The Memory of Being Loved
Theo sat in his corrupted sanctuary—a cave deep beneath the ocean where light barely reached, where the water itself seemed darker, heavier—and let himself remember.
*Before*.
When he'd been loved.
**Fifty Years Before Rafayel's Birth**
Little Theo swam through the coral gardens, his laughter bubbling up through the water like pearls. He was five years old, the nephew of the Sea God King, and everyone in Lemuria adored him.
"Theo! Theo, look!" A young Lemurian girl called, pointing at a school of luminescent fish. "They're following you!"
And they were. Because even then, Theo had a gift—animals loved him. The great whales would visit specifically to see him, letting him ride on their backs. Dolphins would play games with him for hours. Even the shy deep-sea creatures would approach when he called.
"You're going to be a wonderful Sea God someday," his aunt said, stroking his hair. "The ocean loves you so much already."
Theo had believed her.
Every Lemurian did.
He was the heir, after all. His uncle's only nephew, since the king had no children of his own. Theo would inherit the throne, would become the next Sea God, would rule Lemuria with kindness and power.
Everyone said so.
Everyone believed it.
The elders would teach him about the tides, about ocean currents, about the responsibilities of godhood. Other children would ask to play with him, would compete for his attention. His uncle would take him to important ceremonies, would introduce him as "the future of our kingdom."
Theo had been special.
Chosen.
*Loved*.
For fifteen years, this had been his life. Growing up knowing he mattered, that he was important, that when he swam through Lemuria, people smiled because they were genuinely happy to see him.
And then Rafayel was born.
Theo had been fifteen when his aunt went into labor.
He'd been excited—a cousin! Finally, someone close to his age to play with, to race with, to share secrets with. He'd picked out gifts for the baby, had practiced the games he'd teach them, had imagined all the adventures they'd have together.
The birth had been difficult. Longer than normal. The palace healers had looked worried, whispering to each other in low voices.
But when the baby finally emerged, when the healers cleaned him and presented him to the kingdom—
The entire ocean had *sung*.
Literally sung—a sound like whale songs and waves and pure joy, resonating through the water, making everyone stop and listen in wonder.
"The ocean is blessing him," one of the elders had whispered, awed. "I've never—in three hundred years, I've never seen the ocean respond to a birth like this."
Baby Rafayel had opened his eyes.
And Theo's world had shattered.
Because those eyes were *impossible*.
Every Lemurian was born with dual-toned eyes—it was a mark of their species, their connection to the ocean. Usually blues and greens, sometimes purples, occasionally silver.
But Rafayel's eyes were *violet and blue*—colors that shouldn't exist together, that defied every genetic pattern, that looked like sunset and deep water mixed into something achingly beautiful.
The ocean had blessed him. Marked him as special. As *chosen*.
"He's beautiful," everyone kept saying. "Have you ever seen a baby so beautiful?"
"The ocean itself loves him."
"He's going to be powerful. More powerful than any Sea God before."
"Look at those eyes. *Look at them*."
Theo had looked.
And had felt something cold settle in his chest.
*But what about me?*
It hadn't happened all at once.
For the first few years, things had seemed normal. Theo was still the older cousin, still important, still loved. He'd even loved Rafayel—how could he not? The baby was sweet and laughing and reached for Theo with tiny hands.
But as Rafayel grew, as those impossible eyes stayed impossible, as his features developed into something that made even hardened warriors stop and stare—
Things changed.
"Theo, move aside. We want to see the prince."
"Not now, Theo. Rafayel is performing his first transformation ceremony."
"Did you see Rafayel yesterday? The dolphins came when he *sang* to them. At three years old!"
"Those eyes. By the gods, those *eyes*."
Theo tried to understand. Tried to be patient. Tried to be the good older cousin who didn't resent the shift in attention.
But it was hard when the great whales stopped visiting him because they were too busy playing with Rafayel. When his friends would cancel plans because "the prince wants to play and we were invited." When lessons with the elders became "wait here while we teach Rafayel this important technique."
By the time Rafayel was five and Theo was twenty, the transformation was complete.
Nobody looked at Theo anymore.
Not when Rafayel was in the room.
Because Rafayel was *beautiful*. Not just attractive—*beautiful* in a way that seemed divine. In a way that made people forget what they were saying mid-sentence just to stare. In a way that made the ocean itself respond to his moods, his laughter, his tears.
And Theo?
Theo was just... normal.
He had dual-toned eyes like every other Lemurian—green and blue, nothing special. His features were pleasant but unremarkable. His magic was strong but not extraordinary.
He was fine.
Just fine.
And in Lemuria, where everyone was beautiful, "fine" meant invisible.
But here was the terrible, complicated truth:
Theo couldn't hate Rafayel.
Because Rafayel *tried*.
The young prince would seek Theo out specifically. Would ask him to play, to race, to collect shells together. Would listen to Theo's stories with genuine interest, would laugh at his jokes, would choose him over other Lemurians even when everyone else wanted Rafayel's attention.
"Theo!" Eight-year-old Rafayel would call, swimming up with his arms full of shells. "Look what I found! The pink ones you like!"
"I don't need—" Theo would start.
"I know you don't *need* them," Rafayel would interrupt, pressing them into Theo's hands anyway. "But I wanted you to have them. Because you're my favorite cousin. My favorite person."
And Theo would feel the resentment crack, just a little.
They'd race through the kelp forests, young Rafayel laughing as he tried to keep up with Theo's longer tail. They'd play hide-and-seek in the coral gardens. They'd catch fish together, competing to see who could catch the fastest one.
Rafayel never acted special. Never acted like the ocean loved him more. Never treated Theo as less than.
He was just... a kid. A sweet, genuine kid who happened to be devastatingly beautiful and magically powerful.
It wasn't his fault everyone else couldn't see past that.
So Theo loved him. Resented him.
And tried very hard not to show the second part.
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The Bond Mark.
Theo had been thirty years old when it appeared.
He'd been helping Rafayel practice transformations—the painful process of changing tail to legs—when he'd noticed Rafayel wincing and touching his chest.
"What's wrong?" Theo had asked.
"Nothing," Rafayel said quickly. Too quickly. "Just—sore muscles."
But Theo had grabbed his wrist, had pulled his hand away, had seen—
The mark.
A fishtail design, delicate and detailed, right over Rafayel's heart. Glowing faintly red.
*A bond mark*.
"Rafayel," Theo had breathed. "You—when did this appear?"
"Yesterday," Rafayel admitted, looking scared. "I don't know what it means. Is it bad? Am I sick?"
Theo had stared at the mark, feeling something sink in his chest.
Because he knew what it meant.
Every Lemurian did.
"You've bonded," Theo said quietly. "With someone. Your soulmate."
"But I haven't met anyone!" Rafayel protested. "I've been in the ocean my whole life! How can I have a—"
"The bond appears when you fall in love," Theo explained. "Even if you don't realize it. Even if the person is far away. The ocean marks you both, connecting you forever."
Rafayel had touched the mark, wonder and fear mixing on his face. "Forever?"
"Forever."
And Theo had felt something like grief.
Because of course Rafayel would have a bond mark. Of course the ocean would give him a soulmate. Of course even *love* would be special for him, marked and magical and destined.
While Theo—at thirty years old—had no mark at all.
"Theo?" Rafayel asked quietly. "Do you have one?"
"No," Theo said. "Not yet. Maybe—" He forced a smile. "Maybe I haven't met them yet."
But he wondered. If he'd meet them at all. If the ocean thought he was worth blessing with a soulmate.
Or if even that would be denied to him.
It had taken weeks of investigation, but Theo had finally learned the truth.
Rafayel's bond mark was connected to a *human*.
A human girl, eleven years old, living on the surface. Who'd saved young Rafayel from a storm, who'd dug him out of the sand with bleeding hands, who'd smiled at him like he was worth dying for.
Theo had gone to the High Priest immediately.
"A human?" the High Priest had said, troubled. "That's—unusual. Rare. Almost unheard of."
"Is it possible?" Theo demanded. "Can Lemurians bond with humans?"
"Technically, yes," the High Priest admitted. "The bond doesn't discriminate. It connects souls that recognize each other. But—" He'd looked troubled. "But humans are fragile. They live maybe eighty years if they're lucky. They die from *disease*. From *accidents*. From *age*."
"So the bond will break when she dies," Theo said.
"Perhaps." The High Priest hadn't sounded certain. "Or perhaps it will persist. Waiting. Until—" He'd stopped.
"Until what?"
"Until rebirth," the High Priest had said quietly. "If such a thing exists for humans. Which it might. The ocean works in mysterious ways."
Theo had felt cold.
"You have to stop him," Theo had said. "You have to convince Rafayel to forget her. To let the bond fade. He's the heir. The future Sea God. He can't—"
"I know," the High Priest had agreed. "I will speak with his father. But Theo—" He'd looked at the younger Lemurian with something like pity. "Bond marks don't fade. Once they appear, they're permanent. Even if he never sees her again. Even if she dies. He'll carry that mark forever."
"Then what's the point?" Theo had demanded. "Why would the ocean do this to him? Give him a soulmate he can't keep? A love that will only cause pain?"
"The ocean doesn't explain itself," the High Priest had said. "It simply *is*."
Theo had tried.
He'd begged Rafayel to stay in the ocean. To forget the human girl. To focus on his duties.
"She'll die," Theo had said desperately. "In sixty, maybe seventy years. And you'll have to watch it happen. Is that worth it? Is she worth that pain?"
"Yes," Rafayel had said simply. "She's worth everything."
And had walked on land for the first time, his tail becoming legs, to search for the girl who'd saved him.
Leaving Theo behind.
Again.
Theo had been fifty years old when he'd met her.
Lyria.
Silver-tailed, dark-eyed, with a laugh like bells and a kindness that made the ocean brighter around her. She'd been a healer, trained in the old magics, specializing in coral restoration.
They'd met during a restoration project. Had worked side by side for months. Had fallen in love slowly, naturally, without drama or destiny or bond marks.
Just two Lemurians who chose each other.
"I don't have a bond mark," Theo had told her, the first time he'd kissed her. "I might not be your destined—"
"I don't care," Lyria had interrupted. "I choose you. Mark or no mark. Destiny or no destiny. I choose you, Theo."
And Theo had felt something heal in his chest.
He wasn't Rafayel. Wasn't chosen by the ocean. Wasn't special or blessed or beautiful beyond reason.
But he was *chosen by Lyria*.
And that was enough.
They'd bonded—not with marks, but with vows. With promises made in front of witnesses. With fifty years of partnership and love and building a life together.
When Rafayel's father died and the throne passed to Rafayel, when the ritual was announced, Theo had been terrified.
"He won't do it," Theo had told Lyria. "He won't sacrifice her. He's too in love. Too attached."
"Then what happens?" Lyria had asked.
"Lemuria falls," Theo had said. "Without the ritual, without the full godhood, the ocean will reclaim us. We'll turn to foam. We'll—" He'd held her tighter. "We'll die."
"But the prince will complete it," Lyria had said confidently. "He loves his people. He'll do what's necessary."
Theo had wanted to believe her.
Had tried to believe her.
But he'd watched Rafayel with the reborn princess. Had seen the way his cousin looked at her. The way he'd thrown away the sacrificial blade. The way he'd chosen her over ten thousand Lemurians.
And Theo had known.
Had known before the sea started draining away.
Had known before the screaming started.
Had known before Lyria began dissolving in his arms.
Theo remembered every second.
The way the water had thinned, becoming less substantial. The way it had started evaporating, turning to mist, to air, to *nothing*.
The way Lemurians around him had started screaming as their bodies responded to the dying ocean. Becoming translucent. Becoming foam. Becoming *nothing*.
"Theo," Lyria had whispered, her body already starting to dissolve. "I'm scared."
"I've got you," Theo had said, holding her tighter. "I've got you. You're not going anywhere."
But he'd felt her becoming lighter. Less solid. Her silver tail turning translucent.
"Find me," she'd said, tears streaming down her face—tears that were foam, that dissolved before they could fall. "In the next life. Find me like the prince found his princess."
"I will," Theo had promised. "I swear. I'll search every ocean, every shore, every—"
"I love you," Lyria had interrupted. "I love you, Theo. I chose you. I'll always choose you."
And then she was gone.
Not dead. Not dying. Just—
*Gone*.
Dissolved into sea foam that evaporated into golden sand. One moment she was there, the next she was scattered particles that the wind carried away.
No body to bury. No grave to visit. No way to say goodbye.
Just—
*Nothing*.
Theo had screamed. Had tried to gather the foam, to hold it, to put her back together. But it was useless. She was *gone*. Ten thousand Lemurians were *gone*.
And Rafayel?
Rafayel was holding his princess. *His* precious soulmate who'd sacrificed herself *willingly*. Who'd activated the ritual. Who'd saved everyone.
Too late.
Too late for Lyria.
Too late for the thousands who'd already dissolved.
The ocean had returned. The survivors had cheered. Rafayel had become the true Sea God with full power.
And Theo had been left kneeling in newly-restored water, surrounded by nothing, holding no one.
While everyone else celebrated.
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Three hundred years.
Three hundred years of Rafayel walking on land, waiting for his princess to be reborn. Getting a second chance. A third chance. Getting *everything* while Theo got nothing.
Because Lyria was Lemurian.
Pure. Strong. Born of the ocean.
And Lemurians didn't reincarnate.
They were part of the ocean. When they died—truly died, not just dissolved—they returned to the sea. Became part of the water itself. No soul. No rebirth. No second chances.
She was *gone*.
Forever.
While Rafayel's human princess got to come back. Got to be born again. Got to fall in love with him again.
*It's not fair*, Theo thought, sitting in his corrupted sanctuary, remembering. *It's not fair. Why does he get second chances? Third chances? Why does love work for him but not for me?*
And slowly, over three hundred years, the plan had formed.
He couldn't kill Rafayel. That wouldn't bring Lyria back. Wouldn't change anything. The other Lemurians would just crown a new Sea God, and Theo would still be alone.
But he could take what Rafayel loved.
Could kill the princess.
Could make Rafayel wait another century for her to be reborn.
And then—
*This was the beautiful part*—
Could find her *first*.
Could kill her before Rafayel even knew she existed.
Could do this again.
And again.
And again.
For as long as Theo lived. For as long as the ocean gave him strength. For as long as hatred and grief and corruption kept him going.
*Forever*.
Making Rafayel search. Making him hope. Making him wait centuries only to discover his beloved was already dead. Killed by Theo. Over and over and over.
"You'll wait," Theo whispered to the darkness. "Like I waited for Lyria to come back and she never did. You'll search like I searched. You'll hope like I hoped. And every time you find her—" His smile was terrible. "—I'll take her from you. Just like Lemuria's fall took her from me."
"Not once. Not twice. But *forever*."
"You'll understand what I felt. Holding someone you love as they dissolve. Knowing they're not coming back. Knowing you can't save them. Knowing it's your fault."
"Because it *is* your fault, cousin. All of it. Lemuria's fall. Lyria's death. The thousands who died because you couldn't sacrifice one human."
Theo looked at the corrupted crystal in his hand—the one spreading through the ocean, seeking Nana, targeting her specifically.
"This time," he said softly. "This time when she dies, I'll be waiting. Watching. Making sure you arrive just in time to see her take her last breath. Making sure you know—" His voice cracked. "Making sure you know what it feels like to lose everything."
"Because you took everything from me."
"Now I'm taking everything from you."
"Forever."
The crystal pulsed in his hand, its magic spreading.
And somewhere on land, Nana went about her day, completely unaware that her death had been planned.
That her future—all her futures—had been stolen.
That no matter how many times she was reborn, she'd die before Rafayel could save her.
Because Theo would make sure of it.
Forever.
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To be continued __