long before he was born.

  The sea boiled with fire and steel as Gerald’s forces triumphed, driving the people of Coralyth deeper into hiding. He watched his father stand before their coral gates, his blade raised not only in battle but in dominance. Ships carried back treasures of the deep, strange resources fueling the kingdom’s rise and wealth for decades to come.

  Sapphire’s voice was laced with sorrow. “Your father’s strength helped your people thrive… but it was built upon what was taken from ours. My people have not forgotten. My father, King Nerios, has not forgiven.”

  The vision sharpened—Coralyth’s armies mustering, their weapons gleaming beneath the waves, their banners rippling with war. Sapphire’s face filled his vision, her glowing hair haloed by the sea’s current.

  “He prepares to strike. Soon, the seas themselves will rise against you. I came because you must know the truth. Because you… are the one tied to water. And if war comes, you will be caught between blood and tide.”

  Her forehead pressed harder against his, her voice breaking with urgency. “You must decide if you are your father’s son… or if you will hear the call of the sea.”

  Marco staggered back as the vision released him, the whispers of the sea fading into silence. His chest heaved, his pulse racing as the world around him returned—moonlight on the waves, the salt air sharp in his lungs.

  Sapphire stepped away, her iridescent skin catching the silver glow, her eyes deep and troubled. For a moment, Marco thought she might say more, but instead she glanced nervously at the horizon where the sea met the night sky.

  “My absence will be noticed,” she said at last, her voice carrying the fluid cadence of the ocean itself. “If I am caught, both our lives will be at risk.”

  Marco took a half-step forward. “Wait—there’s still more I need to know. Why warn me at all if—”

  She raised a hand, silencing him with the faintest shake of her head. The strands of her glowing hair swirled, tugged by the tide as though urging her back into the water.

  “I cannot say more here. Not now. Return tomorrow night, when the moon is high. Then I will tell you everything.”

  The sea pulled at her as she spoke, waves rising as if eager to reclaim her. With a final look—something between sorrow and hope—Sapphire turned and slipped beneath the surface.

  The water closed around her without a ripple, as if she had never been there at all. Only the lingering shimmer of her glow beneath the tide proved Marco hadn’t dreamt it.

  He stood frozen at the shoreline, the surf lapping at his boots, the weight of what he had seen pressing down on him. The truth of his father. The threat of war. The secret he now carried alone.