A bead of sweat rolled slowly down Rex's face. His eyes were tightly squeezed shut, as if bracing against some lingering phantom of pain or fear, before they shot open with a sharp gasp. He bolted upright in his bed, his hands immediately clutching at his chest—yet the sensation that had gripped him, the snake writhing under his skin, was gone.
"Must've been a nightmare… but it felt so real," he muttered under his breath, though the unease in his chest refused to fully dissipate. Reflexively, he splashed cold water onto his face, the droplets stinging his skin and bringing him back to the present.
When he lifted his gaze to the mirror above the sink, a wave of confusion—and awe—washed over him. Etched onto his chest, perfectly coiled and biting its own tail, was the black serpent. It wasn't moving, but it wasn't merely a mark either. Its skin seemed alive with the faintest glimmer of movement, the scales catching the dim light in a way that made them almost shimmer. Leaning closer, he reached for the porcelain sink… and his fingers sank into it as if it were wet sand. The once-solid surface crumbled beneath him, tiny fragments scattering into the shallow puddle below.
Shocked, Rex recoiled slightly and sat back on the edge of the bed, struggling to comprehend what had just occurred. His mind raced as he tried to piece together reality.
"It must've been that damn plate," he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent, tinged with fear.
The memory of discovering it came rushing back. Unlike the other plates he'd scavenged, usually recovered from the chests of fallen sea creatures, this one had been lodged deep within a rock, pristine and unclaimed. There had been no signs of coral, no markings of decay—just a strange, obsidian-black surface, warm almost to the touch, with runes that seemed to pulse faintly as if breathing in time with him.
Rex's chest tightened as he remembered the precarious process of freeing it. Normally, he couldn't face these creatures directly—many of them too strong, too alive with power for him to survive the encounter—but scavenging had become his craft, his livelihood. He had retrieved silver plates from carcasses left behind by hunters, by careless scavengers, or by predators of the deep, and he had always treated them with the meticulous care of someone handling something sacred. But this plate… this one was different.
Shaking off the remnants of shock, Rex took a deep breath and began to move with deliberate purpose. He pulled on his wet suit, the fabric clinging to him like a second skin, cold and tight as he adjusted each strap. He slid into his protective pants, carefully ensuring they were secure. Then he gathered the remnants of the silver plates, tucking them safely into his tank top before carefully placing them into his scavenging pack. Each piece felt heavier than usual, the weight not just of metal, but of latent energy, of secrets waiting to be unraveled.
Once packed, he hoisted the bag over his shoulder, feeling the reassuring press of its weight against his back, and pushed open the door of his room.
The lobby of the great underwater hostel was bustling with quiet activity. Travelers moved about, their voices echoing faintly off the domed ceilings, the soft hum of water filters and ventilation systems underscoring the murmur of conversation. Eyes turned toward him as he walked by. Some were wide with curiosity, others with admiration, but all watched as he passed. There was something mesmerizing about the way the steam hissed and curled off his wet suit, the slight shimmer of water droplets suspended on its surface, the faint glow that seemed to cling to him like an aura.
Rex didn't notice the stares. His mind was caught between fascination and unease. The serpent on his chest, now calm and quiet, pulsed faintly beneath the fabric of his suit, a constant reminder that something within him had shifted. Something that had not existed before.
As he walked through the lobby, each step echoed in the hollow chamber, amplified by the curiosity of onlookers. The water lapped softly along the edges of the tiled floor, creating a gentle rhythm beneath the muted lighting. The metallic scent of the plates mingled with the briny undertone of the deep sea, filling his senses and heightening the strange, otherworldly feeling that had taken hold of him.
Rex's pulse quickened slightly, not from fear, but from awe. He felt as if he had stepped into a world layered over the one he knew—a world that was alive, humming with energy, waiting for him to uncover its mysteries. And for the first time since he had discovered the plate, he allowed himself a hint of excitement, a spark of anticipation.
He walked forward, ignoring the whispers and glances, his focus set ahead. The serpent tattoo seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, and he couldn't shake the feeling that, in some subtle way, it was watching, waiting, guiding him.