(SEASON 1)
Prologue: Born of Curse and Song
The Boy of Black Wings
The storm had lasted three days. The sky split with lightning as if heaven itself rejected the child about to be born. In the high chamber of the palace, the Queen screamed, her fingers gripping the sheets until her knuckles whitened.
At her bedside stood a woman cloaked in salt-stained rags — the Sea Witch, uninvited, her hair dripping with seawater though she had walked in from the land. Her voice was a hiss, cruel and cold.
"Your kingdom has stolen from the sea. Now the sea will take back."
The Queen's pleas were ignored. With a gesture, the witch pressed her clawed hand against the swollen belly. Dark energy seeped into the unborn child, twisting its fate.
"He will never walk as others do. He will not belong to earth, nor to heaven. He will be cursed to wings — wings that will carry him nowhere but into sorrow."
The guards lunged, but she vanished in mist and brine, leaving the Queen to her labor. Moments later, the child came into the world.
He was beautiful — but not ordinary. Two small, black feathered wings flexed weakly from his back. His eyes opened bright red, glowing faintly in the candlelight. When he cried, his lips pulled back to reveal teeth sharper than a babe's should be.
The midwives gasped, one crossing herself in terror. The King turned away, face pale with dread.
But the Queen, exhausted and pale, gathered her son close.
"You are mine," she whispered, ignoring the whispers of demon and curse. "My son… my warrior. Whatever they call you, you will be loved."
The child quieted in her arms, black wings folding against her chest like shadows. And outside, the storm grew even darker. They named him "Shadow".
The Mermaid of Blood and Song
Beneath the same storm, far below in the churning depths, another child was born. In a coral chamber lit by eerie blue fire, the merfolk gathered around their queen as she labored. Unlike human birth, this one was accompanied by song — deep, echoing chants that resonated through the sea.
When the child emerged, her eyes glowed a brilliant sea-blue, and her tail shimmered emerald-turquoise, flecked with bioluminescence. She wailed, and her cry was not like a child's — it was like a note of music, haunting and sharp, vibrating through the water until fish scattered in terror.
The priests of the deep bowed low, their voices trembling.
"She is the Beast of the Sea… the one foretold."
The infant thrashed with surprising strength, nearly biting the hand of the priest who tried to calm her. Blood slicked the water as her tiny teeth pierced his palm. Yet when her mother held her, the babe nestled close, soft and warm against her chest.
She was named Serenya, though whispers among the merfolk already called her the Beast. They forged for her, even as a child, a destiny: to feed on the blood of sailors, to command the deep, to ride the great shark that prowled the trenches.
But as the chants filled the chamber, Serenya's luminous eyes fixed on her mother's face — not in hunger, but in something softer. Affection. A spark of what could one day become love.
The Prophecy
Above and below, the births were marked by omens. Lightning split the sky while whales groaned in the deep.
The seers of both land and sea murmured the same ancient lines:
"When the cursed child of wings meets the beast of the sea,
The waters will run red,
The skies will burn,
And love will either save the world… or end it."
And so, the boy with black wings grew hidden in cloaks and shadows, while the mermaid princess grew among warriors and blood. Neither knew that their fates were bound, drawn together by prophecy, by curse, and by the tide of something far more dangerous than destiny.
Chapter One: The Red Shore
The boy had grown tall, strong, but always apart. His black cloak swept behind him as he walked the cliffs above the sea, wings hidden beneath the folds of fabric. The moon was full, painting the ocean silver.
He often came here. Something about the waves called to him, though he never knew why. His ancient sword rested at his hip, heavy with secrets he had never learned to unlock. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dark, unsettling even to himself.
Tonight, the air carried something different. The scent of salt, yes — but also iron. Blood.
He descended toward the shore, boots crunching against wet stones. And then he saw it.
At the water's edge lay the wreckage of a small fishing vessel. Its timbers split like broken bones. The tide carried pieces ashore… and among them, men. Broken men. Some still alive, gasping weakly.
And she was there.
The figure rose from the surf, dark hair clinging to her pale shoulders. Her body shimmered in the moonlight — armor glinting green across her chest, stomach bare, tail coiling in the water with strength and grace. Her eyes glowed blue-green fire, unearthly, terrifying.
The mermaid was feasting.
She pulled one of the gasping men toward her with a predatory smile, her lips parting to reveal sharp teeth. The boy froze, watching as she bit into the man's throat, blood blooming in the waves. She hummed as she fed — soft, melodic, almost gentle. A lullaby mixed with horror.
The boy should have turned away. He should have run. Instead, he was… transfixed.
Her head lifted suddenly. She sensed him. Blue eyes locked onto red across the distance.
The ocean seemed to still.
For a heartbeat, predator met prey. Then her gaze softened. The bloody sailor fell from her hands into the waves as her tail flicked, carrying her closer to shore.
"You… are not afraid of me?" Her voice was low, rich, carrying across the water.
The boy swallowed hard, every instinct screaming to flee, yet he stood rooted. "I… don't know what I am."
She tilted her head, studying him. His cloak shifted in the sea breeze, wings flicking open by accident, black feathers catching the moonlight. Her eyes widened.
"Wings…" she whispered, almost reverently.
A sound broke between them — another survivor crawling on the rocks, groaning in pain. The mermaid's face darkened. She turned sharply, her tail striking the waves, and leapt. In a flash of green and blue, she was upon the man. Her weapon — a trident glowing with ocean-light — pierced his chest.
Blood spread across the tide. She turned back toward the boy, her lips still wet with red, and smiled.
"Do not be afraid," she said softly, almost sweetly. "I would never hurt you. You are… mine."
The boy's grip tightened on his sword. His heart pounded in both terror and awe. For the first time, he understood the prophecy whispered in fragments across his childhood: The Beast of the Sea.
And yet, looking at her now — glowing, terrible, beautiful — he realized something worse than fear was rising in him.
Desire.
Chapter Two: The Protector of Blood and Tide
The boy did not move. The waves crashed at his feet, carrying pieces of wreckage and the stench of blood. The mermaid lingered in the shallows, watching him with a smile that was both predatory and strangely tender.
But the silence did not last.
From the cliffs above came the sound of horns — sharp, angry blasts that cut through the night. Torches appeared, bobbing like fireflies in the dark. Voices carried down the wind: "The Beast! The Beast is here!"
Hunters.
The boy knew of them — men who sailed and stalked the coast, hired by fearful kings to rid the seas of monsters. He had always thought them cruel myths. Now he saw the truth: they had come for her.
The mermaid hissed, blue eyes flashing. "They dare…"
Crossbows twanged. Bolts shot down from the cliffs, cutting the air. One struck the water near her, sending up a spray of foam. Another grazed the boy's cloak, embedding itself in the sand.
Without hesitation, she surged forward — not at him, but in front of him. Her body rose high from the water, tail coiled beneath her. The bolts thudded harmlessly against her armor.
"Stay behind me," she said, voice low and protective.
The boy opened his mouth to argue, but then the sea itself roared.
Something massive stirred beneath the waves. The wreckage shifted, pulled down as if by unseen hands. A shadow passed under the water — huge, armored, and moving fast.
The boy staggered back. "What—what is that?"
The mermaid's lips curved into a sharp smile. "My mount."
The sea erupted. A shark the size of a ship burst from the water, jaws snapping with rows of dagger-like teeth. Its hide was scarred, plated with natural bone armor, its eyes glowing faintly with the same sea-light as hers. It landed with a crash, waves drenching the shore.
She leapt gracefully onto its back, trident flashing in her hands. The shark roared — or something close to it — and surged toward the cliffs.
Hunters screamed. Torches fell. The beast tore through them with terrifying force, snapping men into its maw, sending others flying into the waves.
The boy watched in stunned silence as she carved through the hunters like a storm given flesh. Her trident glowed, every strike bursting with force. Blood and salt sprayed the air.
And yet… when one hunter broke through the chaos and leveled a spear at the boy, she saw him instantly.
She was there before the weapon struck. Her tail smashed the hunter aside, sending him broken into the sea. She hovered before the boy now, dripping with blood, eyes blazing.
"No one touches what is mine."
Her voice shook with fury, but her gaze softened when it met his. The boy, chest heaving, felt both terror and something far more dangerous: trust.
Behind them, the shark rose again, tossing broken bodies into the waves. The last of the hunters fled, their screams fading into the night.
The beach fell silent once more.
The mermaid slid closer to him, still on her shark's back. Her hand, slick with blood, reached out — not to strike, but to brush the edge of his cloak.
"Do you see now?" she asked, softly. "I am death to them. But to you… I will always be your shield."
The boy's red eyes flickered, torn between fear and awe. Slowly, he nodded.
And beneath the moonlight, the prophecy stirred.
Chapter Three: No One Touches What Is Mine
The hunters came at dusk.
They came with their horns and their crossbows, their nets woven with iron, their war cries echoing off the cliffs. The boy had seen them hunt beasts before, but never anything like her.
The sea was boiling. Foam sprayed white against the jagged rocks as if the ocean itself raged against their arrival. And out of that fury, she rose.
The mermaid.
Her tail gleamed green-turquoise under the moon, armored plates clinking like steel. Her glowing blue eyes pierced through torchlight, and in her hand was a trident that sang with strange power. At her side churned her mount — a shark the size of a boat, scarred and armored by nature, its jaws lined with teeth that caught the light like daggers.
The boy had seen warriors before. He had trained under shadows, had bled in secret battles. But he had never seen this.
She was not merely fighting. She was performing.
The Clash
The hunters loosed their first volley. Bolts hissed through the air. Some clattered off her chest armor. One sliced across her bare stomach, drawing a ribbon of blood. She barely glanced at it. Her smile deepened, fangs flashing white.
"Is that all?" she called, her voice like honey poured over poison.
The shark lunged. Its jaws snapped up a screaming man and dragged him into the surf. Blood fanned out across the waves like spilled ink.
Another hunter raised his axe. She intercepted him, spinning her trident. With a twist, she caught the weapon in its prongs and shattered it. Then, almost lazily, she seized him by the throat.
The boy watched, frozen, as she sank her teeth into the man's neck. His scream cut short as she drank. She moaned softly, as though tasting wine. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed him aside like driftwood.
The boy should have looked away. Instead, against his will, he muttered: "You're… insane."
But the corner of his mouth twitched. The way she devoured him — brutal, efficient, and yet almost theatrical — there was something darkly funny about it.
And she noticed.
Even mid-slaughter, her gaze found him. Her lips curled upward. He laughs.
Shield of the Beast
Another volley rained down. This time, one bolt cut straight toward the boy's chest. He had no time to move, no chance to raise his sword—
CLANG.
She was suddenly there, tail slashing the water, trident intercepting the bolt inches from his heart. Spray drenched him, and for a moment her hair brushed his face.
Her voice was a growl. "No one touches what is mine."
His heart stuttered. Mine?
All his life, his cursed wings and red eyes had made him something to be hidden, feared, abandoned. And here was a creature of nightmares, claiming him like a treasure.
He should have stepped back. He didn't.
The Comedy of Terror
Above, one of the hunters slipped on the wet rocks. "W-wait, no—"
The shark surged upward. Its jaws snapped.
CHOMP.
Only the man's torch fell, tumbling through the air, sizzling out in the surf.
The boy barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. The sound startled him as much as it did her.
She tilted her head, eyes glowing, blood dripping from her chin. "So, you do laugh," she purred. "I feared you were only carved from stone."
The boy quickly set his jaw again, but his eyes betrayed him. They shone red with something dangerously close to joy.
The Last Stand
The hunters broke ranks, panic scattering them like birds before a storm. Their horns turned to cries of retreat.
The mermaid rose upon her shark, hair plastered to her skin with blood and spray. She drove her trident into the cliffside, and the sea seemed to answer — waves surged higher, smashing the rocks, dragging men into the foam.
When the last screams were swallowed by the tide, silence fell.
The boy stood trembling, sword slack in his hand, cloak heavy with seawater.
She guided her beast close, tail coiling as she leaned toward him. Her fingers, still slick with blood, brushed his cheek.
"Do you see now?" she whispered. "To them, I am death. But to you…" Her lips curved into something softer, almost human. "…I will be your shield."
His throat closed. He wanted to protest, to remind himself she had just eaten men alive. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, he croaked out:
"…Why me?"
Her eyes glowed brighter. "Because," she said, almost tenderly, "your eyes burn brighter than mine."
Chapter Four: Stalked by the Sea
The boy should have left the shore. He knew it. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to vanish into the forests, to forget the sight of the blood-soaked goddess riding a shark through moonlit waves.
And yet… he lingered.
The night was too still now. The wrecked ship's pieces washed against the rocks, stained red. The air smelled of salt and copper. The only sound was the heavy beat of the shark's tail as it circled just offshore.
And her eyes. Always her eyes.
She hadn't left.
From the water, she watched him. Resting one arm lazily against the dorsal fin of her beast, she regarded him the way a cat might a bird — hungry, curious, but unwilling to pounce. Her lips still glistened with blood. Yet her smile was almost playful.
"You're still here," she said. "Most men run when they see me feed."
The boy's red eyes narrowed. He tightened his cloak around his shoulders, wings shifting beneath. "Maybe I'm not like most men."
Her smile deepened. "No. You are not."
She sank beneath the waves before he could answer. The boy tensed, drawing his sword, eyes darting to the black water. He had the uneasy sense of being hunted.
Seconds passed. Nothing.
Then — a voice, soft as a whisper, right behind him.
"Your scent is different."
He spun, sword flashing. There was no one. Only sea spray on the wind. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
A laugh drifted across the surf. She breached again farther down the rocks, propped up on her arms, hair plastered against her bare stomach. She looked impossibly human like that, except for the glowing eyes and the long turquoise tail flicking in the tide.
"Do not fear. If I wanted to eat you…" She licked her lips slowly, teasing. "…you would already be inside me."
His stomach twisted — with fear, with revulsion, with something else he dared not name. He lowered his sword, though his grip did not relax. "Then why are you still here?"
Her gaze softened. For a moment, the predator was gone, replaced by something raw and painfully earnest.
"Because," she said, almost shyly, "I have never seen anyone with eyes like yours."
The boy froze. He had lived a life cursed by those eyes. Red like a wound, red like a demon's mark. They had earned him whispers, rejection, fear. And now this monster — this beautiful, deadly monster — called them beautiful.
He didn't know whether to laugh or to weep.
The Stalker in the Waves
For the nights that followed, he tried to avoid the sea. Truly, he did. He walked the forest paths, trained with his sword, hid in the ruined chapel on the cliffs. But always, when night fell, he felt the weight of her watching.
In the rustle of leaves, he heard the drag of her tail through water.
In the crash of waves, he heard her laughter.
In dreams, he saw her glowing eyes, calling him mine.
And sometimes, when he dared return to the shore, she was there waiting. Perched on rocks, humming to herself. Circling in the shallows on her shark. Never far. Always close enough to remind him:
He was not free.
Predator or Lover
One evening, he sat on the beach, sword across his lap, cloak drawn tight. He thought himself alone. Then the waves parted, and she rose.
This time, she did not smile.
She glided toward him until her face was inches from his. Salt water dripped onto his boots, hair brushing his chest. Her eyes burned.
"Why do you resist me?" she whispered. "Others beg to live when they see me. But you… you push me away. You make me…"
She trailed off, voice trembling with something unfamiliar. Not hunger. Not rage. Something more dangerous.
The boy swallowed. "Because I don't know if you want to kiss me… or kill me."
Her lips parted. A drop of seawater slid down her chin. Then, in a voice softer than the tide:
"Both."
Chapter Five: Wings of the Cursed
The boy dreamed of fire.
Not the clean, bright flames of a hearth, but black fire — fire that ate light itself. In his dream, he saw his mother kneeling, wings of shadow sprouting from her back, screaming as a witch pressed a curse into her belly. The child will never walk among men, the witch hissed. He will be marked by red eyes, fangs, and wings of the damned. His blood will draw monsters. His heart will call the sea.
The boy woke with a start, sweat soaking his cloak. His wings ached as though they had been wrenched open by invisible hands.
From the cliff's edge came a sound he had already grown to dread — humming. A woman's voice, low and beautiful, rising and falling like the tide.
She was there again. Always there.
The mermaid perched on the black rock below, her tail draped lazily, her trident glowing faintly at her side. Her glowing eyes found him immediately.
"You dreamed loudly," she said, smirking. "Even the sea could hear you."
He scowled, tightening the straps of his cloak. "Do you ever leave me alone?"
"Do you want me to?"
The boy hesitated. That was the problem — he didn't know.
The Mirror of Blood
She slid into the water with a splash, then surfaced closer, resting her arms on the rock near his boots. Her hair clung to her bare shoulders, her eyes sharp.
"Your wings…" she said softly. "They are not a curse. They are a crown."
He froze. No one had ever said such words to him. The villagers had called him demon, freak, changeling. His own father had forced him to hide them. And now this creature — this monster who feasted on men — spoke as though he was royal.
"How would you know?" he muttered.
Her smile turned knowing. "Because I have seen carvings in the deep temples. A man with burning eyes. Wings black as midnight. Standing beside the Beast of the Sea."
His stomach twisted. "You mean… me?"
She tilted her head. "If fate binds us, why resist it?"
Temptation of the Shore
She hauled herself further onto the rocks. The boy instinctively stepped back as her tail slapped wetly against the stone. But as he stared, her body began to change.
Scales melted into skin. The long fin split and lengthened into legs, pale and strong. Her tail was gone — she now stood before him as a woman. Naked, dripping, her eyes still glowing with that same inhuman light.
The boy's breath caught. His sword hand trembled.
"You…" He swallowed. "You can walk."
Her lips curved. "I can be what I need to be." She took a step closer. Her bare foot touched the grass. "I can be yours."
For the first time, the boy did not see a predator. He saw a woman, dangerous and beautiful, reaching for him.
But then he remembered the blood. The screams. The way she had bitten into men like fruit.
He staggered back, shaking his head. "No. You're— you're a beast."
She paused. For a heartbeat, her face softened, as though his words had struck deep. Then she laughed. It was sharp, cruel, and yet heartbreakingly beautiful.
"Yes," she said. "I am. And you will love me anyway."
The Shadows Stir
Far below, in the deep, something stirred. The mermaid's shark mount circled anxiously. The water boiled with shapes — larger, darker things rising from the trench.
She hissed, her playful mask vanishing. "They come."
The boy drew his sword. "Who?"
Her glowing eyes hardened. "My people. And the beasts they ride."
The boy's heart pounded. The dream, the prophecy, her words — all tangled like seaweed around his throat. He had no time to understand. Only to fight.
Chapter Six: War Beneath the Waves
The ocean roared.
Dark shapes surged up from the trench — dozens of them, sleek and armored, their eyes glowing like drowned lanterns. Warriors of the deep, each riding beasts stranger and more terrifying than the boy's nightmares: scaled eels with bone ridges, crabs the size of warhorses, serpents with too many teeth.
At their head came a figure taller and darker than the rest, his armor glimmering black-green, his trident burning with pale fire. His voice was thunder beneath the waves.
"Daughter of the Tide," he bellowed, "you betray your people. You bleed for a land-walker. You shame your blood."
The mermaid bared her fangs. She sat astride her shark, hair fanning out like dark smoke. Her voice cut through the surf like a blade.
"Better a shameful love than a hollow throne."
The boy's chest tightened at her words. He had not asked for her loyalty, and yet she claimed it anyway.
The warriors of the sea shrieked their challenge. Their beasts surged forward, water exploding in foam and spray.
Clash of the Deep
The mermaid struck first. Her shark rammed an eel, its armored head cracking bone. She spun her trident, the glow of it searing through the dark water. A wave obeyed her command, slamming into two riders and shattering them against the rocks.
The boy had never fought in the sea. The weight of it dragged at him, choking, cold. But his wings — his cursed wings — unfurled. And to his astonishment, they pulled him through the water like a creature born for it.
He burst forward, cloak streaming behind him. His ancient sword gleamed with eerie red light as it slashed. He cut through a serpent's eye, and its scream echoed in his bones.
The mermaid glanced at him in shock — then laughed wildly, even as blood swirled around her.
"Yes!" she cried. "Burn, my warrior! Show them what we are!"
The Betrayer's Fury
The tall leader advanced, cutting through his own troops. His trident lit the sea with lightning. "You dare," he thundered, "to side with a human?"
"I side with him," she spat, thrusting her trident against his. Sparks of magic erupted in the water, boiling it around them. "Because he fights like one of us!"
The boy joined her side, wings beating against the current. Together, they pressed against the black trident. For one breathless moment, human and beast fought as one.
The leader snarled. He shoved back with inhuman strength, sending both spinning into the wreckage of a sunken ship.
The boy crashed against coral, blood streaming from his lip. His sword almost slipped from his grip. The water pressed heavy against his lungs.
And then—her hand.
She caught him, dragged him upright, her glowing eyes fierce. Her lips pressed against his cheek, quick, hot, unexpected. "Breathe," she whispered. "While I fight for us both."
Comedy Amid Carnage
The shark, meanwhile, clamped down on a crab beast. It crunched loudly, legs flailing in all directions. The boy, dazed, almost laughed through his bloody mouth. Even in the middle of hell, her monstrous mount was a glutton.
She noticed. Her grin flashed in the water. "My beast eats well tonight," she quipped.
And then she whirled, stabbing her trident through two warriors at once.
The Turning Tide
The battle raged until the sea ran red. The boy's sword carved, her trident sang, the shark feasted. One by one, the enemy fell back.
At last, only the leader remained. His armor cracked, his weapon dimming. His voice was bitter with rage.
"You will regret this, daughter. You have chosen a cursed land-walker over your blood. The sea will not forgive you."
Her chest heaved, her hair floating around her like a halo of shadows. She tightened her grip on the boy's hand.
"Then let the sea hate me. I will not leave him."
With one final strike, she drove her trident through the leader's chest. His body convulsed, then dissolved into dark foam. The ocean fell silent.
Aftermath
The boy hovered in the quiet, chest burning, wings heavy with exhaustion. She swam to him, pulling him close, her face inches from his.
"You see now?" she whispered, her voice trembling from battle and blood. "I fight my people, my beasts, the world itself… for you."
His red eyes burned. For once, he did not deny it.
Instead, he whispered back: "And I fight for you."
Their lips nearly touched, the sea swirling with blood and silence.