The Sea of Blue Paradise lay wide and shimmering under the early sun, spreading endlessly in every direction like a sheet of living sapphire. A thin mist hovered over the surface, blurring the horizon, and the faint cries of distant gulls echoed into the calm morning air.
Fynn Leon sat in a half–broken wooden boat that looked as though one strong wave could convince it to retire permanently. The ropes keeping it together were frayed, the wood creaked at every shift, and the fishing rod balanced beside him was held together with tape and questionable hope. But Fynn looked strangely content, even with salt in his hair, no shoes, and no plan for what came next.
He dipped his line lazily into the water. He wasn't actually fishing. He was thinking. Thinking was easier when the world was quiet.
The sun warmed his skin as he leaned over the edge. "Alright," he muttered to the sea, "I'm giving you one last chance today. Bring me something edible. Preferably something not shaped like a boot."
The float bobbed once, twice, and then danced wildly.
Fynn laughed. "You listened!"
He yanked the line upward, nearly falling backward in excitement. A small goldfish arced through the air and landed in his wooden bucket with a wet plop.
He squinted at it. "Oh. It's you again."The goldfish blinked, as if offended.
"You know, if you keep letting me catch you, people will think we're dating." Fynn tapped the bucket rim. "Not that I mind the company." It mouthed silently, which Fynn took as a complaint.
"I know, I know. I'm a terrible fisherman." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Between us, I think I'm the disgrace of the entire Blue Paradise. Even the seaweed is judging me." The fish stared without blinking.
Fynn set it down gently and leaned back, letting the breeze brush along his face. The air smelled of clean salt, warm sun, and the faint sweetness of wet wood. He closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing into the rhythmic rocking of the boat.
Then it happened. A soft pulse under his collarbone. Warm at first, then hotter.Fynn's eyes flew open. Slowly, he pulled down the edge of his shirt. The seal. The faint flame-shaped mark on his skin glowed with a pale golden light, then dimmed, then glowed again like an impatient heartbeat.
"Oh, come on," he whispered. "You were fine yesterday."
He pressed a hand over it. The mark buzzed, a strange vibration spreading through his chest like murmuring whispers he couldn't quite understand.
"Look, I came out here to relax," he said softly. "Not to deal with royal weirdness. So if you could just… stop glowing for five minutes, that'd be great." The seal pulsed once more, brighter.
He sighed. "Fantastic. Even my skin ignores me."
He sat quietly, staring at his reflection in the blue water. The boy who looked back wasn't the prince he used to be. His hair was messier, his face a bit leaner, his eyes more tired. But for the first time in his life, he felt… free.
Still, memories drifted into him uninvited. His twin sister, Fayra, scolding him while hiding pastries behind her back. Princess Jeyla's smile, the way she rolled her eyes whenever he pretended not to look at her.
His father's stern voice echoing across the throne hall.
The weight of expectations he had run so far to escape.
"I'll come home when I'm ready," he whispered. "When I've become someone worth being proud of. When I'm strong enough. Until then… I'm staying out here."
He didn't notice the boat shift beneath him. At first it was gentle, like a heavier wave. Then it jolted.
He sat up straight. "Hello?" Nothing. Then came the sound. A deep, rumbling growl rising from beneath the water.
Fynn froze, eyes wide. "No. No, no, no…"
He leaned over the edge cautiously. A shadow, enormous and long, glided under the boat.
"Absolutely not," he breathed. Another growl vibrated the water.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his fishing stick and shoved it into the sea, trying to push himself away from whatever nightmare was about to surface. The shadow rose. Water erupted behind him, spraying into the air as a massive creature broke through the surface. It wasn't a crocodile. It was far too large, its scales the color of black stone, its eyes glowing silver like twin moons. Its jaws opened wide enough to swallow the entire boat.
Fynn screamed and flailed at the water with his stick. "Why me? I wasn't even doing anything today!"
He pushed the boat with frantic strength, sending it wobbling toward the nearest island. The creature roared again and lunged. The boat shuddered violently, wood splintering under the force.
"Not helpful!" Fynn yelled at the sea. "You're supposed to be paradise, not death!"
A massive tail hit the water, sending a surge of waves over him. The boat spun, the ropes snapped, and with one final crack it broke apart completely. Fynn was thrown into the water.
Salt stung his eyes as he kicked, gasping and thrashing. He swam as fast as he could, every muscle screaming. The island was close. Just a little more. Then something seized his arm.
He screamed into the water as agony tore through him. The creature's jaws clamped down and dragged him backward. He clawed forward, his fingers brushing the sand under the water. The seal on his chest blazed with blinding light. With a desperate cry, he ripped himself free, tearing flesh, bone, everything. His arm slipped out of the monster's grip and drifted away into the bloodied water. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
He staggered out of the surf, half-crawling, half-falling onto the warm sand. Everything spun. His vision swam with white flashes. His breathing slowed. A small splash sounded beside him. He turned his head. The bucket had drifted to shore… and the little goldfish flopped weakly inside, still alive.
"Looks like… we made it," Fynn whispered. His eyes fluttered. The seal flared once more, brilliant and terrifying—
Then Fynn Leon, runaway prince of Agarustars, collapsed on the shore of Blue Paradise, unconscious, bleeding, and alone.