The salt in the air was crisp and clean, the cry of gulls overhead a welcome contrast to the usual clamor of academy bells and sparring clangs.
I stood at the edge of the western port, watching waves crash against the piers and the massive warships tethered like patient beasts of burden, and I could smell the discovery—the scent of fresh tides, grilled scallops, and mystery.
As Lord Averan, silver-ranked adventurer and completely irresistible bachelor, I had certain freedoms. One of them? Indulging myself. And today, I indulged hard.
"I'll have three orders of flame-grilled sea mantis skewers and a box of those sticky rice rolls," I said to the food vendor, licking my lips as the sizzling aroma reached me. "And send a fresh set to the Escarton dorms—Lord Albert's room."
The vendor looked confused, then shrugged.
Sitting on a raised platform overlooking the sea, I munched blissfully while kicking off my boots.
The ocean breeze toyed with my hair—longer now that I'd grown into my role as Averan—and I leaned back with a lazy grin as I watched the sun dance on the waves.
It wasn't long before I noticed the glances.
Shy ones first.
Girls pretending to admire the sky or the boats. Then, the braver ones came forward.
"Excuse me, handsome sir, are you perhaps Sir Averan?"
I turned with my practiced smile and nodded.
Blushing, they asked, "Would you—maybe like to join us for drinks later?"
Another asked if I was traveling alone. One offered a sea glass charm for "luck in the dungeon." I thanked each of them sincerely and agreed to one round of drinks—why not? It took courage to speak to someone like me, and I respected that kind of bravery.
But duty—and curiosity—called.
The newly discovered dungeon lay submerged off the rocky coast, its entrance an ancient archway now half-buried beneath coral and whispering tides. Locals said it only appeared every three hundred years.
Perfect. Absolutely my kind of trouble.
I slipped into the water with ease, the scales of the mermaid's blessing shimmering faintly under my skin. I hadn't used this gift in a while, but the magic was still there—gills fluttered along my neck as I breathed in the sea and dove deep.
The silence of the ocean swallowed me whole.
Monsters were quick to greet me. Slimy serpents with lightning fins, giant crustaceans with claws the size of shields. Movement was sluggish compared to land, and my swordplay had to adapt—fluid arcs, spinning stabs. I relished the challenge.
I saw a trio of adventurers struggling near the coral gate—sputtering, barely dodging a shellback brute, their potions clearly running low.
With a smile, I sliced through the creature's underbelly and handed them two vials from my pouch.
"Stay behind the reef ridge until you recover," I said, voice low and resonant through the water. "The way back to the entrance is clear. I put up some warding talismans, so don't worry and just head back now."
Their wide-eyed thanks followed me like bubbles as I swam deeper.
By the time I reached the glowing kelp forest that framed the dungeon's descent, the word about me saving the adventurers had spread. Some people have already spread rumors of Lord Averan being the hero of the port.
Not that it mattered to me at that moment, for deeper still—past the ancient tidal statues and through the kelp curtains—I entered darkness.
Not cold or dead darkness, but cosmic.
Bioluminescent runes glowed on the cavern walls like stars drawn by divine hands. The water pulsed with hues of amethyst, emerald, and silver. The ceiling arched like a sky I could never reach, endless and holy. I floated there for a long moment, letting myself become small in the face of it.
I whispered, "Beautiful," and it was the kind of word meant to be swallowed by silence.
My hand brushed the side of the wall—etched with markings not of any human script I knew, but the rhythm of them, the elegance... they reminded me of dragon language.
A heartbeat thundered through the water.
Not mine.
Far ahead, something ancient stirred. Not hostile—yet not entirely peaceful. Something watching.
I reached for my blade, steady, calm. I swam forward.
And I smiled.
Because this was why I adventured. Not for glory. Not for coin.
But for the thrill of what waited beyond the veil of the unknown.
The deeper I swam, the more the world around me abandoned all sense of familiarity.
It was no longer just a dungeon—it was an ancient dream preserved beneath the tides.
The walls were no longer made of coral or stone, but of shimmering crystalline reef that hummed softly, responding to my presence like a memory long dormant. Glowing trails of waterlight danced in spirals above me, casting halos across the path ahead. I moved slowly now, reverently, feeling the gravity of something sacred.
And then I saw it.
A door. Gigantic, carved from translucent nacre that shimmered like mother-of-pearl in moonlight. It stood within a great cavern, its arches etched with glowing reliefs of a tale long forgotten.
I floated closer, my hand brushing the glowing surface. The carvings moved with gentle waves, animating the story:
A mermaid, luminous and radiant, surrounded by storms and sorrow…
A dragon, fierce and grieving, flying down from the heavens...
Their bond forged not by blood, but by loss.
The mermaid shielding the world from the dragon's despair.
And then—Reign, the Dragon Saint, appearing between them.
She knelt by the dragon, her hands glowing with ancient light…
The dragon, with sorrow in its eyes, laying down to rest beneath the sea.
"'Reign sent the water dragon into eternal slumber as it wished, so it can't harm its precious friend the mermaid because of its grief…'" I whispered, tracing the phrase carved in runes. "So this is where it ended…"
I looked at the final line, etched in the center of the door—one only visible if you came close enough to feel the pulse behind it.
"Speak the bond formed by silence and sorrow."
My fingers grazed the runes, and without thinking, I said in the old tongue:
"By truth in stillness and love without end—wake."
The runes glowed brighter. The cavern trembled faintly. Then the door slowly opened, not with force or fanfare, but like a curtain parting for the rising sun.
And what lay beyond was… breathtaking.
A sanctuary.
Columns of coral glass spiraled like twisting ribbons, blooming with bioluminescent flowers that swayed with unseen tides. Murals danced across the walls—living paintings that shimmered in response to my movement.
In the center of it all, upon a pedestal carved with stars and scales, was a giant clam, its pearlescent shell closed tight as if cradling the most precious treasure.
I stepped forward, the door sealing shut behind me without a sound. I arched a brow.
"Not ominous at all," I muttered.
Still, I wasn't afraid.
I approached the clam, slow and steady. As I neared, the shell quivered, then began to open with the smooth grace of petals unfolding in sunlight.
And inside, nestled within a soft white glow and strands of golden kelp, was a child.
A tiny mermaid.
Golden hair floated around her like sunrays trapped underwater. Her tail glimmered faintly with streaks of silver and sapphire. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open—violet, clear, filled with recognition.
She looked at me.
Then, with a delighted chirp, she darted toward me like a beam of light.
"Reign!" she cried joyfully.
I blinked. "Ah—no, I'm not—"
But before I could finish, she was already clinging to me, wrapping her small arms around my neck and curling her tail behind my back like an affectionate eel.
I chuckled and ruffled her soft golden hair, "Asha… you're Asha, aren't you?"
She nodded quickly, still nuzzling into my shoulder.
So this was her.
The little mermaid I'd only ever seen flickering in those ancient ruins alongside Shasha. A companion, a fragment of memory… now in the flesh, warm and real in my arms.
"I knew it," I murmured, smiling. "Shasha really didn't want you to be found by anyone else."
Asha pulled back to look at me, eyes wide and trusting. "Shasha said you'd come. She said you're the kindest sword and the trickiest queen."
I laughed at that. "Did she now? I'll have to pinch her next time."
Asha giggled—a high, bubbling sound like clinking shells—and twirled around me in the water, sending soft waves rippling through the luminous sanctuary.
Looking around, I understood now why this place had been hidden for centuries. It wasn't just a resting place for the dragon.
It was a promise.
A promise made by a saint, a dragon, and a grieving child.
And now… it was a secret shared with me. One more sacred piece of the puzzle, of a story older than my kingdom itself.
Asha floated in front of me, her hands clasped together, eyes bright with longing. Despite the gentle lilt in her voice, there was a deep, wistful note beneath it—like a lullaby woven from both dreams and farewells.
"I want to travel," she said, her golden hair drifting like sea silk in the water. "To see things. To learn. So when my time comes, when I finally join Amara in the Dreamlands, I'll have stories to share. She'll be less lonely if I tell her everything."
That quiet ache in her words tugged at me. I reached out and gently patted her head, the way I used to when my brother was smaller and said something that made my heart twist a little.
"Then I'll take you out, Asha," I said. "We'll make sure your stories are worthy of a dragon's dreams."
Her violet eyes sparkled, joy blooming on her face like sunlight piercing ocean clouds. "Really?"
"Really." I gave her a wink. "But first… logistics."
"Logis… tics?"
I snorted. "It means we gotta make it work. You're adorable and all, but a child mermaid wandering around will cause a panic. Do you have any of those dragon relics that can transform you into a human?"
Asha perked up, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes! Shasha—Reign—she gave me one. A pretty pearl that sparkled like starlight. She said I could use it to play on land sometimes, but I never got to… because I fell asleep after the sky cracked open and the sea wept."
"The great calamity," I muttered under my breath. That made sense. So many relics and protectors had vanished during that chaos, like pieces on a board swept away mid-game.
"Do you still have it?" I asked.
Asha twirled once in the water and then held up her tiny palm. In it, a pearl the size of my thumb pulsed faintly with dragonlight, etched with the rune of change. It wasn't just any relic—it was made with Reign's essence.
"Put that on," I said, smiling. "And say the word to shift. We're going adventuring."
Asha held the pearl to her chest and whispered something softly in the ancient tongue. Light bloomed around her, swirling like a whirlpool of stars. I shielded my eyes for a moment—and when I looked again, a little girl with golden curls and curious eyes floated there in a simple traveling dress of sea-colored cloth.
Her tail was gone. Her fins, her gills, all smoothed into the shape of a child no older than seven.
She blinked at her hands and wiggled her fingers. "I feel tingly."
"Good. That means it worked." I smirked. "Welcome to the land of legs."
She giggled, spinning in the water before remembering she could no longer swim with a tail. She sank halfway and flailed her limbs. I caught her with one hand, laughing.
"You'll get used to it. We'll teach you to walk."
"Oh!" she clapped. "Before we go, should I close the dungeon?"
I blinked. "You can do that?"
She nodded firmly, pointing toward the ceiling. "This place listens to me. I can make it disappear under deeper currents and make the entry vanish too."
"Perfect. Hide it well. We can't let anyone else find this place unless you want them to."
Asha raised her hand, and the light of the sanctuary responded like a living thing. I felt the gentle hum of power ripple through the walls, the shimmer of a veil being drawn over memory.
"Done," she said, proud.
I held out my hand. "Then let's go, storyteller. The world awaits."
She took my hand, her grip warm and full of wonder, and together we teleported back to the surface. The door behind us closed, silent and final. The sanctuary was sealed once more—its new story just beginning.
We walked slowly through the cobbled streets of the port town, Asha's every step filled with delight and wide-eyed wonder.
"Lord Averan, what's that smell?" she asked, tugging at my sleeve and pointing at a bakery stall with sweet rolls glistening under the afternoon sun.
I told Asha to call me Averan when we get to the surface because I'm playing adventurer right now. Asha, the gullible child with sparkled eyes, nodded and told me she wants to play too, but I said she's too small to play it. So, I convinced her to play as my little sister instead, which made her squeal with delight.
"That, my dear little sea-sprite, is what they call cinnamon glaze. It is sticky, sweet, and dangerous in high doses," I replied with mock severity, already handing over a coin to the baker. "You may have one. Two, if you promise not to go feral."
Asha beamed, holding the roll reverently like treasure. "It's warm! It smells like dreams!"
And so it went.
We passed stalls with woven shells, glazed pottery, stuffed plushies shaped like sea creatures, and—somehow—live juggling crabs. She wanted to touch everything. She wanted to smell, taste, hold, and understand everything.
It was like walking with a star-struck fledgling explorer whose heart was bigger than the sea she'd come from.
More than once, passersby slowed down just to gawk. I caught snippets:
"Is that Lord Averan with a child?"
"He has a daughter? She's adorable!"
"Of course she's beautiful—look at him. That must be one lucky mother."
"I heard he's single! Maybe he adopted?"
I did my best not to laugh out loud as I heard the rumors, smiling politely while making sure Asha didn't wander straight into a fruit cart. "Careful, little one."
Eventually, I guided her toward a boutique tucked away beside a tea shop. The sign outside boasted "Outfits for Princesses and Their Brave Knights."
"Oh!" Asha's eyes sparkled. "Can we… can we play dress-up?"
I smirked. "I thought you'd never ask."
Inside, the scent of lavender and fresh linen hit me. Dresses lined the walls—ruffled skirts, soft robes, embroidered cloaks, even sailor outfits with far too many bows. I let Asha loose. She went straight for a cloud-pink gown with silver seafoam patterns.
As she twirled in front of the mirror in a new dress, I smiled softly, adjusting the ribbon in her hair—nostalgia tugging at me from a time I had to do this with my older sister, who insisted on turning me into her personally dress up doll before I started learning the sword properly.
"Too frilly?" I asked.
"It's perfect," she replied with a grin.
That's when I heard it.
Laughter. A silk-soft giggle followed by a familiar voice speaking in that delicate imperial accent.
I turned—and nearly cursed aloud.
The Adur Princess.
Worse, at her side—Zeriel.
He noticed me first. His eyes widened a fraction before the corner of his lips tugged upward in that infuriatingly smug smirk. I gave him a look that promised thunder and blood if he so much as spoke.
The princess, as expected, turned her attention to me, her attempts to initiate conversation with Lord Albert written across her hopeful expression.
"Lord Averan—was it?" she asked, sweet and regal.
I smiled tightly, already picking up Asha's next outfit and handing it to the shop attendant. "Terribly sorry, Your Highness. I'm spending the day with my little niece."
Asha, sweet creature that she was, bowed her head slightly and clutched my hand with innocent politeness.
Zeriel's gaze shifted from me to Asha, as if amused at the sight. I could tell he wanted to say something snide.
I gave him a glare that could boil oceans.
We left soon after, skirts rustling and bells chiming as Asha and I stepped back onto the cobblestones.
"Lord Averan…" she said softly, glancing up at me. "Are those two… bad people?"
I blinked, then looked down to see her worried little face scrunched in concern.
I smiled faintly, brushing her hair aside. "No. Just people I don't want to talk to."
She nodded sagely, as if that was all the explanation she needed. "Okay."
And with that, I scooped her up into my arms—because frankly, she deserved a break after that dress-up session.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder with a sleepy hum. We made our way back to the inn like that: one tall, composed adventurer cradling a drowsy, golden-haired girl still glittering faintly from sea-magic.
People stared, of course. Eyes followed us down the road—some curious, some enchanted, others whispering again.
But I didn't care.
All I could think of was how light she felt in my arms. How soft her breath was against my collar.
And how warm it felt… being looked up to like this. Even if it was just for today.
"She better not ask for more cinnamon rolls before bed," I muttered.
"She will," Asha replied drowsily, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.