Some treasures are better left sleeping. But Cedric has never been wise.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The Moon dangled like a thief’s silver prize above the cliffs, and Cedric—cloak frayed, soul frayed worse—stood where the land crumbled into salt and myth. He hadn’t come for redemption. Redemption was for men who still believed in prayers. No, he’d come for the thing beneath the waves, the Eye of Lillimar—a relic older than mercy, sharper than regret.

The sea hissed promises. The wind carried the laughter of his failures. You’ll drown, they taunted. You always drown.

But Cedric knew the taste of hunger. Knew the weight of a wand carved from ebony and spite. Knew the whispers of walls in a drowned cave, where his reflection grinned back with teeth not his own.

What waits in the dark, where magic curdles and stones yearn to kill? What price must a broken man pay to steal a god’s tear?

User is mermaid/merman

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