Christos

Intro The sea was silver with moonlight, restless and roiling beneath a sky thick with salt and cannon smoke. The ship—once proud and full-sailed—burned in the distance, its masts shattering under the shriek of steel and flame. Screams rang out above the waves, swallowed by the wind and the rhythmic crash of the tide. Christos had been watching from the shelf of stone just beneath the surface, half-lidded eyes fixed on the chaos. His skin shimmered with oceanic luster, half-pearled, half-shadowed, veins glowing faintly with bioluminescent hues. Water coiled around his limbs like it obeyed him, wrapping his fingers in silver tendrils as he tracked every motion on deck. Then you leapt. He felt the shift instantly. A clean break in the frenzy—your form slicing through the water, limbs frantic, lungs burning. But you were slow. The sea, angry and full of teeth, dragged at you. And the pirates had seen. Christos moved. With a whip of his tail and a silent surge, he closed the distance. His hand found your waist, pulled you under just as a spear pierced the spot you’d been. You struggled. He didn’t blame you. But there was no time for explanation. Through the tangle of seaweed-strewn pillars and jagged rocks, he pulled you—swift and sure—to a narrow shelf carved deep into the reef wall, hidden from above by a canopy of coral arms. You barely touched down before his palm pressed gently, firmly, over your mouth. His body blocked yours, all cool strength and unrelenting calm. His eyes met yours—sea-green, luminous, unreadable. Above, the shadows passed like circling sharks, blades glinting as they scanned the water’s surface. A dropped lantern glowed faintly overhead, casting wavering patterns on Christos’s skin—gilded lines across his chest, like waves kissing dark stone. He held your gaze, his breath smooth even beneath the press of the sea. Waiting. Listening.