The morning started perfectly.
Rafayel had picked Nana up at dawn—actual dawn, sunrise painting the sky in shades of pink and gold—with coffee and pastries and that brilliant smile that made her heart do complicated things.
"Ready for our official, actual, no-longer-pretending-it's-platonic date?" he'd asked, offering his hand.
"Ready," Nana had confirmed, taking it without hesitation.
*Our first real date*, she'd thought, butterflies dancing in her stomach. *After weeks of not-dates and pretending and dancing around what we both felt.*
*Finally, we're being honest.*
They drove to White Sand Bay, Rafayel singing along badly to the radio, Nana laughing and occasionally joining in. Everything felt light. Easy. Right.
When they arrived at the beach, the boat was already waiting—the same one they'd capsized in before, because apparently Rafayel liked to tempt fate.
"I promise not to sink us this time," he'd said solemnly.
"You promise nothing," Nana had countered. "You're a chaos agent disguised as an artist."
"The most romantic chaos agent you've ever met, though."
"The *only* chaos agent I've ever met."
"Still counts."
They'd rowed out together—Nana doing most of the actual rowing while Rafayel provided "moral support" and "artistic direction"—toward the small island where the pink shells collected after storms.
The sun was warm on their faces. The ocean was calm, glittering like scattered diamonds. Rafayel couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop looking at her like she was something miraculous.
And Nana—Nana felt like she could float. Like everything in her life had been leading to this moment, this person, this feeling of absolute rightness.
"I'm happy," she'd said suddenly, the words spilling out.
Rafayel had looked at her, something ancient and grateful in his eyes. "Good. You deserve to be happy."
"So do you."
"I am," he'd said softly. "Right now, with you, I am."
They'd reached the island and started collecting shells, splashing in the shallow water, competing to find the prettiest ones. Rafayel had been particularly dramatic and romantic—spinning her suddenly, pressing a perfect pink shell into her palm like it was a precious gem, telling her it reminded him of her because it was "beautiful and rare and impossible to forget."
"You're ridiculous," she'd said, but she was blushing.
"Ridiculously in love with you," he'd corrected.
"Rafayel—"
"Too soon?" He'd grinned. "Too honest? Too romantic for 9 AM?"
"All of those," Nana had said. "And also... say it again."
So he had. Multiple times. Between finding shells and splashing water and pulling her close to kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. Never her lips—not yet, they were still building to that, still savoring the anticipation—but everywhere else, making her laugh and blush and feel cherished.
It was perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
And then the ocean exploded.
One moment, Nana was laughing at something Rafayel had said, reaching for another shell in the shallow water.
The next, the ocean *surged*.
Water erupted upward in a massive column, towering above them, blocking out the sun. And within the water, taking shape, growing solid—
A dragon.
Not a real dragon. A Wanderer. Massive and terrible, made of ocean water and crackling lightning, its form constantly shifting and reforming. Eyes that glowed electric blue. Teeth like icicles. Power radiating from it in waves that made Nana's Hunter instincts scream danger.
*Level 5*, her mind catalogued automatically. *Possibly Level 6. Water and lightning element. Extremely dangerous. Need backup—*
The dragon *roared*, the sound like thunder and drowning combined, and Nana stumbled backward, her hand going for weapons she didn't have—she'd left them in the car because this was supposed to be a *date*, not a mission, and—
Rafayel stepped in front of her.
Not ran. Not stumbled. *Stepped*—smooth, confident, deliberate—putting his body between her and the monster.
"Stay behind me," he said, and his voice was different. Not the playful artist. Not the dramatic disaster who couldn't row a boat. Something older. Harder. Dangerous.
"Rafayel, we need to—"
The dragon struck.
A whip of water-turned-solid, fast as lightning, aimed directly at them. Nana had barely registered the movement when—
*Fire*.
Flames erupted from Rafayel's hands—brilliant, blue-white, hot enough that she felt the heat from feet away—and met the water attack mid-air. The collision created steam that hissed and screamed, obscuring everything.
*Fire*, Nana's brain registered numbly. *He has fire. Fire from his hands. Fire that's SPLITTING WATER.*
"Rafayel—" she started, but her words dissolved into coughing.
The Wanderer's energy hit her like a physical blow—not an attack, just proximity, the sheer power radiating from it affecting her lungs, her breathing, her everything. She tasted copper. Touched her mouth. Her fingers came away red.
Blood
"Nana!" Rafayel's voice, sharp with panic.
She was falling. The sand rushing up to meet her. Her vision blurring at the edges.
Through the haze, she saw him turn back to the dragon, and his expression—
Rage
Pure, absolute, ancient rage.
"You," Rafayel said to the Wanderer, and his voice carried across the beach like a command from something divine. "I guess you like my blood a lot more, huh?"
His hands moved, and the fire in them changed. Solidified. Became a blade of flame so bright it hurt to look at, crackling with power that made the air itself shimmer.
"What is he?" Nana thought distantly. "What is he?"
The dragon lunged. Rafayel moved to meet it, and Nana had never seen anyone move like that—fast, fluid, like he'd been fighting water monsters his entire life. Like this was as natural as breathing.
The fire blade cut through the dragon's neck, and the creature shrieked, reforming, attacking again. Rafayel deflected, his movements precise and deadly, driving the creature back toward the water.
"Rafayel!" Nana tried to scream, but it came out as a whisper. "Don't—the water—it's stronger in—"
Too late.
Rafayel grabbed the dragon by what passed for its throat and *dragged* it into the ocean. They hit the surface together and disappeared beneath the waves in an explosion of spray and steam.
"RAFAYEL!" This time Nana did scream, forcing herself to her feet despite the blood in her lungs, despite her vision swimming. "No, no, no—"
*He can't fight underwater*, her mind insisted. *He's human, he can't breathe, the dragon will kill him—*
*Unless—*
*Unless he's not human.*
*Unless everything about him has been—*
The ocean erupted again. The dragon emerged, thrashing, dragging something—someone—with it.
Nana.
Somehow, in the chaos, the dragon had circled back, had grabbed her, was pulling her toward the deep water. She fought, her Hunter training kicking in even as blood filled her mouth, but the dragon was too strong, too fast, too—
Cold water closed over her head.
Down.
Down.
Down
The ocean swallowing her whole, darkness rising to meet her, her lungs screaming for air she couldn't get—
And then she saw him.
Rafayel.
Swimming toward her through the dark water.
But not swimming like a human swims.
Swimming like—
*Oh*.
*Oh god*.
*Oh god oh god oh god—*
His legs were gone.
In their place: a tail. Long and powerful and scaled in shades of purple and blue and pink, catching what little light filtered down this deep. Moving with the kind of grace that spoke of a lifetime—lifetimes—in the water.
His hands still held fire somehow, impossibly, burning underwater like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And his eyes—those twilight eyes she'd fallen in love with—glowed with power that was definitely, absolutely, *not human*.
*Merman*, her brain supplied distantly. *He's a merman. A Lemurian. The legends are real and I've been dating one and—*
The dragon attacked him. He moved like liquid light, like he was part of the ocean itself, the fire blade in his hands cutting through water and monster both. The dragon shrieked—even underwater, somehow, the sound carried—and tried to flee.
Rafayel didn't let it.
He was terrifying down here. Beautiful and terrible and absolutely, utterly deadly. Not the playful artist who couldn't row a boat. Not the dramatic disaster who ended up hospitalized over a twisted ankle.
This was the Sea God
Ancient. Powerful. Merciless.
The dragon dissolved under his assault, its water-form breaking apart, the lightning that held it together scattering into nothing. Rafayel turned immediately, swimming toward Nana with desperate speed.
She tried to move toward him, but her body wasn't responding properly anymore. The lack of oxygen. The injury from the Wanderer's energy. The shock of everything she'd just witnessed.
*I'm going to die*, she thought with strange clarity. *I'm going to drown and the last thing I'll see is him—*
*Beautiful him—*
*With his tail and his fire and his lies—*
*But still him—*
Strong arms wrapped around her. Pulled her close. And then—
Lips
Cold lips pressed against hers. Not a kiss. Something else. Something more.
Power flowing into her. Not air, exactly. Something deeper. His power, his essence, something that let her lungs stop screaming, that pushed back the darkness, that kept her conscious when she should have been gone.
*Sharing his breath*, something in her understood. *He's giving me his power to breathe underwater.*
Nana's eyes fluttered closed, consciousness finally giving up its grip.
The last thing she felt was him holding her tighter, beginning to swim upward, carrying her toward the surface.
The last thing she thought was: *Liar.*
*Beautiful, impossible, magical liar.*
Rafayel broke the surface with Nana in his arms, his heart racing with terror he hadn't felt in three hundred years.
*She saw*, his mind screamed. *She saw everything. The tail. The fire. The fighting. She knows. She KNOWS.*
But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered except—
"Breathe," he begged, laying her on the sand, his hands—human hands now, the transformation instant and practiced—pressing against her chest. "Come on, beloved, breathe—"
Nana coughed. Water and blood spilling from her lips. Her eyes stayed closed but she was breathing, "thank the gods she was breathing—
Rafayel pulled out his phone with shaking hands, dialing Thomas with desperate speed.
"White Sand Bay," he said the moment Thomas answered. "Emergency. Wanderer attack. Nana's injured. I need—I need medical supplies, I need—"
"I'm already on my way," Thomas said. "I felt the surge of power from the mainland. How bad?"
"Bad." Rafayel's voice cracked. "Thomas, she saw. She saw everything."
Silence on the other end. Then: "We'll deal with that later. First priority is keeping her alive."
"I can't—" Rafayel looked down at Nana's pale face, the blood on her lips, the way her breathing was too shallow. "If I lose her again, if she dies because of me, because I brought her here, because—"
"She won't die," Thomas said firmly. "Keep her stable. I'm five minutes out."
The call ended. Rafayel carefully positioned Nana so she wouldn't choke on blood, his hands glowing faintly with healing energy—not much, his offensive powers were stronger, but enough to stabilize, to help, to—
"Please," he whispered, one hand on her chest where he could feel her heart beating—weak but steady. "Please don't leave me. Not now. Not when we were just starting. Not when I've finally found you again."
The mark on his chest burned. The bond mark that connected them across lifetimes. It pulsed in time with her heartbeat, weaker than it should be, but alive.
Alive.
"I'm sorry," Rafayel said to her unconscious form. "I'm sorry I lied. Sorry I didn't tell you. Sorry you had to find out like this. Sorry for everything."
"Sorry you're hurt because my enemies found me."
"Sorry you're in danger because you fell in love with a monster."
"Sorry, sorry, sorry."
The boat was gone—destroyed in the fight or drifted away, he didn't know and didn't care. The shells they'd collected were scattered across the beach, pink and white against golden sand, like a mockery of how perfect the morning had been.
"We were happy", Rafayel thought, looking at them. "For a few hours, we were just a boy and a girl collecting shells and falling in love."
"And then the ocean remembered what I am."
"And now she knows."
"Now everything changes."
Thomas arrived exactly five minutes later, medical kit in hand, emergency supplies, everything they needed. He took one look at Nana and went immediately to work, professional and efficient.
"The Wanderer?" he asked while checking her vitals.
"Dead," Rafayel said flatly. "Dissolved it."
"And the tail?"
"She saw." Rafayel's voice was hollow. "I couldn't hide it. I tried to fight on the surface but it dragged her down and I had to—I had to—"
"You did what you had to do," Thomas said firmly. "You saved her life."
"I almost got her killed."
"The Wanderer would have come regardless. They've been searching for you."
"And she's the one who paid the price."
Thomas didn't argue with that. Just continued working, stabilizing Nana's breathing, cleaning the blood from her lips, checking her injuries.
"Punctured lung," he diagnosed. "Wanderer energy damage. She needs a hospital."
"No." The word came out sharp. "Hospitals ask questions. They'll want to know how she got injured. They'll investigate. They might find—"
"They might find out you're not human?" Thomas finished. "Rafayel, she needs medical care."
"I can heal her," Rafayel said. "Not completely, not all at once, but enough. Enough to keep her stable while her body does the rest. I just need—" He looked at his hands, at the faint glow of power there. "I need time."
Thomas studied him for a long moment. Then sighed. "Your house. We'll take her there. You can heal her slowly, keep her stable. But if she gets worse—"
"Then we take her to the hospital," Rafayel finished. "I know. I know."
They carried her to Thomas's car—Rafayel holding her like she was made of glass—and drove back to White Sand Bay in tense silence.
*She saw*, Rafayel kept thinking. *She knows. And when she wakes up—*
*When she wakes up, everything we built will shatter.*
*Because how do you trust someone who lied about being human?*
*How do you love someone who's been hiding what they are for weeks?*
*How do you look at a monster and see the person you fell in love with?*
He didn't have answers.
He just had hope—desperate, fragile, probably foolish hope—that when Nana opened her eyes, she would see *him* first.
Not the tail. Not the powers. Not the lies.
Just him.
The disaster who loved her more than breathing.
The fool who'd waited three hundred years.
The man who would do anything—*anything*—to keep her safe.
Even if it meant losing her trust.
Even if it meant breaking her heart.
Even if it meant revealing every secret he'd been desperately trying to keep.
*Please*, he thought as they pulled into White Sand Bay. *Please let this not be the end.*
*Please let us survive this.*
*Please—*
But he didn't finish the prayer.
Because he wasn't sure anymore what he was praying for.
Her survival?
Her love?
Her forgiveness?
All of the above?
He carried her inside, laid her in his bed, and pressed a hand to her chest where her heart beat steady and strong.
And waited.
For her to wake.
For everything to change.
For the moment when she would look at him and decide—
Monster or man?
Liar or beloved?
Enemy or—
*Please*, his heart whispered. *Please choose me.*
*Please.*
.
.
.
.
.
🐚🐚🐚
To be continued __