The Return
Nana's motorcycle roared up the coastal road to White Sand Bay, the engine cutting through the quiet afternoon. She'd been gone for five days—five days of back-to-back Wanderer missions, briefings, reports, training sessions that left her exhausted and aching.
But not too exhausted for this.
Not too exhausted to see him.
She parked outside the studio and barely had time to remove her helmet before the door flew open.
Rafayel stood there, paint-stained and beautiful, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw her.
"You're back," he said, and there was such relief in his voice that Nana's chest ached.
"I'm back," she confirmed, dismounting the bike.
And then she was running—actually running—across the short distance between them. Rafayel caught her easily as she launched herself into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck, holding on like he might disappear if she let go.
"I missed you," she mumbled against his shoulder.
"Five days," Rafayel said, and his arms tightened around her. "Five days of you fighting Wanderers while I sat here worrying and painting terrible anxious paintings that Thomas refused to let me exhibit because they were 'too emotionally raw.'"
Despite herself, Nana laughed. "You painted about me?"
"I always paint about you," Rafayel corrected. "But these were different. These were 'what if she gets hurt' paintings. 'What if she doesn't come back' paintings. Thomas said they were giving him trauma flashbacks."
"I'm fine," Nana assured him, finally pulling back enough to look at his face. "Not even a scratch. See?"
Rafayel's eyes scanned her critically, like he was checking for injuries she might have hidden. "You're tired."
"I'm a Hunter. Tired is my default state."
"You've lost weight."
"I had five days of cafeteria food. Of course I lost weight."
"There are dark circles under your eyes."
"Rafayel," Nana said, cupping his face. "I'm okay. Really. I'm here. I'm safe. I'm with you."
Something in his expression softened, and he finally allowed himself to believe her. "You're here," he repeated.
"I'm here," Nana confirmed. "And I'm not going anywhere for the next three days. I requested time off specifically so I could—" She hesitated, suddenly shy. "So I could spend time with you. If you want."
"If I want?" Rafayel stared at her. "Nana, I've been counting the *hours* until you came back. Of course I want. What do you want to do? Paint? Collect shells? Watch the sunset? Anything. Name it and it's yours."
Nana took a breath, gathering courage. "I want to see Lemuria."
Rafayel went very still. "What?"
"Your world," Nana said. "Your home. The underwater kingdom. You told me about it but I want to *see* it. I've been studying everything I could find—old texts, legends, your paintings. But I want to see the real thing. Will you—" She stopped, uncertain. "Will you show me?"
For a long moment, Rafayel just looked at her. Then something bright and wondering entered his expression.
"You want to see my world," he said, like he couldn't quite believe it.
"I want to understand," Nana said. "All of you. Not just the human parts. Not just the artist. I want to see where you came from. What you left behind. What—" She touched his chest, over the bond mark. "What made you who you are."
Rafayel's eyes were suspiciously bright. "Yes," he said. "Yes. I'll show you. Right now. We'll go right now."
"Now?" Nana laughed. "Rafayel, I just got here. I'm covered in road dust. I need to shower and—"
"Now," Rafayel insisted, setting her down but keeping hold of her hand. "Before I lose my nerve. Before I start overthinking. Before—" He stopped, looking vulnerable. "I've wanted to show you for so long. Since the moment I found you again. Please?"
How could she say no to that?
"Okay," Nana agreed. "Now. But how do we get there? The journey by boat is supposed to take three days—"
Rafayel grinned, and it was beautiful and slightly dangerous. "Who said anything about a boat?"
"Wait," Nana said as Rafayel pulled her outside, toward the ocean. "What are you—"
"Trust me," Rafayel said, and scooped her up bridal style before she could protest.
"Rafayel!" Nana squeaked, her arms automatically wrapping around his neck. "What are you doing?!"
"Taking you to Lemuria," Rafayel said simply. "Hold tight."
And then he *launched*.
Not jumped. Not ran. *Launched*—straight up into the air, his body surrounded by a shimmer of blue-purple light that felt like power and ocean and ancient magic all at once.
Nana screamed—partly in terror, partly in exhilaration—as they soared upward. The studio fell away below them. The island became a dot. The ocean spread out endlessly in all directions.
"Rafayel!" she shouted over the wind. "You can FLY?!"
"Sea Gods can do a lot of things!" Rafayel shouted back, grinning like a maniac. "Flying is just one of them!"
The world around them began to blur. Colors shifted and swirled—blues and purples that matched his eyes, greens and teals that matched the ocean, gold that matched the sun. Nana felt like they were moving impossibly fast, the air rushing past them, but Rafayel's arms held her securely.
"What is this?!" she asked.
"Spatial magic!" Rafayel explained. "I'm bending the distance between two points! Hold on—we're almost there!"
The colors intensified, became blinding, and Nana buried her face against Rafayel's chest. She felt him laugh, felt the vibration of it, and then—
Suddenly, they were falling.
Nana's stomach lurched as they plummeted toward the ocean, the water rushing up to meet them impossibly fast—
Rafayel adjusted their trajectory at the last second, slowing their descent, landing them gently on a beach.
*A beach*.
Nana's legs were shaking as Rafayel set her down. "You—that was—we just—"
"Traveled three hundred miles in approximately thirty seconds," Rafayel said proudly. "Faster than any boat."
"You're insane," Nana said, but she was laughing. "That was insane. *You're* insane."
"You love it," Rafayel said confidently.
And the terrible thing was—she did.
Nana finally looked around at where they'd landed, and her breath caught.
The beach was pristine. Golden sand so fine it looked like crushed sunlight. Turquoise water that was impossibly clear. Coconut trees swaying gently in the breeze. A small island visible in the middle distance, green and lush.
Paradise.
But that wasn't what made Nana's chest ache.
In the center of the beach sat a large rock. Smooth from centuries of waves and weather. And surrounding it, scattered across the sand in impossible quantities—
Pink pearls.
Thousands of them.
They glittered in the afternoon light, like fallen stars, like crystallized grief, like three hundred years of tears made solid and permanent.
"This is where I waited," Rafayel said quietly, no longer looking at her. "After you died the first time. This is where we used to meet at sunset. This is where I came every day for two years, not knowing you were gone."
Nana walked slowly toward the rock, her feet sinking into sand and pearls. She picked one up—it was perfect, small, delicate, warm from the sun.
"And after?" she asked softly. "After you found out I was dead?"
"I still came," Rafayel admitted. "For decades. Then centuries. The pearls just—" He gestured helplessly. "They accumulated. Every time I cried here. Every sunset I spent alone. Every moment I missed you."
Nana looked at the thousands of pearls scattered around them. Each one a tear. Each one a moment of grief. Each one a testament to how much he'd loved her. How much he'd suffered.
"Rafayel," she whispered.
"Don't," he said, voice rough. "Don't pity me. I chose to wait. Chose to keep coming here. I don't regret it."
"I don't pity you," Nana said. She walked over to him, took his hand. "I'm just—I'm honored. That you loved me that much. That you still love me that much."
Rafayel's fingers intertwined with hers. "Always," he said. "Even when you were gone. Even when I thought I'd never find you again. Always."
They stood there for a moment, surrounded by evidence of his devotion. Then Nana squeezed his hand.
"Show me the rest," she said. "Show me Lemuria."
Rafayel's expression brightened. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
"It's underwater," Rafayel reminded her. "You'll need to be able to breathe."
"Can you—" Nana gestured vaguely. "Give me powers? Like you did when the Wanderer attacked? When you kissed me and I could breathe?"
"I can," Rafayel confirmed, and something heated entered his eyes. "But Nana—that was an emergency. I didn't ask permission. This time, I need to ask. Can I kiss you?"
Nana's face immediately flamed red. "I—you—we've never—"
"I know," Rafayel said softly. "I've been waiting for the right moment. Waiting for you to be ready. But if we're going underwater, I need to share my magic, and the most efficient way is—"
"A kiss," Nana finished, her voice barely audible. "A deep kiss."
"Yes," Rafayel confirmed. "I'll need to share breath with you. Power with you. It requires—" He stopped, looking vulnerable. "It requires intimacy. If you're not comfortable—"
"I'm comfortable," Nana interrupted. "I want—" She took a breath. "I want you to kiss me. For the magic. And also—" Her face burned hotter. "Also just because I want you to."
Rafayel's eyes widened slightly. Then he smiled—soft and genuine and filled with three hundred years of longing finally, *finally* being satisfied.
"Come here," he said.
Rafayel led her to the water's edge, where small waves lapped at their feet. The sun was beginning its descent—because of course it was, because sunset was their time—painting everything in gold and amber.
"You'll feel the magic transfer," Rafayel said, his hands gentle on her waist. "It might be intense. If it's too much, pull away and I'll stop."
"Okay," Nana whispered.
Rafayel's hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Alright." He tilted her chin up slightly. "Close your eyes."
Nana did, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he could feel it.
And then his lips touched hers.
Soft. Warm. Gentle.
For a moment, it was just a kiss. Sweet and careful and achingly tender. Rafayel kissed her like she was precious, like she was a miracle he'd stopped believing in, like he'd been waiting three hundred years for this exact moment.
Because he had.
Then the magic started.
Nana gasped against his mouth as power flowed from him to her—cool and bright and tasting like ocean salt and storms and deep water. It filled her lungs, her chest, her entire body with sensation that was overwhelming and exhilarating.
Rafayel's kiss deepened, his arms tightening around her, and the magic intensified. Nana felt it settling into her, changing something fundamental about how her body processed oxygen, creating a temporary connection between her and the sea.
They were in the water now—when had they moved?—the waves up to their knees, then their waists, then their chests. Still kissing. Still transferring power. Rafayel walking backward, pulling her deeper, his mouth never leaving hers.
*We're going underwater*, Nana's mind registered distantly. *We're sinking and I should panic but I don't because he's here and the magic is here and—*
Water closed over their heads.
Nana's eyes flew open instinctively, expecting to choke, to panic, to need air—
But she didn't.
She was breathing. Somehow, impossibly, she was breathing underwater like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And in front of her—
*Oh*.
Rafayel had transformed.
His legs were gone, replaced by a tail that was breathtaking in its beauty. Long and powerful, scaled in shades of purple and blue and pink that shimmered and shifted with each movement. The fins were almost translucent, catching the filtered sunlight in ways that made them glow.
His hair had grown longer, flowing around him like silk in the water. His eyes were brighter, more intense, the dual tones more pronounced. His entire body seemed to radiate power—ancient, divine, barely contained.
He pulled back from the kiss slightly, watching her reaction with nervous anticipation.
"Hi," he said, and his voice sounded different underwater—richer, with an echo like waves.
"Hi," Nana managed. "You're—you're beautiful."
Rafayel's entire face lit up. "You think so?"
"I know so." Nana reached out, hesitantly, and touched his tail. The scales were smooth and cool under her fingers, slightly textured. "This is really you. The real you."
"Half of me," Rafayel corrected. "The artist is real too. But yes—this is my true form. My Sea God form."
He held out his hand. "Want to see my kingdom?"
Nana took it without hesitation. "Show me everything."
Rafayel pulled her close, one arm around her waist, and began to dive.
They descended through water that became progressively darker and cooler. Schools of fish scattered around them—some ordinary, some bioluminescent, some that looked like they belonged in fairy tales rather than oceans.
Nana watched in wonder as a jellyfish the size of a car drifted past, its tentacles glowing soft blue. As tiny fish that looked like they were made of starlight swirled around them in patterns. As coral formations in impossible colors reached up from the depths below.
"Breathing okay?" Rafayel asked, his arm tightening slightly.
"Perfect," Nana said, and it was true. "The magic—it's working. I feel like I've always been able to do this."
"Good." Rafayel smiled. "Hold on tighter. We're going deeper."
They dove faster now, Rafayel's tail propelling them effortlessly through the water. Nana clung to him, her face pressed against his shoulder, watching the ocean world pass by in streaks of blue and green and gold.
And then—
The ruins appeared below them.
Nana's breath caught—or would have, if she'd still been breathing normally.
Lemuria.
Even in ruins, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
Buildings made of what looked like crystallized water and mother-of-pearl, their surfaces still shimmering despite centuries of abandonment. Columns carved with intricate patterns that seemed to move when she looked at them directly. Gardens that had once been coral now skeletal but still somehow elegant. Statues of Lemurians frozen in eternal poses, their features so perfect they looked alive.
And in the center of it all—a palace.
Massive and sprawling and heartbreaking in its grandeur. Towers that reached toward the surface. Bridges that connected different sections. Windows that gaped empty but had once held something magical.
"This was home," Rafayel said softly, and there was such grief in his voice.
"It's beautiful," Nana whispered.
"It was," Rafayel corrected. "Now it's just—" He gestured helplessly. "A memory. A monument. A place where ten thousand people used to live and laugh and love and now there's just—"
"Silence," Nana finished.
"Silence," Rafayel agreed.
They swam closer, Rafayel guiding them through the ruins with the ease of someone who knew every inch. Past buildings that had been homes. Past what looked like a market square. Past gardens where things had grown.
"Does anyone still live here?" Nana asked.
"Not in the city proper," Rafayel said. "After the restoration, most Lemurians chose to rebuild elsewhere. This place—" He looked around. "It reminds them too much of what was lost. Of the people who died. Of—" He stopped. "Of me. Of my choice."
"They blame you," Nana said.
"They did," Rafayel corrected. "For a long time. Now—" He shrugged. "Now they understand. But understanding doesn't make this place less haunted."
He led her to a particular spot—a courtyard with a black stone altar in the center. The same altar from his paintings. The place where Princess Angelina had—
"This is where it happened," Rafayel said quietly. "Where you climbed up and—" His voice cracked. "Where I held you while you died."
Nana swam closer to the altar, running her fingers across the stone. It was smooth, worn by water and time. And carved into its surface, so small she almost missed it—
Names.
Her name—Angelina—and his—Rafayel—intertwined in Lemurian script.
"I carved that after," Rafayel said. "Before I left. So people would remember. So they'd know that you did this willingly. That you saved them by choice, not because anyone forced you."
Tears gathered in Nana's eyes—and surprisingly, they didn't disappear in the water. They hung there, suspended, before slowly drifting away.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For honoring her. For honoring me. For—" She turned to look at him. "For loving her so much that you carried it forward into this life."
Rafayel pulled her away from the altar, away from the memories. "Come on. I want to show you happier places."
He led her to a different section of the ruins—less formal, more open. What looked like it had once been gardens and play areas.
"This is where I grew up," Rafayel said, gesturing around. "Me and the other young Lemurians. We'd race through the coral gardens, play hide and seek in the kelp forests, compete to see who could catch the fastest fish."
Nana tried to picture it—young Rafayel, carefree and happy, before tragedy and duty and centuries of grief.
"What were you like?" she asked. "As a child?"
"Reckless," Rafayel said immediately. "Curious. Always getting into trouble. My father used to say I asked too many questions. My mother said I had too much energy." He smiled at the memories. "I was—I was happy. Before everything got complicated."
He pointed to a flat area of rock. "I used to nap there. In the sun that filtered down from the surface. Drove my tutors crazy because they could never find me."
Nana smiled. "Some things never change. You still love sunbathing."
"It's genetic," Rafayel said solemnly. "Lemurians need sunlight. Even underwater ones."
They explored more—Rafayel showing her where he'd learned to fight, where he'd had his first transformation from tail to legs, where he'd practiced painting before he knew it would become his life's work.
"This place—" Nana said. "Even ruined, it's magical."
"It is," Rafayel agreed. "But it's lonely. Without people, a city is just buildings. I think that's why the others left. They wanted community again. Wanted life, not monuments."
He pulled something from a crevice in the rocks—another pearl, this one large and perfectly formed. "Here," he said, pressing it into her hand. "For you."
"Rafayel—"
"A piece of my world," he said. "To remember this by. To—" He stopped, uncertain. "To prove that I want you to be part of all of me. Not just the surface parts. Not just the artist. All of it."
Nana clutched the pearl, feeling its weight, its significance. "Thank you," she said. "For sharing this with me. For trusting me with it."
"Always," Rafayel said.
He created a bubble with a flick of his wrist—magic making a sphere of air around them, letting them float without effort. They drifted there in the ruins, in the place that had been his home, sharing stories and memories and silence.
Nana told him about her missions. About the Wanderers she'd fought. About her teammates and her training and the life she'd built for herself.
Rafayel told her about Lemuria. About the festivals they'd held, the traditions, the way magic had been woven into every aspect of life. About his parents and his friends and the people who'd died because of his choice.
They talked until the filtered sunlight began to fade, until evening approached, until Nana's temporary underwater breathing magic began to wear thin.
"We should go," Rafayel said reluctantly. "The magic will last a few more hours but I don't want to risk it."
"Okay," Nana agreed. "But Rafayel? Thank you. For this. For all of it. I understand you better now. Understand why losing this hurt so much. Why choosing me cost what it did."
"And was it worth it?" Rafayel asked quietly. "Knowing the cost?"
Nana took his face in her hands. "Yes," she said firmly. "A thousand times yes. Because you chose love. You chose humanity. You chose someone else's life over your own kingdom. That's not weakness. That's—" She struggled for words. "That's the most beautiful thing anyone's ever done."
Rafayel's eyes were bright with emotion.
"I would do it again," he said. "In every lifetime. Every timeline. Every universe. I would choose you."
"I know," Nana said. "And that's why I'm choosing you too."
They kissed again—gentler this time, less about magic and more about connection.
About two people finding each other across impossible distances and impossible circumstances and deciding that together was where they belonged.
When they finally pulled apart, Rafayel took her hand. "Come on. Let's head back to the surface. I'll take you to see the sunset from my favorite spot on the island."
They swam upward together, Rafayel's tail propelling them smoothly through the darkening water, Nana held securely against his side.
Neither of them noticed the figure watching from the shadows of the palace.stayed hidden behind a broken pillar, his body perfectly still, his eyes tracking their every movement.
Theo.
His tail was black—not the beautiful iridescent black of deep water, but the dull matte black of corruption and anger. Spines ran along its length, sharp enough to cut through water like knives. His hands ended in claws that scraped slightly against the stone.
And his face—
Once, he had been beautiful. All Lemurians were. But something had twisted his features, making them sharp and cruel. His eyes were dual-toned like Rafayel's, but wrong—black and red instead of purple and blue.
Like blood in darkness. Like hatred given color.
Scars ran across his cheeks and jaw—raised and keloid, like they'd been inflicted with corrupted magic that prevented proper healing. They gave him a carved, marble-like appearance, beautiful in a terrible way.
He watched as the Sea God and his human bride swam together, laughing, touching, kissing. Watched them explore the ruins of the kingdom that Theo had once helped defend. Watched them in the place where so many had died.
And the hatred burned brighter.
He gets to be happy, Theo thought, his claws digging into the stone. After everything. After letting us die. After choosing her over ten thousand of his own people. He gets to be happy with her reincarnation while the rest of us—
He stopped, breathing hard, trying to control the rage.
The other Lemurians had forgiven him. Had understood. Had built that pathetic shrine to the human princess who'd sacrificed herself.
But Theo hadn't forgotten.
Hadn't forgiven.
Would never forgive.
He been there that day. Three hundred years ago. Had watched the sea drain away, turn to golden sand. Had felt his body start to dissolve, turning to foam. Had screamed as friends and family around him died, their forms breaking apart into nothing.
He'd survived only because he was strong. One of the strongest warriors Lemuria had ever produced. But survival had come with a cost—the corruption that seeped into him as he'd held onto life by sheer force of will.
The anger that had twisted his magic, his body, his soul.
Theo watched until they swam out of sight, heading back to the surface. Then he emerged from his hiding place, swimming slowly toward the altar where it had happened.
Where she'd died.
Where the ritual had been completed.
Where Rafayel had become the true Sea God at the cost of his human lover.
He ran his claws across the carved names, leaving scratches in the stone.
"You think you won," he said to the empty ruins. "You think love conquers all. You think you get to be happy after what you did."
He smiled, and it was a terrible thing.
"But you don't understand, my king. You can't just sacrifice ten thousand Lemurians and expect no consequences. You can't just choose a human over your own people and think we'll all accept it."
He pulled something from a crevice in the altar—a shard of black crystal that pulsed with wrong magic. Corrupted magic. The kind that had been leaking into the Wanderers, making them stronger, sending them to the surface.
"Some of us remember," Theo continued. "Some of us still carry the rage. Still carry the hate. And some of us—" His smile widened. "—some of us know how to wait. How to plan. How to take everything you love and destroy it."
He looked up toward the surface, where Rafayel and his bride had disappeared.
"Enjoy your happiness while it lasts, Sea God," Theo said softly. "Because I'm going to take it from you. Just like you took everything from us."
"And this time—" He crushed the black crystal in his fist, letting its corruption seep into the water around him. "—this time, no amount of love will save you. Or her."
The water around him darkened, responding to his emotions, his magic, his hate.
And deep in the ruins of Lemuria, something ancient and terrible began to stir.
Waiting.
Planning.
Preparing to strike.
.
.
.
.
.
🐚🐚🐚
To be continued __