Aerin POV
The sea swallowed us whole.
One heartbeat, I was gasping against the shock of cold and salt, fingers clutching at Caelum's blood-slick arm as the shoreline vanished above us. The next, the world shifted—tilted inward—and something deep inside my chest unfurled.
I should have drowned.
Instead, I breathed.
Water slipped into my lungs like silk, cool and impossibly gentle, threading through me without pain, without resistance. The burning panic dissolved into a spreading warmth that settled behind my ribs, as though my body had been waiting—aching—for this exact moment.
My pulse slowed.
The frantic thud of my heart softened, syncing with the sea's ancient rhythm. I felt it then—not pressure, not fear—but recognition. The water didn't push against me.
It held me.
I clung instinctively to Caelum, my fingers tightening in his hair as the surface light fractured above us. His arm locked firmly around my waist, anchoring me, heat and turbulence rolling off him like a storm barely contained.
Noctyrr moved on my other side, silent and precise. Where Caelum burned, Noctyrr steadied. His presence was gravity—inevitable, grounding, impossible to ignore. Even without touching me, I felt him everywhere.
The bond hummed between us, no longer a distant pull but a living thing—tightening, brightening, knitting us together as we descended.
With every meter we sank, something in me changed.
My skin tingled first, hypersensitive, as faint bioluminescent patterns spread farther along my ribs and spine, glowing softly beneath my clothes. They responded to depth, to pressure, to them. My ears rang briefly before reshaping, the world sharpening into layers of sound—currents whispering, distant movements echoing far below.
I could hear the sea breathing.
I shuddered—not from cold, but from awareness.
Easy, Caelum's voice brushed against my mind, warm and instinctive. You're safe. Let it happen.
The intimacy of his thoughts startled me more than the transformation itself. His voice didn't echo like sound. It pressed gently against my consciousness, threaded with emotion—concern, awe, fierce protectiveness.
Noctyrr followed, his presence smooth and deliberate. Your body remembers what your mind was denied.
This isn't normal, I thought, a tremor running through me as the darkness thickened around us.
No, they answered together.
Their tails unfurled fully as we descended—majestic, powerful, unapologetically other. Caelum's shimmered in storm-tones of blue and silver, muscle rolling beneath scales that caught the last traces of surface light. Noctyrr's was darker, abyssal black threaded with veins of molten gold, absorbing light rather than reflecting it.
And between them, me.
Human-shaped. Something else within.
I felt small—and impossibly important.
The bond shifted, and without warning, images spilled into my mind.
A vast ceremonial chamber grown from coral and ancient stone. Two thrones facing one another across an altar carved with runes so old they seemed alive. Two kings—younger, sharper, divided by fury and law.
And between them stood my mother.
She was radiant in the memory, marked with the same spirals now glowing across my skin. Her chin was lifted, eyes blazing with defiance and terror as the sea churned around her.
The vow, Noctyrr said quietly. It was forged to end a war.
The images sharpened.
A binding older than kingdoms. One Chosen. Two kings. A triad meant to merge tide and abyss—balance through union. The Chosen was not a consort.
She was an anchor.
A conduit.
A sacrifice.
Pain clenched my chest.
She wasn't supposed to survive it, Caelum admitted, his voice rough with memory. None of them ever did.
Anger flared through me—hot, instinctive. So you would have let her die.
Silence stretched, heavy as the water pressing around us.
Then Noctyrr, unflinching. The sea demanded completion. And we did not yet know how to deny it.
The pressure increased as we descended further, darkness wrapping around us like velvet. Instead of crushing me, it settled—intimate, almost tender. My body adjusted again, spine arching subtly as something deeper aligned.
Desire stirred—not sudden, not overwhelming, but inevitable. Awareness of them bled into sensation. The brush of Caelum's thumb at my hip sent a sharp pulse through the bond. Noctyrr's nearness tightened my breath, even without touch.
She learned the truth too late, Caelum said softly. That the Echo consumes the Chosen. Burns her from the inside.
Understanding struck like a wave.
So she ran, I whispered.
She fled to land, Noctyrr confirmed. Severed the bond before it could fully seal.
And hid me.
The sea floor began to glow faintly below us—structures emerging from the dark, vast and ancient, carved into living stone. Home. Judgment. Fate.
My body hummed, caught between fear and longing. Between two kings who felt like opposites—and yet, together, felt complete.
Caelum leaned closer, forehead brushing mine, breath warm even underwater. The contact sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with temperature. We won't let it consume you, he vowed fiercely.
Noctyrr's voice followed, velvet and steel. Your mother broke the vow to save you. We will not make her sacrifice meaningless.
The bond surged in response—heat blooming through my veins, my body arching subtly between them as the sea welcomed us deeper. For the first time, I didn't resist it.
I accepted.
Far below, as the depths opened to receive us, I felt the vow stir—unfinished, patient, and very much alive.
And I knew, with a clarity that terrified me—
The sea had been waiting for my return.