He wanted to kill him, flay the skin from his back, or tie him to a post above the ground and deprive him of what sustains mers alive. Make the vile man suffer for harming his beloved. The only thing stopping Atlantis was Morgan, whose green eyes peered at Elric with a mix of calm and warning.

Elric was the same race as Morgan, black spikes blending seamlessly into dark scales, his blue-black hair shimmering faintly with silver dust. His silver irises glinted hatefully in Atlantis's direction, and the Emerald Prince only returned the look, his hand twitching toward the knife strapped to his side.

"What do you achieve by trying to kill Morgan?" the Diamond King asked, his white hair glowing beneath the brilliance of the light faeries, their illumination dispelling the usual gloom of the dungeons.

The prisoner hissed, baring his sharp teeth, his expression a defiant snarl. Atlantis felt his blood boil, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade.

"Atlantis," Morgan murmured softly, a single taloned hand resting gently on his forearm. To anyone else, it was a simple gesture, but to Atlantis, it was grounding, a touch that sent his heart fluttering inside his chest. It was the same gesture Morgan had used countless times when Atlantis's temper threatened to consume him.

Taking a deep breath, Atlantis forced himself to calm. His anger ebbed, replaced by the overwhelming urge to pull Morgan into his arms, to feel the warmth of his beloved's tender lips against his skin. But the moment wasn't his to claim, not yet.

"If he doesn't want to talk, we'll leave him there until he does," Destan said, his voice firm and steady. "He won't be able to escape. These walls have been blessed by Ursula herself. Nothing escapes without the King's permission."

Destan motioned for them to leave, the light faeries casting fleeting glimmers across the damp stone walls as they exited, leaving the prisoner enveloped in darkness.

"We should leave," Morgan murmured as they moved away from the dungeons. "Queen Aceso won't need my help in awakening. The goddess of healing will guide her."

Destan smiled, his hand coming to rest on Morgan's shoulder. "Thank you. You may not yet remember us, but you have already done so much for me and my beloved. I cannot thank you enough."

Morgan shrugged lightly, his expression thoughtful. "I only hope to remember what was forgotten. But for now, I have a mission to complete."

Atlantis perked up at his words, his curiosity piqued. "What might that be?"

"To awaken the gods," Morgan said, his voice steady, resonating with purpose.

"In that case," Destan said, snapping his fingers, "take Cassio with you. I am sure he will be of great help in the days to come."

The tiny fae came swimming through, his golden light shimmering with eagerness. "Master Morgan!" he exclaimed, his voice high and jubilant.

A smile spread across Morgan's full lips, softening the sharpness of his features. "Hello, little one."

The fae's laughter echoed through the corridor, his tiny arms wrapping around Morgan's finger in a hug.

Atlantis's lips quirked into a small smile as he watched the interaction. He cherished these moments—the rare glimpses of Morgan's genuine joy, unmarred by the shadows of their trials. It was in these fleeting seconds that Atlantis allowed himself to hope.

******

Caspian's heart thundered like a tempest within his chest. He'd promised himself he would wait until morning, but as the hours stretched into the suffocating stillness of night, an unshakable dread clawed at him. Something was wrong. He knew it in his bones.

Breaking the surface of the water, his eyes frantically searched the shoreline for the comforting glow of Marcus's fire or the faint strains of his music. There was nothing. Only the silent hiss of the wind skimming the waves.

Perhaps he's asleep, Caspian thought desperately, trying to steady himself. Then a cry—a raw, guttural wail of pain—tore through the night like a blade.

"Marcus!" His voice shattered the silence, a desperate cry as his powerful tail propelled him forward. Reaching the shore, his body shifted with fluid precision, tail becoming legs as he stumbled onto the sand. The sight that greeted him twisted his stomach into a painful knot.

Marcus lay crumpled on the beach, his pale body smeared with blood. Crimson streaked his silver hair, staining it in grotesque streaks, while his beautiful, delicate features were nearly unrecognizable beneath the grime and gore. Only his eyes—wide and glistening with unshed tears—shone through the darkness.

"Marcus," Caspian breathed, his voice trembling as he dropped to his knees beside him. His hands hovered over Marcus's fragile form, unsure where to touch, afraid to cause more harm. "I'm here. I've got you."

The boy's voice came as a broken rasp, barely audible. "Caspian?"

The sound of his name from Marcus's lips nearly unraveled him. Guilt surged through Caspian, sharp and suffocating. This was his fault. The bond he had left unfinished was ripping Marcus apart, forcing his body into a grotesque transformation it wasn't built to endure. Any longer, and Marcus would be lost—consumed by hunger, pain, and madness.

"Marcus," Caspian said softly, forcing calm into his voice. "I can take this pain away, but you must trust me. Do exactly as I say. Do you understand?"

Marcus nodded weakly, tears slipping down his blood-streaked cheeks. He didn't speak again, but his trembling body shifted closer to Caspian, as though drawn instinctively to him.

Gently, Caspian scooped him into his arms, cradling him as though he were made of glass. Marcus's light, shivering frame fit against him perfectly, and the warmth of his body, even in its weakened state, stirred something deep within Caspian.

"Do you still hurt?" Caspian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus's lips parted, revealing the faint glint of newly formed fangs. "A little..." he murmured, his voice hoarse but no longer broken.

Without hesitation, Caspian carried him into the water. The ocean seemed to welcome them, the waves lapping gently against Marcus's battered body. Caspian let the saltwater cleanse him, using his own hands to wash away the blood. Beneath the grime, faint markings were visible on Marcus's skin—inhuman, beautiful, and unsettling. His ears had begun to sharpen, a subtle but undeniable sign of the transformation.

"I have to complete the bond," Caspian murmured, his voice trembling with both resolve and something he couldn't quite name.

Marcus's silver eyes flickered to his, filled with confusion, fear, and a quiet, fragile trust. "Bond?" he asked weakly.

Caspian nodded, his grip tightening protectively. "When I bit you... I started something. A connection between us. But it's incomplete. If I don't finish it, your body will keep changing. You'll become... something else. A wraith. A creature of pain and hunger." He paused, his voice thick with emotion. "I won't let that happen to you."

Marcus whimpered softly, his hands clutching at Caspian's chest. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Just... make it stop."

Caspian hesitated for only a moment before biting into his wrist, his fangs slicing through his own skin. Blood welled up, and he pressed the wound to Marcus's lips. "Drink," he commanded softly.

At first, Marcus's eyes widened in fear, his lips trembling as they hesitated over the wound. But then his pupils dilated, hunger consuming the silver depths. With a low, guttural growl, he latched onto Caspian's wrist, drinking greedily.

The sensation hit Caspian like lightning. A powerful warmth spread through him, radiating from every point of contact between them. It was intimate, almost unbearably so. His breath hitched as Marcus's lips moved against his skin, the pull of his mouth both gentle and insistent.

"Good," Caspian murmured, though his voice was thick with emotion. He cradled Marcus closer, feeling the boy's frail body grow stronger with each passing second. His skin regained its vitality, the ghostly pallor replaced by a soft, radiant glow. But something else pulsed between them now—a connection that burned hotter and brighter with every moment.

"Caspian..." Marcus breathed, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His voice was no longer weak, and his eyes burned with an intensity that took Caspian's breath away.

"Marcus," Caspian rasped, his own voice raw and heavy with desire. The bond thrummed between them, a living, electric force that wrapped around them, pulling them closer together.

Marcus tilted his head, baring his neck in a gesture so vulnerable, so trusting, that it made Caspian's heart ache. "Do it," he whispered, his voice trembling with equal parts fear and longing.

Caspian leaned in, his fangs piercing Marcus's neck with an aching slowness. The taste of Marcus's blood hit him like a drug, sweet and intoxicating, filling his senses and drowning him in desire. His hands tightened on Marcus's waist, pulling their bodies flush together.

Marcus gasped, his hands tangling in Caspian's hair as his body arched into him. "Caspian," he moaned, the sound soft but charged with raw, unrestrained need. The bond flared between them, burning away the line between pain and pleasure.

Caspian growled low in his throat, his lips pressing harder against Marcus's skin. The boy's soft moans were like music, each sound a spark that fanned the flames inside him. Their bodies pressed together, heat and urgency building with every passing second.

"I need you," Marcus whispered, his voice trembling but certain, his silver eyes wide and glassy with longing.

"You have me," Caspian murmured against his neck, his voice thick with lust and devotion. "Always."

Their mouths found each other in a clash of hunger and desperation. The kiss was fervent, their breaths mingling as the connection between them solidified into something undeniable and eternal. Caspian's hands roamed Marcus's body, memorizing every curve and tremble, every gasp and shiver.

Time ceased to exist. There was only Marcus—his warmth, his scent, his taste—and the bond that pulsed like fire in their veins. It was all-consuming, primal, and unbearably beautiful.