Chapter Text
I yawn softly, my gills fluttering as I glance around my room, watching bubbles drift lazily toward the ceiling. For a moment, I just float there, half-asleep—until it clicks. Today is my fourteenth birthday. A grin spreads across my face and I let out a little whoop before quickly slipping into my clothes.
I swim out of my room and straight into what must be a bright hallway. I say must because, well… When a room is too bright, I’m basically blind. Total white-out. On the upside, I’ve got excellent night vision. With a quiet huff, I cover my eyes with my hands and rely on my enhanced sense of smell to track down Dad. When I finally find him, I realize he isn’t alone—Dera and Papa are with him.
“Good morning,” I grumble, still shielding my eyes. In return, I get a chorus of greetings in all their different voices.
“What’s wrong?” Dad sighs. He’s the Alpha of my parents’ small circle. They’ve never felt the need to expand beyond the Alpha-Beta-Sub bond, and they always say it’s safer this way. The bigger the circle, the more attention you risk attracting—and getting caught is the last thing they want.
There are rumors of another realm, one far safer than this one, but since none of them have ever been there, teleportation isn’t an option. And they don’t know any other Dragel who can take us there either. For now, the safest places are the small Merrow colonies deeper in the ocean, out of reach from the Torvaks.
Dad’s name is Tom Riddle. He’s a full merrow and avoids the surface whenever he can. The only time he gives in is when his Submissive—Dera—wants to fly. Dera’s name is Abraxas Riddle, half Merrow and half air. He once told me he ran away from an arranged marriage a year or two before meeting Dad, and they’ve been tied together ever since.
Then there’s the third parent, the Beta—Oceanus. Like Dad, he’s a full Merrow, though he doesn’t shy away from the surface nearly as much. Dad and Dera first met him when he was badly injured, trying to fight off two Torvaks on his own. Together, they made quick work of the attackers—and from that day, Oceanus was part of the family.
A year or two later, everything settled into place, and—boom—there I was. A baby boy, the circle’s first and only child.
“It’s just the light,” I mutter with a grimace, keeping my hands clamped firmly over my eyes. No way am I letting even a sliver in.
Dad makes a sound of acknowledgment before standing. I hear him rummaging around, the faint rustle of movement, then a soft huff of satisfaction as he comes back over.
“Keep your eyes closed and move your hands,” Dad instructs. I hesitate but obey, lowering my hands. Something settles over my face, cool against my skin, and he quickly buckles it into place before stepping back.
“Now open them.”
I hesitate again, nerves making me stall, but finally I give a small nod and crack my eyes open. Shock hits me—I can see. Perfectly.
My gaze immediately shifts to Dera. He’s always been the best with runes, while Papa excels at charms. Dad… well, he’s the one who keeps everyone grounded, and he’s a master at hunting. Dera chuckles softly, shaking his head at my wide-eyed expression.
“I was experimenting with different rune combinations,” he explains, voice warm with pride. “Turns out, certain ones can block out light altogether. So, I had Papa add a few charms, and now—voilà—you can see. Happy birthday, my little Puddle.”
He leans forward, rubbing our noses together in a tender nuzzle. I can’t help but laugh, letting him.
We soon move on to breakfast—my absolute favorite: bacon and eggs. It’s rare in our home, saved for special occasions like birthdays, so every bite feels like treasure. I wolf mine down with barely a pause, grinning through every crispy, salty mouthful. What can I say? I’m hopelessly obsessed with bacon.
Too soon, breakfast ends, and Dad announces it’s time for his gift. He disappears into the backroom while Papa tugs Dera into his lap, both of them laughing. Then, before I know it, I’m yanked into Dera’s lap as well. I put up a token struggle, squirming dramatically, before sighing loud enough for everyone to hear and going limp. Dera trills in victory, and Papa chuckles warmly at the act.
That’s when Dad returns, hands tucked behind his back. I tilt my head, curiosity buzzing through me, and he smiles before revealing what he’s been hiding: a small snake, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. My brows rise, and I tell him as much. His smirk sharpens.
“Well, that’s because I created him—through quite a bit of trial and error,” Dad says. “He should grow to a respectable size, and yes, he’s highly venomous. But since he’s a sea snake, you won’t have to worry about him while swimming. Once he’s older, he’ll keep up with you just fine.”
He places the tiny serpent into my hands, whispering soothing words as he does. I look down in awe. The snake’s scales shimmer in deep ocean blue, streaked with flecks of black, as if the night sky itself had been woven into his skin.
Then the little creature lets out a raspy hiss.
“Me hungery” he grumbles, collapsing dramatically against my arm.
I blink, stunned—not at the words themselves, but at the fact I understood them. My pulse jumps in excitement.
“You can talk?” I hiss, wonder threading through my voice. Then, a grin spreads across my face. “Alright, little guy—what do you eat?”
Not realizing I’m actually hissing at the snake instead of him speaking English, I keep chatting with him like it’s perfectly normal. Still holding him, I drift to the window and wait. Before long, a school of fish flickers past, their scales flashing like scattered stars. My free hand shoots out, snatching one with ease. The fish wriggles frantically in my grip, and I stare at it, fascinated, before lowering it toward the baby snake.
He lunges, clamping on with surprising force, though the prey is clearly too large for him. I sigh, breaking the fish into smaller chunks, offering them one by one. Soon enough, he’s full, his tiny body heavy with satisfaction. With a final hiss that sounds almost like a burp, he slithers into my pocket and settles, safe and warm.
When I turn, my parents are all watching with poorly hidden amusement. I ask if we have plans for today. Their faces give the answer away: Dera practically vibrates with excitement, Papa looks faintly amused, and Dad seems weighed down by dread. He slumps forward, muttering under his breath.
That only means one thing. I grin, raising an eyebrow at Dera. “Flying?”
He rolls his eyes but can’t hide his smirk. “What else?”
I chuckle, grabbing one of my books. Normally I read in the dark, but with these new goggles, I can enjoy every detail. Today’s book is about aquatic dinosaurs—creatures I sometimes glimpse out in the deeper waters, though humans would never believe they exist. I tuck it into my waterproof bag and follow after my parents.
We swim to the surface, the water shimmering above us like a living mirror. Breaking through, I take in the warmth of sunlight, the cool breeze brushing across my damp skin. Dera pulls out a broom—wings are forbidden in public, too risky—and kicks off the ground, soaring upward. He twists and loops through the air, moving with the reckless joy of someone who was born to fly. His laughter rings down like music.
Papa soon joins him, less flashy but just as graceful, his broom slicing gentle arcs through the sky. Every turn seems effortless, like he’s dancing on the wind itself. Together, they streak across the blue, one full of mischief, the other calm and steady—a perfect balance.
I find a shady spot beneath a tree at the water’s edge. Settling against the trunk, I open my book and let the words pull me in. Still, I glance up every so often, catching flashes of my family wheeling high above. The sun glints off their hair, the breeze carries their laughter, and for a moment, the whole world feels stitched together: the air, the water, the sky, and us.
After a while, the book starts to blur together, and I shift my attention to the little snake tucked in my pocket. “Do you have a name?” I ask.
“I am… Water Snake,” he hisses, as if testing the words.
I snort. “That’s not a name, that’s just… what you are.”
With a bit of lopsided teamwork—me doing most of the thinking while he offers the occasional hiss of approval—we finally land on something better: Poseidon. After the ocean god, fitting for both of us. Papa would be proud of the choice, if he weren’t busy swooping around the sky with Dera, playing broom-tag.
I stand to stretch, planning to head into the trees for a quick break, when a sudden lash of pain rips down my back. The scream that tears out of me is raw, high, almost inhuman. My body jolts forward, and I whirl around in panic.
A Torvak looms behind me, his grin sharp and unhinged. Blood drips from his fingers in steady rivulets, trailing from the base of his claws to the tips. The coppery scent hits me, and bile rises in my throat.
Then another sound shreds the air—another scream, higher, harsher. My blood goes cold. That’s Dera.
A growl tears from my chest, but it’s pitiful, thin, useless. I’m still uninherited, still defenseless—no claws, no scales, nothing but bare skin. The Torvak’s deranged smile widens as he screeches back at me, then lunges, faster than I can move.
In a blur, Papa yanks me sideways, panic written clear on his face. I crash against him, gasping, and lift my head just in time to see the nightmare unfold.
They’re everywhere. At least ten Torvak, circling us like sharks. Two of them have Dad and Dera bound tight, invisible restraints digging into their limbs. Both struggle, muscles taut, faces twisted with fury and pain. Another Torvak kneels before them, his claws weaving runes of blood and ash. Stone begins to creep up their bodies, hardening like a shell, inch by inch. My heart seizes. They’re being entombed alive.
I stumble closer to Papa, pressing against him as if I could disappear into his chest. My breaths come fast, shallow, panic clawing at me. He rumbles low in his chest, the sound meant to soothe, but even he can’t disguise the tension coiling in his body. He’s surrounded by his worst enemies, and we both know it.
Beneath my collar, Poseidon shifts. His tiny scales rasp against my skin, his body coiling tighter, every muscle primed. His hiss is low and venomous, promising death to whoever dares draw near.
I shake my head, my vision swimming, the edges blurring as blood loss drags me down. Papa’s eyes dart between me and where Dad and Dera are bound, panic written across his face. He’s trembling, his jaw clenched so tight it looks painful, as if sheer willpower could split him in two so he wouldn’t have to choose.
Then Dad locks eyes with him. Even from where I’m swaying, I can feel the weight of that silent command—his hand lifts, pointing first at me, then to the open ocean. His meaning is undeniable: Take him. Go. Now.
Papa’s throat works as though he’s choking on his own breath. He shakes his head hard, tears spilling free, his voice cracking on a broken sound that doesn’t form words. He wants to defy the order, to fight, to stay. His hands hover at his sides, clenching and unclenching, torn apart by love for all three of us. For a moment, I think he’ll refuse.
But then his gaze falls back on me—bloody, weak, barely standing. His shoulders quake, his entire frame trembling as though the choice is tearing his soul in half. With a shuddering breath, he makes his decision.
He spins me toward him, gripping my hand tight, almost painfully tight, as if he could anchor me to him forever. His tears streak down his cheeks as he forces the power through, his voice breaking in a desperate whisper meant only for me: “I’m sorry.”
The world lurches. I’m ripped away from him, from them, from everything. My stomach twists violently, and I collapse the second I land, retching hard enough to make bile burn my throat. I try to cry out, to call back for him, but the darkness rushes in too fast. My body gives out, and I slip into unconsciousness, the echo of his grief still clinging to me.
~~~
The next time I come to, I’m sprawled in the middle of my room, wallowing in a mess of my own vomit. The stench makes my stomach churn, confusion and disgust crashing over me in waves—until memory slams into me like a tidal surge.
My eyes blur with tears. I lift a hand to wipe them, only for it to bump against something hard. The goggles. Right. I fumble them off, scrub at my eyes with trembling fingers, then slip them back on, my chest heaving.
A faint hiss tickles my ear.
“Creator ok? Where is he? Why are we alone?” Poseidon’s tiny voice trembles with confusion. He doesn’t understand. He’s still just a baby.
“I don’t know, Poseidon,” I murmur, voice cracking as I fight back sobs. “I think the Torvak took them.”
There’s a pause, then his hesitant reply: “We… go check?”
I swallow hard and nod, unable to trust my voice. Somehow, I push myself upright. My body aches, but not as much as it should—thank the water room for that. With uneven strokes, I rise back to the surface. The shoreline looks empty, no Torvak in sight. But under the tree where I’d been reading earlier, something lies crumpled in a heap.
My stomach drops. Dread coils in my chest as I swim closer, dragging myself onto the sand.
It’s Papa.
My breath shatters into sobs. Scratches cover his body, but they’re nothing compared to the gaping wound carved across his chest. The sight rips through me. My knees buckle, and I collapse beside him, choking on grief.
Papa is dead.
Dad and Dera are gone.
I am alone.
The pain swells, too big for my body to hold. I curl in on myself, whimpering, gnawing on my nails and clenching my teeth until my jaw aches. My legs burn, aching like they’re splitting apart. The dryness makes it worse, like I’m a fish left stranded on land. Instinct takes over—I claw my way back into the water, desperate for the cool relief against my searing skin.
But the pain doesn’t stop. It builds and builds, overwhelming, until the world tilts and slips away. The last thing I feel is Poseidon nudging against my cheek, his tiny body vibrating with worried hisses, before the darkness swallows me whole.