When Caspian brought sustenance from the Emerald Kingdom to the human boy, the sun had set, and a full moon illuminated the dark skies. The boy's food lay delicately in a neat pile as Caspian balanced it in his hands.

What are you doing, Caspian? he thought to himself. Assuming the responsibility of a human. You should hate them. They killed your best friend.

Yet, he couldn't help himself. The boy was strange. His white hair and silver eyes had stirred something within him, something he hadn't felt since his youth—something forbidden.

His eyes caught sight of the glow from the island—a small fire illuminating the boy's features, giving him a rather faery-like face. As he neared the island, a peculiar sound reached his ears.

He closed his eyes, letting his ears drink in the sound of the musical notes. It was soft and high, but at the same time, it made his soul feel light, as if nothing was tying him down. Unconsciously, he followed the music, his tail shifting into legs once he felt the sand beneath him.

The notes grew louder, more distinct, but they abruptly stopped, pulling Caspian from his trance. Slowly, his eyes opened. The boy's eyes were wide, a strange contraption hovering beneath his chin and another piece in his hand.

"Mister?" the boy said, his white hair glinting in the light from the fire.

Caspian's words tangled in his throat. His hands trembled as he held out the boy's food in front of him. "I've brought you sustenance," he finally managed to say.

The boy's white eyebrows rose as he set his contraption aside and took the pile of food from Caspian's hands. "Thank you," the boy spoke, his lips curving into a smile.

Warmth bloomed inside Caspian's chest. His hand rubbed over his heart as if trying to make sense of the feeling. It wasn't until he noticed the boy's cheeks flush red that he became aware of his state of undress.

He quickly snatched a fallen palm leaf and pressed it against his waist, standing uncomfortably before the boy.

"My name is Marcus," the boy said, slipping a piece of squid into his mouth.

"Marcus," Caspian repeated, letting the foreign name roll off his tongue, the "r" emphasized by his Onyx accent. The sound of it echoed in his mind, and for reasons he didn't understand, it felt... important. He couldn't help but want to say the boy's name again and again.

"What's yours?" Marcus asked, his silver eyes locking onto Caspian's.

Caspian's gaze flickered toward the sea before returning to the boy. "Caspian," he said.

"How old are you?" Marcus's question was simple, but the curiosity in his voice felt genuine.

"One hundred and twelve," Caspian answered bluntly.

Marcus's eyes grew wide with awe. "Wow. You look like you're twenty-three."

He glanced down at the ground, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. "I suppose," he muttered. "How old are you in human years?"

The boy giggled, a musical sound that sent a shiver down Caspian's spine. "I'm not as old as you, but I just turned nineteen a month ago."

Caspian's brow raised. "I thought you were a boy, not a young man."

A red tinge coated Marcus's cheeks as his pink lips sucked an oyster. Caspian's eyes lingered on those lips a moment too long, his mind suddenly filled with uninvited thoughts. His grip on the palm leaf tightened as he tried to banish the heat pooling in his gut.

"I've always been small," Marcus chuckled nervously. "I suppose I'm vertically challenged."

"Vertically challenged?" Caspian repeated, confused.

"I'm naturally short," Marcus explained with a small pout.

Caspian's gaze softened as he watched the boy's playful expression. His heart thudded, his fingers curling tighter around the stem of the leaf as he struggled to steady himself. Being around Marcus made his body react in ways he hadn't experienced in a century. His gaze lingered on Marcus's flushed cheeks, on the way his silver eyes seemed to catch the firelight like twin stars. A dangerous pull gnawed at him, a warmth that shouldn't have existed.

No. This is wrong. He's human.

And yet, his eyes didn't leave him. His pulse quickened. It wasn't hate. It wasn't anger. It was something far more volatile, and he hated how it unsettled him.

With a strained voice, he turned his back to Marcus. "I have to go. I will see you when the sun rises again," he spoke, his voice far tenser than he intended. His legs moved stiffly, his every step feeling far too slow as if some unseen force was keeping him rooted near the boy.

He dropped the leaf and dove back into the cold water, letting the icy embrace of the sea drag him down. He swam deeper and deeper, letting the chill numb his skin, hoping it would do the same to his mind. But it didn't. The warmth in his chest remained, an ember that refused to die.

Marcus. The name echoed in his mind, and no matter how deep he swam, it followed him.

He could hear the voices whisper to him in the dark. They ebbed and flowed like crashing waves. Morgan tried to focus on them, but they slipped away, their words muffled like echoes in a cavern. The dissonance grated on his nerves until he could stand it no longer.

Silence! he cried in his mind. The voices ceased instantly.

For a moment, he basked in the blissful quiet, only for it to be shattered by soft, melodic laughter.

Oh, Morgan, a feminine voice said, a lilt of amusement in her tone.

If Morgan could move, he'd have snarled. Who are you? he demanded.

A bright light burst before him, blinding him with its brilliance. For a fleeting moment, he thought he'd regained control of his body. Instead, he found himself in a vast, endless ocean with no land in sight. The sky above was a rich blue canvas streaked with soft, fluffy clouds.

"It's quaint, isn't it?" a feminine voice broke the stillness.

He turned, his eyes falling on a mermaid. From the waist up, she hovered in the water, her lower half hidden below the surface. Her black scales shimmered with a faint glow, and her hands bore the same inky hue before fading to white at her elbows. Jagged black spikes jutted from her back, and her hair—a curtain of midnight—swayed like drifting ink. She looked familiar, but he couldn't place her.

"Who are you?" Morgan's voice was cautious, his eyes scanning her aura for signs of danger. But to his surprise, there was none.

She laughed, the sound like the chime of bells. "Darling, I am Ursula."

Morgan's eyes widened in recognition. "Great Aunt," he whispered in disbelief. Memories surfaced—of her sneaking him sweets as a child, of her singing lullabies when he'd had nightmares. But she'd vanished without a trace. Only later did he learn of her powerful magic and her role in the creation of the merfolk kingdoms.

A smile tugged at his lips. "It's nice to see you again. Where have you been all this time?"

Ursula's gaze softened, her black-tipped fingers brushing his hair from his eyes. "I've moved on to another realm, love. Been that way for a century or two."

Morgan's eyes fluttered shut at the familiar, maternal touch. "Why am I here?"

Her eyes flickered with something ancient and knowing. "I needed you here for a moment before you awaken. Angerona's host tried to pull you free, but I've put up some walls to keep you safe for now. It's fate that you're here."

Morgan's brow furrowed. "Angerona? The Diamond Goddess?"

Ursula nodded. "Yes, darling."

His gaze locked with hers. "What do you need from me, Great Aunt?"

Her smile was tender, her hands cradling his face. "You're a powerful witch, Morgan. I'm so proud that our family will once again serve the gods."

Morgan's heart thudded, his eyes searching hers for meaning. "What do you mean?"

Her smile became knowing, her lips pressing softly against his forehead. "Awaken, my child."