He was so soft.

From the silky white hair to the milky white skin that had begun to darken from the sun. However, the lean muscles that lay beneath were tense, shifting every now and then to accommodate his wandering hands.

Yet, his blood was the sweetest potion he had ever tasted. Like the freshest seawater untouched by man. He could feel the blood quench a thirst he never knew he had.

"C-Caspian, what are you doing?" the boy whimpered beneath him, jolting him from his thoughts. With a gasp, he pulled his fangs from Marcus's skin, two puncture wounds slightly visible. Cursing under his breath, he moved to put distance between them.

He couldn't believe he'd almost completed the bond.

"Caspian?" a soft voice said, tender like someone approaching a beast.

I am a beast, he thought. Taking without permission and nearly claiming the boy as his own. He turned, facing a pair of silver eyes, pools rippling with confusion. But at his neck, black tinged the skin that surrounded the wounds.

The Mark, he thought, cursing himself.

"Caspian? Tell me? What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry," he spoke, his voice strained with anguish.

"I don't understand. Why are you apologizing? I enjoyed it if that's what you're worried about," Marcus said, his silver eyes filled with honest confusion.

Caspian's breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm as he fought against himself. "I marked you," he murmured, his fingers lightly brushing the wound, making Marcus hiss in pain.

Panic surged through him. His hand recoiled as if he had been burned. His eyes darted to the mark, a vivid black imprint against Marcus's pale skin. He knew exactly what it meant. He needed to get rid of it. He needed to undo it.

He didn't want to be tied to this boy—this human—no matter how much his heart betrayed him every time he saw him.

"I have to go," he blurted, his voice ragged with panic, each word barely more than a breath. Without waiting for a response, he dove into the ocean depths, the cold water swallowing him whole.

*************

"What do you mean you don't know?" Caspian growled, his muscles tensing beneath his skin, each fiber tight like a bowstring ready to snap. His chest rose and fell with sharp, shallow breaths, and his jaw clenched so hard he could hear his own teeth grinding.

The Emerald Queen shrugged, sinking her teeth into shark meat, tossing the bone onto a plate where many more had gathered. "I'm the host of the Emerald Goddess, not the Onyx God. If anyone should know how to remove the Mark it would be him or Morgan. But considering Morgan is amnesiac at the moment, you'd have to wait until he regains those memories he lost."

Her calm demeanor only stoked the fire in Caspian's chest. His growl was lower this time, more guttural, like the sound of a predator being pushed too far. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides, his claws digging into his palms hard enough to leave crescents in his skin. The ache grounded him, but it wasn't enough to quiet the storm inside.

"But I can't be mated to him!" he snarled, his voice sharp as shattered glass. His eyes darkened, the swirling tempest of emotions barely contained. "Do you know how demeaning it would be for me to have a human as a mate?"

The words tasted foul on his tongue, but they had to be said. They had to. If he admitted anything else, it would mean facing the truth—a truth he wasn't ready to accept.

"I am a human," Ren muttered, taking a sip from her drink, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

"But you're the host of the goddess. Marcus isn't," he stated firmly, his voice as cold and sharp as the jagged cliffs beneath the sea. He needed to keep control, to draw the line between himself and Marcus. If he let it blur, he'd fall into something he didn't know how to escape.

Ren's brows raised, her gaze sharpening with curiosity. She leaned forward slightly, watching him the way one watches a predator pacing its cage. "So that's his name," she murmured, a sly smile appearing over her lips, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "What's he like?"

Her words hit him harder than they should have. Something tightened in his chest, a sharp pull that felt too close to longing. An image flashed through his mind—pink lips parted and gray eyes staring at him through a hooded gaze, white hair framing his porcelain features. For a moment, he felt the warmth of it, the unbearable softness of the memory, like the glow of sunlight after too many days beneath stormy skies.

He hated it.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest, a heavy, resounding ache that echoed with something far too dangerous. His throat felt tight, like he'd swallowed seawater and it had settled in his lungs. For a brief second, he wondered what it would feel like to lean into that warmth instead of away from it.

"Vile and hideous," he lied, the words scraping his throat like shards of broken coral. His gaze flicked away from Ren, unable to face the knowing look in her eyes. He focused on the distant waves crashing against the rocks instead, his pulse a steady drumbeat in his ears.

The bitterness of his words lingered on his tongue, but he didn't take them back. He couldn't. If he did, he'd be admitting something he wasn't ready to admit. His pride was the only armor he had left.

Ren's chuckle was soft but sharp, cutting through the fragile silence like a finely honed blade. "If you say so, Onyx King," she murmured, her smile growing wider as she lifted another piece of shark meat to her lips. Her eyes never left him, like she could see past every wall he'd built, straight to the heart he'd tried so hard to lock away.

Caspian's nails bit deeper into his palms, his breath uneven as he fought to steady himself. The ache in his chest wouldn't go away, and no amount of saltwater or distance could wash it clean.

****

Morgan hummed to himself, fingers caressing the glowing flowers of the garden, each one familiar to him, each one carrying both its cure and its poison. His gaze followed the soft glow of each petal, his mind tracing the knowledge he'd once memorized. It was like remembering a song he'd learned in childhood—familiar, comforting, but tinged with the distant ache of something long forgotten.

"Morgan!" a voice called out, snapping him from his thoughts.

His gaze shifted, locking onto blue scales and silver eyes that awoke something buried deep within him. The mermaid seemed so familiar, but beneath her tender face, he saw something more. A deeper presence, stronger and older. A woman—her light blue aura pulsed like a beacon. It nearly overpowered that of her host, yet it remained contained, simmering like a sleeping storm.

His vertical pupils narrowed as he saw the soft glow at the mermaid's abdomen, an aura pulsing with innocence and untouched purity.

"You're pregnant," he blurted out, his voice carrying more certainty than surprise.

Blush coated her cheeks, and her hand instinctively pressed against her belly. "Yes. I—"

"If you don't bond with the goddess soon, her aura will destroy your child," he murmured, his voice laced with both regret and urgency. His heart clenched at the sudden fear that bloomed in her eyes, wide and unguarded like a child's.

"I must go back to the Diamond Kingdom then," she whispered, glancing downward, her hands cradling her abdomen protectively.

You need to do the ritual, a voice echoed softly in his mind, warm and gentle like a mother's embrace.

Ursula, he thought, her name familiar on his lips. He could feel her presence at the edge of his mind, her essence weaving through his thoughts like a steady current. She was there, guiding his movements, whispering ancient truths that he'd long since forgotten.

"I will go with you. Bring your husband," he murmured, his voice steady with quiet authority as he swam past her.

"I'm coming too," another voice called out, firm yet gentle like the calm before a storm.

Morgan's heart jolted as he turned, his breath catching in his throat. The merman who called himself Atlantis floated just a few paces away, his blood-red hair fanning out like a blazing halo around him. Gold jewelry hugged his biceps and a circlet rested on his head, marking his royal status. But none of that held Morgan's attention.

It was his eyes—pools of molten gold rimmed with dark lashes. They stared at him with such intensity that Morgan's heart betrayed him, skipping a beat before thundering wildly in his chest.

Heat crawled up his neck, and he hated how his body responded so easily. Something stirred inside him—a warmth that felt out of place, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. It was a sensation he couldn't name, one that made his pulse race and his breath hitch. He didn't like it. But at the same time, it felt strangely comforting.

Morgan's eyes darted to Atlantis's lips, lingering for a moment too long. He quickly snapped his gaze away, feeling foolish for the brief flicker of thought that crossed his mind.

"T-that's fine," Morgan stammered, inwardly cursing the tremble in his voice.

Atlantis's gaze didn't waver. He drifted closer, his presence like the slow pull of the tide. Each second felt stretched thin as Morgan's heart continued its frantic rhythm. He braced himself, unsure of what was about to happen.

Atlantis leaned in, and for one maddening moment, Morgan's mind betrayed him again. He half-expected the red-haired merman to kiss him, and he hated himself for how easily the idea took root.

Instead, gentle fingers brushed against his temple, tucking a loose strand of seaweed behind his ear. It was such a small, tender gesture, but it shattered him in a way he didn't understand. His breath hitched, and his gaze lifted to meet Atlantis's.

There was no teasing smile. No hint of mockery. Just softness. Warmth. Something dangerous, because it made Morgan's chest ache in ways he wasn't prepared to face.

"Let's go," Atlantis murmured, his voice quiet but certain.

Morgan watched him swim away, his presence leaving a hollow space in the water that made him feel unmoored. The warmth lingered, an echo in his chest that he couldn't seem to shake.

He hated it, but he missed it all the same.

*****

stone floor. Potions glowed brightly in their glass vials, casting shifting hues of green, blue, and violet light across the walls. Shadows danced like phantoms, their flickering forms moving in rhythm with the bubbling of cauldrons. A few of the vials held strange animals—creatures that twitched and blinked with unnatural eyes, their bodies contorted in ways that defied nature.

His mind was a storm of fury and calculation, every thought a jagged edge that scraped against his patience.

Master, a voice hissed from the shadows.

An eel slithered into view, its body slick and wet with the faint glow of blue electricity crackling along its length. Sharp teeth jutted forth from its putrid mouth, its eyes narrow slits of malevolent intent.

"What do you know?" Elric demanded, his nails biting into the flesh of his palms. Blood welled beneath his claws, but he didn't care. Pain was a useful tether to keep his mind sharp.

There is a human boy on the island near the Emerald Kingdom, the eel hissed, its voice curling around him like smoke. I've seen the Onyx King make several trips there. Also, my sources tell me that the witch still lives, and he will commence the ritual with the Diamond Goddess's host.

Elric's eyes narrowed to slits, his lips peeling back to reveal sharp, predatory teeth. His breath came in slow, deliberate exhales as he fought to keep his composure. The Onyx King was meddling again. Worse still, Morgan—that accursed witch—was not only alive but preparing to complete the ritual. Rage simmered beneath his skin, hot and unforgiving, every ounce of it directed at those who dared to defy his plans.

He dragged his fingers down his face, the sharp points of his claws scraping along his cheekbones. "I can't be in two places at once," he muttered, his voice taut with frustration. His mind spun through possibilities, each one more reckless than the last. "The Onyx King and the Emerald Prince would recognize me the moment I got close. I'd be hunted before I could even blink."

His gaze darted around the room, searching for a solution. His eyes locked on a faint glow at the far edge of his collection. Behind a cluster of dusty jars and forgotten relics sat a dark blue potion, its glow barely visible through the green moss that had nearly covered the glass.

His heart leapt with dark delight.

"Of course," he whispered, reaching for the vial. His fingers wrapped around the cool glass, brushing away the moss with his thumb. The liquid inside shimmered as if responding to his touch, swirling with ribbons of midnight blue and flickers of silver. This was no ordinary concoction. It was something he had crafted long ago and stored away, waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.

A grin broke across his face—a grin too wide, too sharp, his teeth glinting in the dim light. The grin of a man who had found the missing piece of his grand design.

He turned to the eel, eyes wild with dangerous clarity. "Bring me the She-Demon."

The eel's eyes flickered with fear, its body stiffening for the briefest moment. Y-yes, Master, it hissed, its tail whipping back and forth as it darted away with frantic urgency.

Elric's grin remained as he rolled the vial in his hands, the liquid's glow reflecting in his eyes like twin infernos. His fingers traced the intricate runes engraved into the glass, his mind already five steps ahead.

"Let's see how well they handle a nightmare born of their own fears," he murmured, his voice a silken promise of ruin. "No kings. No witches. No gods. Just terror. Pure, unrelenting terror."