Then the wind returned with renewed fury, and he was alone on the shore, the rain mixing with the tears he refused to acknowledge.
I should have been there. I should have protected them.
His claws dug into the wet sand, his whole body shaking with the effort of containing his beast. Part of him wanted to wade into those killing waves anyway, to join his family in whatever afterlife the sea provided. What was the point of survival if there was nothing left to survive for?
You promised her,his beast growled.You promised to keep her safe.
I failed.
He didn’t know how long he knelt there—minutes, hours, eternities. The storm raged around him, but he barely felt it. The cold that seeped into his bones was nothing compared to the void spreading through his chest.
And then?—
Light.
At first, he thought it was lightning reflecting off the waves. But the color was wrong—not white or yellow, but a deep, brilliant blue that pulsed with an organic rhythm. Like a heartbeat. Like a song made visible.
His head snapped up.
Through the churning surf, maybe fifty yards from shore, something was glowing. The light moved with purpose, cutting through the waves with a determination that defied the storm’s chaos. It grew brighter as it approached, painting the spray in shades of indigo and violet.
Ariella.
His heart, which had stopped beating somewhere in the last few minutes, lurched back to life.
He was on his feet before conscious thought caught up with instinct, wading into the shallows despite the waves that tried to drag him under. His eyes never left that beacon—his mate’s bioluminescence burning against the darkness like a star refusing to be extinguished.
She’s alive.
She’s—
A particularly massive wave crested and broke, and for a terrible moment the light disappeared beneath the foam. He snarled, pushing deeper into the water, his massive body fighting against the undertow with every ounce of his Vultor strength.
Then the light reappeared, closer now. Close enough to see.
Ariella’s face emerged from the spray—pale as moon-washed bone, her dark hair plastered to her skull like seaweed. Her skin was blazing with bioluminescence, every patch along her collarbones and ribs lit up in brilliant warning colors. She was exhausted, her movements slower than they should be, her gills flaring with effort.
And clutched against her chest, small and still and terrifyingly limp?—
Lilani.
The relief and terror hit him simultaneously, a collision of emotions that nearly drove him to his knees again. His daughter was there, she was right there, but she wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing, wasn’t doing any of the thousand small things that made her his bright and boundless child.
“Ariella!”
His roar cut through the storm’s howl. She heard him—her head turned, her eyes finding his across the churning water—and he saw something flicker across her face. Relief. Determination. A fierce, protective fury that matched his own.
She pushed towards him with renewed strength.
He met her in the shallows, the water chest-deep and still fighting to pull them under. His arms reached out and gathered them both, mate and child, against his chest. She collapsed into him, her body shaking with exhaustion, but her grip on Lilani never loosened.
“She’s not breathing.” Her voice was raw, scraped clean by salt water and desperation. “Her heart stopped. I felt it stop, but it started again. I made it start again, but she’s not breathing?—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish.
He scooped them both up—one massive arm under Ariella’s back, the other cradling Lilani’s small form—and turned towards shore. The waves fought him every step, but he was a Vultor warrior who had just watched his entire world sink beneath the sea. Nothing was going to stop him now.
The sand beneath his feet had never felt so solid.
