"Help," the girl croaked, her voice barely audible before she collapsed into unconsciousness.

Kai tightened his grip on the jagged edge of the wreckage, ignoring the sting as sharp metal bit into his palm. His emerald eyes were fixed on the girl sprawled before him. Her tattered clothes reeked of salt and decay, and her once-delicate skin was marred by burns that seemed almost otherworldly. The raw patches of flesh glistened with sweat and seawater, and her dark hair clung to her face in uneven, matted clumps.

For a moment, he hesitated. The stench, the sight of her injuries—it all screamed of death. Humans rarely survived such damage, and when they did, they were never the same. But there was something about her, something fragile yet resilient, that held him rooted to the spot.

I can't just leave her like this, he thought, shaking his head. Over the years, he'd seen his share of humans drifting into his waters, usually lifeless and battered. But this girl—this wreck of a person—sparked a strange sense of responsibility in him.

Her burns bore a resemblance to something he couldn't quite place. A memory stirred in the back of his mind, a warning from the elders about fire that came from the depths. He narrowed his eyes, studying her more closely. The scars on her skin mirrored the touch of that deep-sea heat, the kind of fire that lived only in the trenches far below their kingdom.

"Kai?" a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

Kai turned to see his younger brother, Atlantis, approaching. The sunlight glinted off Atlantis's red-and-blue scales, his fish tail gliding effortlessly through the water. His amber eyes sparkled with curiosity, framed by his unruly red hair. He tilted his head, taking in the sight of Kai hovering over the human.

"You found something?" Atlantis asked, his voice tinged with both awe and confusion.

"A human," Kai replied, his voice low. He gestured toward the girl. "She's alive. Barely. But look at her burns."

Atlantis swam closer, his brows furrowing as he inspected her. "Strange..." he murmured. "Those marks aren't natural. They look like they've been seared by something more than just fire." He hesitated. "Do you think she came from one of the ships near Morgan's island?"

"Maybe," Kai said, though doubt clouded his tone. He glanced at his brother, whose expression had shifted to one of wary calculation.

Atlantis sighed, crossing his arms. "You know what the counsel says. Humans who drift here, especially ones in this state—"

"I know what they say," Kai interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. The counsel's rules were clear: humans were a threat, and helping them only brought danger to the ocean. But as he looked at the girl, helpless and broken, he felt an overwhelming urge to defy those rules.

Atlantis raised an eyebrow. "So, what? You're just going to... save her?"

Kai's lips curled into a humorless smile. "Do you want to be the one to kill her?" He knew his brother's answer before it came. Atlantis, for all his youthful boldness, didn't have the stomach for it.

Atlantis sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Do what you want. But if the counsel finds out—"

"They won't." Kai's tone left no room for argument. Without waiting for his brother's reply, he began pushing the wreckage toward the distant island that lay just outside their kingdom's boundaries.

Ren was drifting in and out of consciousness, caught in a haze of fevered dreams. She thought she heard voices—deep, rumbling tones that didn't sound entirely human. Please... don't stop talking, she thought dimly. The sound was comforting, like an anchor in the vast, chaotic void of her mind. Somewhere in the dream, there was laughter, followed by the gentle splash of water.

When she finally opened her eyes, the world was too bright, too sharp. She squinted against the sunlight streaming through swaying palm fronds overhead. The air smelled of salt and seaweed, and the rhythmic crash of waves filled her ears. For a moment, she thought she was dead and had drifted into some bizarre afterlife.

Then the pain hit her, sharp and searing, dragging her back to reality. She groaned, her body stiff and heavy as if it were made of stone. She was lying on something soft and springy, a mat woven from seaweed. Around her, the rocky walls of a small cove provided shelter, the tide gently lapping at the shore just a few feet away.

"Hello?" she croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and every word burned as it left her lips. "Is... anyone there?"

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a voice answered, smooth and rich like velvet. "So, the little human wakes up."

Ren's head snapped toward the sound, her vision swimming as she tried to focus. A man stood waist-deep in the water, his dark hair glistening with droplets that caught the light. His broad shoulders and toned arms suggested strength, but there was an otherworldly grace to him, like he didn't belong to the same world she did.

"Please," she rasped, her voice raw with desperation. "Take me home. I'll pay you—whatever you want. Just... please."

The man tilted his head, amusement flickering in his green eyes. "I'm afraid I don't know where 'home' is," he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He lifted a plate piled high with food—crab, fish, and something leafy she didn't recognize. "But I brought you this."

Ren's stomach growled audibly, the pangs of hunger cutting through her fear. She reached out weakly, her fingers trembling, but her strength gave out, and she collapsed back onto the mat. Her vision blurred, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.

The man sighed, a sound that was almost fond, and pulled himself up onto the rock ledge beside her. Ren blinked, her breath catching as she realized what she was seeing. From the waist down, he wasn't human—his legs were replaced by a powerful fish tail, shimmering with iridescent green scales that seemed to glow in the sunlight.

Her mouth fell open. "You're... a mermaid."

The man arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Merman," he corrected, his tone dry. He handed her the plate, watching as she stared at him in stunned silence. "Eat. You need your strength."

Ren hesitated only a moment before digging into the food. Her hunger overpowered her disbelief, and she devoured the meal with uncharacteristic urgency.

As she ate, the merman studied her with quiet curiosity. "You're surprisingly calm," he remarked.

Ren swallowed a mouthful of crab, meeting his gaze. "Honestly? I think I'm too hungry to care. Besides," she added with a faint smile, "it's not the weirdest thing that's happened to me lately."

The merman chuckled, a rich sound that sent warmth curling through her chest. "Fair enough," he said. "I'm Kai, by the way."

"Ren," she replied softly. For the first time in days, she felt a flicker of hope